My nighttime date with Clair

Every night after bathtime, when the boys are tucked in and chattering in their beds a mile a minute, I get to spend quiet time with Clair.

We go into her room, close the door and put on her Sleep Sack (thanks, all, for recommending this most marvelous invention!) We turn on the fan and the little puppy night light. I ask Clair to switch off the bedroom light, which she finds to be great fun. After she's switched it  off with her little chubby finger, the room glows a calming blue from the night light.

Together, we sit in a rocking chair in the corner and I give her a bottle of milk, slightly warmed. She leans back against me and drinks. When she has had her fill, she hands me her bottle (flings it at me is a better description) and I kiss, kiss, kiss her, and lie her down in her crib with her pacis surrounding her. She curls up, and twists to her side, and pulls her blanket up to clutch in her hand. I leave her alone in her blue-lit room. She is usually asleep within 10 minutes.

When the boys were small, I never got to do this kind of thing. Maybe some better mother than I was able to find a way to comfortably snuggle with two infants, but I never could do it without Lester holding one and me holding the other. Cary and Dean have never wanted for love and affection, and still don't, so I don't think they missed out. But I always felt cheated a bit, and jealous of new Moms who could nap with their baby sprawled across their chest, or who could spend the last few minutes before bedtime, quiet and one-on-one with the baby, rocking or singing, snuggling and bonding.

So it is immensely satisfying for me to be able to spend this kind of time with Clair. Most times when I'm rocking with her, I study her face and her hands, or I breathe in the sweetness of her bouquet of curls. Sometimes, she absentmindedly plays with my fingers, or my hair, or she rubs my cheek or pinches my chin. Why her tiny little touches occasionally move me to tears, I can't explain.

Sometimes, honestly, I am so tired, I just lean my head back and close my eyes, grateful for the peacefulness, the quiet and the dark.

I recently read this article in the NYT, describing the way infants' heart rates go down when parents are holding them. Someone should do research on how calming and relaxing snuggling with one's infant can be to the parents.

At some point, when the boys are in big boy beds and not toddler beds, and Clair is a little more mature, we will start the ritual of bedtime reading (right now, reading is done all throughout the day and bedtime is bedtime is bedtime, nothing else). When that happens, I imagine all the kids will pile into one bed, and we'll embark on shared adventures together, reading and imagining and making memories. (Here's another really sweet NYT article about nighttime reading with kids.)

That will be beautiful too, I know. And it'll include all my babies, not just one, so that will be an undeniable bonus.

But when that day comes, I know there will be a small part of me that will miss the few minutes of one-on-one time I got to have with Clair, my daughter, my baby, my last little love.

Worrisome things abound

After Cary's fine rash and blotchy patch on his face refused to go away, I made an appointment for him at the pediatrician.

Dr. Bodnar said Cary's got extremely dry skin, and although he wouldn't go so far as to say he has eczema, the blotchy patch on his face is a form of it. So we now have switched to a new soap and a new lotion, Cetaphil, and we have to lather him up with it twice a day. He prescribed a stronger medication for the blotchy patch, which has to be applied three times a day. And Dr. Bodnar urged us to start bathing the children every other day, instead of every day as we had been doing. (That's one recommendation I can cheer about.)

While he was there, Dr. Bodnar could hear Cary coughing and listened to his chest. Picking up on some wheezing, he has now declared my poor Cary asthmatic. (This is the third or fourth time Cary's gotten wheezy when he has a cold.) So now, he's on a nebulizer treatment two or three times a day.

When I told my sister this news, she reminded me that doctors say that asthma, eczema and allergies tend to go together -- the Big Three. So I guess we should now be on the lookout for any allergies Cary might have.

Additionally, Cary's had a fever for the last two days and has been fairly cranky about it. Dean's had a fever too, but has been more pleasant -- until this morning. I checked them both when they woke up and Cary's temperature subsided some, but Dean's jumped up a degree to 100.8. And now both of them are crankypants. The whining, people. Good GRIEF.

They've both been out of school since Tuesday, and I figure I'll just keep them out tomorrow too. Apparently, a lot of kids in their class are sick, so perhaps I can keep them away from the other germ-generators long enough to rid our house of this bug once and for all.

Meanwhile, I am really worried about our nanny, Michelle. She's having some quite serious personal issues and I worry about her emotional state. I also worry that 1) She'll be distracted and depressed when she's with the kids and 2) She'll very soon need to find other work that will pay better and offer medical benefits.

This makes me so, so sad, I can't even tell you. I love Michelle so much. She's such a good, kind, giving, funny person and she has been amazing with and for our kids. I knew we couldn't keep her forever -- she's ambitious and talented and wants more for her life. But I had really hoped Clair would get to benefit from her love and care until she was at least 2 and ready for pre-school. And the boys -- who have been with her since they were 9 months old -- truly think of her as family. As do I.

She hasn't said she's leaving us, but she has mentioned that she is conflicted about what to do. And as much as I really want to, we just can't afford to pay her any more money. And honestly, even if we could eke out a few extra dollars, it wouldn't ever be enough for her to really support herself.

So I'm going to have to look for other alternatives, none of which, frankly, will ever be as sweet and comfortable as what we have going now. So I'm bummed. And worried about Michelle. And worried about Cary and his myriad afflictions.

One bit of good news (I'm almost afraid to say it, because you know how this works): I think I've finally figured out the secret to a full night's sleep! Two melatonin and a baby monitor turned down so low I can't hear all of Clair's moans and groans. (But I can hear if she is truly in distress.)

So -- YAY for that. Because all of these worrisome things seem much more manageable when I'm not dog-dead tired.

Worst night with the babies ever!

OK, this blog post title is definite hyperbole.

But I remember back when the boys were infants that bad nights always seemed like the WORST NIGHTS EVER. Looking back on them, even this one -- they don't seem that bad after all. And now, with a little parenting experience under my belt, I can even realize  -- smack in the middle of the bad night -- that this night is not the worst it could be.

Still. Last night was pretty sucky.

All three kids have had runny noses, but had been feeling mostly normal. Until five minutes after Michelle left yesterday and I snuggled up to Cary on the couch, only to feel that he was hot, hot, hot. I took his temperature - 101.5. Dean insisted I take his temperature: It was 99.5. And then Clair took the thermometer and dragged it across her forehead (it was so cute) so I appeased her by taking her temperature, too: It was 100! What the what? These fevers came out of nowhere!

Immediately after finding out they had temperatures, the whole lot of them descended into whininess. I tried to distract them, tried to hug and love them, but they seemed almost happy to be whiny. (Whining does make me feel better when I'm sick, too, so I guess I understand). I popped some Tylenol and decided to go with it.

But then, Cary had to go to the potty. He shuffled slowly, whining the entire time, to the potty and barely pulled his pants down. By the time he lowered his narrow behind onto the potty, it was too late. Pee was all over the floor. I hustled to the kitchen to get paper towels and cleaner. I heard a scream: "Mommy!! Clair's touching the PEEEE!"

I ran from the kitchen to the living room to keep the baby out of the wet spot, while Cary whined that he did more than just pee and now he needed me to help him wipe. (At least that part made it into the potty!) I asked him to wait while I cleaned up the pee. This pushed him from whining to full-blown crying. Clair was also crying because she had a desperate need to play in the pee, apparently.

Using one arm to barricade her, I got the floor cleaned up with the other hand, wiped Cary and told him to pull his pants up. "I cannnnn't!" he whined. "I want YOUUUU to do it!"

Meanwhile, Clair kept trying to open the potty lid to see what was in it. So I ran up the stairs to take both potties and dump them in the toilet. Cary whined ever louder as I noticed that the potties - and the potty seat that goes on the toilet -- smelled horrendous, even after I washed, rinsed and scrubbed them with Scrubbing Bubbles. I almost gagged, it was so bad. How had I not noticed this before??
I started scrubbing more and more and got a little bit OCD about it, tuning out Cary's whining, until I heard another scream: "Mommmmmy! Clair's in the kitchen cabinet!"

I ran downstairs and sure enough, Clair was sucking feverishly on a bottle of floor cleaner.  (We are really not winning any parenting awards this year, believe me.)

I pried it from her, stuck a bottle brush through the cabinet handles as Clair screamed, ran to pull Cary's pants up and decided that everyone needed to go to bed early. So up the stairs we marched.

When Dean realized that there was going to be no bath, he flipped out. The only way I got him to calm down and come put his pajamas on was to tell him that after his pajamas were on, he could have some medicine. Yes, I bribed my child with drugs. The same child who had to go to the emergency room for chugging medicine while we slept. Yes. I did. Moving on...

Sufficiently incentivized (you like that corporate-speak, don't you?), the boys got their pajamas on quickly, and took their medicine. I had to go downstairs to get Clair's bottle, so I told the boys to keep their bedroom door closed while I ran to the kitchen and not to open it under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.  I had just crossed the threshold into the kitchen when I heard the boys' door open.

Frustrated, I yelled up the stairs, "I said not to open that door under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!!"

Deanie started stuttering: "M-m-m-m-mommmy, Cary, Cary, Cary. Umm....Cary, Cary, Cary, Cary. Umm. Cary spit up! Cary spit up because he choked!"

Then of course, I felt like the WWM (world's worst mother). I ran up the stairs (lot of running up and down stairs last night) and comforted a sad Cary, who had indeed coughed until he choked (a regular occurrence for him) and then he threw up, all over a green plastic chair. And Dean, being his ever-helpful self, tried to wipe it up and was freaking out about the fact that there was now spit-up on his hands. Meanwhile, Clair is crying because she also doesn't feel well, and is SO ready for her bottle and for bed; Cary is crying because he just threw up mushrooms and medicine; and I felt like crying because seriously -- this might not be the worst night ever but it is pretty darn close!!

I got the chair, Cary and Dean cleaned up, ran back downstairs, got Clair's bottle, ran back upstairs, said prayers, tucked the boys in, gave Clair her bottle, put her to bed and was putting all the potty seats and potty-related gear in a soaking bath with disinfectant in the laundry room basin when Lester came home around 7:45.

At that point, I considered my shift OVER. And I went to bed -- with buttered popcorn and Raisinets as my reward for surviving.

I thought I was home free, but Lester and I had just settled in for an episode of House of Cards when we heard an ear-piercing screech. Poor Clair had had a nightmare! I ran into her room (why don't I lose weight with all the running I do around here?) and scooped her up, brought her back into our bedroom, snuggled under our comforter with her on my lap and soothed my sleepy, sniffling baby girl.

After she calmed down, she was so sweet and cuddly. She smiled at us and looked adorable with her messy hair and wide eyes. She crawled over and laid on Lester, looking up at the TV as if she could understand the plot. She was so pleasant, I almost forgot that this was ADULT time. But I came to my senses, deposited her back in her bed with a million kisses, and finished the evening relaxed and content.

And with an ending like that, how could the night ever be classified as the worst night ever?


I'll save that title for another night. I'm sure there will be plenty more that are worthy.

Streetcar museum and the many moods of Clair!

Our friend Hugo turned 3 this week and his party was yesterday, at the Baltimore Streetcar Museum.

Hugo's mom Stacey nailed this one -- what a place to have a party!! The boys got to ride on two different kinds of trolley cars and they absolutely loved it. There was a real conductor (gasp!) and he let them ring the train bell (double gasp!) There were stoplights and train tracks and cupcakes and juice boxes and all the kids there were in heaven.

Standing in front of an old trolley. Look how big and handsome my boys are getting!

Clair found this gizmo to be irresistible.

The conductor was straight out of central casting.

The boys sang train-related songs to themselves and shouted, "I'm the train master! Chugga-chugga!"

Why can't I have a FOURTH juice box????

This watermelon is deeeelicious. Before the party is over, I will have decorated my entire body with it.

We had a great time at the party, and I'm sure we'll be back at this museum many times.

This weekend, Clair also had her own party at our house, destroying the cabinets again, and "reading" books to herself.

Please check out the expressions on this girl. She is a trip.

What? You don't like my artwork?

Your looks of frustration crack me up! Do it again, Mommy!

The boys were napping and I was cleaning up the kitchen. Clair was quiet, so I tiptoed into the living room to see what she was up to and caught her sitting, quietly "reading' Brown Bear Brown Bear. So sweet.

This is the face she made when she noticed I was taking her picture.

At Hugo's party, one of Stacey's friends said to us, "I bet there's never a dull moment at your house."

She is so right. Not with these three characters! And I'm loving every minute of it.

Updates

Clair's two top teeth came in sometime within the last week. She looks hilarious, like a little brown bunny. She also looks adorable.

Clair also has decided that she likes books (whew!) She actually sits still when we're reading to her or her the boys and sometimes pretends to follow along with her little pointer finger. She sits and "reads" to herself on occasion, and Michelle said she caught her in the living room on the floor, looking at a book and cracking up laughing. Her favorite book right now -- which she brings over for us to read all the time -- is The Hungry Little Caterpillar.

Yesterday after work, I went and got my eyebrows done. I feel like a million bucks.

Cary continues to have a fine rash all over his body, despite us changing laundry detergents and using a different lotion (at our pediatrician's recommendation). He also has a blotchy red patch on his face that's been there for weeks. Methinks we need to call the doctor again. (Poor Cary -- it's always him.)

I had a board meeting last night and got home after the kids were asleep. Dean came in my room this morning and said, "Mommy, you were supposed to come in my room and hug me." (Sniff!)

I have a fancy-ish luncheon to attend this weekend and I have no idea what to wear. Nor does anything in my closet fit. I may need to go shopping. (So sad, right?)

I have been thinking a lot about the boys' synapse checklist and how far off we are from completing all our tasks.  But then I looked at it carefully, and it's not so bad, actually. Here's what's left:

• Fly a kite.
• Dig for earthworms after a good rain.
• Sleep in a sleeping bag.
• See a real rainbow in the sky.
• Ride on some kind of boat.

So next weekend, Lester and I have plans to take the boys on a water taxi at the Inner Harbor over to Fort McHenry (any friends want to join us?) We'll sleep in a sleeping bag in their rooms one night before their birthday, too.

I looked for earthworms in our yard the other day and found none. Not a one. So oh well.

And I can't control the rainbow situation, although they do know what they are. God's gotta help me out with that one.

So the only thing we probably won't do before they turn 3 (that we can control) is fly a kite.
Which is OK. There's always next year. And I'll just add it to Clair's checklist -- which is already percolating in my brain.

Best three minutes you'll spend today

This right here is one of the most beautiful and poignant things I have seen in a long while. I hope you ALL take three minutes out of your day and watch this, and then share it with all your friends and loved ones.

I watched this and cried just a little, because I was thinking about so many of my gorgeous friends and family members who are constantly nitpicking themselves to death. And then I thought about how I do that, too. All the time. Especially since having three babies in two years -- all I seem to be able to see in myself are flaws.

I still look pregnant.
My arms are flabby.
My hair is stringy.
My eyebrows need doing.
My clothes don't fit.
My face is shiny.

But this reminds me that we are all our worst beauty critics. And that I should be kind to myself. Not just accepting of my looks and body, but appreciative of them.

I need to do a better job of loving me.

Especially if I want my own daughter to do the same when the time comes that she starts to doubt that she is, in fact, beautiful, healthy and perfect just the way she is.

Praying for the people in Boston

I have a special place in my heart for Boston.
I was born there. Much of my mom's entire family lives there.
My Nana's there, my aunts and uncles are there. So are my cousins, including my cousin Ty, who is a Boston City police officer and was working the Boston Marathon yesterday.
As soon as the alert came into my inbox that there had been explosions at the marathon, the first person I thought of was him.
I can never reach him by phone, so I sent him a note on Facebook, checking on him and asking if everything was alright. He messaged back almost immediately that he was fine, but that there were a lot of injuries and they were serious. (Another reason why I love Facebook.)
I told him I loved him and asked him to be safe; I knew his long day at the marathon had suddenly gotten a thousand times longer.
And then I prayed for all the other people out there yesterday, runners and workers, friends and family, observers and others.
I prayed for them all.
And I will continue to do so today.

And I hope the cowards who did this are found. Soon.

God be with us all.

Friends and family-fiiled weekend recap

This weekend was the last weekend for the President's Cup, so I decided to get the kids out of the house again.

This time, we met up with our friends Jason and Kelly and their twin girls Maya and Abby, who are a month younger than C & D. If you remember well, you'll note that this is the same couple with twin girls who I met at the fall "vegtival" back in September - -and then we discovered they were also in the boys' music class. I wondered aloud then if we would be friends, and so far, so good!

Smiley girls; stoic boys.

 The boys are getting so much bigger and the Science Center is, therefore, becoming even more interesting. I really love this museum -- no matter how many times we go, there's always something new to see. On this visit, for example, we:

Played with water and didn't get soaked.

Measured dinosaur feet.

Did something with sand and goggles that made the boys look very scientific-y.

Disrupted a mini-tornado.

As we were leaving, Dean said to me (unprompted): "Mommy, I had a good day at the Science Center."

Be still my synapse-lovin' heart.

And then, on Sunday, my sister Tahira and her husband, Russy and Matty came to visit! As a bonus - -they brought my mom! The boys were so excited to see Nana!

We cooked dinner and ate crabs and had some spirits and it was a wonderful, fun-and-family-filled day.

Now, it's back to the old grind. The BIG boss is here in my office the next two days, so I need to be on my Ps and Qs. So -- later gators!

:-)

21 (and a half) Things, 2013 version

OK, so I tried not to be influenced by my old 25 Things, but it was darn near impossible.

And I guess trying to be original is not really the point. The goal is to be true, no? 

Also, I am struck by how much of what I have to say about me has to do with food. No wonder I’m overweight! But when I think about it, that is really who I am. If there’s a gathering and no food, I don’t wanna be there! Seriously. The Dalai Lama could be speaking somewhere, telling me about the meaning of life, and I’d be like, “Are there some crab balls somewhere around here? Chips and dip? What the HELL?”

Anyway, so I’m a glutton. And kinda boring. But here goes, for what it’s worth:

21 (and a half) Things (2013)

1. I like to think that I am a good Mom. But I have more anxiety and doubt about that than I do confidence.
2. I feel a little bit like a cliché starting off this list with something about my Mommyhood. But I don’t care.
3. Shellfish is my friend. So is chocolate.
4. It took me until I was in my 30s to figure out what clothes looked best on me and what to do with my hair. And now my figure is shot to hell, I never have time to shop (nor do I really care all that much) and I see a hairstylist (at the mall – gasp!) maybe three times a year.
5. I thought by this time in my life I’d be a happily married mother of three, in a fabulous, well-paying career and with “it all figured out.” Happily married? Check. Mother of three? Check. The other stuff? Ha.
6. Until I met Lester, I was a disaster at picking quality men to date. But I continue my lifelong track record of being kick-ass at picking women to be friends with!
7. I stopped eating red meat in college and never looked back. Then I got pregnant with twins.
8. Not only has my diabetes situation worsened over time, but now I have high-cholesterol too.
9. I have an affinity for all things sweet or salty or smothered in cream or butter. (No. 8 makes more sense now.)
10. Thanks to Lester and his admirable sense of responsibility and money-management, we are credit-card and student-loan debt-free. (Still broke.)
11. I love leftovers. But I used to love them a lot more when the frequency of having to eat them was offset by going out to eat on a regular basis.
12. I still can’t stand for food to sit out after eating meals, but I rarely leave dishes in the sink anymore. Too many people using too many dishes in my house now.
13. I obsess about how much I talk to/read to my children. I’m a little crazy when it comes to developing their “synapses.”
14. Being a mother makes me identify more with my own Mom, and appreciate all that she did for me growing up.
15. I still wear my retainer at night. I also take melatonin. I don’t pray as much as I used to. I regret that.
16. If I have downtime (standing in line, waiting for an appointment, riding the train), I'll take a book over my iPod. But sometimes (boy, I hate to admit this) I’ll now take mind-numbing TV watching over even reading. And I’ll take a nap over everything else.
17. I feel like this 25 Things makes me sound boring as hell.
18. I have always wanted to write children’s books. The desire has only grown the older I’ve gotten. I don’t admit this to too many people because it’s very personal. And scary.
19. I truly hope my children and I will be friends when they’re adults. It is one of my most sincerest hopes.
20. I used to do crazy things like buy really high-end designer handbags and shoes. I look back on those purchases (and the resulting credit card debt) and I don’t recognize myself. 
21. **(Bonus:) In my next life, I will be a photographer, a successful children’s book author and a philanthropist. Also 5 inches taller. But I will still find Lester, marry him and together create three of the most fascinating and beautiful human beings I’ve ever known.

Updated at 12:21 (after commenters chided me for not having 25 things) to add this last thing:

22: I am too lazy and boring and tired to think of three more things. Ha!

25 Random Things (blast from the past)

Those of you who Facebook (yes, I used it as a verb. So what?) might remember a thing that was going around a few years ago called "25 Things."

The idea was that you were supposed to post 25 random things about yourself and then other friends would do the same. In doing so, you would likely learn something about friends you've known a long time or those you just met, but also -- just in thinking hard about and selecting your own "random things" -- you would probably learn something about yourself. I know I did.

Anyway, I'd like to do a 25 Things for this blog, but first I thought I'd go back and find my original one on Facebook. It was penned on Jan. 26, 2009 -- before I was even pregnant with Cary and Dean. Reading it now, I find it extremely interesting. And I wonder what 25 Things I'll come up with to write now that my life has changed so much.

25 Things About Me (from 2009)

1) Sometime in my 30s, I developed a serious case of insomnia.

2) I'm a Gemini, but not a typical skitzo-one. Except in a few ways, like I can't stand for food to sit out after eating meals, but I will leave dishes in the sink, no problem.

3) I am a bonafide Daddy's girl. Case in point: My Dad is the one who took me shopping for the Prom.

4) My three nieces and three nephews call me "Auntie Tika." My Mom's side of the family calls me "Rab." My siblings all call me "Taneek." My husband calls me "beautiful."

5) I try reaaaaallly hard not to walk on sidewalk grates. They're scary.

6) I live for Turner Classic Movies.

7) Jesse Jackson once yelled at me during a phone conversation, and then bragged about it at the Black Baptists' Convention.

8) I have a LOT of girlfriends -- women whose friendship, advice and love I cherish. Thus, I don't really trust women who say things like, "I can't be friends with women."

9) When I'm concentrating on my writing, I take my shoes off and I need to be chewing something. Gum is best, but grapes or granola or some sort of cashew, pistachio, nutty type thing will do.

10) I say I hate cheese but I really only hate certain kinds: stinky ones, hard ones, cheese on sandwiches or grated on salads or on top of things, or by itself. Pizza, lasagna, cheese eggs, mac & cheese -- all fine!

11) My husband has made me more interested in politics.

12) I can't swim. Or ski. Or sing. In fact, I have no athletic or musical talent whatsoever.

13) I despise competition.

14) If there's a choice between watching some relatively new show on TV or the Golden Girls or Matlock, I'll take Blanche and Ben every day of the week.

15) I miss my Grandmother every single day.

16) I wear a retainer at night.

17) I was part of a school desegregation program in kindergarten and 1st grade.

18) I am borderline diabetic, which means I should not eat as many sweets or carbs as I do. Sigh.

19) In high school and college I would be so bummed that I didn't weigh enough to give blood. I finally gained enough weight in my mid-20s. As soon as I could give blood, at an office blood drive, I did -- and hated it. Never did it again.

20) I talk to my sister or my Dad - or both - every day.

21) Sometimes I wonder if I've missed my chance to have children.

22) If I have downtime (standing in line, waiting for an appointment, riding the train), I'll take a book over my iPod all day long.

23) Shellfish is my friend. So is chocolate.

24) I think "nice" is a word too overused to describe people -- most of whom really aren't.

25) In my next life, I will be a photographer and a philanthropist. And 5 inches taller. But I will still find Lester and marry him.

I'll think about my updated list -- which will likely have some of the same things on it -- and post at a later date.

What are your 25 Things?

Hello spring!

In honor of this lovely weather (which is actually quite warm today), I decided to wear some bonafide Spring shoes.

Next up, a pedicure -- so I can bust out the summer sandals!

Can't wait!

Also, yesterday, Lester and I went on an impromptu lunch date -- in the middle of a busy work day -- and sat by the water, looking at boats and the Domino Sugar sign. We even had a cocktail (shhh! Don't tell our bosses!) It was wonderful, and so re-charging.

What are you doing to recognize this beautiful weather God's given us?

:-)

How three children change your perspective

Sitting in the basement watching Mad Men on Sunday night with Lester -- bowl of buttered popcorn and Raisinets in hand -- I was awash with feelings of comfort, stability and gratefulness. I looked around the little playroom and said, "This house isn't so bad. It's kinda cozy down here."

And then I prayed silently to God, thanking Him for his many blessings, including a warm and comfortable home for me and my family.

Not a day later, I was back to my old griping. This house is entirely too small! There's no counter space in the kitchen and no cabinet space either. There's stuff everywhere - nothing has its own place, because there are no more PLACES to put anything! Trying to bathe the kids at night is like a comedic version of Cirque du Soleil. There's just no way to do it without tripping all over oneself and one another, as you acrobatically try to get them clean, rinsed and out safely. The lighting in here is terrible - if Lester walks in the kitchen, I can't see what I'm trying to chop or peel or pour. The back-patch where the kids have been playing now that it's warm is laughable. The closet space makes me sob (not kidding).

I started beating myself up. Why did I buy this house? What was I thinking? Didn't I know this house was a disaster?

And the truth is, I didn't. Because I was unmarried and childfree at the time and my perspective was totally different. I even went back and looked up a first-person essay I wrote for The Sun about my home-buying experience -- and I can't believe how gushy I was about this epic fail of a purchase!

###

Welcoming herself to her humble abode

True Tales From Everyday Living

May 27, 2007|By Tanika White | Tanika White,Sun Reporter

Recently, I was watching the Discovery Channel's Walking with Cavemen and discovered that earliest man perished, at least in part, because he was too small-brained to find a way to properly shelter himself.

So it's not just me, my own small brain happily thought. People have been having trouble finding housing for the past million years.

This should be good news to all of you out there who are going through what I just did this spring: buying a house for the first time.

If your experience is anything like mine was, new home-seeker, you're wondering at least weekly -- more likely, daily -- "Why am I doing this again?"

Now that I'm in my house, I can try to help you with that. The first-time home-buying experience was, for me, a little like childbirth. Well, I have no children, so I'll say instead that it was a lot like what I imagine pregnancy and child-bearing to be. It was exciting in the beginning, angst-filled and somewhat painful through the middle, and really awesome at the end.

This little rowhouse, cute as it can be, is my little baby. And I'm incredibly happy.

But the home-buying ordeal was a total bear -- a hassle and emotional roller coaster I found surprising, considering how many of my peers have had homes for years, and how simple city and state programs make the process seem in promotions and advertisements.

The search itself was the most emotionally exhausting. For about a year, I scanned home listings in the city, and when one or a few popped up that fit even somewhat with my criteria (3 bedrooms, at least 1.5 baths, central air and mostly updated systems and appliances), I'd call my Realtor, and we'd be out the following weekend on a half-day-long mission to view them.

Unfortunately, most times, waiting for the weekend was waiting too long. It may be a buyer's market, but for a decent house in a nonscary neighborhood in my $130,000-$160,000 price range, many sellers had no shortage of eager buyers. By the time my real estate agent and I showed up, many contracts would already have been submitted -- some offering more than the asking price.

As a result, I'd see a great house and get my hopes up high, only to have them dashed by a smug seller's agent with, "I'm sorry. We accepted another contract."

Time and time again, I felt like the ugly girl at the prom. What was wrong with my offers? What was wrong with me?

Homeowners, friends and my agent encouraged me each time I was jilted: Hang in there, they'd say. That just wasn't your house. Your house is coming.

It took a year, but my house did come. I found her in January (yes, it's a girl!), on a day when the listings my agent produced seemed dubious at best. But much like that blind-date-turned-into-the-love-of-my-life-story every one of us has heard of, I had prepared myself for disappointment and ended the day pleasantly surprised.

The house -- in the up-and-coming Belair-Edison neighborhood -- was cute, cute, cute, with most of the things I wanted (except a dishwasher) and some perks I hadn't dreamed of (a Jacuzzi tub)! I was lucky enough to find a fair and friendly seller. And I settled on the house and moved in in March.

I felt a little bit like Cro-Magnon man going through the excruciating financing part of my home-buying experience, as well. But I scratched my head and grunted through, somehow. At settlement, I scrawled out a check for more money than I've ever spent at one time, and that's when it really felt final. I was a homeowner -- and the proof was my empty bank account.

The good news is everyone tells me I'll get used to my new, much-diminished pot of disposable income. Two months and not a pair of new shoes later, I find that hard to believe.

But for now, like a new mom, all I do is talk about my house. And I spend pretty much all my time, energy and money decorating and sprucing, painting and prettying. I coo over my house and worry about small things. (What's that crack in the wall?)

I want the very best for her.

So I may be broke (for the time being) and I might not know a Roman shade from Ramen noodles (dinner of choice for new homeowners the world over), but I love my little house.

Which means I've done my part to save humanity!

After all, the Discovery Channel says that when later species of man developed feelings of love and responsibility, it helped make him more capable of surviving the brutality of nature.

From one home-owning Homo sapiens to another, I'll tell you: radiator heat, central air conditioning and stainless-steel appliances help a whole lot, too.

Tanika.white@baltsun.com

Looking back at this column, I am reminded once again that children change everything. People tell you that before you have kids, and you think you understand. But if you don't have kids, you cannot possibly understand. Not even a little bit.

Children change everything. And although I am still grateful to God that my babies are blessed to live in a warm, safe place, it is still time for a change. 

Jam-packed weekend (and a resolution)

Lester's boss sponsors a baseball tournament every year between the city's public and private high schools. It's a lot of work for Lester and he has been gone a lot on the last few weekends because of it.

This weekend, the weather was really nice, so I decided not to let the chore of carting three kids around by myself cause us to stay stuck in the house.

So off we went on a series of adventures!

First, Cary and Dean and I went to the Spring park clean-up at Herring Run Park, which is near our house and one of the reasons I bought a home where I did.

Look how pretty the stream is. Actually, Herring Run Park is pretty fantastic.

At first, the boys were pretty excited about helping to keep our park clean, so that everyone can enjoy it.

But then, they discovered the joys of rocks.

Climbing rocks.

And throwing rocks into the stream.

And so Mommy ended up doing all the cleaning. Oh well.

The most exciting part of the day for them was when they got to actually walk into a Dumpster to put our bags of trash in it.  They were giddy about this.

"Mommy, we're IN the Dumpster!! The trash man is going to take us away!"

After that, we came home, had lunch, got Clair ready and headed out to cheer on Daddy at the baseball game. (Not that he was playing, but he was working really hard getting yelled at by coaches.)

The boys were enthralled by "real baseball players!!"

And excited to see Lester, who came over from working the event to sit with us for just a little while.

Watching the game (for 2 seconds at a time.)

Sidenote: I had to go move the car at one point and stumbled across a wedding on campus. It was pretty cool! This woman's dress was killer. The lace on the back? Wowza.

When it was time to go, I had to bribe C & D with ice cream, because they were having such a good time.

I took them to a place called Dominion Ice Cream, which was used in an episode of Veep (and apparently on the Food Network, too.) Their ice cream is really creamy and delicious. Can't you tell?

Ummm. I don't think there's anything left in those cups, you mannerless children who clearly have no parents to teach you how to act in public.

Later on that night, I went out to a work dinner with my friend and boss, Tom, and I almost couldn't pay attention to the events on stage because I kept staring at this woman's shoes. And her toned legs.

And I started thinking about how my 40th birthday is rolling up in like 2 seconds, and I have been eating like a weed-smoking teenager lately. Cookies, cake, brownies, pie, ice cream, chips ...This slap-yo-mama-good shrimp po' boy TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW!

Seriously, people, come to Baltimore. Go to Touloulou. Get a shrimp po' boy. Thank me later.

And so, I am going to do better. Starting right now.

(I know. I know. You've heard this before. So have I.)

Sunday, I spent the entire day swapping kids' clothes from fall/winter to spring/summer and packing their old things up to store away. It took so long, I was still putting winter coats (mine and Lester's included) into storage bags while watching the season premiere of Mad Men last night at 10 p.m.!

And now that I have done all that darn work, lugging bins up and down the basement stairs, folding and re-folding clothes (thanks, Clair) and trying to decide what can be worn again next year, what's going to my sister, what's going back to the store, what's going to friends and what's going to Goodwill, this weather better stay warm! Or Mother Nature and I are gonna fight.

Thanks to all those po' boys I have a few extra pounds on me. So I'm pretty sure I can take her.

"Spring" training

In honor of the Orioles home opener today at Camden Yards, I thought I'd post these two pictures of my boys, outside in our backpatch (too small to call it a yard), playing T-ball.

Yes, my child is attempting to hit the baseball with a golf club.

Dean can whack that ball like nobody's business. He is also a really good kicker.

Look at those pictures of young boys practicing that most American of pastimes! Can't you just smell the Spring air, the faint aroma of roasted peanuts, the fragrance of Cherry Blossoms wafting through a sunny stadium?

No?

Could it be because it is April 5 and frikkin' FREEZING?!?! Hmmmm?

It is so cold, my children are forced to play baseball (golf-ball?) in hats, gloves and hoods.

Spring? Where are you? Why hast thou forsaken us?

Whatever we did, we're really sorry. Our lives are so cold and gray without you. Please just come out now. We'll change. We promise.

Making progress with the hair

I am trying to quit being such a slacker when it comes to Clair's hair.

It's not as easy as it sounds because her hair is still not long enough to do all that much to it, and it's ultra-ultra curly so taming those wily curls takes time, and she still has that maddening baby baldness just a bit in the back.

Not to mention the fact that she hates to sit still to get her hair done, so half the time I'm trying to do her hair, what I'm really doing is twisting her body around, or re-positioning her head or saying, "Clair, no! Sit still. Stop it. No, Clair. Mommy's almost done! Please, Clair, stop it. Be patient. Clair! Clair! Clair!"

But today, I actually managed pony-puffs! (They're not really ponytails and they're not really Afro-puffs, so I'm calling them "pony-puffs.")

She looks happy about them, no?

I did this while getting ready for work even, so check. me. out!

I would like to point out that when I posted this photo on FB this morning, a good friend thought my Mom did her hair. Or Michelle. "I just knew you had nothing to do with this," he wrote.


And when I texted the photo to my Mom, she texted back, "Her hair looks cute. Who did it?"

LOL! That just goes to show you that I really do suck at doing little girl's hair. But I warned the world that this was the case waaaay back when I discovered I was growing a girl child in my uterus.

So I don't feel all that bad. I recognize where I fall short, people. I can't be fabulous at everything!

But I'm trying!

I got 99 problems and they're all birthday party related

The boys turn 3 on May 11. I turn 40 on June 11.

This year, Lester and I both want to plan a proper party for C & D, with their school friends and cupcakes and fun, fun, fun!

I also want to do something -- something -- to celebrate my entry into the fabulous, fearless, far-from-frumpy 40s!

But I am struggling with the logistics of planning two parties at once, and frankly, the cost.

And whereas Lester and I pretty much have decided to have a cookout party for the boys at a nearby park, I can't make up my mind about what I want to do for my own celebration.

At first, I had this grand plan to have "Tanika's Diamonique Jubilee," patterned after the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. As we all know, we ain't got diamond money over here, hence the "diamonique." That means lots of fun, but no flotilla (I know, sad, isn't it?)

I envisioned a big room full of all my friends and loved ones from various points in my life, eating and drinking and dancing, and laughing at photos of me and my various horrible hairstyles throughout the years. But the problem with being a friendly person is that you amass a lot of friends! The list just kept growing and growing (some of you were even on it!) And the funfest I'd envisioned turned from a birthday party into an open bar, PA-system-for-the-speeches-and-scrolling-photos, catered-wedding-like-affair. I looked at our checking account and looked back at the Google doc I'd started and just cracked up laughing.

So I thought maybe I'd have a nice dinner at a favorite restaurant. But I can't get the guest list down to a reasonable number and the thought of making people pay for their own food and drink at my Jubilee made me feel like a loser.

I don't want to go on a trip, not for this -- I want to celebrate with my friends and loved ones!  So a luxurious week at this Jamaican resort is out. (For our 10th wedding anniversary, though? Now that's a possibility!)

Finally, I settled on a good old-fashioned house party. But as you know, the Davis house is crammed as it is with too many people and far too many toys. There's really no room to bring the house down the way I'd want to. And there's still the cost and the work involved in cooking for a jillion people, buying the drinks, cleaning the house (before and after) and figuring out what to do with the kids while I blast New Edition and Justin Timberlake and classic 80s hip-hop.

Argh!

Not to mention the fact that I am LOSING MY MIND on Etsy finding all these cute party accessories for the boys' party. Do you think it's crazy to spend $55 on cupcake wrappers and toppers? $30 on personalized noisemakers?? Am I going MAD??

And have we picked a "nearby park" for this cookout? Noooooo. Of course not.  It's only a month away. ARGH!

Anyway, I'll figure it all out and it'll all be just lovely, I know. But I need this space to rant and de-stress, so that's why all of you get to be privy to my first-world whining. Aren't you lucky?!

Who said TV was terrible?

Yesterday, Dean was outside on the porch "talking" to our next-door neighbor, who's 4 or maybe 5. Gregory gave Dean two Cars trading cards. Dean was jubilant.

Cary was inside begging me to read the Magic Schoolbus, which is way too old for him (and annoying as &*!# to read to a 2-year-old) and so he completely missed hanging out with the neighbors. By the time he realized treats were being handed out, Gregory was out of trading cards. Cary was crushed.

For a portion of the evening, Dean enjoyed lording his two trading cards over his brother. Thank God preschoolers' attention spans are like 5 seconds long, because eventually Dean moved on to other things and the cards were temporarily forgotten.

This morning, however, the cards were back. My nerves got all jangly thinking about the whining that was about to ensue.

Much to my surprise, Dean climbed up on my bed, handed Cary one of the cards, accepted Cary's hearty "Thank you" with his own hearty "You're welcome!" and all was well in Davisville.

What the what? Whose kids are these?

I smiled at the two boys. Dean caught my approving look and said, "Mommy, Yo Gabba Gabba says (singing) 'Sharing with my toys is good!' So me have to share with Cary."

Then, they proceeded to "share" back and forth, handing their cards to one another and then waiting patiently for the other one to hand it back.

It was lovely.

And I am not mad at all that my kids barely listen when *I* tell them to share, but jump to do what DJ Lance Rock tells them to.

Now to find an episode that encourages them to pick up their *&!# toys!

Dean reports that he knows how to read!

After dinner yesterday, Dean came up to me yelling, "Mommy, I know how to read! I know how to read like Russy knows how to read!" (They love and look up to Russy so much!)

 Here's his version of "reading:"

Isn't that the cutest thing? He's so excited!

I love it!