in the pink

You might not have known this but my son fancies himself a pirate, as many a seven year old is wont to do. Thing is he puts on Oona's one clip on earring, a gift from Abbey (now known to Oona as 'Nice Abbey') who so sweetly played dress up with Oona when we went to her house for Thanksgiving. Now I don't know how well you can see the clip on earring but it's a hot pink faux jewel, not really what you'd find on Jack Sparrow. But this doesn't deter Owen and he wears it most days as soon as he gets home from school. I'm wondering if he was inspired by this boy who's a few years older that goes to Owen's school, he actually might be in middle school now. Very cute boy. Sort of like an older, possibly european?, version of Owen. He had a pierced ear and wore various earrings that appeared to be lego heads. So I found Owen with the earring on before bed the other night and had him strike a couple fierce poses for me. This one was by far the fiercest.

and so it goes

Owen's entered a new developmental stage where I am now capable of disappointing him in a very real, adult way. I'm used to his whining, pouting and occasional tantrums but just recently he's learned how to give me a very grown up sigh, heavy with all the accusations left unsaid. So what precipitated this seminal event? That bracelet that you see, dangling from my rear view mirror. The school my kids go to has the annual hoiday shop full of schlock to try and raise money for the school and I gave each of them money to buy something for each other, themselves, and their dad. But Owen, being Owen, which makes me love him all the more and worry for him daily, well he also had to get me something (there was a reason I left myself off that list) and had to have me open it immediately, no I couldn't wait until Christmas. So I opened the filmy bag and saw the cheaply made bracelet and my heart broke a little, it was so sweet of him and so flipping tacky. And the bracelet remained on the computer table for weeks until Owen asked me if I didn't like his present he got me because he knows I didn't want him to get me a present but he got one that was really cheap just because of that reason. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we just went around being completely transparent like that always. I told him I loved the present and that it meant so much to me that he thought of me but that I don't really wear jewelry (which is true). I even make jewelry but don't wear it. Aside from 'fancy' occasions where I might go out to dinner and, (gasp!) wear a skirt, lipstick and possibly a ring and a necklace, the only thing I used to wear consistently was my wedding band, which was the thinnest sliver of gold. But I felt really bad disappointing my seven year old son so I tried it on after he went to bed. It was too large for me so I was wondering how else I could use it - key fob perhaps? Then I thought of the rear view mirror dangly thingy ,which seemed perfect because I could look at it all the time and Owen could also see the present he gave me, we all could appreciate the bracelet in it's base metal glory. But when I pointed it out to Owen before karate the other day he just sighed. I am so used to disappointing adults but not my children, not like that. I asked him what was wrong and he said 'it's fine mom' in a tone that let me know it was not fine at all. And then, to add insult to injury, I asked him to go into karate by himself for twenty minutes because Oona was passed out in her car seat and I wanted to let her sleep for a little bit. So I sat in the car my heart doing a ping pong between Owen's disappointment and Oona's need to sleep (you know the sleeping cerberus in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone? That's what waking up Oona can be like). But wanting Owen to be okay trumped Oona's nap, so I woke her up and brought her into class only to have to carry her back out two minutes later because she started screaming and writhing all over the place. I reasoned with her in the car and she calmed down enough that we were able to watch the last five minutes of class. It's amazing how that tiny hour of interrelations between my children can be so emotionally and physically draining, I just ready to pass out afterwards. But then it was dinner, baths, story time and bed. By the next morning Owen hopped into the car leaned forward to fondle the bracelet then plopped into his seat smiling, the disappointment of yesterday completely forgotten.

on vanity

Today I had to go the hospital to have blood drawn, pee for drug testing and get my photo id taken before school starts. Now I have taken many a bad photo in my lifetime but the photo id I got today was a new low. To be fair to myself. I was standing against a white wall while the woman put a camera within a foot of my face, then took a picture without letting me know she was about to take it and headed right over to the computer to put my pertinent information in and spit out the photo id card, all without letting me look at the picture or her even seeming to look at it. I mean even at the DMV they let you look at the photo and retake it if you'd like, and yes I consistently need it to be retaken. I don't understand how a picture could manage to simultaneously age me 10 years, shave 40 points off my IQ and give me a substance abuse problem (I must have been about to close my eyes which made me look like a meth addict). I was puffy yet haggard, blotchy yet pale, sullen yet scared, the horrible list of dichotomies could go on. It made me wonder if the woman at human resources had a talent for taking a portrait that truly revealed the depths of just how physically unattractive a person could be. I have a hard time posing for pictures at all. I am incredibly self conscious which causes the muscles in my face to suddenly feel funny and unnatural. I have a friend who collects my bad photos, delighting in laughing at them and given her beauty, well, let's just say it does nothing to boost my confidence about my looks. But today's picture was bad enough to make me cry in the parking lot and question whether I truly saw myself physically the way other people did. Realistically, I know I'm not a great beauty but I'd like to think I'm at least halfway decent and I guess getting older can make those bad photos sting all the more. I drove out to Ikea to get some curtains and picture frames and get my mind off the id but I kept taking it to look at, it was like picking at a scab. How could I go through a year and a half of school with this photo clipped to my uniform? I would die a little death every time I looked at it, it was honestly that bad. On a scale of 1 to 10 I would be a 2. I kept thinking, well, I can go back when I have my arm checked for the TB results and then maybe I can have another photo taken but the more I thought about it the worse I felt waiting three days before resolving this photo id issue. So I drove back over straight from Ikea hoping I'd get a different woman from HR but no such luck it was the same woman. I sucked it up said I'd just been there earlier to get my id taken and was there any chance I could please get retaken because I looked like a drug addict. I even offered to pay for a replacement because I'd noticed the sign earlier mentioning the replacing photo ids was $10. She looked up at me and smiled a smile that was not happy at all, I've been receiving a lot of those lately, but she got up and took me back to the room for a redo. This time she mentioned that my head was tilted to the side and she asked me if I wanted to smile (while smiling at me through clenched teeth) which I did. And then she let me look at the photo before heading over to the computer. There was no hiding my baby fine hair or, um, prominent nose but it didn't matter, I looked reasonably intelligent, my smile looked genuine, I'd gone up to a 5 out of a 10. It was infinitely better than the drug addict photo. I looked like I should be working at a hospital and not be incarcerated. I thanked her for doing that for me and tried to explain that I wanted to start school on the right foot to which she gave me the forced smile and said nothing. Why is it when I think of HR departments I think of the secretary from Brazil? Well, nothing like an ego leveling bad picture to humble a person.

rattled

Yes, I've felt a bit like a pinball lately. I fear that if I had some program to highlight the text in my blog and typed in 'panic, worry, fear, guilt' that most of the blog would come back highlighted. I blame that damn mirror for breaking. No, right now I'm going to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of raging pms that makes me mental in a way I always seem to forget the sting of the other 20 or so days. I'm sure that it doesn't help that I've been eating a lot of donuts, hot chocolate and coke. I ate more vegetables today (a yummy antipasti) than I probably have in the past month. But I was late picking up Oona from pre-k today. Really late, like twenty minutes late, which I couldn't really do anything about. I was stuck in the middle of a tunnel, traffic had slowed to a standstill and I couldn't get my cell phone to work, it died on me twenty feet into the tunnel as I was on the phone with a friend trying to get her to pick up Oona early for me. That didn't work out and I showed up to find her teacher and teacher's assistant with the pained smiles of the deeply annoyed. I was close to tears walking in and apologized profusely saying I was stuck in traffic, you know literally stuck in a tunnel. They weren't moved and I walked out with Oona shaking my head to stop myself from crying while Oona asked what was wrong. I'm sure it didn't help matters that I was at least ten minutes late just two days earlier but, once again, I have a good excuse for that in that I saw my neighbor (who has had a number of health issues of late) precariously standing outside the Rite Aid (where I stopped for a pre-gym Coke). She was about to fall over and I helped her to her car and stayed with her until she felt a bit better. I'd like to feel a bit better. I feel like I've fucked up my daughter's future because I asked her teacher about the kindergarten enrollment process, she's born 27 days after the school deadline so it's a bit tricky. Okay her future might not be completely fucked but I don't want her in pre-k three years. She's academically ready and if she waits an extra year I just fear (there's that highlight ready word) she'll try to coast through academically (I know it sounds insane at the kindergarten stage, just bear with me) and might be a bit of a discipline problem because she'll be bored. I'd rather she be challenged, well as challenged as she can be at kindergarten. Her pre-k teacher has been aware of my concerns about getting her into kindergarten ever since she started school. But I wound up being given the wrong information, by her, and missed applying by a month. So yes, after dropping the kids off at school tomorrow, I'll be going to the magnet office tomorrow to hand in my daughter's born after the deadline month late magnet application. Wish me luck! Then I went to the gym and committed a cardinal sin in asking a woman who wasn't pregnant if she was expecting. I felt so horrible. She didn't look overweight at all I just thought I noticed a bump, it must of been the way her shirt was, but then I had to explain myself and I was mortified! My word, how do you take something like that back? I still cringe just thinking about it. And last night I wound up bawling while on the phone with my Mom because I felt so bad that I've been so mean to her lately when she's going through a really difficult time (broke up with the man she was living with, which is really a good thing because he wasn't the right man for her, but it's tough and now she's moving out here, which is wonderful for me but, uh, a bit stressful too because, you know, if it's not one thing it's your mother). She needed me to help her out with finding a place to live and I wasn't at all helpful I was bitchy and mean and I deeply regret it, fortunately she is a wonderfully understanding mother and told me not to even worry about it (in an entirely sincere deeply selfless way). Clearly I need to get my period and become a little more even keeled! Anyhow, I'll leave you with two links to articles that I thought were very funny and humane and struck a chord with me given the year I've had, hopefully you might like them too.

Let's Call the Whole Thing Off (the author is ending her marriage. Isn't it time you did the same?) and On Being a Bad Mother

work in progress

The kitchen it's come a long way since it's before incarnation, although it still has a ways to go. I'm currently in the delightful, deleterious process of removing the linoleum and mastic (how I love stripping mastic!) from the kitchen floor. But I am truly amazed at what a difference raising the roof (well ceiling) and a new color paint made in brightening the kitchen and making it appear much larger. Still on the 'to do' list
1. put down new linoleum floor squares
2. distress paint existing cabinets and get more cabinetry (or work with existing ones currently hanging out on my back porch and basement, maybe switch doors and also distress paint) to go above stove and frig wall.
3. put open shelves above sink wall
4. trim for windows and new baseboard trim
5. new appliances and
6. when i have enough money turn sink parallel to stove frig wall to set up galley style kitchen are and add dishwasher and countertop seating.

Big plans I have but right now I'm still hung over from the one two punch of 1. needing to give my brickpointer the rest of the money I owed him 2. having my furnace die on me yesterday (it got down to 41 degrees in my house, aside from my bedroom where me and the kids burrowed under many a blanket and had additional warmth from an electric heater) and just shelled out a couple grand to replace that. I'm telling you I shouldn't have broke that damn mirror on new year's day! Now where's that bag of ten thousand that I'm waiting for? You know, the one I need to drop out of the sky and land at my feet.

snow

This week in a nutshell: one delay and one snow day, frigid weather all week, sledding , hot chocolate and one dramatically major meltdown from oona at my favorite indian restaurant.

I am so so glad December is over. The whole time from Thanksgiving through New Year's I find more than a little stressful and this year it was compounded with the roller coaster of grandma seeming to be at death's door and rallying yet again (I can't emphasize how stressful the year and a half roller coaster with her about to die and then miraculous recovery is) and all the home improvements during the holidays and the first big holiday being separated. Ugh. I am so so glad it's all over. My new year started off with a bang, literally. I was doing last minute cleaning around the house once the kids went to bed new year's day. I decided I could bring the rolled up 8 x 10 wool carpet down from my bedroom to the living room. It is heavy as all get out but I figured I could manage if I dragged it. At the top of the stairs I started it off, thinking it would sort of go a few feet and then I'd have to nudge it along, because it was heavy but very floppy. Well, that rug took off like a runaway train, poor Sam was at the bottom of the stairs and I think I would have a dead cat on my hands if he hadn't bolted out of the way at the last minute. The runaway train rug crashed spectacularly into the table I spent a LONG time distressing over the summer and broke the leg right off of it. Then the large hexagonal mirror resting on the distressed table, which I also spent a LONG time distressing, flew up in the air and crashed into many shards. Nothing like starting the decade off right by breaking a large mirror, not very auspicious. This whole incident was so dramatic and so loud, I was sure the kids would wake up but, no, they slept right through it. So that foolishness, thumbing my nose at physics, added another half hour to my cleaning by picking mirror shards off the floor. I made the same resolution I've been making for the past twenty years (to eat healthier) and I never make it through new year's day without breaking it (I ate caramel popcorn, donuts, hot chocolate and coke new year's day and I am not an elf!). The upside, if there is one, to the stress filled December is that it had some massive metabolism boosting effect and I lost any weight that I had gained in the past year. Here's hoping January is easier but the teenage boy metabolism stays.

last day of the year

Wishing everyone a happy, stress-free wind down to the holidays this new year's eve. May your 2010 be happy, healthy and may you not lose any teeth unless, of course, they're baby teeth.

dining room update

Currently battling my own personal dementors. Nothing like a little stress for the holiday season no? What December would be complete without it though, honestly? I don't want to elaborate on the soul sucking dementors just need to figure out my own personal patronus, a sea otter would be lovely.

My dining room ceilings have been denuded of stalactites and painted white. I painted the walls a soft fern (nice muted green) on Monday but soft fern looked more like mint chocolate chip ice cream and soft fern on the walls. So I trudged back to Home Depot, where all my money goes lately, and took waaay too many paint chips to looks at what looked best in the dining room light. This can be very difficult because the frontrunner in daylight can quickly lag to last place by evening light. I'm very on top of this since painting my living room a color that I love by daytime but that I abhor by night. I was thinking of sueding the walls, Ralph Lauren specialty finish, because I thought my 100 year old plaster walls could use the equivalent of, I don't know, mederma? fraxel? but none of the suede swatches looked good by evening. So I settled on a nice light beige/grey/with green tints called cotswold breeches or some godforsaken crazy angophilic name like that. Ralph Lauren and his wasp envy. Let me tell you Ralph Lauren's paint blows. Blows I tell you! How can a paint be simultaneously of skim milk like consistency yet get those skins of clotting paint in it. Lovely colors horrible horrible paint. You been forewarned never buy that crap. The only downside is you can't get them to use the Ralph Lauren color formula on Behr paint. They have to color match it and it never winds up matching completely (it's the photo retoucher in me I see the hint of blue that shouldn't be there that made my soft fern not so soft, nice or muted). So I sucked it up and spent 50% more to buy Ralph's beautifully colored crap ass paint. I still need to do the trim, clean the floors, put the furniture back in there and hang some pictures, oh and finally put up some curtains which I haven't had up since (gasp!) July. I'll do the big reveal in a week or two, to build up anticipation for the big day in blogland.

I've included that picture of me, which has nothing to do with the post aside from showing my exhaustion on repainting said dining room, because it's funny how large my lips look in the photo, Angelina Jolie eat your heart out. I think it's the lighting (which is obviously lacking) and the fact my lips are really chapped from the winter weather so probably a good half of my upper lip is really chapped red skin above the lip. It looks better than normal though, maybe I should consider restalyne or perpetually chapping my upper lip.

christmas eve

What am I doing blogging at this hour on Christmas eve? I'm waiting for Owen to go to sleep so I can bring down the presents from the third floor. Poor little Oona is sleeping in my bed, for the fourth night in a row. She's been sick with a cold that this afternoon kicked her butt, she lay on the sofa and at one point this evening just fell asleep on the living room rug. Now it seems her cold finally devolved into an ear infection. It just sucks to be sick when you're a child at Christmas. Well, here's a picture from earlier today when I filled them up on bagels and chocolate milk at Panera. The last picture, where Oona looks like she's been goosed, is what happened when I asked Oona to sit up and open her eyes. We couldn't stop laughing over that picture and she spent the rest of the day walking around with her eyes like large saucers of surprise.

No longer need to really and truly study for, which I was really and truly doing in a half-hearted, procrastinating, what else can I do with my precious free time type of way. I passed! It's all the Christmas present I need. That and for Hugh Laurie to leave his wife, hit show, and move out to Pittsburgh to be with me, hopefully he's handy around the house too.

Remember when I wrote this in my previous post

my mantra is 'it will get better' because, honestly, how much worse could it get?

Well, that was like tempting fate because worse it got. They stuccoed my ceilings. A very sloppy but light application in the bathroom and kitchen. Heavy duty, messy cave-like stalactites in the dining room. I came home from cleaning a home this past friday and was this close to having a breakdown for Christmas. Instead I sent the kids off to my Mom, she's staying at a hotel due to the renovations here, and cleaned my house until one in the morning. I spent a good part of Saturday hopping around like I had ants in my pants, trying to convince myself it wasn't that bad (it was) and then trying to figure out a way to call and have the situation rectified (but they already had their check, they could just blow me off). I called the head drywall guy and left a message that I wanted to talk to him, that's all I said. He called me back and I explained the situation. He had been out most of the week (back issues, how we all collectively suffer from these back issues) and had an assistant do the work at my home. I had never discussed textured ceilings because I just assumed they'd be smooth but the assistant said the ceilings had to be stippled because there was too much bowing of the drywall due to the age of my home and joists that settled unevenly. I was very concerned when I even heard mention of texture on the ceilings. What? I don't want stuccoed ceilings I said I hate that look. Owen's karate teacher, who recommended these guys, told me they stippled his ceilings and it looked very subtle. I don't know I said, what about doing knock down, no the assistant said, that will just emphasize the bowing. I had a very bad feeling about this, especially since the drywall was already up on the ceiling. I didn't think I had time to see Owen's karate teacher's home but we managed to get there and back real quick and yes, his ceilings looked very subtle, not peak like or stucco at all, so I held my breath and said okay to the texture. And, oh boy, did I ever pay a price for it. But when I was on the phone with the head drywall man and explained the situation, he went above and beyond in terms of professionalism. He said he was very sorry that I wasn't pleased with my work and that they would be out Monday morning to correct the problem, sand down those peaks (yes I will have another late night of cleaning). I cannot tell you what a weight (the full weight of my heavily stuccoed dining room ceiling!) was lifted when he was so receptive to my concerns. No defensiveness, no hesitations, totally professional and quick to want to have a satisfied customer. We'll see how it turns out tomorrow. I'm not going to jinx myself by saying anything like this my mantra is 'it will get better' because, honestly, how much worse could it get? because do I really want to see what could be worse than this ceiling?

motivational forgetting

I learned in my Clep book for Human Growth and Development that sometimes repression is called motivational forgetting, which I just love. It seems happier, more active, self help groups could be dedicated towards it. God knows I'd like to channel some motivational fogetting towards erasing the month of December from my mind. And I had the worst dream last night, that I slapped Owen on the face (I've never slapped anyone ever) and it was so hard it left red marks, like a handprint and I wanted to hide it so I wouldn't get in trouble. It was so real and so awful, I woke up feeling spent. My word. Things are beyond panic producing right now, which might explain the dream, my guilt. I don't know that I've been this stressed before, aside from when I was pregnant with Oona and then I was crazy and stressed. Now I'm just normal (which probably qualifies as mildly crazy) and in full on panic mode. My downstairs is beyond disastrous - drywall is going up but Christmas is next week and my kitchen is essentially gutted and I, um, dropped the cabinet above my sink on the faucet and broke the spigot so even the sink is inoperable. Let's see... my Mom came out because my Grandma appeared to be dying once again but either I'm living Peter and the Wolf or my Grandma is a cat with nine lives because she's perking up? without antibiotics? when her breathing sounded like someone sucking on a bong just yesterday? What else, what else. Oh, I'm to take the CLEP next Tuesday, wish me luck because I haven't really and truly been studying that well admist this perfect storm of events all taking place in the holiday season. I could kick myself for being so dumb about the home renovations. But I don't like to do things half way so I kept picking apart at the kitchen, sort of the way you do at a scab when you're a curious, masochistic child, and now it's an angry pus filled wound. Needless to say, I don't have a tree up yet or presents wrapped. So... if you're into schadenfreude by all means enjoy the pictures below while singing it's the most wonderful time of the year to yourself. I do it, glutton for punishment that I am.

my mantra is 'it will get better' because, honestly, how much worse could it get?

you know how anthropologie and other catalogs will pose models next to decrepit plaster walls and it looks so pretty and arty? not so in real life.

dining room. my neighbor, the firefighter, helped fix a last minute leak on the roof over the box window, allowing the drywaller to finish hanging drywall in the room. i need to buy him something special, i'm thinking alcohol, to thank him.

beyond the plastic wrap is ground zero in the house, our living room.

can i recommend getting a man to help take out a toilet and put it by the curb if you have a nice strong man around? good thing i go to a chiropractor for trigger point therapy.

i plan on replacing the small window with one that will fit within the original, larger, frame. but i need to f*cking take a breath first.

in praise of the hula hoop

I never thought I would come across a form of exercise that is so damn enjoyable until I discovered the hula hoop. I bought one about a month ago and it sat in my closet because it is big, too big to do in my bedroom without the hoop hitting the wall, but one night last week I ventured upstairs to my cold, dark, empty 3rd floor and just rocked out with the hula hoop for a half hour. It's weighted which makes it easier to stay up, they say this contributes to an increase in calorie burning too. There's all these claims about the inches you can drop off your waist using the hula hoop for a half hour a few times a week. But you know what? I don't care. It's all about hooping and laughing, because hula hooping makes me laugh a lot. It's odd because it's rather sensual as far as exercises go and connects me to my body in a new way but it's so fun, I guess it changes my preconceived notions regarding sensuality, that it's something serious, because the hula hoop isn't, well it is seriously good fun. Last night I was feeling very antsy and went upstairs to hoop, just for ten minutes to get the steam out of me, well 45 minutes later my shuffle's battery died and that's when I finally stopped. I got my hoop from hoopgirl (I got the reasonably priced power hoop) but this place firegroove sells them too. I love looking at the websites, they're very playful and very west coast. Fire groove also has a bunch of youtube videos, both girls have some enviable taut bodies, by the comments from some of the men I think they're doing something else instead of envying them. So... if you're interested in a super fun cardiovascular exercise and have the room for a hoop I say go for it.