Thursday, March 20, 2008
In Florida
EJ and I are in Florida visiting my folks. It is amazing---warm, sunny, relaxing, and restful. Mike is joining us on Saturday, and we will be here until late next week. I will post if I can, but suffice it to say, we are offline and in the sun. I am so grateful for this very-needed spring break.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Dog Sense
Here's a fun little quiz that I noticed at my buddy Abigail's site. I took it because, a) I'm a sucker for silly little quizzes, b) I love dogs, c) I don't have any schoolwork today, and I'm almost off for spring break, d) just 'cause. Apparently, my dog profile says I'm a comedian who likes a walk and a beer with friends. Sounds good to me.
We spent a lovely day enjoying the sunshine and near 60 degree weather, which prompted me to spend silly amounts on cute spring/summer clothes for EJ on a quick trip to Target to "pick up nothing but milk and diapers." The sun got to my head, what can I say? We also got to have lunch with a college friend that I haven't seen since I had EJ (shame on me!), which was great. A great day all around, for man or beast.
We spent a lovely day enjoying the sunshine and near 60 degree weather, which prompted me to spend silly amounts on cute spring/summer clothes for EJ on a quick trip to Target to "pick up nothing but milk and diapers." The sun got to my head, what can I say? We also got to have lunch with a college friend that I haven't seen since I had EJ (shame on me!), which was great. A great day all around, for man or beast.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
$45.75
My poor car was running on fumes today, and given that I didn't want to run out of gas on the way to my final this evening, I stopped for gas. I set the pump nozzle in the car, then walked around to EJ's window to entertain her for awhile while the car filled up. Over twelve gallons later, with a happy toddler and freshly cleaned windows (nothing fascinates a two-year old more than a mommy with a squeegee), I went back to the pump to finish up. I nearly fell over when I saw the total up on the screen:
$45.75
All at once, a flash of memory came to me: it was 1995, the summer after my senior year in college, and I was driving the 1988 Honda Accord my parents had just purchased for me as a graduation gift. It was well-used but safe and reliable, and I absolutely loved it. I was spending the weekend at my parents' house, and I had spent the evening at a coffee house (one of the first) visiting an old friend in my hometown. I realized that I needed gas, so I stopped at a gas station on my route that I had never been to in all of my years growing up in that town. I stood there in shock and amazement as I realized that gasoline was now exactly $1.00 per gallon---could it be possible that the price of gas had just moved to three, digits, not two? As I was paying with cash and only had a $5 in my pocket, I kept close watch on the pump to make sure I did not put more than exactly five gallons in my tank.
In that moment, right after college, I could never have imagined that I'd be on the southside of Chicago, filling my pump almost $50 full, and entertaining a beautiful daughter while I prepped my car so I could make it to graduate school at Northwestern that evening. The evolution of life---the twists and turns---seems miraculous when viewed in hindsight, even as the day-to-day progression appears slow-moving and uncalculated.
I also never could have imagined that I would be at a gas station where a tank costs $45.75, while an oil change and complete "spring into spring overhaul" costs $23.50.
$45.75
All at once, a flash of memory came to me: it was 1995, the summer after my senior year in college, and I was driving the 1988 Honda Accord my parents had just purchased for me as a graduation gift. It was well-used but safe and reliable, and I absolutely loved it. I was spending the weekend at my parents' house, and I had spent the evening at a coffee house (one of the first) visiting an old friend in my hometown. I realized that I needed gas, so I stopped at a gas station on my route that I had never been to in all of my years growing up in that town. I stood there in shock and amazement as I realized that gasoline was now exactly $1.00 per gallon---could it be possible that the price of gas had just moved to three, digits, not two? As I was paying with cash and only had a $5 in my pocket, I kept close watch on the pump to make sure I did not put more than exactly five gallons in my tank.
In that moment, right after college, I could never have imagined that I'd be on the southside of Chicago, filling my pump almost $50 full, and entertaining a beautiful daughter while I prepped my car so I could make it to graduate school at Northwestern that evening. The evolution of life---the twists and turns---seems miraculous when viewed in hindsight, even as the day-to-day progression appears slow-moving and uncalculated.
I also never could have imagined that I would be at a gas station where a tank costs $45.75, while an oil change and complete "spring into spring overhaul" costs $23.50.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Full of Beans
I often tell EJ that she is full of beans. She called my bluff today at lunch by sticking black beans up her nose while I was out of the room. I just caught a glimpse of her shoving what would become the last bean up her nose out of the corner of my eye, and my gasping in horror stopped her.
Calls to the physician's office gave me mixed reports. I tried to leave a message on the nurse triage line, but was cut off. I called back, and they put me through to a doc, who said to get to the ER immediately. It could be serious, we needed to go. This could not have come at a worse moment, as we were late for EJ's nap and she was getting cranky. I could not even imagine how fun a 4-5 hour wait in a crowded emergency room would be with her, only to have the visit culminate with an ENT sticking a scope up her nose. Yeah, that would be awesome.
Moments later, the nurse called back---they had gotten my message---and by now, I had used tweezers and saline solution to pull and force beans out of her nose. They were so mushy, you couldn't even grab them whole, which actually made me think that they wouldn't be too big of a problem. As far as I could see, she had gotten one bean in each nose, that was it. She was breathing fairly well, although she did have that "I have a head cold" nasality to her voice. Curious to see if she could tell me how many beans were in there, I asked her.
Me: EJ, you put beans in your nose. How many did you stick up there?
EJ: A lot.
Me: A lot? How many?
EJ: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten...
Me: EJ, are you having fun counting?
EJ: YES!
Me: Did you really put 10 beans in your nose?
EJ: Ummm...
Me: EJ, this is important. We may have to go to the hospital. How many did you put in your nose?
EJ: TWO! I put two beans in my nose!
Me: Okay, good.
EJ: I have beans in my nose, Momma! BEANS!
Me: Just two.
EJ: I have ten beans, I have eight beans, I have twenty beans, I have two beans, I have fourteen beans...
Me: EJ, just lean back so I can assess the bean count.
I made the executive decision, based on mommy instinct and the my careful nostril inspection with our flashlight, that I was not bringing her to the hospital unless I really had to do so. We have all been sick, that is the last place on earth we need to be. EJ took her nap, and when she woke up, more saline and nose sucking with a bulb syringe brought forth a few more mushy bean bits, but that was about it. I think she'll live to sneeze another day, but we are supposed to watch for any signs of infection (i.e. fever, swelling, redness).
So, what did you do at your job today? Solve a critical problem with an important client? Facilitate a team meeting? Wow your boss with your latest brilliance?
I pulled beans out of tiny nostrils. Be very, very jealous of all the glamour, please.
Calls to the physician's office gave me mixed reports. I tried to leave a message on the nurse triage line, but was cut off. I called back, and they put me through to a doc, who said to get to the ER immediately. It could be serious, we needed to go. This could not have come at a worse moment, as we were late for EJ's nap and she was getting cranky. I could not even imagine how fun a 4-5 hour wait in a crowded emergency room would be with her, only to have the visit culminate with an ENT sticking a scope up her nose. Yeah, that would be awesome.
Moments later, the nurse called back---they had gotten my message---and by now, I had used tweezers and saline solution to pull and force beans out of her nose. They were so mushy, you couldn't even grab them whole, which actually made me think that they wouldn't be too big of a problem. As far as I could see, she had gotten one bean in each nose, that was it. She was breathing fairly well, although she did have that "I have a head cold" nasality to her voice. Curious to see if she could tell me how many beans were in there, I asked her.
Me: EJ, you put beans in your nose. How many did you stick up there?
EJ: A lot.
Me: A lot? How many?
EJ: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten...
Me: EJ, are you having fun counting?
EJ: YES!
Me: Did you really put 10 beans in your nose?
EJ: Ummm...
Me: EJ, this is important. We may have to go to the hospital. How many did you put in your nose?
EJ: TWO! I put two beans in my nose!
Me: Okay, good.
EJ: I have beans in my nose, Momma! BEANS!
Me: Just two.
EJ: I have ten beans, I have eight beans, I have twenty beans, I have two beans, I have fourteen beans...
Me: EJ, just lean back so I can assess the bean count.
I made the executive decision, based on mommy instinct and the my careful nostril inspection with our flashlight, that I was not bringing her to the hospital unless I really had to do so. We have all been sick, that is the last place on earth we need to be. EJ took her nap, and when she woke up, more saline and nose sucking with a bulb syringe brought forth a few more mushy bean bits, but that was about it. I think she'll live to sneeze another day, but we are supposed to watch for any signs of infection (i.e. fever, swelling, redness).
So, what did you do at your job today? Solve a critical problem with an important client? Facilitate a team meeting? Wow your boss with your latest brilliance?
I pulled beans out of tiny nostrils. Be very, very jealous of all the glamour, please.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Actually
While my daughter spent time with my folks a few weeks ago, she was treated to a new winter coat, hat, scarf and gloves. Every fashion-forward toddler needs two complete winter outfits that are base-pink, right?
The whole ensemble is quite adorable, but I have to say, the gloves are giving my husband and I fits. They are those stretchy, tiny gloves, and EJ cannot get her fingers into each finger-slot without a lot of help. She cannot abide by not having her fingers in said slots, though, which creates a whole stretching-pulling-adjusting glove process that takes quite a bit of time and energy on everyone's part. This is fine and dandy when you are painstakingly putting them on while in the house, if, of course, you aren't running late (when is that?). It's also okay when you are outside, and it isn't bitter cold (again, please tell me when that happens around here?)
Needless to say, I have begun substituting these gloves with EJ's tried and true purple mittens when I do not have the patience to deal with the whole glove process. That was my choice as I was trying, desperately, to get us out the door so I could work my shift at the babysitting co-op yesterday, and it brings us to our latest installment of "Quotable EJ." Enjoy.
Me: Okay, kiddo, we're running really late! We've got to get to the kids' room. Here are your gloves.
EJ: ACTUALLY, Momma, these are mittens.
That's right...ACTUALLY. Just in time for the finale of Project Runway, my daughter is commenting on her clothing choices, using adverbs with emphasis, in true diva fashion.
The whole ensemble is quite adorable, but I have to say, the gloves are giving my husband and I fits. They are those stretchy, tiny gloves, and EJ cannot get her fingers into each finger-slot without a lot of help. She cannot abide by not having her fingers in said slots, though, which creates a whole stretching-pulling-adjusting glove process that takes quite a bit of time and energy on everyone's part. This is fine and dandy when you are painstakingly putting them on while in the house, if, of course, you aren't running late (when is that?). It's also okay when you are outside, and it isn't bitter cold (again, please tell me when that happens around here?)
Needless to say, I have begun substituting these gloves with EJ's tried and true purple mittens when I do not have the patience to deal with the whole glove process. That was my choice as I was trying, desperately, to get us out the door so I could work my shift at the babysitting co-op yesterday, and it brings us to our latest installment of "Quotable EJ." Enjoy.
Me: Okay, kiddo, we're running really late! We've got to get to the kids' room. Here are your gloves.
EJ: ACTUALLY, Momma, these are mittens.
That's right...ACTUALLY. Just in time for the finale of Project Runway, my daughter is commenting on her clothing choices, using adverbs with emphasis, in true diva fashion.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Toddler, or OCD?
A friend of mine told me that there is a new game being played in modern, urban America, "Bluetooth, or Crazy." Essentially, it works like this: you see a guy on the street, speaking to himself in an animated fashion. You then ask yourself, "Is that guy talking on a tiny, hidden, bluetooth device, or is he just crazy?"
I believe that a similar game could be played by parents, entitled, "Toddler, or OCD?" I swear, if the kid in my house was an adult, she would be on really nice meds for obsessive compulsive disorder. There is a need---an intense, driving, tantrum-inducing need---to have everything in its place, where it belongs, in a certain way, touched (or not touched) by certain people...it just goes on and on. Today provides a stellar example---I made the terrible mistake of touching EJ's lovey blanket before her nap. That's right, I touched it. Once it was touched, she demanded that I place it back in the living room. I don't know why, as we had been out of the living room for at least five minutes. To her, my touching the blanket made it necessary to "reset" her blanket experience, and I wasn't willing to do it.
Crying and screaming ensued. Patience diminished, on both our parts. Her pleading became uncontrollable as I tried to rock her to a calm, pre-nap state. "Please, Momma, I'll say please again...PUT LOVEY BACK! PUT LOVEY BACK IN THE LIVING ROOM!" Throughout this exchange, she was snuggling this blanket to her chest. Does that make any sense at all? She was begging me to steal away her lovey blanket, set her down, walk across the house, and place Lovey on the living room couch, so that she could grab it and RETURN TO THE ROCKER TO SNUGGLE IT IN THE EXACT PLACE THAT SHE WAS AT THAT VERY MOMENT.
Ahh, toddler logic.
I finally had to just place her in her crib, crying her head off, so I could take a five minute breather and rethink my "calming" strategy. When I returned to her room, I picked her up, went to the rocker, and started rubbing her back. She calmed down almost instantly, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Five minutes later, an eternity in toddler-time, I thought the coast was completely clear. All screaming had stopped, and her body had softened and relaxed. She shifted her position, moving from my shoulder into a cradle hold. She looked up at me, with her calm but tear-stained face, and said in a whimpery, small voice,
"Put it back, Momma."
So, you decide: toddler, or OCD?
I believe that a similar game could be played by parents, entitled, "Toddler, or OCD?" I swear, if the kid in my house was an adult, she would be on really nice meds for obsessive compulsive disorder. There is a need---an intense, driving, tantrum-inducing need---to have everything in its place, where it belongs, in a certain way, touched (or not touched) by certain people...it just goes on and on. Today provides a stellar example---I made the terrible mistake of touching EJ's lovey blanket before her nap. That's right, I touched it. Once it was touched, she demanded that I place it back in the living room. I don't know why, as we had been out of the living room for at least five minutes. To her, my touching the blanket made it necessary to "reset" her blanket experience, and I wasn't willing to do it.
Crying and screaming ensued. Patience diminished, on both our parts. Her pleading became uncontrollable as I tried to rock her to a calm, pre-nap state. "Please, Momma, I'll say please again...PUT LOVEY BACK! PUT LOVEY BACK IN THE LIVING ROOM!" Throughout this exchange, she was snuggling this blanket to her chest. Does that make any sense at all? She was begging me to steal away her lovey blanket, set her down, walk across the house, and place Lovey on the living room couch, so that she could grab it and RETURN TO THE ROCKER TO SNUGGLE IT IN THE EXACT PLACE THAT SHE WAS AT THAT VERY MOMENT.
Ahh, toddler logic.
I finally had to just place her in her crib, crying her head off, so I could take a five minute breather and rethink my "calming" strategy. When I returned to her room, I picked her up, went to the rocker, and started rubbing her back. She calmed down almost instantly, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Five minutes later, an eternity in toddler-time, I thought the coast was completely clear. All screaming had stopped, and her body had softened and relaxed. She shifted her position, moving from my shoulder into a cradle hold. She looked up at me, with her calm but tear-stained face, and said in a whimpery, small voice,
"Put it back, Momma."
So, you decide: toddler, or OCD?
Monday, March 03, 2008
Wellish
It has been awhile since I have posted. Mike and I are feeling much better. Mike is back at work, tired but doing okay. My ears are still slightly clogged and painful, but my energy level is much higher.
Here's the twist: EJ is getting a cold and a cough, which just started a day ago.
Fingers crossed.
In great news, we had a wonderful babysitter here yesterday. I placed an ad on an online sitter searching site, and a lady that I happened to already know from one of the music classes that I teach applied for the job. It was a perfect coincidence for both of us. I worked on my homework in our bedroom while EJ played with this child development major for three hours. When I finally emerged, somewhat cross-eyed from work, I heard music, saw castles built with blocks, puzzles happily played, and a life-size outline of our daughter completely painted and drying on the dining room floor. What I did not see was any mess, and within 10 minutes, every single toy was also put away. I said, repeatedly, "Oh, please, don't worry about cleaning up!" but this stellar sitter would not have it. She was going to pick up, and I was going to like it!
Heaven...I'm in heaven...
Here's the twist: EJ is getting a cold and a cough, which just started a day ago.
Fingers crossed.
In great news, we had a wonderful babysitter here yesterday. I placed an ad on an online sitter searching site, and a lady that I happened to already know from one of the music classes that I teach applied for the job. It was a perfect coincidence for both of us. I worked on my homework in our bedroom while EJ played with this child development major for three hours. When I finally emerged, somewhat cross-eyed from work, I heard music, saw castles built with blocks, puzzles happily played, and a life-size outline of our daughter completely painted and drying on the dining room floor. What I did not see was any mess, and within 10 minutes, every single toy was also put away. I said, repeatedly, "Oh, please, don't worry about cleaning up!" but this stellar sitter would not have it. She was going to pick up, and I was going to like it!
Heaven...I'm in heaven...
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