It’s Kind of Like Christmas

So I was looking at my blog, and it was looking a bit dusty. It’s not like I don’t want to blog, it’s just a lot of stuff going on. Busy in a Christmas kind of way, except that I don’t get any presents.

To back track, Thomas’s ear tubes procedure was successful! He hears much better, and since his surgery, he walks so much better. (I am thinking his balance was a bit affected by all that nasty fluid). Then Harrington was whisked away on a surprise business trip to Chicago while my parents vacationed in Gulf Shores. Yeah, everyone was off doing fabulous things, and I was left holding the fort down. But just when I was about to feel sorry for myself, I see that all my hopes in teaching Marie empathy may have come to fruition. I was attempting to shut my eyes for eight and half minutes while sitting in the comfy chair while she played with her princesses. The phone would.not.stop.ringing. Marie says to me, “Mommy, you must be frustrated that every time you close your eyes, the phone rings.” Sometimes I feel like she is the only other person in this house that actually gets me. Did I mention she is not yet four year old?

Speaking of birthdays, Thomas just turned one on Sunday. We had a party. The food was great! (Thanks, Carl, at Esplendido for catering)! Thomas was adorable, even when he wasn’t having fun. (Which was pretty much the whole party until he opened up presents). What I am saying without saying it is that yeah, I am having some emotional issues with this tender rite of passage, none that I feel like exploring at this time. Don’t worry, in about a month, I will break down in tears when I do something silly like go to Target and NOT pick up formula. Then I’ll be ready to talk about it.

Then we just celebrated my brother’s birthday on Tuesday with more awesome food. In a few days it’s Easter, which is a whole weekend celebration in this house. It’s kind of like Christmas, and things get complicated, which it often does when families live in close proximity. Some family members are divorced and some have alternative work schedules and some are demanding and some are just who they are. Christ rose only on ONE day, People, and we have THREE sets of people to see! I think if Jesus could have predicted all the fuss over his miracle of rising from the dead and people wanting to celebrate with family get-togethers, he may have stretched it over a few days instead of only one. Just sayin’. . .

And then there are the gagillion birthdays in April and then Marie’s in May and then Mother’s Day.

I don’t know where I am going with all this except that being the Calendar Keeper, Stylist, and Event Coordinator along with all my other Mommy jobs is making me exhausted!! But I am fighting hard to keep on track with my writing and my blog. Because, in my heart, I just have to. . .

Well, enough complaining about being busy, right?! I am lucky to be surrounded by people that love me (or at least like me) and my family and who wants to spend time with us. I am not going to let a few things like getting new clothes or eating good food or not getting enough sleep or a few insistent zealous pushy enthusiastic people get in the way of a good time.

Next time, I promise you The Business Card Story, complete with pictures!

*Blink* And there goes another week . . .

How dare they didn't take me first! At least I rock this hospital gown like a champ!



OK, so this has been one crazy week! I meant to post about his earlier this week, but you know, life doesn’t stop just because I have something to write. Also, linear thought patterns have been a challenge for me this week, so I hope you can follow along!


I was all set to post about my business card fiasco because I didn’t think there would be much to write about with Thomas’s ear tube surgery. Oh, but I was wrong, so the business card fiasco is going to have to wait until later because I need to vent about the surgery.

Sunday night, last night I was a wreck about this simple ear surgery. It only takes 10 minutes, but I think I was upset that it had to come to this. One ear infection turned into two, turned into three, and then he had fluid in his ears that wouldn’t drain for another two months. So really he’s been sick pretty much his whole life, all of 11 ½ months. And when I really look back, I think all those nursing strikes had to do with his ears because he would always bat at his head and ears. The ENT said that even though there was no fluid, there may have been pressure. So then there’s that whole Mother’s Guilt thing that just puts an endless tickertape of what if’s: what if I nursed him more, what if I made Marie wear a hazmat suit to school so she wouldn’t bring any of germs home, what if I told the doctor I wanted to see an ENT when he was having nursing problems instead of assuming it was a stomach issue.

Anyway, so we were told to arrive at the hospital at 8:10 a.m. and the surgery would be at 9:10a.m. We were the second surgery scheduled for that day. When we arrived at the hospital at 7:30a.m., we are greeted by the waiting room staff Greeter, Patricia. Patricia was very friendly and informed us that the patient before us had not shown up yet and that we might be bumped up for the first surgery of the day. I thought that was great!! And then in comes the patient with her mother and two handlers at 7:50 a.m. Instead of making her wait and letting us go first, since I am guessing she was an hour late, they whisk her back and get her started right away. I was livid!! I felt if my looks could seriously injure someone, they would have. And Late Mom didn’t have that oh-shit-I’m-so-late-vibe, judging by the McDonald’s coffee she was leisurely sipping and letting her baby suck on the cup lid. Also, one of her handlers sat in the waiting room and cleaned out her purse while she waited. But whatever. As soon as I was able to count from 10 to 1 without my eye balls pulsating with adrenaline, I voiced my concern to Patricia that this may set our surgery behind, but she assured me that we would still be on time. Well, fifteen minutes late turns into forty minutes late which then turned into fifty minutes late. I was so mad!! Seriously, how could Late Mom have no care for arrival time, and how could the hospital just be OK with that?! It’s already a stressful time knowing your kid is having surgery but then add Late Mom with her easy, breezy attitude that sets my kid behind, I was pissed. And then to entertain a baby in a tiny pre-op room for fifty minutes was enough to drive me over. the. edge. And during that wait time, I had the painful experience of watching my baby boy prefer his daddy instead of me. I am usually the go-to person for all that is comfort. What the hell was this all about? I feel like Thomas prefers Harrington when he comes home from work because he’s the Good-Time-Daddy, but at the hospital, I thought he’d want his Mommy. I mean, I know it’s good that Thomas feels close to Harrington, but sometimes I feel insecure. I feel like Thomas is getting back at me because I may have expressed some mild trepidation when I discovered he was a boy. Here’s another what if: what if our house becomes a house divided into boy and girls? That would be bad.

So that was my Monday morning. Thomas is doing well, for the most part. I, however, am still recovering. I think all this stress has made me break out in a rash. Here’s a brief recap of my conversation with my dermatologist that I had today:

Dr. Bird: Are you allergic to anything?
Me: My life.
Dr. Bird: Are you saying that you feel is under duress.
Me: Yes.
Dr. Bird: You are going to have to work on getting that under control if my remedies will be successful.
Me: It is painfully obvious you did not do the heavy lifting when it came to your kids.

Well, I said that last part in my head, not out loud. I mean, he did promise a cortisone shot to help with the insane itching, so I didn’t want to totally piss him off. Anyway –

So tell me your hospital waiting room stories? How do you feel when your kids want their daddy to comfort them instead of you?

Wisdom Found on Sesame Street

I had a magical SAHM-y moment the other day. I was watching Sesame Street, as I do every morning, feeling all woe-is-me-nobody-understands-what-it’s-like-to-slowly-loose-myslef-to-the-vortex-of-mothering-little-ones when this segment with Paul Rudd, Abby Cadabby, Rosita, and Princess Penguin came on. (Believe me when I say I searched EVERYWHERE to find a clip of this, but my search came up with nothing). Paul Rudd played The Prince while Abby, Rosita, and Princess Penguin were The Princesses. Something would go wrong like Princess Penguin would lose roller skate, and Paul would appear with a glass slipper. Then Princess Penguin became stuck in a mailbox, and he kissed her flipper to try and rescue her. Abby and Rosita were kind annoyed because Paul just wasn’t getting it. I mean a glass slipper instead of a roller skate. I’d be miffed, too. But I really like how the Princesses all worked together to solve the problem (or as Abby refers to it at Flying Fairy School, “twinkle think”). Isn’t that sometimes how it is; women just know exactly what to do to make the situation better.

Anyway, Paul was frustrated because all his old standby tricks weren’t working. He was feeling sorry for himself and useless that he couldn’t help The Princesses. So at the end, The Princesses wanted to play football, and Paul is sad because he can’t help in the way he thinks he should help: by saving these poor damsels in distress. But they do need a fourth to play football. So they ask him to join them, he feels useful, and they all play football happily ever after. The End.

So it got me thinking; that’s how it is with most men. They want to help. They want to come to the rescue. Just because women don’t need to be rescued doesn’t mean they don’t want a man’s help. Most women want the help, but not in the form of a glass slipper. And that help looks different every day. Sometimes it looks like empting the dishwasher. Sometimes it looks like taking over with the Babes. Sometimes it looks like listening patiently while I explain how raising Babes is the most amazing yet most draining job I have ever done. Sometimes help is just being in my corner and trying to see my struggles from my point of view.

Either I am brilliant or I’ve been watching too much Sesame Street . . .

(probably too much Sesame Street)