my word

Sorry, I have been very remiss in current blog posts. The past month has been a blur. I'm in full swing with my classes and trying to manage reading (usually on the elliptical at the gym), homework, seeing my grandma and all my mother/wife duties well I thought I might collapse until Oona started preschool full time. Yep, that's right Oona is in school five days a week now. And I think I might survive my fall semester and Oona will hopefully learn from the other students and her preschool teacher that blood curdling screams and saying you're stupid are not effective tools for getting your way. Oh, I've tried but I'm helpless to that scream of hers, it drains the blood out of me and I'm just compelled to stop it.

So Oona turned three on saturday and we had Toby's parents over and treated Oona to a pink party, since pink is her favorite color. This is one of the many things that Oona picked up from her babysitter - pink, a love of nailpolish and being very girly, bugs now scare her. I can't complain A- was a wonderful sitter and Oona loves her to bits. I had class on saturday but stopped at the grocery store afterwards to pick up two dozen cupcakes (half chocolate cake & half white cake) with pink frosting and pink & purple sprinkles. Giant Eagle's bakery (that's our local grocery chain) makes awesome frosting. I think I scarfed down four chocolate cupcakes throughout the day, if not more. God and Toby and I went out to dinner, since his parents were kind enough to watch the kids, and I had chocolate dessert at the restaurant we went to. I'm a chocolate junkie.

Toby's parents wisely bought Owen a present so he didn't whine incessantly watching Oona open all of her goodies. They got him this wooly mammouth fossil kit which was a great idea but... Owen kept asking me to do it for him. And it takes a long time, and a lot of work, to unearth just one of the bones. So I sped things up by soaking the whole 'site' in the sink and then those bones popped out lickety split. I'm a horrible enabler, I know. The next day we went with the kids and Toby's parents to the zoo and Oona started the trip off right by doing a face plant while running to the elevator. This is the second time in as many days that she's done this and both times when she'd start screaming I'm thinking that she must have knocked her teeth out. But, curiously, in a move the physics of which I don't understand, she hits the top of her forehead. At the zoo it started swelling and bruising immediately and it was all scraped up from the concrete too. Good thing she has bangs. I spent the rest of the zoo trip telling her to walk not run, what a killjoy I am. Wondering whether she tripped because her shoes are too small, which means I'm guilty of depriving my daughter of shoes that fit. And finally wondering how to get her to understand that she has to use her hands not her face to break her fall.


When we got home Toby's parents left Toby crashed on the couch while the kids watched Scooby Doo Zombie Island which takes the banality of Scooby Doo to a whole nother level and not a good one but there is a catchy song that winds up in my head all too frequently. And then it was Monday and our rat race started all over again. But it's all good. Everyone is happy, if a little tired. And I'll have to fill you in on my new level of Dr. Momhood tomorrow.

my sensitive son

Poor Owen. I brought him to school today and Monday is when the gifted students take a bus over to the gifted center for the day. Oona and I brought him to the end of the line and I could see that he was upset. I told him not to worry and that just started the tears. He cried saying that he didn't want to go to gifted. I think it's because, as far as I know, no one from his grade goes there yet. I tried to reassure him, reminding him about the math teacher that he likes so much there and asking if he saw Matthew, the boy that he mentioned was so funny on the bus ride home last time. He just shook his head and kept sniffling. I went up to Ms. S a woman that helps with pretty much everything at that school and she saw that Owen was upset and asked what she could do. I mentioned that last time he went he was nervous and two boys, S and E and a girl, A, helped him out. So Ms. S called out the two boys and asked if they would help Owen out and they nodded dutifully and brought him back to where they were standing. It breaks my heart to see him get so upset but I think it's best if he perseveres through it. Severe isn't a part of that word for nothing but I truly think he'll be better for it in the long run.

A few weeks ago Owen started talking about a blanket that one of Toby's artist friends made for him when he was born. It was a satin blanket with dots all over it, from clay soaked in dye. He used to sleep with it all the time until it tore apart 3 years ago. Now he hasn't said boo about that blanket in three years but he started talking about it in the car and how he really missed his blanket and he just started bawling. I felt awful trying to comfort him while driving, feeling so bad I couldn't give him a hug. I told him that I had saved a few squares and maybe we could piece together a special pillow for him with the fabric if he liked and he nodded, looking out the window sniffling back more tears. I really feel for Owen- he's just like me in being very shy initially and painfully sensitive. My Mom has two sisters and will talk about how she always wanted a big brother to protect her. The thing is, I think Oona will be more of a protector for Owen because she adores him, won't take crap from anyone and becomes very upset if she sees that Owen's upset. He's such a sweet little boy. Every day at the end of school he goes over to his kindergarten teacher from last year and gives her a hug. He's incredibly bright (he now stays up past his bed time lying in his bed reading books, can't really fault him for that) and thoughtful and so loivng. But I worry for Owen. He's not a typical boy. He isn't real physical, he tends to like doing more quiet activities, and being different, and so darn skinny, I'm terrified he's going to get beat up one of these day.

where did the first two weeks of september go?

Here are pictures of the kids taken from their cousin's birthday party a couple of weeks ago. I'd include pictures of my niece but her Mom doesn't want them on the internet, which I can respect. She seemed very happy about her party and had a great time with her cousins and other family and friends who came out for the big day. The kids all got to enjoy one last swim on their backyard blow up pool, which would take up our whole back yard but they've got an acre on land that's very pretty, although it might not look so nice when it's time to mow.

Owen now loves splashing around in the water. I'd love to get him more swim lessons during the school year but with karate two nights a week and toby in school two nights a week I don't think I can manage swim lessons a couple nights a week as well. I'm so absent minded being a stay at home mom, I think it's because I'm constantly thinking about a bunch of different things at once and it's obviously not working for me. Last week at the gym, after my mad dash from classes to pick up Oona at preschool and Owen at school, I rushed onto the elliptical with a bottle of communal hairspray from the women's locker room. I don't even use hairspray and have no idea how the thing wound up in my hand. Let's keep our fingers crossed that I'm not suffering from really early onset dementia.

I've taken on yet another refinishing project. I got a buffet from Goodwill a couple weeks ago for $60. Now I'm in the middle of the masochistic task of my multiple layers of paint for an aged, distressed look. I'll be sure to put up pictures once it's done. I wish I had more time to do all the crafts I'd like to do and have time with the kids and study for my classes. Times like this I wish I was one of those people who can get by on five hours of sleep. Unfortunately I'm a crabby zombie on anything less than 8 hours and even then I need a lot of coffee throughout the day to sustain me.

i heart the economist

This picture has absolutely nothing in common with the rest of this post. I just feel that posts always look a little bereft without a picture to spice them up. And let me tell you this is the most photogenic thing in our backyard, which could benefit from a lot of time, love, a mowing and some money thrown at it, but will have to wait indefinitely for now. Anyhoo... this link shows yet another reason why I love The Economist and anyone concerned about this upcoming presidential election should read The Economist's section on United States politics regularly - it will inform you much more than any of our television news shows will, aside from Newshour with Jim Lehrer. Whenever Owen hears the musical intro to Jim Lehrer's show he hits his hand against his forehead knowing that's the end of enjoyable PBS programs for him. Plus, if you pick up the magazine you can see the cheeky comments they put under the photo captions which always crack me up. I can't read the magazine regularly anymore, now that A&P and Pharmacology demand way too much of my time. But that magazine is like a smart, funny friend that never ceases to teach me something and make me smile.

mani-pedi

I had a test in A&P last tuesday and decided to reward myself by getting a mani-pedi since I have worked quite hard in my classes and I haven't had a manicure since Owen was four months old and a pedicure since Owen was still a bun in the oven. I also figured I could read my Pharmacology book while getting the pedicure but I ran into a woman I know from the gym whose son was in preschool with Owen. She's this incredibly pretty Indian woman who was raised in England so when I look at her and listen to her talk I salivate over how beautiful and cultured she is. And she has lovely long fingers and toes - perfect for mani-pedis. I'm totally jealous of all of you with index toes bigger than your big toe, it's supposed to be a sign of beauty. Me on the other hand, God blessed me with Fred Flinstone feet. I've been flat footed since I was a child and my feet are just nasty. I've got a wicked scar on my right big toe, the fender of a tricycle went into my toe when I was two and my Dad was watching me while my Mom was at the laundromat. The middle toe on my right foot suffered from failure to thrive and is the same height as the ring finger toe (this photo actually flatters my feet and gives the illusion that my middle toe isn't foreshortened). But enough about my ugly feet.

I couldn't relax getting the mani-pedi because the woman doing it was about eight months pregnant and she spoke very little english but chatted with the other women working at the nail salon in some asian dialect and that makes me feel so uncomfortable, like I'm this wealthy (not) white person exploiting her. Then while she was doing my finger nails she accidently stepped on one of my toe nails and smudged the polish and I'm spending minutes wondering how to politely bring up that she did this. She stepped on my toe again and then realized what she did, BUT THEN she got on her knees and touched it up and I'm feeling awful having this heavily pregnant woman on her knees on the floor touching up my ugly toes. The language barrier and her big belly made my post test pampering feel bad. And to top it off, after drying my nails and leaving the salon I reached into my bag to grab my keys and smudged my thumbnail. I might have to stick to massages as my pampering treat. Although my Mom lives in Staten Island and she said you can get mani-pedis for $17 there, maybe I could go for a Sopranos-esque mani-pedi there, should probably watch The Sopranos (I've never seen an episode) before doing that though. Here in Pittsburgh I couldn't find anything under $44.

ta da

Almost three weeks later and this is finally done. Phew! This took a lot longer than I expected, you'd think I'd figure that out by now with refinishing furniture since it always takes a lot longer than I originally think. And midway I always start thinking 'What have I gotten myself into? Is this crappy piece of furniture worth all the fuss?' One coat of paint, one coat of stain, another coat of paint, a coat of celery green stain, a coat of dove grey stain and two coats of polyurethane later and voila, it is done. Overall I'm happy with the way it turned out. It was really difficult with the different paint layers because I was doing everything after the kids went to bed and I couldn't judge the colors real well by my porch light in the dark. The final grey stain made everything work out better. And I'm in love with the hardware - Target makes my day once again. Next project will be a rocker from Toby's Mom but today I've got to study for an A&P test tomorrow. Let me know what you think.

detox

Okay so I'm the sort of person who goes through food kicks where I'll eat the same thing for inordinately long periods of time. In my twenties these food kicks were not the most healthy, salt & vinegar kettle chips with a king size bag of m&m's was my lunch for, oh about 6 months, while I freelanced at Martha Stewart. During that time I also used to hit McDonalds for super-sized meals 3 to 4 times a week, how I was at my lightest during that fast food period is dumbfounding. But this summer, after a lovely visit to my friend Elise, I got on a kick of eating plain greek yogurt with granola and blueberries for breakfast, and frequently lunch, and sometimes as a late night snack. Totally healthy - greek yogurt is naturally low in fat and high in protein, the granola was low fat with almonds and blueberries are like nature's superfood. But over the past week the blueberries have left all the grocery stores. A couple weeks ago Trader Joe's was out of my low fat almond granola for close to a week. And I went to Trader Joe's today and they don't have their large tubs of greek yogurt anymore, now they only have individual sizes with blueberries or honey already in them. So I've got to buy the Fage yogurt which is $2 more. And I'm totally jonesing for fresh blueberries and lamenting having to wait nine months to taste one again. Not to get off on a tangent but I think this is why I like the show Monk so much. I probably have OCD, I definitely have anxiety, and although I'm not a brilliant detective the way Monk is, well he's lovable in spite of his quirks, in many ways they're what make him so great as a dectective. So my blueberry withdrawal notwithstanding, hopefully my quirks endear me to some troubled souls, like my hubby and close friends, and I'm hoping my constant worrying/perfectionistic tendencies will actually help me in certain ways with the nursing field. God knows I'll be conscientious. Does anyone know if frozen blueberries are a reasonable fascimile of fresh?