big plans for 2007

I had resolutions this year that I've already messed up on, big surprise since I don't do well with pressure.
the obvious...
1. exercise - some Pittsburghers might consider me tiny but by Manhattan standards I'm downright chubby. I plan on joining a gym, but today, when I was planning to go try out the gym and the drop off daycare at the gym (my main worry with joining a gym is that the daycare there is good enough so my worrying about Oona is minimal) Oona is sick, so it's another sedentary day for me
2. eat healthier - which I WILL do once I've polished off all the yummy cookies and cheese in the household, don't worry I'm not eating the cheese and cookies at the same time
and the not so obvious...
3. take my vitamins and get fish oil supplements - need to buy fish oil and get past the whole fishstick burps from taking fish oil
4. no going onto People.com or reading those tabloid magazines unless I'm in the check out line - I've done well with this so far (all of two days!) but my People.com addiction has been replaced by Youtube. Below are a few of my favorites

Stephen Colbert interviews Eleanor Holmes-Norton. I have spent way too much time the past couple of days watching clips from The Colbert Report but we don't have cable so that's my excuse.
Stephen Colbert vs Morning Talk Shows
Kevin Spacey on SNL
Jon Stewart on Crossfire
Bush impression

Owen's favorite songs, a list totally unrelated to my new year's resolutions
this song by Of Montreal... very funny, catchy song and your kids will enjoy the video
No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys
My Humps - Black Eyed Peas... yes I'm a bad Mommy
Business - Eminem... such a very bad Mommy!
All You Want by Dido (Owen calls this 'pretty girl music')

christmas joy update

Sorry I haven't had a chance to write yet during the holidays. I don't know what made me think that being at home during the holidays would make things easier. Toby made an amazing Christmas dinner - turkey AND prime rib and all the assorted fixings to go with both. My culinary contribution was a couple quiches and some chocolate chip cookies (of course, I'm always happy to oblige when it comes to sweets). My Grandma had a wonderful time too and she can't stop singing Toby's praises, she's totally amazed that he does so much cooking, I guess it would be pretty rare to find a man that helps that much with the cooking and kids from her generation. We spent Christmas Eve at Toby's brother's.

The doodlepad that Owen got for Christmas was the hit of the party but Oona wasn't too pleased when her cousin wouldn't share the stylus. But Oona was thrilled with the phone that Owen got her. How she loves talking on her various toy phones, I don't know where she gets this as I'm frequently uncomfortable talking on the phone, I'm okay if I'm by myself but I can get very self conscious talking on the phone in public or in front of others, I just can't relax and, well, talk uninhibitedly.

The past couple of Christmases have been wonderful because Owen gets so excited about every present he opens. He's so grateful for everything too. He'd pull out clothes and hold them up to his face for me to take a pciture 'Look Mommy camo pants!' This coat my Mom got him was one of Toby's favorites, he looks like he should be joining Marlon Brando on the waterfront. One of Owen's favorite gifts was this Owen coffee cup that Santa got him. Poor thing when I handed him his stocking in the morning the cup fell out and hit him right in the face.

(what's the story) morning glory?

Leave it to me to catch on to how wonderful Oasis is 10 years after their heyday. I feel like I missed some pivotal part of the nineties. I love love love this album and it's made me want to get more of their music. Oh and all the mythical controversy of this band; sibling rivalry of biblical proportions, substance abuse, regular bouts of pugilism, I have become an internet stalker of all things Oasis-related. Fortunately there's Wikipedia and Youtube which seem to facilitate internet obsessions.

I'm totally taken by their piss and vinegar attitude. This quote I got from Wikipedia showcases it perfectly... Later, (Noel) Gallagher became one of the more vocal skeptics in regards to the intended impact of Live 8, citing his belief that rock stars are not as influencing over world leaders as popular culture may believe. His explanation was "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are they hoping that one of these guys from the G8 is on a quick 15-minute break at Gleneagles and sees Annie Lennox singing "Sweet Dreams" and thinks, 'Fuck me, she might have a point there, you know? And Keane doing "Somewhere Only We Know" and some Japanese businessman going, 'Aw, look at him… we should really fucking drop that debt, you know.' It's not going to happen, is it?"

festival of lights

On Sunday we took my Grandma out to an estate called Hartwood Acres where they hold a festival of lights every year for the holidays. It’s a windy, 3 ½ mile drive through the property and there are all these elaborate light displays and a couple LSD flashback inducing tunnels of lights. There's also a few sponsor light displays, yuck can't they be happy enough with a tasteful sign at the end? In the beginning Owen got all excited, 'That's the news display!' pointing at the blue 4 logo for WTAE. One section has elaborate light displays for the twelve days of Christmas, we didn’t catch on to it last year until we saw the three hens standing in front of the Eiffel tower. So we had the whole family packed up in the new car, one of the reason’s we got it since it can seat six, me in the last row, the kids in the middle and Toby and Grandma up front. My grandma is in an assisted living facility for people with age-related memory problems like Alzheimer’s and dementia, she is very sharp for someone closing in on 92 but her short term memory, especially keeping track of time, is just shot. So throughout the whole 45 minute drive my Grandma kept asking Toby ‘how much longer is it?’ or ‘have you ever been to this before?’ or ‘are we almost through?’ while Owen kept lamenting, ‘this is gonna take forever.’ Oona just looked out the window and pointed at everything and the kids, Owen's laments aside, were so good Grandma kept forgetting they were even in the car. Poor Toby really handled everything well. He never loses his patience or gets annoyed by my Grandma constantly repeating things. I felt awful in the back seat thinking it was a bad idea to bring Grandma there because it was in the early evening and she tends to be worse as it closes in on evening and maybe all the lights in the dark and the repetition, I was worried it might have been like torture for her, not knowing if minutes or hours had passed. But when we dropped her off and I took her to her room she kept talking about how nice it all was and that she was just amazed by the sheer size of it and today when I stopped in to see her the hairdresser there said she kept talking about going to see the lights – so I guess it was all worth it in the end.

owen contemplates Streptococcus pneumoniae

Last week on the way to visit my Grandma Owen asked about antibacterial soap. So during the twenty-minute drive I’m trying to explain antibacterial soaps, Darwinism and how resistant strains of bacteria could one day wipe out humanity. What is wrong with me that I would get on this tangent about antibacterial soaps with a 4 year old? Owen is scared of monsters and various tricks of his imagination and I add super strains of bacteria to his list of worries.

will oona's hair ever grow?

Why did I think it would be less stressful to stay at home for the holidays? Granted we don't need to drive all over Pennsylvania and I don't need to panic about being on the highways in the snow but now I get to panic about everyone coming over here for Christmas dinner. I've already bought paper plates, cups and napkins - completely tacky I know but my dishpan hands, which at this point are so rough I snagged the silk on a couple of ties I was looking at for Toby (didn't purchase those) and we don't have a dishwasher, aside from me, so paper it is. We still have to figure out what to cook, Toby's was thinking of cooking a goose but since he's the only gourmand in the crowd I think that would be a bit of a waste. I didn't order enough holiday cards to send out so I've got to figure out something for the remaining dozen people on my list - aghhh.

I went to meet with Owen's teacher last week for another parent teacher conference. The first conference was a home visit where Miss S- and her assistant, the kindly but unhelpful, Mr. G- came over and I proceeded to go on about Toby playing Grand Theft Auto on the Xbox... don't even ask. Toby was like, are you trying to make me out to be a total gangster parent? Did you tell him I also studied Philosophy? Yes, I did because I felt so bad of the picture I portrayed of him at the Xbox. Oh well... So at this more recent conference, Miss S- mentioned that Owen told Mr. G- he believed in God out of the blue and I tried to explain why he said that. I mentioned that Toby's an atheist and his parents are religious, his Mom, in particular, is pretty conservative on her religious views. So one day Owen & I drove by a church and he asked me about 'the building with the Xes on it' and me, being me, I totally over-explained it and got into other religions as well, but was trying to impress upon him a very open-minded view of God and religion. Basically that no one religion is better than another and the concept of what God is can be unique to each person. But then I mentioned that Toby wanted to get him a t-shirt that said ‘God is dead’ and Miss S- just looked at me, thinking no doubt that poor Owen is doomed with parents like us. I don’t mean to make Toby out to be an Xbox playing, God hating heathen I think what happens is I start talking about things Toby has done or said that I think are funny- like he wanted to get Owen a t shirt saying ‘God is dead– Nietzsche, Nietzsche is dead – God’ which is funny and totally understandable coming from an atheist and a philosopher, but midway into explaining something I realize that what I’m about to say probably isn’t appropriate for the audience I’m talking to and I cut myself off but then whatever I’ve said so far just sounds awful.

I'll sign off with my heathen moment... not when I was experiencing maternal brain fog and corrected Toby by saying that Jesus was Santa's son, but when I went to Owen's school. They were having a holiday gift sale at his school in order to raise money for field trips and I went over with Oona to help him pick out some gifts for the family. Well, Oona has reached a stage of development where she screeches and arches her back wildly if she's in any area that she believes she should be allowed to walk in, so I put her down and within two seconds she yanked a tiny glass ball off the decorative tree in front of the cashier. I muttered Christ under my breath while trying to get the decoration out of her tight fist and let's just say that the cashier was none too pleased that I just said Christ in front of a bunch of 4 year olds.

holidaze

Saturday was my birthday and, as an adult, having a birthday that falls anywhere between Thanksgiving and New Year's just sucks. I can't even say it's all about that other guy's birthday, not BradPitt but Jesus, because it doesn't seem to be about him either. All I see is compulsive consumption; buying presents people can probably live without, going into debt, gaining holiday weight, maybe weathering a hangover or two and you come into the new year bleary eyed, bloated and broke.

I had a bit of a Sixteen Candles moment this weekend. My Mother-in-law forgot my birthday - sounds like the title of some self-help book "My Mother-in-law forgot my Birthday: How to make nice when you want to raise Hell." I told Toby maybe I'll get more money out of her because she'll feel contrite for her oversight but I don't think that's gonna happen now that Toby told her just that the other night. She wanted to talk to me after Toby informed her that she missed my birthday. When I took the phone she went on about how she had just celebrated their friend Steve Coral's birthday the other day and she celebrated her Mom's birthday Friday but she didn't even have me written down on her calendar. I know Toby's Mom tends to lack an internal editor, she just sort of says what she thinks and God help the feelings that might get hurt, but even though I know that about her, saying all that just made me feel worse, like I was somehow to blame for not being memorable enough. I just said I was surprised because I thought my birthday would be pretty easy to remember since it's the day before her Mother's (wouldn't you think?!) but that I knew it's easy to forget things when everyone is so busy with holiday stuff.

Which brings me to the other Sagittarian who had a birthday, Brad Pitt. I look at the photo of them in front of Fallingwater and I'm struck by a few things...

1. Does Angelina Jolie ever look bad or frumpy? I had wanted to get a winter white coat this year (yes, I'm finally thinking of retiring my Burton snowboard coat which I have had for nine, yes nine, years) but thought better of it since I have children. I imagined it quickly becoming soiled with various food & Oona body fluid stains, and I have twenty pounds I could stand to lose so winter white would read like this on me.

2. Do Angelina & Brad realize the VIP treatment they got at Fallingwater? They were allowed to have lunch in the living room, so I'm assuming they sat on some furniture, and they had a fire going in the living room. When we took a tour of Fallingwater this fall I was reprimanded for having a large purse and told to keep it in front of me at all times so I didn't bump anything, they're so hyper-vigilant that no one touch any of the original furnishings. But I'd rather they get the VIP treatment as opposed to say all the vapid dingbats (Britney, Paris, Lindsay ...) that get press and preferential treatment. At least Angelina & Brad do stuff with their fame, use it as a catalyst for philanthropy and possibly, hopefully, inspire others to make a positive change in the World.

3. That house looks amazing in all the different seasons. It really is a wondrous place BUT when I was on the tour all I could think was 'this place is beautiful and I could never live here with kids.' The wall of the balcony on the second floor came up to just above my knee. When I looked over the wall I had to crouch down because I started experiencing vertigo. (Truth be told, during the first week we had our new car I was experiencing vertigo when I drove it down steep parts on the highways out here. I had to get used to being up higher in a vehicle.) Am I the only freaky parent that has visited Fallingwater and shuddered envisioning their toddler falling off the balcony to the hard, slick rocks far below? I just looked up Fallingwater in my favorite reference resource, Wikipedia, and learned of structural problems inherent in the design, thank God I didn't visit the home before 2002!

So I'll come full circle and end with ruminations about this past birthday... I got my haircut, which was good. Owen said I looked silly, which wasn't great but it was a predictable response from a boy seeing his Mom suddenly look different. I've got to put any expectations of my 'big day' aside but putting expectations aside can be so hard even with the best intentions. I got some yummy desserts from Whole Foods for my birthday after enjoying a perfect bacon, cheeseburger with my favorite people (my family) and my favorite beer a Black & Tan, that got me very buzzed. I just don't drink that much anymore, I love to have a beer or glass of red wine every once in a while but nowadays all the alcohol does to me is make me very sleepy. So I'm 38... a year older, more tired, have some aches that I wish I didn't, still a nutcase with worrying, but overall happy and healthy.

what I'm grateful for

Today was one of those long, long days.The kids got up early, Oona didn’t nap for more than an hour, rather than her usual three, and by the end of the day I was convinced Owen’s sole purpose in life was to drive me crazy. He was so ornery today. At one point this afternoon I had so had it with Owen’s sassing me and ignoring me when I told him not to do things, that he’d go ahead and do looking right at me, that I ordered him up to his room. He refused to go, lying on the floor defiant (his version of a sit in to protest demanding Mom’s?), so I picked up all 38 pounds of him up and carried him up to his room where I said in a calm but stern voice ‘you’re staying up here for awhile.’ For once today he listened, I could ear him playing with his Playmobil castle, staging battle with various knights & barbarians for half an hour. Poor Toby’s sick the day before his accounting final, apparently the teacher is one of those pompous, professors from hell who like to go on and on about how brilliant and driven they were back in the day ‘getting degrees from Harvard and MIT at the same time blah, blah, blah.’ So he came home from his review and punctured our tire on the stupid metal ‘curb keeper’ sticking out of the curb in front of our house. Of course nothing is opened today that can meet our needs for the new tire, we can’t buy Goodyear tires because they’re on strike and Toby works for the International union representing those strikers. So I already have so much to look forward to tomorrow, hanging out at the car dealer's with Oona - who’s walking, curious and won’t be stopped.

And I thought last Sunday was bad ... when we went with Travis & Nicole (Toby’s brother & his wife) and their daughter, to get Christmas trees and wound up with nothing but a trip to the ER. We drove half an hour out to this godforsaken mall sprawl area right before the airport (Ikea! Walmart! Kohls! if it’s crappy and throughout the country it’s here) where we stopped to get brunch at Cracker Barrel. Three hours later we emerged and Nicole said that the Christmas tree farm was still about forty minutes further out. I talked to Toby outside and we both agreed it was crazy to try and go to this tree farm with Oona fussy, it was late afternoon and would be getting dark by the time we would get out there and then we’d have to drive over an hour back home – forget it. So we scrapped our whole plan for the day and went back to Travis and Nicole’s house. So within two minutes of being in their living room Oona fell and clocked her head on the leg of their coffee table. Oona was very upset for a few minutes and at first the hit looked bad, like it had indented where she struck the table leg. But it turned out to be a very minor goose egg and scrape on the side of her forehead… just in time for pictures.

Yes, the main purpose of the day and going to the Christmas tree farm was to get picturesque photos of the 3 grandchildren for Toby’s Mom to proudly show of to family and friends. So I’m trying to get a good shot of the three of them but my niece and Oona switch off on crying and squirming off the couch, while Owen makes goofy faces for the camera. Once Travis and Nicole returned and were able to assist in making crazy faces to get the kids attention we finally got a decent shot. Of course we didn’t leave their house before Oona hit her head again on a dresser upstairs and then got whacked in the forehead with a safety gate which Owen slammed so hard it swung back through the lock. We were lamenting poor Oona’s tough day at her Aunt & Uncle’s and thought nothing more of it until we put her to bed and she threw up a half hour later. I called our doctor’s office and knew my concern was warranted when the answering service put my call right through (you usually have to wait close to an hour for them to get back to you) to the triage nurse who told me that I should take her to the ER given that she struck her head more than once.

So Oona and I head to the ER and I’m freaking out every time I glance in the rear view mirror and see her staring off blankly without blinking. I’d grab her foot and shake it to make sure she was alright. When we got in the ER I was nervous they’d interrogate me about her injury to see if I had abused her. I know they have to do that with some injuries and totally understand why, but just the other day someone asked if Oona was a boy or girl, while she’s in a pink floral snowsuit and I blurted out ‘It’s a boy.’ I thought I might uncontrollably implicate myself somehow. Fortunately, I had nothing to stress over. After recounting to the nurse practitioner how Oona hit her head three times I said, ‘I sound like an awful mother.’ And she immediately replied, ‘nothing of the sort.’ Whew! We waited over two hours for Oona to get a head CT. By the time they finally called us it was close to 11; Oona hadn’t napped all day and I was confining her to her stroller because she was so tired and when she tries to walk when she’s tired she’s like a clumsy drunk, I didn’t want her hitting her head anymore – at one point while waiting in the exam room with her I let her stand near the mirror because she likes giving herself kisses but then she started banging her head against the mirror. My worry is like a vampire, just sucking the life right out of me. Just as Oona started screeching uncontrollably a nurse came to get us and we went to get Oona’s CT. She had to lay on a table where her head’s placed in a semicircular cushion. I laid on top of her and they raised the table up and guided Oona’s head to the center of the CT machine. If you haven’t had a CT before check this out. They can be scary even for an adult because the machine is so large and loud. Poor Oona’s eyes were getting larger and larger as the red lights blinked on her head and something in the machine started spinning around with great speed. She looked at me and made the saddest little face before trying to escape but I kept my body on hers and stilled her head with my hands on her neck and chin. The technicians were cooing little niceties to Oona ‘what a pretty baby’, ‘such long lashes’ but you could barely hear what they were saying over the machine’s loud whir. The good thing was the scan went quickly and the results came quickly too. She was fine, we were allowed to leave and Oona was asleep before we pulled out of the hospital.

It was a long drawn out Sunday, the beginning to an exhausting week of working on a rush order for a client I freelance for. But I can make up a week’s worth of not sleeping much, a day wasted, visiting that hospital (one of the 10 best children’s hospitals in the country) I can’t ignore how lucky I am that Oona was okay. The four times I’ve been to that hospital for Owen or Oona the worst thing that happened was an x-ray that showed Owen had pneumonia when he was 2 1/2. Not fun for a little boy, but not life-threatening either, after a couple days of antibiotics he was back to his usual self. I’m so grateful for the everyday miracle of my children’s lives and their health.

hello december

Owen’s class pictures came back yesterday. We had to pay for the photos ahead of time, I guess because no one in their right mind would buy them once we finally got to see what the pictures are like. I love my dear little boy and think he looks wonderful no matter what, but all the children have the same, slightly terrified, fake smile. Clearly whoever got stuck with the gig of class photographer for D— school is no fledgling Annie Leibovitz, who knows, maybe they’re more influenced by Diane Arbus. Along with his pictures came a note that some child in his class has lice so now I have to examine his head with a magnifying glass in bright light (which, since we’ve bought fluorescents, doesn’t seem to exist in our house) to search for possible sesame seed sized eggs. Just reading the list of what you have to do if your child does in fact have lice – all clothes in hot water wash followed hot dryer cycle (goodbye wool sweater, hello felt!); vacuum carpet, mattresses and furniture thoroughly; boil combs and other hair accessories for two minutes or use 1 part bleach to 10 parts water solution; anything that can’t be cleaned by the above methods must be sealed off in plastic bags for 30 days… my God, my scalp itches fiercely just at the thought of this.
Lately Owen keeps saying how he is a mean and stupid boy, ‘the stupidest boy in the whole World.’ Toby and I both insist he is nothing of the sort. He’s our son so we’re admittedly biased, but Owen is a wonderfully kind and gentle boy. He’s very thoughtful, and quite bright for his age, which can be problematic because Toby and I then tend to talk to him and expect things of him that aren’t realistic for a four year old. Well, last night Toby learned just where Owen was getting this ‘I’m the stupidest boy in the whole World’ complex. One of the girls he likes to play with, Q-, told him that he’s the stupidest boy in the whole classroom. Just hearing that made me bristle, I wanted to throttle this 4 year old – I know that isn’t very mature on my part but it kills me to see my children hurt or slighted in any way, typical Mother Bear behavior. Toby and I both talked to Owen and made sure he realized that he is in fact a very smart boy and to not listen to people when they say things that hurt his feelings. Toby told him to ask Q— if she can read, because Owen can. I told him to say that’s not true (when they say nasty things) and to tell the person that what they’re saying is mean.
When Owen first started pre-k I was over the moon. He goes full time, 6 hours every day, and after a long summer of not always successful bartering with a 4 year old over our daily activities I wanted to shout from our rooftop (which I would never do because it’s a mansard roof and has a very steep pitch) ‘I’m free!!’ I knew Owen craved that learning experience and interaction with his peers so I figured this new step in our lives was best for both of us. But he’s growing up, and seeing those changes, how the outside world and other people affect him, make me want to hold him close to keep all the grit of reality away from him. I realize that I’m waaay too protective with both my kids. If I had my way I’d hold Owen’s hand across the street and walk him to school until he’s in college. I see these other mothers, less anxiety prone, who let their children run down the sidewalks fifty feet away from them, who don’t have a compulsion to do a sweep of a room on entry to make sure there are no choking hazards that their toddler could get pudgy little hands on. I am so envious on one hand and so horribly judgmental on the other. Ambivalence is a feeling that I think, at times, is almost instinctual for me – no wonder I’m always so tired. I trust my children but I don’t trust our World. Especially now. Our country is so fast and easily distracted, technologically driven and culturally vapid. My soul aches for a kinder, gentler, more mindful time but what’s the answer?
Didn’t mean to leave this post on a downer, maybe the schizophrenic weather here is affecting me.