Therapy

This week has been spring break for my kids. Yes, I know, my kids are in preschool, big deal. But it is a big deal. I am use to my Tuesday/Thursday 3 hours of "me time" and I am use to, and like, my schedule. I am a schedule person. I know some people aren't but I like to have schedules. I function better with some kind of structure. It is like a game: what can I fit in between doing x and z. Yes, y, I know but I try to squeeze as many letters as I can into to whatever time frame I have regardless of alphabetical order.

Spring Break means that I have been schedule fucked. It has been a very stressful week for me. I have tried to have a make-shift schedule with things to do but new schedules take time to adjust to and I am a person also adverse to change. The new schedule went like this: Monday we chilled at home and went to the gym. Tuesday we did playgroup at Tara's and then gym after Beau's nap. Yesterday we went to Centennial Olympic Park in Atlanta for the kids to see their oldest friends and we even rode MARTA-- always an adventure. Then the kids went to Lala's to play while I worked the stress out of my neck with a very nice 7 mile run. Friday's plans include Aunt Pookie is coming over to give hair cuts and highlight my hair, then we will go to the park or go on a nature hike. Saturday's plan is to attend Chase's birthday party in hell, I meanChuck E. Cheese. Sunday we will probably go to the Dogwood Festival.

Ryan has a new schedule that he is trying out this week too: it is called go to work at 6 am and come home around 9 p.m. after the kids have been fed, bathed and put to bed and dinner will be in the oven waiting for me. I am not terribly fond of his new schedule either.

This week, to say the least, has been difficult for me. I am suddenly a single parent who doesn't work, or rather, doesn't get paid for her work and still has to do all the laundry and cooking for a husband I never see but still sleeps in my bed. If you think I am bitching, you are very perceptive.

But before anyone calls me a whiner I just want to say that I know I am spoiled and that, therefore, makes this all that much more exhausting for me. I am use to help and all the sudden I am tossed to the wolves. Spring Break has been like Mommy Survivor week for me only I didn't get to bring my comfort item. And yes, I know; I would the first to be voted off at tribal council. Like I care at this point.

So yesterday I decided Thursday would be my day and that I deserved some much needed retail therapy today.

The kids, of course, were not happy to hear of today's plans. So last night we negotiated: an hour of jumping atMonkey Joes in exchange for good behavior while Mommy shopped. I knew, of course, that I would be the only one keeping my word. Carmella, for the most part was good to hers too but Beau was not. No surprise there, huh? Beau takes pride in his naughtiness.

We started the shopping day with my friend Camille and her cutie-pies Charla and Julianne. Camille advised me to buy a most fashionable and classic white trench from Banana Republic. I am worried people might mistake me for a doctor in it but I am still keeping it. I have definitely been mistaken for far worse things in regards to my wardrobe choices.

We then took the kids to see the Easter Bunny and got pictures. Then she left me to take her kids to the carousel. I left to meet Bubbles, my mother-in-law, at Parisian to shop for shoes and Easter clothes for Beau. Just as Camille left Bubbles called to say she wanted to meet later than planned. So I was left in the lurch with kids already tired of shopping and no promised Grandma as my shopping distraction.

Then Lala called and invited us to lunch at The Cheesecake Factory . Off we trekked to the factory of cheese. I called Bubbles and she agreed to meet us there. Lunch seemed to take hours but things did turn around for me. I bamboozled my mom into taking the kids with her. This left Bubbles and I to indulge ourselves in probably our one and only shared passion: shopping.

Let me wax for a moment on how I adore my mother-in-law. She is like a shopping guru. She has fabulous taste and will always tell you the truth--even if she doesn't say it with words you can read it in the eyebrow raises and facial expressions. She knows all these shopping secrets and can spot a bargain a mile away. Really, she has a gift and in the 7 years I have been married to her son she has taught me so much. My mom always says I hit the jackpot with Bubbles. She is right, if you combine my mom and Bubbles you'd have the perfect mom.

After lunch and bidding my mom a million thank-you's, we embarked in earnest on our expedition. At first, I was timid. It was bizarre to be so, so, unburdened. But no worries, I got the hang of it. Bubbles and I leisurely shopped. It was just like the old days when her, Carmella and I use to shop. Those were the days before Beau came along and turned Carmella against us.

I bought a shrug by Free People. Bubbles bought baby Patric some outfits. Then we went to shoes and she bought me these 4 inches of golden bliss. I have been coveting them for a while now as they go perfectly with a dress I recently bought but I deemed them too expensive. Today they were on sale but still more than I wanted to spend. She liked them so much she decided I needed them. She totally understands my needs. And this is why I took her along when I shopped for my wedding dress. Not that my mom wasn't helpful and doesn't have good taste but she liked every single dress I tried on. Every dress she said, "It is Beautiful. I love it. Let's get it." Bubbles was the one who audibly gasped and could see no other after I tried on "the one".

The shopping wasn't over til we bought Beau some cute clothes for Easter and summer. We parted ways and even though she passed on babysitting for the night-- and I can't fault her on that-- I am still riding the theraputic high.

I don't understand it--and I know it is terribly materialistic--but buying things, having things, shopping for things, just gives me so much pleasure.

Now, you'll excuse me while I go find other outfits to match my fancy new shoes.

Playgroup

We had playgroup today. Tara hosted. Annie, Camille and Steph came.

Clockwise from the left that is: Charla, age 2; Annika, age 3; Rollie, age 2; Carmella, age 5; Beau, age 2, and Chase next week will be 3.

Also attending but not pictured: Matilda, age 6 months; Dagney, age 6 months and Julianne, age 9 months.

It was a fun day. Annie blogged about it here with much more details. I don't have much to add except my own pictures.

Ladies and gentleman let's get ready to rumble . . .

Here is the truth about how Chase and Beau really play.

Margaritas: Mommy's Pleasure is Mommy's Guilt

Margaritas always seem like such a great idea til the next day. . .

I paid for yesterday's pleasure with today's guilt: Sure those margaritas I consumed on the patio at Pure were absolutely divine and it was fabulous to spend a lazy afternoon chilling and chatting with family and friends but I just don't like how it completely sucked the life out of me.

I have been an absolute waste today. On any given day I do about 10,000 things before noon. But not today. After this morning's Potatoes all I did was read All is Vanity. To be honest this book gives me little pleasure to read. It annoys me. I am identifying way too much with the characters' flaws. And it isn't just one character or one flaw: it is ALL of them. I just don't like seeing myself all splayed out in the pages of fiction like that, especially fiction I didn't write.

So I sat outside--only because Ryan commented to me that I should take the kids out since the day had shaped up to be beautiful and breezy-- and read while the kids played; getting up periodically for the requested snack or glass of water or to rescue a lost shoe. Later, while Beau napped and Carmella made collages, I read and gave artistic direction from behind the pages of the book.

I did manage to go to the store, fold one of the 3 baskets of laundry I need to do and, of course; fed and bathed and cared for my kids. Late in the afternoon guilt seized me and I went to the gym. I didn't want to go and tried to talk myself out of it. I am thankful I have one virtuous habit that prevails in the face of idleness and sloth.

I also showered today but I only did that because Beau and Carmella were calling me stinky pants. After reading about my shortcomings all day I agreed that I did reek and that a bit of body bleaching might be in order.

Although I am clean, I still feel like the worst person/mother/wife EVER. Just LAZY and I hate it. I detest sitting around and doing NOTHING all day. I know everyone needs down time but I just don't believe in it. It makes me feel so damn GUILTY.

And isn't it odd that I don't feel guilty about yesterday? When I think about it, technically, I accomplished more today than yesterday.

I guess yesterday just felt better: Must have been the margaritas.

Potatoes

An hour ago I was awakened by the warning sirens. The only time I ever hear these sirens is on seemingly random Wednesday afternoons that are sunny and they are testing the warning sirens. This use to freak me out because the first time I heard them was a month after 9/11. Now I am use to them.

Last night we had thunderstorms and once I realized what the racket was and what it could mean I went and got the kids and dragged them downstairs to the basement stairwell.

Neither wanted to be wakened, especially Carmella, and she balked at getting out of bed. I explained, "The sirens. Don't you hear them Carmella? They are warning us of tornados. Now go downstairs and sit on the stairs." I demanded.

Once I got everyone up and felt the threat was not so dire I corralled them in the playroom and turned on the TV. The sirens had stopped, the rain had stopped and all I could find on the news was a warning for severe thunderstorms and a tornado watch. So I put on Arthur and left the kids laying on the couch; hypnotized in their morning TV stupor.

Carmella just came upstairs and asked me:

"Mommy, do I still have to stay downstairs because of the potatoes? I really need to use the bathroom."

"No, honey, the potato threat is over. Go potty."

Guess I would have been pissed too if got woken up for potatoes.

We're Painting the Roses Red!

We're painting the roses red!

We're painting the roses red . . .


Okay, so we're not.

But Carmella is making an evergreen bloom.
She deemed its plain greenness unworthy.

Why be green when you can be green with pretty pink and white azalea flowers?

Sigh, if only she had Gregor Mendel as a playmate. Think of the fun the two of them would have. They could make hybrids that are not only useful, but pretty too.



Too bad he is dead.





With my kids? Everyday I get to be Alice and play in Wonderland.

We're painting the roses red, we're making the evergreens bloom, we're painting the roses red, we're making the evergreens bloom, pretty, pretty, pretty is as pretty does, da da da da da. . .

The Afternoon Run: Expelling the Virtues of the A.M.

I am a morning person. You can wake me up at almost any hour no matter how little sleep I have had and I will happily get out of bed. Just don't yell at me, that makes me cranky. Go ask Carmella and Beau-- who have woken me up many times a little too rudely and suffered the wrath of Mommy-- just how cranky I can be. They both learned early on that if you want to wake Mommy up at 5 am do it with a cheery "Good Morning Mommy" and a kiss. NOT with a stand by the bed screeching like a banshee wake-up call that means: Mommy get the fuck out of bed now and get me my milk! That doesn't start the day off good for anyone.

However, even though I can get up at any hour I cannot go running at any hour. I need time in the morning to eat and get my constitution (thank you Uncle Sam's) on before I lace up the shoes and go out the door for my daily 10k. My friend Stephanie blogged about the virtues of the early morning runhere.

She is a morning person AND a morning runner. Lucky ducky, those are good things to be. Most races are at the ridiculous hour of 7 am. I have even seen some start at an ungodly 6 am and occasionally there will be one at the more reasonable hour of 8 am. Regardless, I never run before 9 am unless I am at the beach because it is too damn hot to run after 9 am there, so I am always at a distinct handicap. The early race times really suck for me because I have to have 2 hours before I can run. For example, for the Atlanta Marathon I got up at 5 am. I went to bed the night before after 11 pm. So I ran 26 miles with less than 6 hours sleep. This, for sure, is not ideal but I can and do manage it. See, those sleepless newborn days were not a complete waste. They trained my body to function and function well on little sleep.

Ideally, I wish races were in the afternoon. Well, at least in the fall, winter and spring. Summer, because, of the heat I do agree about the early times. My body is, by nature, an afternoon runner. Therefore, I wanted to compliment Steph's Morning Run top 10 with an Afternoon Run top 10:

10. You are well-hydrated from, hopefully, drinking water all day: Hydration=energy

9. Most likely you have gotten your constitution on and won't have any, err, is there a gas station around here moments.

8. You have at least 2 meals in you (and if you are like me 4 or 5): Food= energy and Energy = distance + speed.

7. You are not sleepy.

6. You are not sore because you have spent all day walking around and stretching out all the tight joints and muscles. (Steph IS younger than me so she, admittedly, may not suffer from the AM tightness that I do.)

5. There are a lot of afternoon road runners so it can be a social event. (No Dale and his dog since I don't know who that is but there are others with their little dogs out there.)

4. If you go after high school is out you can breeze past the cross-country runners and feel great that you kicked the ass of asses that are half your age: Those asses may be perkier but you are faster!

3. Sunsets.

2. The after run beer. Mmm carbs. . .

1. You don't have to get up early to run.

As a Mommy though, I offer this caveat: you have to take your runs when you can get them. So while the afternoon run may be my ideal it is rarely a reality. It is always safer to run in the morning if you can because then you don't spend the whole day sweating the "am I going to get to run today" panic.

That said, I am off for my morning run.

Friends

This is Chase.

Chase is the son of my best friend Tara and her husband Dusty.

Tara and I have been friends since high school. We became friends because Kim wouldn't take Tara to school anymore because she was moving. Kim moved next door to me and I thought this is ridiculous; Tara only lives a few miles from us. But Kimmie has always valued her sleep: sleep, however, has just never been that important to me. So I took Tara to school everyday. I felt bad for those who didn't have cars. I had a Jeep and I played my music very loudly. Tara's mom told me if I didn't turn it down I wouldn't be allowed to drive Tara to school anymore. I've never been much of a rebel so of course I complied.
Carmella and Beau fight over whose friend Chase is. The both claim him. Technically, Carmella did know him first since I was still pregnant with Beau when Chase was born. Chase and Carmella bonded for four whole months before Beau came around.

"My Chase," Beau will say and Carmella will get her feelings hurt.

"He is my friend too! Mommy, tell Beau Chase is my friend too!" She will demand on the brink of tears.

Siblings; they will fight over anything.


All said the kids really play well together. Well, Beau does sometimes get the short end of the stick:


"Beau why are you crying?"
"Chase. Owe and. Me."
"Carmella did Chase throw sand on Beau?"
"Yes, just a little. It was funny."

Beau got her back though:


I like how they play together. Sure the boys sometimes nearly kill each other but Carmella is there to organize a game of hide and seek.

Or lead them on a bike parade in the cul du sac:
Or the oldie but goodie: boys chase the girl.

At 2, 3, 5 or almost 35 a good friend is a great thing to have.

Because I am going to Kindergarten . . .

. . .I can do ANYTHING!

This is Carmella's new catch phrase. Yesterday I took her to her new school and registered her for kindergarten. She is beyond thrilled. All I have heard since I wrote down the Carmella stats and signed her life away to the county school is how she is going to kindergarten and:
She.
Can.
Do IT.
All by herself.
If she had hips and a booty and could snap like Beyonce she would-- that is how sassy she is.


"I don't need help! I'm going to kindergarten."


Beau will chime in, "Me too!"

And I'll ask incredulously, "You're going to kindergarten?"

"No," he sadly admits. "Dardella."

And Carmella will affirm, "Yep, I'm going to kindergarten because I am five and I'm really smart."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask, "Who is the President of the United States of America?"

"George W. Bush!" she answers. "I know THAT because I'm going to kindergarten!


Didn't Robert something with an F foolishly write a book about "Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten?" I'm pretty certain that Carmella has already read it. I think I might have passed on that one. I am still finding there is A LOT of stuff I don't know. I completely missed those chapters on 5 year olds and 2 year olds and husbands. I guess it must have been one of those book jacket reads for me.

But the sequel to that book I have read. Heck, I think I wrote it and it is called: Everything that is fun I learned how to do in college and I am still living it. As a parent though, I am happy if Carmella never reads that one.

In other news we went to the park and enjoyed this most lovely spring day:

This post is dedicated to "Steph"

And the Blogger for Best Commentor/Blog Reader of the year goes to . . . "Steph".

Applause! Applause!

Speech! Speech!

Seriously, today I ran for the first time in FOREVER with Beau in the baby jogger. And damn did that ever suck. I forgot how heavy 2 year olds are to push and how much your stride gets thrown off and how much they complain. It was freakin' hard as shit. I swear to God 5 baby jogger miles is like 15 solo miles.

Steph, you are SO much tougher than me and I am so spoiled.

Whacky Wednesday

Today was Whacky Wednesday at Carmella's school. Whacky Wednesday has been on our calendar and I have been preparing Carmella for it all month. When I first told her about it she completely refused to participate but as the month progressed and they discussed it some in class she softened. Yesterday afternoon we spent sometime arranging an outfit for Whacky Wednesday. It is times like this that I realize just how different Carmella is from me.
Had it been me at the age of 5 getting dressed for Whacky Wednesday I would have put underwear on my head, done my hair all crazy, and worn some loud mismatched clothes and just about anything off the wall I could get my hands on. Mom and I would have had a fight about me toning in down. Whacky Wednesday would have been one of the few days where I knew I would excel and I was excited to help Carmella do it up. Carmella, though, before I even started putting outfits together, warned me that she only wanted to be "just a little bit whacky." Sigh, no fun.

One outfit I put together involved three fluffy skirts, a ruffled shirt and a mismatched other shirt, her flowered rainboots, a tiara and butterfly wings. Carmella deemed it too whacky. She said she didn't want people to laugh at her and the girls would think she was weird and wouldn't play with her. Again, she emphasized the wanting to be "just a little bit whacky."

In the end she put the outfit together: a pale pink pleated skirt over light blue denim capris with pink and white appliques, and a white shirt with pink, purple, and blue polka dots. She consented to mismatched hair bows: one pink and one white and multiple braids in her pigtails but they had to be even--- no asymmetrical tails for her. Her shoes were light pink and her socks white with light blue writing that said "Wednesday."

It looks very much like an outfit I might see my sister Pookie in on any given day--hair bows aside but the skirt over the pants look, definitely. It was perfectly color-coordinated pink, white and light blue and overall the outfit looked very well put together. Not very whacky but very cute nonetheless.

Beaufish

The first time I took Beau to the beach he was 10 months old. I sat him down on the sand and after taking a millisecond of hesitation to process the gritty new sensation of sand he crawled directly into the ocean: waves crashed over him and he, undeterred, trudged ahead like a speedy loggerhead turtle.

And so began his time in baby jail-- aka-- the pac-n-play. Yes, it was a huge pain in the ass to lug the thing down to the beach everyday but it allowed us to actually sit on the beach and build sandcastles with Carmella without fear of Beau going out to sea.

Later that same summer at the pool I turned my head briefly away and he crawled into the pool. He swam for a few feet and then began sinking. I spent the rest of the summer also dragging baby jail down to the pool.

The next summer, when he was almost 2, he had been climbing out of baby jail since he was 15 months so I knew that was no longer an option. I thought maybe I should instill a healthy fear of water in him. Upon our first trip to the pool I put his water-wings on him and tossed him into the pool. There was an audible gasp from mothers around the pool. And then dirty looks when Beau popped back up crying. Beau though, was afraid--- for maybe an hour. He spent the summer swimming all over the pool, going down giant water slides and jumping off diving boards with those water-wings on.

Last night I had a preview of my summer. Ryan was giving Beau a bath and called me upstairs. "Hey, watch this" he said (those famous redneck last words). Beau looked at me, mischievous grin, and ducked under the water. He stared up at me from the bottom of the tub, completely immersed, eyes wide and holding his breath. After what seemed like a minute, he rolled over and came up laughing, so proud of his new trick.

I guess I should have paid more attention when Beau told me Sunday that he wanted to work at the aquarium.

Stars, Sharks and Jellies, Oh my!

We went to the Georgia Aquarium today. We saw some cool fish and, most unusual, we ALL had fun. Generally when I take the kids to the aquarium they have fun and I do not. Today was a good time. If you haven't been you should go. Be warned though: there is NEVER an uncrowded day.
One of two whale sharks in the Ocean Voyager exhibit. This particular exhibit has a moving sidewalk. That always proves to be a fun experiment in physics with a 2 yr old in tow. Today in the Ocean Voyager we saw the rare and mythological scuba diver. The kids found the scuba men way more fascinating than the giant fish and millions of gallons of water that domed over our heads.
Honestly, we were so astounded by them that we failed to take pictures so we would have proof that they really do exist. Sorry. Maybe, if you are lucky, when you go they'll be out cleaning the tank too.Big ugly fish. Grouper, I think. On a side note: Damn! Someone needs to cut that child's hair. Enough with the Rapunzel.
I see it! I see it!
Somebody say "Beluga!"
The Belugas are in the cold water exhibit. It is my favorite and therefore I did not take many pictures. In addition to the Belugas there is also the sea lions, penguins, sea otters, an octopus and . . .
To the left and up is one of the giant crabs in the cold water exhibit. They are the freakiest things I have ever seen. Like giant spiders: very E.T. looking.
Some people, like Carmella, think starfish are a little bit creepy.


The Tropical Reef Exhibit. We had fun in here:

Don da. Don da. donda, dondadonda (---you should be hearing the music from Jaws in your head. I'm a little tone deaf even when just writing it out.)

SHARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beau is pointing to the above shark. Next to scuba divers sharks are his favorite. "I lub harks!"

JELLIES! Run!

Carmella swims with the fish.

It never fails and today was no different. At the reef exhibit you will hear:"Mommy,look! It's Dorie!" More silliness:


Hey Beau! Do your best James Dean.

Like I said, it was a fun day. There is also a Georgia Explorer exhibit and a river exhibit. I am less impressed with those and the Georgia one has a kid's playground of sorts so I try to avoid that one--germies and all, you know.