Waiting to get back to exceptional me (or just me would be fine)

So a week or so ago, a crazy woman caused Facebook to implode by writing a ridiculous, bombastic post about how she looks down on women with kids. You can read it here, if you want to fall prey to her desperate plea for clicks.

Or I can give you the gist (this is directly pulled from her post):

If women can do anything, why are we still content with applauding them for doing nothing?
I want to have a shower for a woman when she backpacks on her own through Asia, gets a promotion, or lands a dream job not when she stays inside the box and does the house and kids thing which is the path of least resistance. The dominate cultural voice will tell you these are things you can do with a husband and kids, but as I’ve written before, that’s a lie. It’s just not reality.
You will never have the time, energy, freedom or mobility to be exceptional if you have a husband and kids.

Interestingly enough, with that last line, Crazy Lady hit me in the gut.

It's impolitic to say so, but I do feel like my life is basically on hold now that I'm raising children.

I'm doing OK, but exceptional I am not -- not at anything. Not at my career, or housecleaning or taking great care of myself, or at maintaining relationships outside of my home or at nurturing my intellect or broadening my horizons. I am doing pretty much nothing day-to-day, month-to-month, but working (to pay the bills) and raising my family. I am pretty good at wife and mother because I devote a lot of time and all of me to that. But I wouldn't say I'm exceptional at that either.

Yes, I know raising our family is important. And I chose to do it. It is an important choice and one that I do not regret.

But I honestly did not know, before having children, just how much of myself would have to recede for the children to get top billing.

Let me give a few examples:

*Sometimes I see something advertised, say, a class of some sort. And I think to myself, "Wow, that sounds so cool. I would really like to take that class." And then I note that it meets two nights a week for 10 weeks -- and there goes that idea. No way I can take two nights away from my kids for 10 weeks. No way do I WANT to.
 Or I'll note that the class costs $1,000. I can spend $1,000 to take a class for my own edification, or I can save that money for a better house in a better neighborhood/better school district, or to contribute to the OUTRAGEOUS costs of summer camp so my kids have somewhere awesome to go when school is out. Which one wins? My kids. Every time.

*When we had a decent snowfall recently and the roads were nasty, the company I work for closed its offices and asked employees to work from home. Schools were also closed and we told Michelle to stay home (if the roads were too bad for me to go to work, how could I ask her to risk driving in?). That meant there was essentially no "working from home," not while the kids were awake. It was a crazy day of trying to respond to email on my phone with one hand while swatting away kids who wanted my full attention with the other.  I had a headache the size of California by the end of the day from being half everywhere and fully nowhere all day long.
Meanwhile, Tom, my immediate boss whose kids are grown, drove carefully in to work and boasted the next day about how much work he was able to get done in our quiet, empty office. Lester glibly remarked, "If I was (the big boss), I'd hire all 'Toms' - people without kids who have nothing better to do on a snow day but come in and work." We laughed when he said it, but it's true. Without kids, Tom can focus - really focus - on work. He is devoted to this company. I love what I do, no doubt about it, but I am devoted to my family.

*I miss my friends - my old ones, my new ones, my sister, my Dad. We can manage to find snippets of time to chat on the phone or text or email, and every now and then we can slip away for lunch or drinks or dinner. But it's never enough time to really get that kind of soul-satisfying intimacy we used to get when we were childfree and could spend hours together while the hubbies were otherwise occupied. The love has not diminished, but my ability to really know what's going on with them, and them with me -- that is understandably diminished.  And so that's a part of me - a necessary part - that doesn't get fed as much.

*Some of you might remember me talking about how I have been feeling a pull lately to give back more -- really give back, not just sit on boards and donate money. Sometimes I think about devoting time at a nursing home or mentoring a young person - Big Brothers Big Sisters-like. But then I think: I don't have enough time with my own kids! When would I find time for another child? And if I'm really, really being honest, I also worry sometimes about introducing the potential for drama into my home. The kids who need the mentoring the most are often the ones with the most baggage. If it were just me and Lester, we could handle the baggage. We've seen enough of it in our own families to be quite expert at baggage. But should C, D and C have to deal with it too? I don't know the answer to that question, so I just put off thinking about it.

*I feel like crap because I don't take care of myself inside or out. (Another post coming on that...) My hair is really thinning and I need to see about it, but I don't have time to really care for my hair (or skin or nails) like I used to. I have gained 20 lbs., and cannot figure out a schedule that works for me to regularly work out. I just don't see how I can take THAT much time away from evenings with the kids or weekends with the kids and still get done everything else I need to do. I know other people do it -- I see them do it! I marvel at them! -- but I cannot figure out how to do it. Almost all my free time is spent with and for my kids and husband, with the exception of periodic board meetings or other obligations. But if I worked out as often as I went to board meetings, that would be 2x a month. Hardly worth it. Or is it? I don't know.

I know people will say this is a choice - that I find time to do the things I want to do - and to that I say, yes, they are probably right. It is my choice to spend my time with the kids and with Lester after work and on weekends. And I do not love working out. No secret there. But when there were no children, I did 30 minutes on the treadmill regularly, or power-walked around Lake Montebello. I went to hot yoga on weekends. I LOVED hot yoga. I really want to be fit again.

But I have a finite amount of time slots and the exercise slot got filled by children.
So did the friends slot. And the work-around-the-clock-and-still-have-time-to-volunteer slot. My slots are filled!! And I am TIRED!

Let's not talk about all the restaurants I want to try, all the countries I want to see, all the organizing projects in my house I so desperately want and need to do. (The bags and bags of photos and corresponding empty albums? Oh, how you haunt me.)

I could go on and on. But I won't. It sounds so much like complaining when I type it all out this way, and I don't mean it to sound this way. Truly.  And I know there are plenty of women who do all these things and more while still being completely devoted to their husbands and kids. Some of you who read this blog, for example, are so inspirational! I see you. I drop my jaw at your determination and awesomeness

Clearly, I am not one of those women. See? Not exceptional.

I believe I will get back to these things, back to more of myself, as my kids grow. So I'm not worried about it so much as I just think about it.

In the last three years, I have learned that "becoming" a mother means more than just giving birth to a baby. Instead, it is more like a transformation -- the slow "becoming" of something else other than what you once were. The more you become the one thing, the less you are the other. Like a tadpole becomes a frog, maybe. Or water becomes steam. It is a metamorphosis.

Sometimes I think about that and I wonder how it is I truly had NO idea that this was how it was going to be. When I was pregnant with the boys and contemplating family life, I really thought I would have the "time, energy, freedom and mobility" to do something else other than be a mother/wife. So far, that has not turned out to be the case.


I have not given up living so that I can be a Mom, but I have put a lot of my life on a back burner. And in so doing, I am not the me I once was.

The good news is I haven't lost myself completely. I am aware of the things I want and need; I still desire fulfillment from things outside of my family. And strangely, that makes me feel better. It would be pretty much a wrap, I think, if I was Mommy and wife and not one other thing and that was just A-OK by me. Just remove all the Tanika burners and replace them with baby burners.

But no. The burners are still there - just the turn of a knob away. I just wish I knew how long it would be before I'm able to reach them again.

My blog is a snapshot

When I started this blog, I wanted it to be honest, really, truly honest -- even if what I was thinking or feeling wasn't popular or was controversial. Because I honestly felt like women don't talk enough about what pregnancy is really like or breastfeeding or motherhood or marriage or being a working mother, etc. It's like an advertising for the circus, where everyone only exclaims about the spectacular sights and the cotton candy and no one tells you that the whole tent smells like elephant shit.

Consequently, when people hit hard patches in life, it makes the hard patches feel even worse, thinking that you are the only person to EVER go through whatever it is that's happening, or to ever feel whatever it is you're feeling.

Everyone else just sailed through nursing - what's wrong with me? Everyone else's kids are well-behaved. What's wrong with mine? Everyone else's houses are clean, marriages are thriving, bank accounts are full. Everyone else is running marathons and taking classes and going on hot dates with their hubbies and planning creative excursions with their kids and buying big houses and getting promotions. What's wrong with me???

If we knew that everyone felt some fear, anxiety, doubt, unhappiness, restlessness, boredom, frustration, resentment, disappointment, wistfulness, etc. (along with all the joy) -- maybe, just maybe, we'd know that we were normal, and that this too shall pass.

So I vowed to be honest - about the good and the bad. Missing my kids like crazy during the day and then wanting to send their crazy butts to bed 10 minutes after I walk in the door. That kind of thing.

But it's hard, I've discovered, to really be as honest as I'd like on this blog. One, because I made the choice to make the blog public, which means other people read it -- and are likely to judge or form opinions. I've had this happen before with some things I've written, where readers/friends have taken things slightly the wrong way. Not wanting to be misunderstood, I guard myself and my words more than I thought I would.

And most importantly, this blog is most often about my life with the most important people in the world to me. I don't want to ever embarrass or hurt them, or give them the idea that something I'm feeling temporarily is something more serious than it is. Generally, my thoughts are just my thoughts right now -- who knows what I'll be thinking next week? But if you had a chance to read your Mom's journal and came across even one entry where she expressed frustration or disappointment about her life as a mother, wouldn't you wonder if that was how she really felt, secretly, all the time?

This blog is a snapshot, not the full picture. So I feel extra careful about what part of the picture I choose to share.

That being said, I have things I plan to post in the coming days -- nothing Earth-shattering or life-changing, but just deep down real thoughts I've been having -- but I wanted to get this out first, a preamble, if you will.

So hopefully when C, D and C read this blog years from now they'll know in what spirit to take any entry they land on.

And maybe the rest of you will too.

This is marriage (A blog post by someone else, but totally endorsed by me)

I'm honestly not sure what the blog protocol is here, but I am going to re-post another blogger's work. I'm not taking credit for it. It's just that a link would not be enough.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/carrie-cariello/this-is-marriage_b_4661093.html

Carrie Cariello

This Is Marriage

Right now I'm sitting in a hospital.
I am waiting for my husband, Joe. He is gowned and unconscious, undergoing a surgery called a discectomy, where they cut a teeny tiny hole in his lower back and shave away the bulging disc that's been infringing on his sciatic nerve for five months.
This bulging disc has likely been in progress for years -- decades, even. Years of poor posture and carrying toddlers and stacking wood has contributed to the slow pop of an unhappy disc. And finally, a heavy deadlift at Crossfit was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.
About an hour ago I watched while Joe undressed and put on his pale blue hospital gown. I watched him kick off the new brown shoes I made him buy during a recent trip to the outlets, so I could get a pair of orange suede heels half off.
Dressed in light blue scrubs, the surgeon popped into the room just as Joe settled into the hospital bed. The two of them started to go over the procedure, to talk about how Joe would not breathe on his own during the two-hour surgery. I focused my gaze on the toe of his brown shoe sticking out of the shiny bag.
And I thought; this is marriage. One day you're shopping for shoes at the outlets and just a few weeks later, the new shoes your husband reluctantly bought for himself will sit, discarded, in a room down the hall while someone else breathes for him.
I write a lot about raising our five kids and our son Jack's autism and teamwork and blah blah blah-dey blah. But the truth is, some days this marriage is so hard. It is so hard I can barely breathe. No one -- and I do mean no one -- makes me as angry, as frustrated, as enraged, as this man does.
The biggest argument we've ever had -- and believe me, we've had some doozies -- was over Oreos. Yes, you read that right: the biggest fight I've ever had with my husband was over a chocolate wafer cookie. (To be fair, they were double-stuffed, and I think that ups the ante a bit.)
We'd been married less than a year, and I had to go to a dinner for work. It was incredibly boring, and I spent most of the long evening nodding my head and looking forward to going home, climbing into my pajamas, and eating a few cookies before bed.
I walked into our apartment just in time to see Joe holding the empty blue cellophane bag -- plastic cookie divider cast aside on the floor -- and shaking the last of the chocolate crumbs into his mouth.
I was outraged. How selfish! How greedy and thoughtless and disgusting. Before long, the argument took on a life of its own, launching itself from a Nabisco product to everything that was wrong with us as a couple. You never think about anyone but yourself! You overreact to everything!
We didn't speak for days.
In the middle of huge arguments like 'The Great Oreo Fight,' I often have the sensation I am teetering on the edge of a large abyss, that Joe and I are separated by the deepest chasm. Married, yes. But also so very alone.
I know divorce. I've personally experienced three divorces, not one of which has been my own. I am not afraid of divorce. But somehow, thus far, Joe and I have always managed to cross the gulf that separates us. To buy a new bag of Oreos and move on.
This is marriage. It is standing on the edge of the abyss and saying, I choose to stay. Today, I will stay.
As Joe's leg pain worsened and two cortisone shots did nothing to help the inflammation, to relieve the pressure on his aggravated nerve, it became clear that surgery was the next step.
Once he explained the recovery to me -- no lifting anything heavier than a gallon of milk for six weeks, no driving for two, no twisting or bending -- I developed a plan for him. He would go to his parents for at least a week, where he could rest and recuperate without a 55-pound four-year old launching at him like a cannonball. When he came home I would drive him back and forth to work.
But Joe didn't want this. He didn't want to go to his parents for that long and he didn't want me driving him around and in general he didn't want me to be the boss of him. It was infuriating.
I confided in Jack's psychologist when we met to talk about his anxiety over fire drills, figuring she would take my side. She didn't.
Instead she said, "I hear fear in your voice. So why do you go straight to anger? Stay with the fear a moment. Let yourself feel it."
Sitting on her light brown couch with a giant Elmo peering over my shoulder, I did. I let myself feel my fear.
For the first time since June, I talked about how scared I was to see Joe's health decline, to see him wait ten minutes before getting out of the car. I wept describing how he struggled to toss the football with the boys and twirl our daughter Rose in the air.
How terrifying it is to see the strongest man I know falter.
This is marriage.
A few years ago I got up in the middle of the night for some water. I walked towards the door as Joe came out of the bathroom, and when we passed each other sleepily he reached out his arms and hugged me for a long moment.
For days afterwards I lived with that moment in my heart and my mind. I marveled that this person could love me so instinctively, so thoroughly, to reach out half awake and embrace me without even thinking about it.
It is this memory I cling to like a life preserver when the storms of marital rage and frustration sweep over me. This is the Joe I am thinking of now.
Shifting a little in my hard plastic chair, I go online and look up Webster-Merriam's definition of marriage. It uses weird words like state of being united and recognized by law and intimate union.
But to me, it's so much more.
It is sitting in a hospital fifteen years later and realizing it wasn't about the cookies after all, that I went straight to anger in order to avoid the really scary thoughts; you don't love me enough and I have made a mistake and this marriage will never work. To avoid my fear.
It is finding grace again and again in the small gestures; buying shoes and eating Oreos and spontaneously embracing in the dark hours of the night.
It is complicated and raw and tender and long and giddy and miserable and scary and exhausting and exhilarating and broken and yet whole and I know this is a lot of adjectives but they're all true.
It is waiting, waiting, waiting for the surgeon in the blue scrubs to tap me on the shoulder and tell me it all went fine, that within a few hours my husband will slip on his new brown shoes and walk out of the door -- sore from surgery, groggy from anesthesia, but free of the live wire that has electrified his leg for the past five months.
That he is breathing on his own so I don't have to do it alone.
This is marriage.

###

Yesterday, Lester was an hour late coming home from a meeting. He is so reliable and punctual and considerate of me being home alone with the kids that my first thought was that something was wrong.

When I called him and got no answer and then texted him and got no answer, I was certain he had died.

This sounds extreme and ridiculous I know, but you don't know how dependable my husband is.

I bathed the kids and put them all to bed, but inside I was jittery. When I imagined my life without him, the kids' lives without him, OUR lives without him, I actually started shaking. I would be bereft without my friend, my love, the best father to Cary, Dean and Clair ever. I prayed and prayed that he was safe.

When he finally called - his phone was in his checked coat, and his dinner date had extended their meeting unexpectedly - I was so relieved! I nearly cried.

But then I got mad: I don't care that you were late. I don't care that I had to do the nighttime stuff alone. I DO care that you didn't call when it got late; you know how I worry. Why didn't you have your phone on? You have three kids at home, you have to be reachable. What if I needed you? Why is it so hard for you to keep your phone with you??

I didn't "stay with the fear" because anger felt so much better!

It was shortlived. When Lester came through our front door, all I wanted to do was hold him, and press my face into his coat, which was cold from the night air. But his familiar cheek was warm against mine, and he was home; he was safe. He came back to us so I wouldn't have to do it alone.

This is marriage.

Get your furnace cleaned!

This past weekend, our family spent:

• One night in a hotel
• Several hours huddled up in our house with blankets and space heaters, shivering
• Nearly $1,000 in repair/labor costs 
• A lot of time worrying

Why, you ask?

Well... somehow Lester and I hadn't realized that we were supposed to get our furnace cleaned at least once a year. The last time we got the furnace cleaned was, let me think.....hmmmm. Ummm, that would be never.

All that non-cleaning resulted in a carbon monoxide leak (OMG!) and flames leaping out of our furnace -- a scary, potential fire hazard.

The gas company had to turn off our hot water heater and furnace (hence the night in the hotel) and the repair job the next day took nearly six hours to complete (thus, the huddling and shivering).

I'm not ashamed to say that I cried some thinking about how close we got to real danger -- and how blessed we are to count only money as a cost of this incident.

A family not too far from us recently ended up in the hospital -- and one member is still in critical condition -- because of a carbon monoxide leak caused by a faulty furnace.

So even though we are almost $1,000 poorer, we are also warm and safe and totally blessed.

You can't put a price on that.

Pictures can lie

Don't believe everything you see in photos.

Despite the appearance of wintry family fun, this snow day excursion lasted only about a half-hour before Cary started whining incessantly that he was "coooooooold!"

Clair actually did enjoy the snow - eating it.

Re-purposing beach toys!

The wildlings are climbing the wall!

Despite Dean's sudden interest in my "crown books," he actually isn't quite ready to read "Game of Thrones."

This is how we found him this morning, after Lester came in to wake the boys up for school.

 Despite what Lester says, my eldest child does not look like Bruno Mars:

Similar hair maybe. But Bruno has way more coordination.

Despite Dean's severe side-eye at his friend Marcus, he actually was really jump-up-and-down excited that they both were wearing the same Batman pajamas for "Pajama Day" at school.

Not sure where Dean learned how to give such exemplary side-eye. Ahem.

See? Best Batman buds... (this photo you can believe!)

Date night!

Saturday night, Lester and I went out to dinner with friends of ours, Kelly and Jason - a couple who were jointly celebrating birthdays. We went to The Chesapeake and had delicious seafood and potent drinks and laughed and talked for four and a half hours! The time just flew by, we were having so much fun.

Afterwards, we drove to the Maryland Live Casino (my first time there) to meet up with another group of friends for our friend Brent Jones' birthday celebration.

Me, Laurie (!!), Andrea and the birthday boy, Brent!

I'm not a gambler and neither is Lester, but we brought $25 to waste. I decided to play $20 on the Big Money Wheel - $10 on 10 to 1 and $10 on 5 to 1. Can you believe that 5 to 1 came up?? I won $50! On my first time ever playing a casino game!

Risk-averse girl that I am, I took my chips and cashed out. We spent the other $5 at a slot machine and lost it all in a matter of five button-clicks. That was all the gambling my little heart could stand.  We were done gambling for the night, but not done hanging with our friends. We hammed it up for another couple hours and didn't get home until 1:30 a.m.

We had a great night out with friends, eating good food and laughing and talking and just being adults. But - ugh!! I can't do that too often. I was so tired on Sunday, it took me until almost 3 p.m. to feel "awake." I'd wanted to go to church, but HA! I barely got out of my pajamas.

Remember the days when you didn't leave the house to go out until 10 p.m.?? And when the club let out at 2 a.m., you left and went somewhere else?? How on Earth did we do that? As my grandmother used to say, "youth is wasted on the young."

Anyway, the real kudos of the night goes to my sister Tahira who came out to watch the baby Davises while the elder statesman stayed out way too late. She brought her own two with her and handled all five like a dream. Dinner, pajamas, bed and no drama whatsoever. Even Clair warmed up to her, calling her "Nanamommy" by the end of the night.  I'm pretty proud of my baby sister - and grateful!

Here they are all lined up on the bed, watching the Lorax, freshly scrubbed and sleepy:

Russy, Clair, Matty, Superman and Batman.

Tahira did such a good job with the kids, I might consider going out more often if I could convince her to babysit.

And if I could stay up past 10 p.m.

Hand, foot and zees

Playing with their Spiderman toys this morning, Dean tells me, "Spiderman is sick. That's why the other Spiderman has to take care of him."

"Oh no!" I say. "What's wrong with Spiderman?"

Dean: "He has hand, foot and zees."

Ha! That cracked me up.


P.S. Did I ever post this photo of Clair holding her nebulizer, like a pro?

Isn't that the cutest and saddest little thing ever? I'm so glad that icky cold is over and we have packed the nebulizer up -- for a little while, at least.

Bye-bye, cold! Bye-bye hand, foot and zees! Good riddance.

2013 USDA Cost of Groceries

I promise not to beat this egg anymore after today, but Deborah Stein was kind enough to send the most up-to-date version of the link I posted yesterday.

Here's the new link, and you can also click the photo below to enlarge it and see what the gov't has to say about meal-preparation costs in 2013:
 

According to this, every one of you who commented on my original groceries post is doing really well keeping costs in check -- even as we all try to prepare healthful, tasty, relatively interesting meals for our families.

We should all be proud of ourselves! Keep up the good work, folks!

(The "thrifty" plan AKA the "eat a bunch of crap or starve" plan is still disgustingly low to me, but that's a rant for another day.)

Aaaaaaand, now I'm hungry! Who's up for second-breakfast?

Feeling good about groceries (and a recipe to share)

Now see? This is just another reason why I'm so glad I started blogging.

Hearing from all of you about your grocery shopping budgets and philosophies not only made me feel good about what we're doing, but it also gave me a lot of great ideas for how to save more, or do things differently, if necessary.

Thanks, guys! Really. Your thoughts were all very, very reassuring - and helpful!

One of the most interesting responses to yesterday's blog post came from my friend and colleague Deborah Stein. Debbie sent me a chart from the USDA, showing what the gov't considers to be the amount a family should/could spend on home-cooked meals per month.

Couple things I took away from this chart:

• It's the government, and they notoriously UNDERestimate how much it costs to feed people (hello, food stamps?) so whatever they say here is right, I know to add way more.
• It's from 1994, and everything has gone up a thousand times since then, so again, I add more money to whatever they say.
• Look how ridiculously low the "low-cost" level is. And the "thrifty" level? Debbie tells me that that's the level they base food stamps allotments on. Seriously? Seriously, gubment?! That's ree-dic. Sometimes I just can't believe how much our society seems to hate poor people.

So, based on that - we are doing awesome!

Anyway, I wanted to give something back to you all for your thoughtful and helpful responses. So in the spirit of feeding our children healthful, tasty, inexpensive meals, here's a recipe I made that was quick, delicious, inexpensive and a huge hit with the kids, me and Lester, too:

Homemade Sloppy Joes

Yummy in everyone's tummy!

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 4 carrots, coarsely grated (2 cups) [ I used shredded carrots, because it's easier.]
• 1 medium onion, minced
• 1 garlic clove, minced [ I used a little more garlic, because garlic = yum!]
• Coarse salt and ground pepper [Regular salt and pepper worked just fine.]
• 3 tablespoons tomato paste
• 3/4 pound ground turkey (93% lean, dark meat)
• 1 can (28 ounces) crushed tomatoes
• 2 tablespoons dark-brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon cider vinegar
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 4 whole-wheat hamburger rolls, split

Directions

1. Step 1

   In a large saucepan, heat oil over medium; add carrots, onion, and garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 5 minutes.

2. Step 2

   Add tomato paste and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add turkey; cook, breaking up meat with a spoon, until no longer pink, 4 to 5 minutes.

3. Step 3

   Add tomatoes, sugar, vinegar, and Worcestershire sauce. Cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, 12 to 14 minutes. Serve on whole-wheat rolls.

Easy-peasy! I served these with baked potato wedges (just sliced potatoes, tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper and baked for 15-20 minutes at 450-degrees, turning once during baking) and salad greens.
 
Huge hit! Clair now can even say, "More soppy joe, pees!" That's how much she liked it.

(Note: The recipe was a smidge too sweet for my tastes, even with me adding more vinegar and more Worcestershire [I like my sloppy joes twangy!] so next time I make these, I'll add less brown sugar.)

 And Janna, I know this recipe won't help you so much, but I'll try to find something meatless to share just for you! Xxoxx!

 Happy eating, all!

The Groceries Problem

There's an unwritten rule I've noticed among people who write about personal things, whether those people are bloggers or columnists or Facebook-posters. The rule is: You're never supposed to talk about money.

Everything else, it seems, is fair game. Your politics, your gripes, pictures of yourself after working out, what you ate for breakfast - even really personal sex-and-love-related things are OK.
But we are all very, very private about our money. And although I understand it, I wish it weren't the case. I wish we could talk openly about money questions, because I have a burning one.

And it is this: How much do people spend on groceries/food every month?

I want to ask this question of smart, reasonably-normal, healthy people with families because the groceries problem seems to be one with no good solution, and I know that can't be the case. Somewhere, someone has to have the groceries issue figured out!

Here's my problem. We spend SO much money on food.  So much! And I feel like we are doing a lot of things right. At least I think we are, but how would I know because no one will TALK ABOUT IT!

We are generally very good budgeters, and most weeks I try to do pretty decent meal-planning so that every weekend, when we go to the grocery store, we're mostly buying only:

1. Staples that get used up every week, like eggs, milk, cheese, bread, yogurt, breakfast sausage and fresh fruit and veggies.
2. Ingredients for the lunch/dinner meals for that week, such as meats, specific veggies, any special seasonings or random ingredients (for example, I needed honey mustard for one meal this week and had to buy that specially).
3. Snacks for the kids' school bags and for munchies around the house, such as goldfish, pita chips, cheese sticks, cereal/granola bars, hummus etc.

We try to stock up on things like rice, pasta, frozen waffles, oatmeal, chicken nuggets etc., so that we always have those things around. We don't buy coffee, syrup, ketchup and those kinds of things unless we are really close to running out.  And we buy our toiletries and paper goods during our (way-too-frequent) Target runs and our (not-as-frequent) Costco runs, so as not to pay the premium price for those items that the supermarket charges.

Lester shops once a week and on Sundays, I cook two- to two-and-a half big meals for the work-week's dinner and lunches. I try to make sure we do really well with leftovers before moving on to something else (even though I admit that, by Thursday, we all are pretty tired of what I cooked at the beginning of the week.)

We buy what we can from Trader Joe's, which helps, because they're cheap, but they don't have everything we need/want there - or even most things. So we almost always end up at Safeway or Wegman's or Harris Teeter. We steer clear of Whole Foods, because $$$$$$$!
But STILL -- we are blowing through money on food!

So hold your hats, folks. I'm going to break the unwritten rule and just put it out there, because I need to know if this is normal or not: For our family of five, we spend close to $750 a month on groceries, sometimes more. (And we have a separate budget for restaurants/take-out! And that doesn't include the WINE! Or the fun foods like ice cream and Pillsbury slice-n-bake cookies!)

Seriously, $750! That blows my mind.

It feels like a lot to me, but is that a lot?  Does that sound about right? What do other people do to keep their grocery bills in check? (Besides coupon-cutting, because we just aren't those people, no offense to those who are. We're just too lazy to do it.)

Our kids are not even teenagers, sucking down whole cartons of orange juice and eating entire boxes of cereal for snack yet! They're not demanding to buy expensive school lunch or bringing their friends over to rummage through our fridge after school. How will we survive?

Help us figure out how to feed these three sweeties and not end up in the poorhouse!
 

They're watching TV here and not the least bit concerned about food. Maybe we should just let them watch TV 24 hours a day.

Where I am so far in 2014

So far in 2014, I have:

• Gotten my eyes checked and a new eyeglasses prescription. (Doc says age 40 is when the eyes start really changing. Oh joy!)
• Not taken my Christmas decorations down.
• Gone the entire year without make-up, save one day when I had to meet with a client and didn't want her to think I was dying of the plague. (P.S. No make-up is HUGE for me. I can't even talk about it, it's so soul-baring and scary.)
• Gotten a MAMMOGRAM! (Not as bad as people made it out to be.)

Me vs. the machine. I won!

• Survived two pre-schoolers with HFM and one snotty, hacking, wheezy, non-sleeping toddler.
• Not exercised once. (This is not much different than 2013.)
• Frozen my tail off in the "polar vortex."
• Made plans to go out with two different friends for their birthdays. Hooray!
• Let the kids watch far more TV than I'm comfortable admitting.
• Cracked up laughing at Clair saying, "Whycuz?" instead of  just "why?" (I think that should be an actual word.)
• Been consistent with my boys about making their beds every day!
• Barreled through nearly two seasons of "Game of Thrones" with Lester, who is now officially hooked. (The soft-porn quality of the show doesn't hurt where he's concerned.)
• Eaten Salvadoran food twice. (Yassss!)
• Not played - or won - the lottery. (The not playing might have something to do with that.)
• Been more overwhelmed than normal by the noise level in my house, and the constant whining, begging, tattling, crying, arguing and screaming to be picked up. I think I need yoga or more chocolate or something.
• Posted to Facebook and Instagram less (Not really sure why.)
• Started thinking more about how to transition the boys out of Pull-Ups overnight. (They're not consistently dry at night, and I don't know if that happens on its own, or if I need to be doing something to help it along.)
• Randomly thought about death and what my life would be like if something ever happened to Lester or one of my children. Wished very much that Lester's mother was alive.
• Not fully committed to taking away Clair's nighttime bottle and nap-and-nighttime pacifier when she turns 2 next month because I have absolutely ZERO energy for sleep-training. (I know that's bad, but I just want uninterrupted sleep. That's all. And compliance. And quiet, occasionally.)
• Felt very much like 2013 has just really rolled quietly into 2014, so instead of starting fresh, it's just business as usual. I think I am waiting for something to happen, or to *feel* something different. But I know that's silly.
• Missed some of my old friends more than usual. Wished I had real time to connect with people I love and admire.
• Determined that my hair is officially and without a doubt, thinning. Seriously considering a short haircut, but can't make up my mind what to do, or if a short cut would even help. Been pretty darn sad, come to think of it, about the state of my lackluster hair.
• Felt loved, listened to and cherished by my husband, and so happy that he's my kids' father.
• Almost totally given up on all contemporary hip-hop and most R&B. It's just all so BAD. (This also makes me kinda sad.)

I think that's quite a lot for not even two full weeks of 2014, no? I'll check back in periodically to see how I'm faring throughout the year.

What have you been up to this year?

Waiting on those shamrocks

So Dean is getting better from his case of HFM, just as Cary is whining and writhing about his.

Yes, Cary has hand, foot and mouth disease now, and this is far worse for us than it is for him because unlike Dean, Cary does NOT handle pain or discomfort well at all. (He's like his mother in this way.)

He was so miserable on Sunday -- curled up into a little ball on the couch, pleading for me to lie next to him on my bed, moaning and complaining all day long -- that I stayed home from work yesterday to make sure I could be there for him while Michelle dealt with the other two.

But in the middle of my day off to care for Cary, I decided to use the time to take Clair in to the doctor to see about her incessantly dripping nose.

Sure enough, Clair's got a sinus infection, an ear infection and the doctor threw in a second steroid to help with her wicked wheezing.

If you're having trouble keeping track, Dean's antibiotic for his ear infection ends today; Clair's antibiotic started yesterday. Dean's nebulizing treatments have done the trick; Clair's have been doubled down. Dean's HFM is on its way out; Cary's is just beginning.
And me and children's Motrin are best friends.

And did I mention it is (literally) 3 degrees here today and with the wind chill it feels like negative 500 or something? We're in the middle of something called a "polar vortex," which totally sounds like it is straight out of Game of Thrones. ("Winter is coming...")

Where is my good luck? These darn four-leaf clovers need to hurry up and grow!

They're getting there! Good luck is ON THE WAY. :-)

Actually, I am counting my blessings that I haven't gotten sick yet this winter, even in the midst of all this sickness. I think all that Vitamin D is helping. So that is definitely lucky for me! It's amazing how much easier it is to cope with three sick children when you are not also sick yourself. Let's pray it stays this way.

Showing my love with a green smoothie

Even though we couldn't readily see any evidence of the "mouth" part of Dean's hand, foot and mouth disease, our doctor could see postules forming in our baby boy's mouth and said his throat looked like it was raging. He said he was surprised Dean wasn't complaining that his throat was killing him.

And when friends told us about other kids who'd had HFM (thanks, LauraC for the shorthand) and had trouble eating or drinking, I worried about Dean. Maybe his recent (somewhat) loss of appetite  was because his mouth/throat was hurting him. Maybe he was STARVING!

So I did what I do best. I shopped!

I went to the grocery store after work to purchase the ingredients to make my version of a green smoothie. I figured a smoothie would be good for him because it is cool, easy to swallow, tasty and chock full of healthy stuff.

A snowstorm had just started brewing when I left the office, which usually means mayhem and mass consumption in the area grocery stores. But the grocery store on my way home is in the middle of the city, not the yuppie or hipster part, but the city-city part, so I was really surprised to get there and find that there was not a bag of fresh spinach to be found. The salad aisle was completely empty. Who buys up all the spinach, kale and spring mixes in a snowstorm? Wonders never cease.

So I had to buy frozen spinach, which was a bit of a bummer. But other than that, I was pretty happy with what I was able to pull together.

Here's what in it:

• Spinach
• Frozen fruit (mangoes, pineapple, strawberries, grapes, raspberries and blueberries)
• Plain Greek yogurt (and then one small peach yogurt cup from TJ's for a little added sweetness)
• A banana
• A little applesauce
• Two heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream
• Milk (to help with the blending process)

It turned out really, really good! And it's almost all non-acidic stuff (because I used milk and not orange juice or pineapple juice as a blending agent) so it should, in theory, not bother his mouth at all when he drinks it. And it was easy! I'm a green smoothie convert!

All the kids loved, loved it, but because nothing can ever go the way you envision it (new parents, write that down) Cary was the one who tried to inhale it like it was going out of style, and Dean lost interest when he realized I was essentially giving them treats, and so started whining for all manner of snacks to eat. And Lester probably drank the most of it.

Such is life.

Of course, post snowfall here, today's temperature has been around 13 to 17 degrees, with a wind chill that makes it feel closer to 5 to 10. So instead of ice cold smoothies, what I should be making for Dean is a nice hot soup, jam-packed with veggies and wheat germ or something.

But one step at a time, people. One step at a time.

Grow, shamrocks! Grow!

So far, 2014 has see-sawed in, with some ups and some downs. Already.

The ups:

Staying true to our goal of raising children who understand that they are contributors to this family, not celebrities in it, we gave the boys a new daily responsibility: making their beds.

Yesterday, we walked through the easy steps of straightening their blanket as best they can, placing their pillow on top of the blanket, and arranging their stuffed animals on the pillow however they want. (I'm going for a very non-Type-A, loose interpretation of bed-making here. We'll work on technique [many] years from now.)

Both boys did really good jobs!

Dean:

Cary:

Not surprisingly, Dean has embraced this chore with exuberance, and Cary has complained, three times in the span of 24 hours, that "I don't want to make my bed nice and neat, no thank you." Once, he even said to me, in the middle of doing something else altogether, "Mommy, I have an idea. You can make my bed nice and neat, OK? I don't want to. You can do it."

See how he thought he could convince me that I was getting the better end of that deal? Hahaha. Umm, nice try kid. But no dice.

I'm determined to make this a daily task, until it becomes a habit. Lester is understandably worried about the added time this will take in the mornings when we're usually rushing like crazy people to make it out the door. So our compromise is that they don't have to make their beds until after nap, putting the onus on Michelle to see to it that it gets done during the week. If this doesn't work, I'll have to insist that they do it in the morning. Pray for us.

We also started off 2014 by "doing a science," as the kids call it -- planting shamrock seeds in little eggs. This was one of their Christmas gifts from Santa.

About every hour, the boys ask if their plants have grown yet. Sometime next week, I should be able to tell them "yes!"

I'll be glad to have some 4-leaf-clovers growing in our house. We could use the good luck. Which brings me to the "downs" of 2014.

Poor Dean complained that his ear hurt on Monday. I took him to the doctor and sure enough, he had an ear infection. He's on Augmentin now (can we ever be rid of that damn drug??!) and copious amounts of Motrin, because Dr. Bodnar said he had a lot of pressure built up in his ear. He also is on the nebulizer three times a day because, unbeknownst to us, he had a little wheeze going on. (Clair's been wheezing too, so she's also on the nebulizer, although she doesn't make it easy on us like Dean does. Holy refusal-to-sit-still, Batman! That girl is such a warrior.)

Anyway, we figured a little wheeze and some antibiotics weren't too bad to start off the year. After all, last year we were all sick as dogs from late fall 'til Spring broke.

But last night, just after Lester and I got settled in to watch season 1 of "Game of Thrones" -- a Christmas gift from my Dad -- Dean came into our room complaining that he couldn't sleep anymore because his feet hurt. Huh? His feet?

Sure enough -- the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands are covered in red splotches, and he's rashy on the backs of his hands, his lower arms, and his feet and legs. He stayed in our bed, because he was convinced that this made him feel better, and this little boy tossed, turned, kicked and swatted at us LITERALLY every 10 seconds until about 3:30 a.m., when Lester finally saved us all and carried him back to his own bed. It took some convincing, and a lot of crying, to get him to stay there, but finally he fell asleep. Of course, by then, I was wide awake and couldn't drift off until sometime after 4.

And yes, today is my first day back to work. Zzzzzzzzzz.

We called the doctor (again) and he suspects hand, foot and mouth disease (which Lester had surmised) so poor Deanie has to go back to the doctor (again) this morning. Poor baby boy.

So that's one ear infection, two kids on nebulizers, one case of (possible) hand, foot and mouth disease, one sleepless night and two visits to the pediatrician.

Yay, 2014!

But actually I'm not all that bummed. Such is life with kids. Such is life, period. And in fairness, the high of possibly having two kids (somewhat) making their own beds this year is enough to carry me through the lows of stupid illnesses and interrupted sleep.

And when those shamrocks sprout - watch out! I'm predicting nothing but rainbows in our house after that!

Yay, 2014!

UPDATE: Diagnosis is back - It is definitely hand, foot and mouth and Dr. Bodnar says it will likely make its way through all the children. What did I say earlier about rainbows and all that crap? Ugh. Those shamrocks need to GROW, dammit.

Reflections on 2013

I was inspired by my friend Olivia's end-of-the-year blog post, and I made a commitment to write our own.

But I don't know how to sum up this year. I'm not good at these kinds of grand-sweeping articles, loving-birthday or Thanksgiving-gratefulness posts. I always feel like I'm forgetting something really important. Which is why blogging works for me. Short bursts. Quick thoughts. Come back tomorrow if you forgot something. That's my speed.

Also, Olivia's was hilarious. I take these things too seriously, which makes them cumbersome to write and to read.

So I'll try to come up with something, but just know that I am likely forgetting everything. And forgive the earnestness, OK? It's Christmas! Be kind!

Here goes:

2013 was a truly wonderful one for the Davises.

The boys hit 3 hard -- becoming more opinionated, more hilarious, more obstinate, more imaginative, more talkative, more boisterous and more curious than ever. For Dean, the temper tantrums got fewer, but more determined. For Cary, listening and sharing became foreign concepts. Both boys advanced to Gold Medal status in whining. (God help us).
Dean's helpfulness became *actually* helpful, as he can truly do things I need him to do, and he jumps at opportunities to assist Lester, me, Cary and especially Clair.
Cary built on his love of books and language, and can recognize a number of sight words and sound out some words. (I said, "These kids need to go to B-E-D," to Lester the other day, and Cary said, "BED?!" This does not bode well for us.)
Both boys are more affectionate than ever, and say things  -- unprompted -- like, "Mommy, guess what? I love you!" or "You're the best Mom!" I absolutely love, love, love this age, and I hear 4 gets even better. (I also hear it gets worse, in some ways. But that's every age, right?)

Clair is a marvel. Truly. This year she shed so much of her babyness, taking on traits that seem more little-girl-like than toddler. She is, as Dr. Bodnar wisely said once, the most definitive child. She knows exactly what she wants and doesn't want -- and laughs and lashes out with equal amounts of gusto. She speaks so clearly, she astounds people who are fooled by her tiny frame. "No Daddy! I don't like it!" she'll say. Or, "No Mommy! I don't want that. I want this!" Her personality has gelled into a delightful mold. She is hilarious and dramatic, loud and silly, a lover and a fighter. She is also maddeningly fiery, and my most passionate (read: loud, screamy and forceful) child. This will be an adventure raising her, for sure. She'll turn 2 in February, which means we will have to sign her up for school in the fall. We'll be taking our little baby off to school with Cary and Dean, little snack bag in tow. I cannot believe it.

After a good year of austerity, Lester and I backslid a little bit and ended this year with less in savings than we've ever had. But before the holiday, we revamped our budgeting/financial strategy and renewed our commitment to saving. I'm proud of us for not letting one year of less-than-stellar decision-making turn into a habit.

We also reconnected with a church home this year, and have made loving, serving and learning about God more central to our daily lives. This was a long time coming, and we have a long way to go to get where I'd like to be, but I'm so glad we are taking these important steps.

Looking back at my blog posts this year, I notice how much STUFF we did with the kids. But honestly, this year we actually spent more time than ever just hanging out in the house, old-school-style, letting the kids find ways to entertain themselves, even if that meant mess and noise and the din of unstructured silliness. I am learning to relax about that much-needed downtime, and not feel the need to cram "learning" or "experience" into every minute of our very busy and sometimes stressful lives. When the type-A part of my brain starts screaming "Must. Create. Synapses!" I am learning to return fire with "Must lie-in-the-bed-reading-while-the-kids-watch-Peep-in-the-Big-Wide-World!!" And that feels pretty good. (Surprise, surprise.)

Lester and I also made sure to spend time together just the two of us, despite the cost of babysitting (ugh!). And just by being around each other (without kids) we learned some things about one another that we didn't know before. It's really nice to still be able to find things about my husband that are new and interesting. It's also nice just to be married to someone who still wants to spend time alone with me -- and me with him. I don't take that for granted.

This year is going to be an important one for our family, as we take big steps toward moving to a new house/neighborhood, getting closer to God, and fulfilling what I believe to be our purpose in this world: to love and serve others.

This year is a planning/building/foundation-laying year for us -- with our goal of making real change in mid-2015. I've always been a planner, so this should be a good year (as long as everything goes according to plan, right?) even if not much really happens or is different.

I do hope to work on some things, improve on some things, accomplish some things and experience some things in 2014 -- just like all of us do. I have hopes and prayers for some of the cherished people in my life. I have dreams for myself that I sincerely pray I'll find the courage to move toward.

But I don't have resolutions, necessarily. And I'm not panting with anticipation for what 2014 will bring. On this first day of the new year, I find myself pretty content with things just as they are. I feel good about the Davises. I feel good about me. I can't think of a better way to start a year anew.

Getting ready for the holidays!

I had a big report due on Monday at work and then I was off Tuesday and yesterday. So I'm back at work today and ready to blog ..er...work. Right. Work.

I don't have anything really profound to say, so I guess I'll just get down what's been going on the last several days.

Last Saturday, we went to our friends Mark and Kelly's house and made reindeer cookies with Naomi and the boys!

I love that Kelly tried to get Naomi to eat a sandwich first. (She's shoving M&M's in her mouth by the handful.) Ha-Ha-Ha!

It was so much fun, we're going to do it again with a few other friends -- with more kids, yikes! -- this weekend at our house! Although I doubt it will be as fun as it was with Kelly and Mark because 1) Kelly is so laidback and cool about everything, that it was just really relaxed and nice and not manic like it probably will be when it's at my house, because I'm crazy and 2) Kelly made super delicious coquitos -- coconut eggnog with rum! Yummm!

It was so nice to see them all. I wish I lived closer to all my friends! Sniff.

Lester's big Christmas present this year was tickets to see Lauryn Hill at the 9:30 Club on Sunday!
We went to dinner in D.C. first and marveled at how much the neighborhood around Howard University, my alma mater, has changed. Things are developing/gentrifying so much that this restaurant we went to had only been open a week. And it was packed! And there were only a handful of black people. People who know anything about the Shaw/Howard U. area know that that is CRAZY.

Here we are, out. Alone. No kids. Alone. Having a drink. Alone.

The concert was really good (despite it being at the 9:30 Club, a standing-only venue which is impossible for shorties like me). For those of you who don't know anything about Lauryn Hill, suffice it to say that she is this incredible talent who got totally plowed over by her good-looking, charming cad of a baby daddy (Bob Marley's son Rohan) who left her and their FIVE kids to go off and marry some model. After that, Lauryn went cuckoo for cocoa puffs. She shaved her head, acted loopy at concerts (when she showed up at all), got in trouble with the IRS, went to JAIL!! and just seriously had a really hard-to-watch, broken-hearted breakdown.

But she's making a comeback and Lester absolutely loves her, so we took a chance and bought tickets to see her perform. I'm so glad we did. She sings with so much passion -- even moreso now that she's been through so much. It was a really good night, spent rockin' out with my baby. :-)

Before the concert, our friend Callie invited us to the Baltimore Museum of Art to hang out and make instruments during the museum's arts and crafts time. So we trudged over there and got to see the boys' friend Spirit, who Dean just loves. And we met some other very nice families and made a big mess with glue and scissors, construction paper and ribbons.

The boys surprised the heck outta me by being able to cut! I had no idea. In my house, we stay far away from scissors. Good thing their teachers are more adventurous. Also, Clair glued her lips together, using the glue stick like Chapstick. My kids are so creative.

And, lastly, I really made the most out of my days off.

Tuesday, I spent the day with Lester, hanging out and picking up a few things we needed to finish our Christmas decorations. And yesterday, I rode the school bus with my boys to their field trip (a play at Goucher College), came home, had lunch with them and went out and got my hair done!

I also got to just spend quiet, middle-of-the-day time with my kids, playing Christmas music and witnessing moments like this:

Which was really, really nice, because you all know how it is when you get home from work - all the harried task-completing, and end-of-the-day meltdowns. It's nice to get to see my children during a more relaxed time, warm and comfortable, safe, happy and loved.

If I didn't get another thing for Christmas, just having had this time with them would be absolutely enough.

Caught in the act, and I don't care!

You know those celebrity tabloids that show photos of your favorite stars looking schlubby or doing something embarrassing, like walking around with a wedgie or dripping mustard all over their clothes?

I feel a little bit like a celebrity today.

Last night, we dragged the whole family to Target to buy a few things we needed for the house and for a cookie-decorating thing we're doing Saturday with our friends Mark and Kelly and their kids.

It was right after work, so the kids were hungry for dinner. Lester bought hot dogs and grilled cheese and popcorn (dinner of champions!) and set up in the store's little dining area, while I power-shopped. I couldn't find one item I needed, but my check-out lady told me where to find it, so after paying for all my other things, I lugged Clair back with me to the far end of the store to get it. When I came back to the dining area (still without my item), Cary and Dean were spastically rolling the shopping cart into empty tables, spilling popcorn everywhere and just generally bouncing off the walls. There was NO settling them, so I just ditched the hope of finding chocolate-covered pretzels and said, "Let's go!"

We hustled out of there (to get our tree, yay! Which Dean picked out. Of course.) and got home so late that it was all we could do to wrangle the three over-tired crazies into bed and CONK out. No Scandal. No Game of Thrones. Just sleep. (Well, Lester folded two baskets of laundry, awesome husband that he is, but *I* fell flat on my face.)

Anyway -- it was all just another day in the Davis household. Until I got a message this morning from a colleague on Facebook who said she thought she'd seen us at Target and wanted to know if we'd been there the night before.Why, yes. That was us! Awww, we could have stopped and chatted. Aww.

But as the morning wore on, I started thinking: What exactly did she see?? Did she see Clair pick up that stray chunk of hot dog from under the table across from us, and me do the TV-slow-motion dive to knock it out of her chubby little hands just before she chewed on it?

Did she tsk tsk at how I had lazily clapped Clair's hair into a frizzy 'fro on the top of her head - and that she had "runch" all over her shirt? (That's what she said when I asked her what on Earth she spilled all over her clothes. "Runch.")

Did she judge me about the veritable carpet of popcorn we left for some probably-pissed-off employee to clean up? (I did whisper "Sorry about the mess!" to the random Target employee who was sitting there taking her break, but she just glowered, so I don't know if that means "You're forgiven, poor harried mother of three" or "Eff you and happy new year!" But I digress.)

Could she hear  -- all the way from back in the section with the Christmas trees -- my boys' complete and total inability to use anything close to an inside voice? Ever?  [Seriously. WHY are they so LOUD? Dang.]


I thought we had been anonymous in Target -- the ragtag bunch of us, all hastily bundled in mismatched hats and gloves, ketchup-stained, loud, hungry and unable to find chocolate-covered pretzels or mini M&Ms, despite two trips to the back of the store! DAMMIT.

But we had been spied. By someone who knew us! This must be how Oprah feels!

If I had written this blog post in my 20s, the moral would have been, "And this is why you must always look your best when out in public!"

Thank GOD I'm no longer in my 20s.  Because I didn't care one bit. This is the blessing of getting older and less concerned about what the world thinks of you.

And I know that my colleague truly wouldn't have judged -- she's a cool person, and a Mom herself, who was running late to pick up her own kid.

But even if she did judge, it wouldn't have mattered. My kids are not always magazine-ready; they don't always behave well in public. Hot dogs are messy; popcorn even moreso. The gloves that match the hats sometimes get lost.

And so what?

As a mother in my 40s, the moral of THIS blog post is: If you want chocolate-covered pretzels from Target, to make reindeer cookies for your crazy, messy kids, you'd better get 'em early, because they sell out.

Random wintery, pre-Christmas thoughts

Random thoughts:


When did Clair learn to say "sure?" -- You ask her to do something, she says, "Sure!" It is too funny. She also likes to tell "stories" using mostly nouns, but some verbs, like "crying" or "sleeping" or "falled." I love having conversations with her -- can't wait to hang out with my chatty girl when she's older. P.S. Can't believe she will be 2 in February. Good grief.
***

Still no tree in the Davis house. In fact, there are pumpkins sitting on my front porch (covered in snow) and scarecrows on my dining room window sills. I don't know when (or if) we're going to take Christmas card photos -- and then address and send the cards to friends and family. And I haven't pulled out the Christmas music yet. I am really behind this year. Like, woefully. (P.S. How do pumpkins last so long?)
***

I really enjoyed this newspaper article about what toys inspired girls who eventually became engineers/scientists:

I especially loved the connection between Legos and code-writing (something which I totally wish I understood anything about. Even just a little html would be nice to know.)

Note to Santa: Add more Legos to the Christmas bounty!
***

It has really gotten cold here - today won't even make it past 30-degrees. One super-annoying thing about winter weather: fastening two big boys into their safety seats with their tremendous, puffy coats on. Seriously, I break out into a sweat trying to get them buckled in and always have to stop myself from saying words no 3-year-old should hear. Today, after my frustrating struggles to get them clicked in, the boys spilled the beans that when Daddy takes them to school, sometimes he doesn't buckle them in. "He says, 'It's OK. We're just going around the corner!'" they told me.
Tsk, tsk, Daddy! Someone's getting a lump of coal in their stocking this year.
(I also had to laugh that they totally told on him! Hahaha! You can't do anything around kids this age. They will let the cat out of the bag. Trust.)
***

I am almost finished with Book 2 of Game of Thrones. Reading these books is definitely an investment, but really worth it. Even if you're not a fan of fantasy, if you like well-written, character-driven stories, with intricate, fast-moving plots and great dialogue (especially from Tyrion, the Imp) you would like these books. Take it from me. And actually, the "fantasy" part is somewhat incidental, I think. But you guys need to read 'em to see for yourself.

Speaking of GoT, I called my Dad this morning on my way to work and we had a little mini bookclub, talking about where I am in the books and Dad's thoughts on it, etc. It was really nice. I absolutely love being able to talk about books (or anything) with my Dad. One of the best parts of my life.
***

My friend Olivia wrote a Christmas letter that was so funny, I am determined to write one for this blog. It won't be as good as hers, but I am pledging right now that I am going to get down the highlights of 2013 in one place. Just as soon as I finish this MONSTER report at work, toss the pumpkins, get a Christmas tree, decorate the house, come up with something to put on the front of a Christmas card, and drive the family insane with repeated playings of Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas."

After all that, if my end-of-the-year letter comes next year, I'm sure you'll understand.

Clair has PTSD

After vomiting multiple times on Saturday night, my poor daughter appears to have PTSD.

Several times a day she stops mid-play to tell us, "I pit up." After which, we have to say, "I know, baby. You spit up," and make a sympathetic sad face, in order for her to go back to doing what she was doing.

She also is having a harder time getting in and staying in her crib.  I think this is because most of the throwing up happened after she was in the bed for the night, and every time my Mom put her back in her pack 'n play.

Last night, she cried after we put her down to sleep -- something that happens very rarely. When I went to soothe her, she cried harder, saying, "No Mommy. I pit up!"

I think she thinks if she stays in her crib, she'll vomit. Awwww. Poor baby.

And then this morning, I went in to get her and she was standing up in her crib, smiling happily, but saying, "Pit up!"

She's obsessed. I feel so bad for her. What do I do with a child who has stomach virus PTSD?

Rat skulls, cocktails and Murphy's Law strikes again

In my quest to find more science-y things to do with the kids, I happened upon the most awesome thing. Every Saturday, Masonville Cove Environmental Education Center has free activities for pre-K kids! Every Saturday. FREE!

The one trick is that they can only fill 20 slots, including adults, and so you have to sign up fast for the weekends you want to go. I learned this the hard way, as I have been trying to go to one of their programs since October!

But this weekend, we finally made it -- and the lesson was on "noc-turtle" animals. (That's how the boys say it.)

We learned about owls and bats and other animals that do most of their living at night. The programs are awesome because they combine toys and stuffed animals with music (the teacher sang a song about nocturnal animals - seriously, who makes a song about nocturnal animals?), a little science experiment, outdoor playtime, arts and crafts AND snack. Did I mention this was all for FREE?

Playing with all the stuffed animals.

The science experiment involved dissecting "owl pellets," which owls cough up after eating mice and other small animals. Because their stomachs can only digest the fleshy parts of animals, the pellets contain all the fur and bones. So we pulled apart the pellets and looked under magnifying glasses at little mice skulls and leg bones and teeth and tails.

The boys were only mildly interested in this -- especially because they had discovered binoculars earlier in the program and really only wanted to look at everything they could find with those. So checking out mice bones was a road bump in their binocular play. I suspect slightly older children, who really understand digestion and anatomy a little bit more would find this supremely exciting.

For my part, I found it pretty cool, but also a little bit gross. But I did a really great job of hiding my  grossed-out-ness because when one is trying to nurture the inner brain surgeon in one's children, one cannot make faces and go "Ewwwww!" when checking out mice skulls. (As much as one might want to.)

Come on. Look at that and tell me you don't want to give me a high-five for suppressing my "ewwww!"

Making a craft.

Owl puppets, with "real" feathers.

It was a little chilly for the outdoor play part of the program -- pretending to be bats and trying to find your friends (or Mommy) using echolocation. But the boys thought it was a lot of fun running around with their eyes closed shouting.

All in all, the morning was really awesome. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I know that going to this program will be a big part of our lives from now on. In fact, I think I've just found the place that will get our end-of-the-year donation in 2014: Masonville Cove.

Lester took Clair with him to a political event that morning, so while the boys and I were sciencing (just coined a word! Holla!), the two of them were politicking.  The Mayor was there and the Lt. Governor (who is running for governor), but Lester said Clair stole the show. I'm not surprised.

Later Saturday afternoon, we all went to my parents' house. We dropped the kids off with Mom and Dad and went to a holiday dinner party at the home of my friend Wes' girlfriend Danielle.

Danielle and Wes.

The fancy Davises (pre-cocktails).

The evening was VERY elegant. There were all sorts of stinky cheeses, and appetizers with brie and caviar, and super fancy place settings and a beef tenderloin so damn good I wanted to sing halleluiah to the cow who gave it to us. There was a signature cocktail (with cranberries that had been soaking in vodka for two YEARS) and dinner served with both a red and a white wine.  And the conversation was really hilarious and substantial and satisfying.

Grown-up night out. Good friends. GREAT food. Excellent conversation. Kids safe and happy (and asleep) with my parents: When we left Danielle's house, we were on quite a high!

It was quarter to 1 when we walked in -- and the high ended there.

Every light was on in the house. Mom was up washing linens and pajamas and Cary and Dean were awake and wired. Clair was crying and looking pitiful.

Apparently, poor Clair had vomited THREE times while we were gone. Once, she spit up all over Cary. And in the middle of all of that, Dean got ahold of a stapler in my parents' office and stapled his thumb. Dad had to pry it out with pliers. 

I thought for a half a second: Boy, so glad we missed all this excitement! But remember how we always say that no good date goes unpunished? Well, just know that Mom happily handed her shift over to me when we came in, so the fourth time Clair vomited (this time mostly liquids), it was our turn to change her pajamas, put new sheets on the boys' bed (how she managed to aim and hit the boys' bed every time is beyond me) and try to get her back to sleep.

At 3 a.m., she and I were still awake on my parents' living room sofa.  Her tummy was upset and she was "hunggy" and "firsty" but I wouldn't dare put another thing on her stomach, so she just whined and complained and fidgeted until finally, around 3:40, she collapsed from exhaustion.

Of course I was sorry as can be for my poor sweetie (and my poor parents!) but I was also thinking how it is SO Murphy's Law that the one night I have two or three (or four, but who's counting) cocktails, plus two glasses of wine, is the night my poor, sick child won't sleep until nearly 4 a.m.!!

And of course C and D were up at 7:30 a.m. --  bright-eyed and ready to eat breakfast and play in the snow that started falling later in the morning.

Lester and I were both so tired, we missed church and didn't get to go buy our Christmas tree like we wanted to. We mostly just sat around the next day, drinking coffee and falling asleep mid-sentence.

Lucky for us, the bug was pretty much over and done with by morning, so Clair feels much better and we are making plans to go get our tree sometime this week. So there are no regrets, people. I'm dragging still a little bit this morning, but I still have the memory of that fabulous tenderloin. And boy was it worth it.