Sara + the Murphy Boys

How Did We Get Here?

2011-06-01T12:42:00.000-04:00

Twelve more days of kindergarten. 12. A whole school year has flown by in a blur of homework assignments, reading time, class parties, field trips, and general craziness. Here's what I've learned about (or had reinforced) while Padraic learned how to read and write, add and subtract, tell time on both types of clocks, and count money.

(1) Last-minute notices for things: OK, so I already knew this was a peeve of mine because we've used a day-care center for six years and they are also fans of last-minute notices. As much as I love the teachers and staff at our elementary school, I do not appreciate getting notices for stuff needing to be sent in or special activities requiring parent volunteers without having at least one weekend between the request and the date the doodad or a response is due. We have a busy schedule aside from school, and it's not always possible for me to squeeze an extra errand into an evening without lots of warning, but I'm more likely to be able to find time over the weekend.

(2) Fundraisers: Mixed feelings here. I know our public schools need more funding for all sorts of things to support students, so I don't want to deny them that. But I also don't want to be hitting up friends and family to buy stuff several times per year or buying stuff myself all the time. I do like that our elementary school has family fun nights one Friday a month, where they earn a little dough via admission fees, because at least then families are spending quality time together while the fundraising is happening. Unfortunately, we were always too exhausted after the long work week to attend any of them.

(3) School pictures: Here I'm a fan because the company our elementary school uses charges roughly half what the company our day care uses charges. And somehow they continue to get our shy guy to put on that handsome grin of his so we're not buying pictures that look like his dog just died.

(4) Scholastic book fairs: I still LOVE, LOVE, LOVE these like I did as a child. The choices, the great prices, the smell of books. What's not to love?

(5) Class parties: Holy chaos, Batman! Snacks on the floor, snacks on the kids' faces and clothes, sugar highs everywhere! And me chasing son #2 around the room. They can be lots of fun, but that is one high-energy hour that leaves me needing a nap.

(6) Birthday parties for classmates: We attended a lot of these, and Padraic, feeling out of his element at the various play places where they were held, participated in none of them. Lots of sitting on the sidelines, with me just nodding and waving to the other kids' parents as they sprinted by. Oh, well. I got to eat a lot of cake.

(7) Birthday party, with entire class invited: Two dozen 5- and 6-year-olds at a bowling alley. I think you can fill in the blanks yourself. But priceless memories of shy guy actually being social in a large group at a public place. Miraculous!

(8) Buses: Having a bus stop at the end of your driveway is super convenient, but that doesn't help at all on rainy or freezing days. I still wished I didn't have to go even that far from my warm, dry, and cozy house. And when you're a harried mom who is supposed to write a note every morning to specify which bus your son should take home--the one to day care or the one straight home--you will screw up at least a few times, causing all sorts of stress.

(9) Lunches: Packing lunches stinks. But letting my kid eat too many public school lunches (note to school: I do not consider five fried mozzarella sticks to be an entree) isn't cool with me, either.

(10) Teachers: The most important element of the school experience, and we were so very lucky to get on helluva teacher for Padraics's kindergarten year. Maybe if we're really, really good from now till September 2012 we'll be lucky enough to get her as Henry's kindergarten teacher.

We've had a great year. We've had a stressful year. Padraic has won two good-citizen awards, which was not a surprise to us, I can tell you. Our helpful and polite son has continued to be so while in school and has also begun to blossom socially and certainly excelled academically.

I'm looking forward to whatever craziness summer will bring our way, and before I know it I'll be putting a first-grader onto that bus at the end of our driveway.

We're Gonna Make It After All!

2010-09-02T13:43:00.004-04:00

With Padraic's first day of kindergarten looming a week in the distance (come on and get here already!), I feel the need for some reminiscences and to put my thoughts out there about this new experience we're all facing. Yes, our whole family is transitioning as Padraic starts public school. Life will never be quite the same. I happen to think it's gonna be better than ever.

When Padraic was born, my first thought was, "I'm a mom, and this kid is gorgeous!" Then we took him home from the hospital a couple days later, and between long periods of staring at his cuteness I kept thinking, "Why the hell didn't anyone tell me how hard parenting would be?" I got no sleep and had no time to do anything other than tend to his needs. I still clearly remember that when he was about 8 weeks old he finally slept for longer than 2hrs at a time (which he'd never done, day or night), which meant so did I. I cried with relief, and all I'd gotten was a paltry 3hrs of uninterrupted sleep for the first time since his birth. It took him--and his little brother--a solid year to start sleeping through the night on a regular basis, so you can imagine how rough it was getting out of bed each morning. Maybe it was because they were breastfed since breast milk digests more quickly than formula, or that they wanted the comfort of Mommy holding and rocking them more than they wanted sleep. But that first year had just as many hellish moments as joyful ones because of juggling work and home life on next to no sleep; I will admit to that.

Back then I swear I thought Ken and I would never survive to see the day that Padraic would start public school. The day-care bills were crushing, toddlerhood was maddening, and we were just holding out for the first day of kindergarten to come as if it would be proof that we could actually do this parenting thing. And now, here it comes!

Only one week from today I will put my firstborn son on the school bus that stops at the end of our driveway, and I will go inside our house and cry. First I will cry out of nostalgia and the overwhelming emotions that come with watching our little boy go out into the big world, and then I will cry from sheer relief that we made it through over five-and-a-half years of being full-time employees and a full-time Mom and Dad. Five-and-a-half years of getting up at 5am to get Padraic (and later, him and his little brother) to day care early enough that we could beat rush-hour traffic into Philly and then leave work early enough to beat it back out of the city again. Five-and-a-half years of paying out the wazoo for day-care at some great facilities where teachers and staff have become like second families to us and our kids. Five-and-a-half years of Ken surviving as a single parent while I travel for work.

While we'll continue being full-time parents and employees, and there'll still be a day-care bill, and I'll still have to travel for work, we'll have reached the milestone that seemed to impossible back in January 2005 when a 7lb 8oz baby boy first arrived in our world and turned it topsy-turvy. Of course, now we'll have more homework than pre-K and more parent-teacher conferences and more in-school activities (some of which we are bound to miss because of our work schedules, and we'll feel all the guilt appropriate to those instances), but we're entering a new world of opportunities, too. New friends--both for Padraic and hopefully parent friends for us as well--new activities and interests, new places explored during field trips. It's exhilarating and a little nerve-wracking all at the same time. But so far, for me at least, exhilaration is winning. I hope the same is true for my favorite 5-year-old. :)

Padraic the Introvert

2010-06-05T12:19:00.004-04:00

As someone who teeters dangerously on the border between extrovert and introvert herself, I have great empathy for those who tend to be called "shy." One of those people is my firstborn son, Padraic.

Padraic was just as bubbly and smiley a baby as his little brother Henry was at that age, but as he grew older his personality became more formed, and it was clear that he would be an introvert. Padraic has a few friends he loves to play with, and his brother is his favorite of the group, but otherwise he is more content to build with his blocks, Lincoln Logs, and K'Nex and then excitedly describe to me what machine he has built. His building skills and creativity far outweigh mine, and I am in awe of his perseverance in putting together such interesting creations.

While being an introvert is not a disease, there sure are times when life is hard on the shy. We just went through a big one with Padraic yesterday--his pre-K graduation. Last September we had to switch the boys to a day-care center that would offer busing to our local public school so the boys could get there and back while Ken and I are at work, and I do find myself wondering if Padraic would be less introverted had we been able to stay at the center where he'd been since he was 14-months-old. The center where everyone knew him and he knew everyone. But there's no way of knowing.

I agonized for weeks over whether to even have Padraic participate in graduation because he is so uncomfortable with public performances. We'd already weathered a couple holiday shows where he ran to me, sobbing, and clung to me during the whole ordeal rather than return to his friends and join in the singing. Then there was some progress at last year's holiday show where instead of running to me he chose to hide behind the rest of his class as if he yearned to be invisible.

We did decide to have him go through the pre-K graduation, at his teacher's suggestion that it would help him feel like he was part of something, and also so he wouldn't be left out during the weeks that his class practiced their songs and skits for the big day. But that doesn't mean my stomach didn't whirl and churn as the day approached. And that day was yesterday.

My sister drove out to attend the ceremony, which Ken was unable to attend due to the weird timing--1pm on a workday afternoon. When we got there and received our programs, we realized this was gonna be a long ceremony, and I got more nervous, wondering if Padraic could get through almost 45mins of sitting in front of an audience full of strangers. As it turned out, he made it through, though his teacher reported to me that he was trembling. (Did someone just stab me in the heart?)

The program quickly got started with some songs, which Padraic stood up for but did not even pretend to sing along with. Then they passed a microphone around the group of 28 kids for them to say what they wanted to be when they grew up, and when it was his turn he quickly handed the mike to the next kid in line, without a single peep. None of the other kids even flinched as they proudly stood up and proclaimed that they wanted to be a football player, cheerleader, princess, or even a meteorologist when they grew up.

Soon it was time for each child to come up to the front of the group and receive his or her diploma from the teacher. The teachers did a really great job of telling a little bit about each child as he/she made the journey forward to get the diploma. Some were "most likely to be a CEO" or "most likely to give you a hug," and with Padraic coming up dead last, I was worried that his teacher would say something about him being shy. But she didn't tack that label on him at all. She deemed Padraic "most likely to be a famous inventor." I started to cry a little. But then I noticed that, unlike all the kids before him, Padraic had not left his seat to claim his diploma. One of the teachers went to get him, and he grudgingly moped his way up to the teacher who handed him his diploma. When the whole audience, who'd been silent during the lull of cajoling Padraic out of his chair, erupted into applause, I was a blurry-eyed mommy indeed.

But we both made it through the experience, and I am proud of Padraic for the progress he has made. He may not choose to participate fully in events that put him in the spotlight, but he suffered it gracefully and maturely. His favorite part of the whole event--even including the cake and water ice--was handing out bouquets of flowers to his two current teachers and one former teacher. I almost couldn't keep up with him as he barreled through the crowd of so many parents and other guests, looking for his teachers so he could hand them their flowers and thank them for being such great teachers.

I am proud of my little introvert for sticking to his guns when he doesn't want to speak up in front of a crowd. And I'm super proud of him for thinking more of others than of himself. Although he was the only introvert in that crowd of 28 kids, I know there are others out there. If you have such a child or encounter one, please remember to nurture them and appreciate who they are. These quiet, thoughtful kids are capable of some pretty awesome things.

Love you, Padraic!

So much happiness packed into one day

2010-03-10T20:35:00.002-05:00

Where do I begin? Today was all around an incredible day.

(1) It's my sister's 35th birthday. I mean, 29th birthday. ;) So I got to wish her many happy returns and totally razz her about being halfway to 70. When I turn 34 next month I will only be halfway to 68, which is vastly younger. I also got to have my boys sing "Happy Birthday" to her on her voicemail (since she never answers her cell phone), and it was darn cute. Probably good that she didn't answer because now she has it recorded for many humorous playbacks, complete with the sound of Henry blowing out candles at the end.

(2) This morning my friend Tori welcomed her second son into the world. I got to see a picture, and he is a handsome dude. Having experienced the joys of having two little gentlemen in my life, I know that Tori, her hubby, and her older son have many happy, loud, and interesting days and years ahead of them.

(3) A business trip I had been dreading that was set up for later this year was canceled. CANCELED. Thank God. Call me a wuss, but I don't want to travel to unfamiliar territories alone. I go to many major U.S. cities each year by myself for work, and I make damn sure I don't go out alone after dark, so there is a lot of sticking around hotels. This trip would've been to the southern coast of Mexico via a flight into Mexico City, a connecting flight to a regional airport, and then a decent bus ride to the final destination. Sorry, but I don't feel all that safe traveling like that by myself. I had been wondering how the hell to mention that to my superiors, or whether I even would, and now that situation no longer exists. Whew.

(4) Today was my last day in the office till next Wednesday because we leave on vacation tomorrow night. I'll spend the day running various errands like picking up snacks and sunglasses, bringing the dogs to the kennel, and mailing some packages I wanted to get out earlier this week and didn't manage to. Then we fly to Tampa and drive about an hour to my ILs' second home, which really is my MIL's primary home since she switched residency awhile back.

Our plans while there include going to the Phillies/Twins game at spring training on Saturday, hitting the local zoo, maybe going to the children's museum in St. Pete since Friday is supposed to be rainy, celebrating Mom-Mom's 29th b'day (everyone is turning 29...it's weird), and possibly swimming if I can stand it. Seventy degree air is gonna feel mighty cold when coming out of an 86-degree pool, and I hate to be cold. But for the boys I might be able to suck it up just once.

It'll hopefully be a nice, relaxing vacation, and then we'll return home and have to hit the ground running. Lots of other things going on in March, including a business trip for me and kindergarten registration for Padraic. Exciting times!

Operation Orphan Hairbows for Ukraine

2010-03-04T10:26:00.005-05:00

If you'll allow me to bend your ear for a moment, I'd like to tell you a story.

Six years ago when I was pregnant with Padraic, a coworker who had an infant son suggested to me that I visit Babyzone.com to learn about all things baby- and pregnancy-related. I found the message boards there and joined the one that had other women expecting babies during January 2005 as I was.

Over the years almost five dozen of those women and I have stayed in touch, sharing our parenting successes and oopsies, new pregnancies and some heartbreaking losses. We've built an amazing support system that some people might question since so many of us have never met in person. This group has seen me through plenty of my own highs and lows, and I have had the distinct pleasure of meeting a handful of them in various cities as I've traveled for work. Each woman in this group has made a positive difference in my life and my parenting.

So let me tell you a bit about my friend Brooke from this group. Brooke and I have not yet gotten to meet, but she is very dear to me. She is an integral part of our group and has been for most of the wild ride. There's one meaningful difference, though. Brooke hasn't been raising a biological child this whole time like the rest of us have. Until recently, Brooke and her husband were primary guardians for her 5-year-old nephew, and it was stories of his growth and development that she has shared with us and through her experiences with him she has become an amazing parent. Across the years they've also tried to start a biological family. Life being cruel as it sometimes is, they've lost several precious angels through miscarriage, which led her and her husband to start considering adoption as a means of growing their family.

As one step toward feeling out how they'd feel about adoption, Brooke and her hubby welcomed an 8-year-old girl from a Ukrainian orphanage into their home for three weeks over the holidays. This girl, Luba, changed their hearts and lives. They are now dedicated to adopting Luba and possibly other children from Ukraine to round out what will surely be a very happy family.

Luba is back in her orphanage in Ukraine now, but Brooke is able to keep in touch via various means, including other families who go over to adopt a child, and staff at the orphanage. One thing Brooke learned is that at Easter time the girls at the orphanage don't tend to get any presents. The day is honored as a religious holiday, but gifts are usually not part of the situation as they are here in the United States.

To bring some joy to the Luba and the other girls at the orphanage, Brooke started Operation Orphan Hairbows for Ukraine. Her goal is to supply each girl at Luba's orphanage with a new hairbow of her own by Easter. If she gets more hairbows than there are girls at that orphanage, she'll start sending bows to another nearby orphanage so those girls can have something special, too. She's looking for people who make hairbows or want to purchase and donate hairbows for this cause. At the same time, Brooke is operating a fundraiser to help offset the massive costs involved in international adoption. She'll be raffling off various goods and services to get them closer to traveling to Ukraine to bring Luba, and possibly some siblings, home.

If you are inspired to do so, please visit her blog at http://ourukrainianfundraiser.blogspot.com/ to learn more about what donation opportunities there are. Thanks!

Random Thoughts

2010-02-22T09:59:00.002-05:00

I haven't bothered with this blog since last summer because I don't feel like I have anything earth shattering to say about parenthood. It is what it is. Some days we laugh our butts off at the bizarre things the boys do and say, and other days we want to slam our heads into a wall out of frustration.

As the boys get older, though, I find I can relax more and enjoy their company in a way I couldn't when they were babies and toddlers who relied on us (me) for every little thing. The big guy turned 5 in January, and his little brother is 2.5yrs. One potty trained kid and one on his way. I am already dreaming of diaperless days in our household. Such a freeing state of being. And since they're both boys, I don't even worry about long car trips. They can pee anywhere: by the side of the road, in an empty Gatorade bottle. Who cares? When we get to stop buying the little man diapers, we are FREE!

I have already begun to notice how our house is becoming cleaner and more organized, bit by bit, as the boys become more able to do things for themselves. For those of you who have seen my house, I don't mean it's now ready for House Beautiful or anything. I just mean that sometimes beds get made, and often there is more than just a path through the toys in the living room. It's far from perfect, but it is improving. All because the boys spend more time playing with each other than relying on me for their every happiness. It's bittersweet, certainly, but it's the way parenting goes. If you do the job right, the kids grow up and leave you, maybe calling you once a week to let you know they still care.

I'm doing all I can to enjoy these last years of real "kidhood" in our house. Already P is a little man instead of a boy, and H is moving up to those ranks quickly. I've got the lawn mower all ready for them when the time comes.

Happy campers

2009-06-07T20:48:00.003-04:00

Take two kids under age 5, two beagles, and two tired parents. Add one enormous tent. Result? Pure joy for all!

Last week Ken suggested to me that we have a backyard campout this past Saturday night, and I was all for it. When we were dating and then DINKS, we used to camp a couple times a year with friends of ours who were also DINKS. I recall with some degree of longing the late nights by the campfire, talking, drinking, laughing, freeing ourselves of all responsibility.

But except for Ken going on his annual canoe trip with cousins, neither of us has been camping since we started our family. Lots of things come to a screeching halt when you have little ones, but the good news is that eventually you get to share y our past favorite with a new generation.

So Saturday morning Ken mowed the lawn (usually my job, but I was sick) and by midafternoon he had a chance to pitch the ginormous tent that we affectionately call "the 3-room circus." We plopped an air mattress at either end, a sleeping bag next to one mattress, and a pack-and-play in the back. We ate burgers and dogs on the deck, and at dusk we lit the outdoor fireplace. We invited the neighbor kids over to roast marshmallows and make s'mores, and they all played with glo sticks and romped around the yard.

Henry was the first to crash in his new outdoor bedroom. We tucked him into his pack-and-play with his favorite two blankets and "snuggle guy," his stuffed rattle toy, and off to snoozeland he drifted. Could've cared less that he wasn't in his own bedroom.

I was next. I turn into a pumpkin much closer to 10:30pm than midnight, so I crawled into my sleeping bag atop one of the air mattresses pretty close to that time. Henry picked up his head to smile at me and then crashed back down after I said, "Night-night, Henry." I wasn't yet asleep, though, when Ken brought a newly sweatsuited Padraic in to tuck him into his sleeping bag. Padraic was psyched that we were camping, but he settled right in and fell asleep, with beagles Bailey and Tully close at hand.

We really thought that the dogs would be the most difficult ones to persuade to do the camping adventure, but they are dogs. They wanted to be where their people were. We just feared that they'd wake up in the middle of the night and howl their fool heads off because of a bunny hopping through the yard in search of a late-night snack, but although Tully woke up at one point and sniffed the air furiously, Ken was able to settle him back down before a peep was made. Whew.

Instead of awaking at 5:30am when the dawn peeked through the trees above, the boys (and even the dogs!) let us sleep until the heavenly late hour of 7:45. At which point we all crawled out of the cozy tent into the cool morning air and went in search of the bathroom and breakfast.

So now we have made it through the trial run, happy and surprisingly well rested. While we might not actually take the dogs to a campground and certainly aren't taking them to Wisconsin when we visit SIL, BIL, and our nephew in a few weeks, we will definitely be taking the boys on camping adventures, both in our backyard and beyond.

Our house is a very, very, very fine house

2009-05-31T22:08:00.002-04:00

Well, no it's not, but it will be. This year we're doing small improvements, all leading up to next summer's commencement of the major renovations we're planning.

But first, the little details. A few months ago we finally replaced the two hideous exterior doors that'd been crapping up our house's facade. Now we have doors that actually (gasp) match.

This weekend Ken took down our colonial blue shutters that screamed, "I'm from 1983! Love me!" and repainted them a dark blue. For about $5 worth of exterior paint, our house just leapt decades into the future to land in the present. Whew.

Who knows what little project we'll do next that will make me feel a little more like this house is a place we want to be proud of? It's not that we don't, all appearances to the contrary; it's that we bought it in 2002, spent 2003-2004 building the detached 2.5-car garage, and had babies in 2005 and 2007. So we've been a little busy.

But now we're getting closer to the point where we'll finally turn our house into our dream home. Next summer we're going to start the process of turning our 1400sq-ft, 3bdrm, 1ba split-level into a 2400sq-ft, 5bdrm, 2.5ba split-level. There will be many steps to this process, all of which I wish we could bypass with a snap of the fingers or a Bewitched-style twitch of the nose:

(1) Frame out a new kitchen where our current deck is and raise the roof on the lower level of the house by a full story.

(2) Finish the interior of the new kitchen. (Yippee!)

(3) Gut the existing kitchen (double yippee!) and combine that space with the current dining room to make a dining room that people can dine in without climbing over each other.

(4) Turn the new second story into 3 bedrooms and a full bath.

Down the road from all this renovating hell we will turn the current bedroom level that has three bedrooms and our only bathroom into a master suite (by combining the two larger bedrooms) and a laundry room (the smallest bedroom). I dare say our 1950s vintage home will be barely recognizable when all is said and done, but it should be an incredible change for the better. Now we just have to figure out how to do it while raising two boys and having two dogs who will temporarily lose their access to the backyard. I dare say my sanity will suffer a few blows, but I hold out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. And anyone who knows my family knows that we think sanity is a bit overrated anyway.

A tough age

2009-05-26T20:17:00.003-04:00

No, not 33. I'm doing OK with that. But Henry is not quite 2 years old, and this is the age of my kids that's the roughest on me. I don't even mean the defiance that Henry has that Padraic, my people pleaser, only ever had a hint of. It's the mobility without maturity aspect.

I just spent three long days of Memorial weekend chasing Henry around three different bbqs. One of them involved a hot tub he was desperately trying to catapult himself into headfirst, and another involved an inground pool that was right there next to where we were eating. Heart attack city on the last one.

I keep telling myself next summer will be easier. He'll be able to play in sight but not have to be within arm's reach at all times like he pretty much has to be right now. Where Padraic was always tentative about new things, Henry is ready to rush in head first, and he is too young to know anything about consequences.

Of course, next summer might not be easier. In my head Henry will be the easily tractable three-year-old that Padraic was, but that is probably not going to be the case. Somewhere along the genetic line there was a stubbornness gene that seems to have implanted itself firmly (stubbornly, you might say) into Henry's DNA. I have no idea where that might have come from. I swear. Really.

A productive day is a happy day

2009-05-11T11:07:00.002-04:00

Ah, Mother's Day. I've gotten to celebrate this day for 5 years now, and it's awesome. I slept in until 9am and then got to wake up to my little boys giving me hugs and kisses and wishing me Happy Mother's Day under the whispered guidance of their daddy.

Ken made me breakfast while I sat on my bum, and then it was time to get working. What I really wanted for Mother's Day was to get our garden plot planted and fenced so the seedlings Padraic and I planted a couple months ago would have a more permanent home in which to grow and thrive. I've been so excited to have a garden since we bought our house 7yrs ago but didn't have time to put in a garden the first couple years because we were building the garage, and then we became Mommy and Daddy, and if you have kids you know that that means nothing useful can get accomplished.

Finally, the boys are old enough that Padraic can help with a garden, while Henry safely wanders the yard, playing with the push toys, blowing bubbles, or digging in the dirt around the garden's edge. It still was a miracle that we got everything done, but we did it! Thanks to Ken hauling 40 concrete blocks to the far reaches of our yard so it'd be harder for critters to climb into the garden and destroy our handiwork. We now have seedlings for cantaloupes, green peppers, and tomatoes transitioning to their new homes, and we hope to see sprouts of onions, two kinds of green beans, snap peas, broccoli, lettuce, spinach, watermelons, carrots, and strawberries within a few weeks. Some things won't make it, but we'll do our best to nurture the seeds and seedlings and keep pests at bay so they get a chance to produce. Bonus: Padraic agreed to try at least one of everything that grows. So we might have him eating more veggies before long.

Having a garden reminds me of gardening with my own mother when I was a kid. Our garden is roughly 10' by 15', but hers must've been 10' by 25'. It definitely was huge. The first few years we planted numerous things, like corn, potatoes (ugh, hate potato bugs), asparagus, strawberries, and a zillion other things I've since forgotten. As my sister and I got older and more involved with non-home activities, the garden eventually became half asparagus, half strawberries. :) A love-hate relationship for me! But the hours spent digging and weeding and hoping for good harvests were energizing and relaxing and tiring all at the same time. I hope my sons enjoy our new garden and the family time it fosters as much as I enjoyed those days.

By sunset we were all exhausted, Henry was already asleep, and there had been baths and showers to remove the layers of dirt and sweat. But we'd done exactly what I'd hoped: Spent the whole day together out in the sunshine. Oh, and started our garden.

Back to reality

2009-05-04T21:37:00.003-04:00

Whew, OK, while I don't really like having to travel for work, what I dislike even more is the first 48hrs after arriving back home. Not bc I don't want to see my adoring husband and sweet little boys, but because the house that is usually a wreck is supremely wrecktastic, the laundry is waaaaay behind, and things in the fridge are so out of control that there isn't yet a scientific name for the kind of mold I tend to find. (OK, I'll take some blame for that last one since not all the mold sprouts w/in the 3-6 days I'm usually away.)

I miss our housecleaning service so badly that I'd give my right eye to have them back. Their name is Domestic Bliss. Say it with me, "Domestic Bliss." Ahhhhhh. You feel less stressed already, don't you? And this isn't even about you; it's about me. Don't you forget it. ;) Methinks I need to rework the family budget to fit in visits from them on a semi-irregular basis. Definitely not monthly, probably not bimonthly, but absolutely now and then. Most assuredly. And once Padraic starts kindergarten in September 2010, I completely plan on having them here once a month, if not twice. Hell, if I can shell out the cost of a new car annually on day care, I sure as hell can buy myself some sanity in the form of less dust and dog hair on my belongings.

If you couldn't tell already, though, today was rough. Thank goodness I didn't have to leave the house for work, but then again, being cooped up with this mess was no joy, either. And the rain, ugh, the rain. After finishing with work, I had to do the grocery shopping so we wouldn't starve the rest of this busy week, and not thinking last night I agreed to let Ken take my car like he usually does on Mon/Fri. Except, getting the boys in and out of his F150 takes much longer than getting them in and out of my car, and on a rainy day, that is not a good thing. Add to that the imbecile who parked right up on my effing door at the grocery store, and I could not avoid getting drenched while trying to get Padraic back into the truck after we were done shopping. Seriously, people. When you see a truck that has wide doors parked in a lot, do you need to park 3mm from the sideview mirror, making it impossible to even wedge the door open a little bit? One wonders how in the world the person who did that to me managed to get their own ass out of their vehicle. From the looks of it, they'd have had to climb out the hatchback. Geesh.

But things are improving. The rain will end in a couple days (ha!), I'll feel more caught up at work in another day or two, and on Thursday I have taken a personal day to clean the house. Cuz I know how to party, that's why. And heck if I won't feel a sense of accomplishment for those few hours between when I finish and when Ken and the boys get home to start undoing it.

Hey, where've you been for four months?

2009-04-30T21:21:00.003-04:00

OK, so I'm not the most diligent (or interesting) blogger. I gave it a big ole rest after the last post. If you read that one, btw, I am happy to report that my test results were all good. I have exactly the number of kidneys I'm supposed to have, and they are in the right places, hooked to the right stuff. So that's a relief.

As the time has passed, I've been made busy by exactly what you've probably guessed (if you were interested enough to guess, that is): work and family. The kids are doing great: Padraic turned 4 in mid-January and Henry will be 2 in mid-July. Every stinking day they wake up a little bigger, a little sassier. I personally believe that Henry learned to talk early just so he could talk back. But they're cute little devils, all the same, and that keeps them from getting into *too* much trouble.

I'm soaking up whatever love I can get from those two because some day it's gonna click inside their heads that it's not cool to be lovey-dovey with Mommy. Then, poof! No more hugs or snuggles, barely a grudging peck on the cheek. That'll be a hard transition for me, having given over my life to raising them and loving on them. I bet I'll make a pretty crappy empty nester. Ken'll kick me out for driving him nuts!

So work's the other time-sucking beast. The travel that's involved is a strain on our family, but I like to think we're adjusting. And I hold firm to my position that if Ken were the one doing the traveling, no one would bat an eyelash and life would go on. It's that the MOM is doing the traveling that upsets the applecart. But my job is a good one and one that I enjoy, and we just keep on dealing with each trip as it comes. Better to do it that way than look at our lives as an endless stream of Mommy absences.

Right now is one of those gone-Mommy times. I'm at a conference in Reno and will be back home Saturday night after the boys have already been tucked in. I'll still sneak into their rooms and whisper to them that Mommy is home. They may hear me and smile in their sleep. And on Sunday morning they'll pile themselves all over me, until I start to lose track of arms and legs and start thinking I might have 4 or 5 children, what with all the chaos. And then we'll gradually slip back into our normal routine. My taking Padraic with me to do the grocery shopping while Henry naps and Ken either naps or putters around the house doing whatever can be done without waking Henry. Then we'll play outside if it's nice or inside if it isn't, and we'll eat dinner and maybe watch Bolt before getting the kids in bed and getting ourselves ready for the inevitable Monday.

Our daily routine is fairly exhausting, but I do miss it when I'm out of town. There's something very comforting about it. Something that says, This is my family. We belong together, and these are the things we do to help each other.

I'm hoping I can continue being a good mom and good employee for many more years. I'm sure there'll be no shortage of feedback from either side should I start to slip up with either job.

Tomorrow

2008-12-15T20:56:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is a day I've been dreading for awhile. First thing in the morning I head to the hospital for a CT scan of my kidneys to find out if they are normal. The layers of dread are many. For one thing, I have to fast for 3hrs, which doesn't sound that bad to most people, I'm guessing, but I'm a lifelong grazer with a super-high metabolism, and going over an hour w/o eating something tends to make me feel lightheaded. Three hours seems almost insurmountable. I can have clear liquids during those three hours, and I plan to load myself up with apple juice and such to keep my blood sugar from utterly plummeting. Still, that won't be a perfect solution, especially since you're talking about someone with the world's smallest bladder (well, I guess we might find out tomorrow if that's really true!) so the more I drink, the worse my morning will become.

SEcond layer of dread is that I have to get an IV because they'll be injecting me with a contrast dye to better outline my kidneys and such. Besides my icky feeling toward needles, I've been forewarned that the dye itself can make you feel warm and give you a metallic taste in your mouth. If I were a betting person, I would put money on the fact that the combo of those two sensations is gonna make me barf at some point. Anyone care to challenge me? This is one of those times I sincerely hope to be wrong, but I've had weirder reactions to more innocuous drugs and such before, so we shall see.

Third layer: Claustrophobia. I think the CT scan won't be as bad as an MRI (which I've never had, btw, but we've all seen ER and House, thank you very much), but I do have claustrophobia and am not eager to confront this machine. They could give me a sedative for the anxiety, but then I wouldn't be able to drive myself home, and alas, that brings me to layer four....

I'm going alone. Lest you think Ken must be some kind of beast to send me off on such a journey by myself, let me explain: Due to numerous illnesses in the family (some of them mine, some the kids, some his) over the past year, along with my heavy travel schedule and his smaller number of paid days off than what I get per year, Ken has burned through all his time off for 2008 except for a measly half day. Why, a half day, that's perfectly enough time for him to take off work tomorrow morning and come with me, right? Well, I wish. But, you see, I have a day trip to make for work on Thursday, and it's for a meeting I absolutely cannot miss because (a) I'm running it and (b) it involves the executive directors of my organization and the one we're visiting, along with my boss, her boss (our Publisher), and directors of other divisions of both organizations. Crapola, I cannot miss this meeting. And so, I asked Ken to save his half day off just in case one of the boys is sick and needs someone to stay home with him. For the remaining half day that Ken doesn't have left to use for such an occasion, he'd have to throw himself on the mercy of his boss and either take it unpaid or get an advance on next year's vacation (and you can see where the latter option would lead toward the end of 2009).

So we just need to squeak through tomorrow, get me through this stupid test, and move on with our lives. Except that brings me to layer five. What if there is something wrong with my kidneys? I have no symptoms of any such problem--my doctor is merely on a fact-finding mission at this point--but the what ifs keep playing through my head. So the only thing I am truly dreading more than tomorrow's test is the phone ringing the day after when my doctor calls with the results.

2008-12-15T08:30:00.002-05:00

Wow, so it's been awhile since I've posted my boring life happenings for you all to see. Sorry 'bout that. I know you've been dying to read more.

Ken and I remain exhausted and usually about a hair's breadth from losing all sanity, but the boys are doing well. Henry is 17 months now and still isn't walking independently. He's planning to hold out as long as humanly possible because he is stubborn as hell. Wonder where he gets that from? Hmmmmmm. (Don't let my mom tell you any stories. She's lying. My sister, too.) His vocabulary is burgeoning, though, so perhaps he's just going to be a wordsmith like me. Poor kid. Padraic is going to be 4-years-old in less than a month so please pinch me. Ken and I are already trying to figure out what we're going to do with our work schedules when Padraic starts kindergarten. In September 2010. Yeah, I like to plan ahead.

What's cool is that this is the first year that Padraic has enough awareness to know well in advance that Christmas is coming. He keeps telling me that when Santa comes, I can pet the reindeer. Sweet kid. I can't wait for Christmas morning, though, because when Padraic comes down the stairs, he is going to see a big red bike in front of it. I think his reaction will be priceless. He's been wanting a bike ever since our neighbor's son started riding his past our house every night toward the end of summer. I find myself wondering if he'll be talking about this Christmas morning when he's a grownup: As in "I still remember the Christmas I was 4. I came downstairs and saw that Santa had brought me my first bike, and I spent the afternoon riding up and down the street with my dad right behind me. My parents are awesome!" :) He'll make his own memories from the holiday, but as his mom I get the right to hope they are amazing and bring him joy whenever he thinks back on them, even when he's 95.

The Christmas memory I wish I had was of Ken's company holiday party last weekend. I couldn't go because we didn't have a babysitter and then Henry came down with a stomach bug anyway. Not wanting to keep Ken from enjoying what really is part of his holiday bonus from work, I elected to stay home alone, wiping Henry's stinky butt at all hours of the day and night, while Ken went to the party (which includes an overnight stay at the hotel) and got some serious drink on. Enough so that he joined his friend Mike in the annual demonstration of that most excellent dance move known as "The Worm." Oh, yeah. Right in front of his boss, who was heard to say, "Stick a fork in Ken. He's done." Priceless memories that I have to have second hand.

If you're not laughing already, I should add that Sunday morning when Ken got home, he noted that his forehead was sore. Around 2pm he suddenly remembered that it was from smacking his head into the dance floor while pulling his super dance move. I almost pee my pants whenever I think of it. Thank God I made sure his good friends would be there to keep an eye on him. For Ken to have been anywhere near a dance floor indicates to me exactly how much whiskey he had in his system. To his credit, last night when we had dinner w/all those friends, he promised that next year he'll bring his better judgment with him. Meaning, of course, me. Mwahahahaha.

But enough chit-chat about Christmas. I have to get off my ass and get shopping and cleaning. I have bought exactly 4 presents so far, and if you've checked your calendar lately you'll have noticed that Christmas is coming in nine days. I've always been a wicked procrastinator, though, so I can do this. (I think.)

Insomnia

2008-11-22T02:06:00.002-05:00

I'm on a business trip. The last one of 2008, to be exact, and I was psyched as all hell yesterday about that fact. I'm in New Brunswick, NJ, which is less than 2hrs from home, so I'm in the comfort zone where I could get a good night's sleep since the kids are safe and snug at home (meaning, not here waking me up), yet I could be there quickly should something happen where Mommy would be needed in a pinch, like an ER trip for pneumonia or something. Which did actually happen last December when I was in Phoenix for work and I was not conveniently located within driving distance. Oh, the guilt.

Anyway, so I'm here for a two-day conference put on by the organization that I work for, and I have just one night to spend in this hotel. The hotel is only 1.5yrs old so it's not as skeevy as some hotels (even nicer chain ones) can be. I mean, the bed linens seem like only a few dozen people have used them, not a few thousand.

So what's the problem? The problem is that I fell into a nice, cozy sleep around 10pm, after talking to Ken and saying goodnight to Padraic. And then I bolted out of bed at midnight when the freaking herd of teenagers who's here for a model UN project began running up and down the hall, slamming doors, shrieking, giggling, and generally making huge asses of themselves.

When I get awakened in a manner that makes my adrenaline rush, like by one of my kids screaming for me because he's sick, say, that's pretty much it for me where sleep is concerned. Now it's 2am, I've been awake for 2hrs that I could've been snoozing away, and I am ticked off. The teenagers seem to have settled in for a quiet night, but every now and then I hear some cackling and carrying on in the room to one side of me. I know I was once a teenager on a trip away from home w/my friends, and it was exciting to have that much freedom. But now I am a crochety old lady who works for a living, has two kids, and needs some damn sleep. So shut up already, or I will be the hoser who calls hotel security to shut your ass up.

I don't have to be up until the "late" hour of 6:30 so there is still a bit of hope that I will get a few more hours of rest before I have to be back at the conference, working. I'd ask you to cross your fingers for me and send me sleepy vibes, but you, dear reader, are already asleep. Lucky you.

Poor customer service

2008-11-14T13:23:00.002-05:00

We have an awesome new pediatrician, thanks to the recommendation of my friend TallGirl, and I have no intention of changing, but let's just say I have a few comments on their customer service.

I recently took Henry to his 15-month checkup, and he got his first flu shot. Since it's his first ever (he was too young for one last fall), he needs a second shot a month after the first one. At the front desk, I tried to make his appt for his second shot.

"Oh, you'll have to talk to Diane to do that. I can't make flu shot appointments, just ones for physicals," I was told by the woman at the front desk. Um, OK. I don't know who Diane is, but I know flu shots are their own animal, having experienced at our old pediatrician's office the horror of "flu shot days," which were ill-timed days in November on which your child could get scheduled for a flu shot. Only on these inconvenient days were the shots administered, and they were always behind schedule so you'd sit there for ages waiting for your 30-second visit with the nurse.

I figured I'd wait until I got home and then call the mysterious Diane, who meanwhile was probably sitting in an office less than 30 feet from me. Whatever.

So I tried to make Henry's 18-month appointment and Padraic's 4-year appointment for the same day in late January to avoid having to come back twice.

Woman at the desk: "What was the date of Padraic's last physical?"

Me: "I'm not sure of the exact date, but it was within the week of his birthday, so anything after January 19 would be fine."

Woman: "We need to confirm the actual date because the insurance will not pay if the appointment happens less than 12 months from his previous one."

Me: "I know that, and it's fine. If we shoot for the last week of January, we'll be fine."

Woman: "I can't do that without knowing for sure it'll be more than 12 months from his previous physical. You don't remember the date?"

Me (who can hardly remember to put shoes on before leaving the house): "No, but it's in his medical records that we transferred over here so it'd be easy to look it up in his file."

Woman: "Oh, we can't look that up for you. You'll have to call your insurance company, find out the date, and then let us know. Now what date would you like for Henry's next appointment?"

Me (incredulous): "Forget it. I don't want to have to come back twice for two physicals that could be done at once. I'll just have to call some other time and set up the appointments."

I admit I left somewhat in a huff. I didn't expect someone to have looked up Padraic's last dr's appointment date for me that second, but if his file is in the room behind the front desk (probably right near the elusive Diane, too) and if someone was going to have to refile Henry's medical records since he'd just had an appointment, would it really have been that difficult for someone to open Padraic's folder, stare at the sheet of paper from his last appointment, and note the date? I didn't think that was too much to ask, and neither did my insurance company. I called them to find out the date, and they thought I was crazy. They asked me why I didn't just have the dr's office look it up in his file. Gee, I wish I'd thought of that.

Once I had the date in hand, I called the office to make the appointments. First, I figured I'd make the flu shot appointments since they are needed sooner. The phone menu gave no option for how to reach Diane, so I chose the option for the appointment secretary. When I reached her, I told her I'd like to talk to Diane about flu shot appts. She told me I'd have to call back to the same number I'd just called, but this time wait on hold to talk to the sick nurse. Then tell the sick nurse that I need to talk to Diane. WTF? I was already on the phone with someone at the office, and I bet she was sitting in the same room as the unreachable Diane, and she wouldn't just transfer me herself?! Are you kidding me?

Doesn't it make more sense to have an appointment secretary, who probably is on each call for only 1-2 minutes, make a call transfer instead of having someone wait on hold with the sick nurse, whose conversations about symptoms and such run much longer each? I tried to get transferred without having to call back. No dice. I called the sick nurse's number again and got a dial tone. Fuck it. I will call back another day when I don't feel like wringing their necks anymore.

Is it too much to ask to streamline your customer service so people can make the appointments they need w/o waiting on hold for someone they don't really need to talk to? How about just giving Diane her own number in the phone menu so people can reach her directly? And how about asking your office staff to handle simple requests like looking up something in a patient's medical record. That's what the records are kept for, right? So in the future someone can look back and find information about something that was done? If I gave people the run-around like this at work, I'd be taken to task for it. Don't think I won't be mentioning it to the dr the next time we actually are able to make an appointment via this labyrinthine system.

Heading for financial solvency

2008-11-14T12:42:00.002-05:00

News flash: Life is expensive. Education, kids, house, cars, all the other things that fill life with either happiness (vacations) or just doodads (souvenirs).

Actually, when I think about it my education expenses could've been a lot worse. I went to a private liberal arts college and paid out-of-pocket via summer jobs and student loans the equivalent of less than what one year of my tuition, room, and board cost. Then I went to grad school, which deferred my loan repayment but added to my overall debt since my assistantships and extra employment (at the library, what a surprise) didn't fully cover my life expenses. Bygones, it was worth it in the long run since grad school led me to (a) Ken and (b) my current career.

Getting married and buying a house definitely put a crimp in the ole cash flow, though the generosity of our wedding guests boosted our downpayment nicely. Just as we were feeling confident with our newest financial situation, we started our family and had to rework the system all over again.

If you don't use day care, then you may not be aware of the shocking price of various day-care options. I'm not comfortable with in-home care (just my personal opinion; to each his or her own) so we have always used centers. The first one we used seemed pricey to us at the time, but in retrospect it was not that bad, and you get what you pay for. Ahem, after I got through the initial period back to work of thinking I'd be unhappy with any day-care situation, I realized that I was unhappy with it because the center truly was subpar.

We found a new one, with a steeper price tag but one that was well worth the cleanliness, safety, and educational value provided. And that is the center we use to this day. Of course, once you add a second child to the day-care bill, as we did in 2007, you are going to have to start selling your internal organs to make the weekly payments. Don't worry; I sure I didn't need my left lung or that lobe of my liver, anyway.

Oh, and did I mention that right before we started our family, we needed to buy a new car because we had two unreliable ones? So we threw that into the mix. And in between having baby #1 and baby #2, the second vehicle needed to replaced. We bought used that time, but there's still a loan involved.

The only good news is that having all these commitments has made us uber-focused on what we owe to whom and how quickly we can possibly pay it off. I'm happy to report that my car is finally paid off, and we're 5 months early on that one. While it's tempting to make a pile of money in the middle of the family room and roll in it a la Scrooge McDuck, I will simply be earmarking the freed-up cash for speeding up the payments on my almost-done student loans.

I feel like we're making progress here, which is heartening given the economic situation we're now in across the United States, but I won't feel truly good until any and all education-related and (even worse) consumer debts are wiped out. Then I might, just might, make that money pile. But probably not because by then I'll be paying for sports and God-knows-what lessons and such things for the boys. There's always something, which is fine as long as it makes us happy and doesn't just drain the coffers.

Road trip

2008-11-11T19:15:00.002-05:00

Doesn't that subject line smack of fun times, freedom, the wind blowing through your hair? Yeah, well, don't get too excited. This afternoon Ken dropped me at the airport so I could pick up my rental car for my trip to Ithaca tomorrow. Yup, Ithaca. Ithaca, New York. Home of Cornell University. I'm sure it's very nice...when it's not snowing.

Somehow I have managed to screw myself this fall by picking universities to visit that are in colder places than Philadelphia. A couple weeks ago I flew to Pittsburgh and back, and I experienced my first snow flurry of the season. It wasn't horrible, but since I still had a nagging cough from the bug du jour that had infected us all around that time, it was not all fun and games. The cold air made me want to spit out my clogged lungs and start over with new ones.

And now tomorrow I will head to a city where the temperature is going to top out in the low 40s. What was I thinking? At least I ditched the idea of traveling to Penn State's main campus this winter. I told my boss that that trip will just have to wait until the spring thaw. I'm no fan of cold weather as it is, and I have to stop seeking it out via business travel. Next year maybe I'll be smart enough to choose to visit the deep south during November/December. Or maybe sunny southern California, though that long a flight makes me want to live in a Star Trek episode and have a transporter beam instead.

Let's just hope that the rain that is supposed to start in PA and NY sometime tomorrow night waits until I'm home. Cuz I really don't want to find out how my awesome Chevy Cobalt from Hertz handles in slick conditions. I shoulda taken the Mercury Mariner they offered me at first, but no, I didn't want a car that big. Silly Sara.

Overload

2008-11-08T05:29:00.002-05:00

I have this book called Survival Tips for Working Moms by Linda Goodman Pillsbury, and in the beginning of the book is a list of life tasks. She asks the reader to go through the list, jotting down who in the household is responsible for each task. There are too many for me to list here, 91 to be exact, broken down into the following categories: A typical day, Sick kids, Cleaning, Laundry, Groceries, Outside, Errands, Cars, Organization, and School.

I counted which ones I am responsible for versus which ones Ken usually does. Let's call it a little uneven:

Me 79

Him 12

And that's being gracious by not counting for myself anything we both might do. I gave all those overlaps to his count.

Hey, no wonder I'm tired.

If you're a working mommy, how do you and your significant other (if there is one in the picture) divvy up the housework and childcare responsibilities? Apparently I've done a great job of screwing myself and am going to have to set out on a campaign of dividing the big to-do list more fairly. After all, both Ken and I work full time. Yes, I telecommute two days/week while he's at the office, but that doesn't provide all the time to get stuff done around the house that he (or you?) might think. In fact, I don't really get any housework done on those days since it's a full enough day just working and watching Henry. Maybe when Padraic is home instead I'll find time to throw in a load of laundry here and there, but let's not expect miracles.

Now I have to think of how to successfully navigate a conversation in which I ask my husband to do about 40 more things than he's been doing around the house. And on a regular basis, preferably w/o constant reminders from me. That's what Outlook is for, right?

Bad housekeeping

2008-11-07T20:14:00.002-05:00

I confess: I am a horrible housekeeper. Even before we had the boys, the house was never completely free of clutter, and it never sparkled. Now it's definitely worse. By the time I have the boys in bed, it's so late at night that I have no energy for doing much cleaning at all.

Since I'm too lazy to take pictures (and a little embarrassed), let me give you a quick walk through via words.

Before you even enter my home, you'll notice that the lawn needs to be mown and there are lots of weeds growing around the front porch. Ring the bell. Oh, but watch out for the spiderwebs. Every night a clan of spiders weaves it's webs near our front door, and I have yet to figure out how to get rid of them once and for all. Anyway, you rang the bell, so....

Hello! Come on in. Please don't trip over the pile of shoes that keep the door from fully opening. Just step this way, past the pile of workbags and the chair holding all our coats, and try not to slip on the Hot Wheels, train tracks, random flashcards from 20 different sets, all of which litters the living room floor.

I'd ask you to sit down, but I see you're wearing black pants. That's not good, not good at all. You see, we have two dogs who are tricolored and black pants pick up all the hair that they have deposited on the sofa and armchairs. So maybe you'd better stand and just keep going with the tour.

Come on into the dining room, which I think has a table in it, but I haven't seen its surface in months now. Make a right, and there's the kitchen. I don't have a dishwasher or all the dirty dishes you're seeing in the sink right now would be hiding inside it. Sorry 'bout that.

Oh, you'd like a drink? Sure, but don't watch as I open the fridge. It's scary in there.

Let's go down the stairs into the family room, shall we? Oh, you'll want to duck under that cobweb that's hanging from the highhat. Steer yourself right about the tub of old Halloween costumes and the bins of unfolded laundry, then make a right at the old electric dryer that I still need to post on Craigslist, and you can hook a quick left just after passing the large travel-system stroller (it's usually in the bed of Ken's pickup truck, but it can't be in there now while the old old furnace and our neighbor's old bay window are in there, silly). Now you can sit down on the brand-new couch because we obsessively cover it with blankets to keep it from getting destroyed by the dogs and kids. And there's Ken's leather recliner. It has a massage feature in the back and butt areas, but I never get a chance to sit down so I'll have to take Ken's word for it that it's quite relaxing. You'll see he's built a fire in the fireplace.

I know it's cozy, but let's move on. There's much more to see. Oh, yeah, under the pile of empty beer cans is the bar. It's a wet bar, but the sink hasn't worked since we bought the house. Don't worry: It's somewhere on the to-do list.

Well, I think I'm embarrassed enough now. I'd show you the bedrooms and bathroom, but it's really all just more of the same. Random stuff kinda strewn everywhere. Staying right where it landed the last time its user set it down. Oh, you don't want to stay and hang out? Heck, I don't blame you. It stresses me out, too.

Well, let me show you out the downstairs front door since you came in upstairs. Just watch out for the overgrown shrub outside the door and the river rock in the driveway that has made its way out of the planting beds during past rainstorms. If you can safely make it to your car, I bid you a good night!

Growing up and making a change

2008-11-07T07:05:00.002-05:00

I've been very blessed as a fulltime working mommy to have an employer that is flexible and allows me to telecommute two days/week. When Padraic was a baby, I initially just did one day at home per week, but when he was 14 months we had to find a new day-care center that could handle his suspected asthma, and that center didn't have a 4-day rate. And their 5-day rate was out of our reach at the time (ha, now we pay twice that, but that's another story). So I negotiated permission to work at home on Mondays and Fridays.

When Henry was born, I knew I couldn't watch both boys those two days and get anything useful done so we decided to make Padraic's day-care schedule full time. That allowed Padraic to get more education time into his week while I enjoyed snuggle time w/ Baby Henry.

But now Baby Henry is almost-toddler Henry, and to be blunt, he's making me nuts. He is, like his mother, subject to wild mood swings. One minute he's a charming, smiling child, and the next minute he's shrieking as if someone just drove a hot poker up his ass. He's also, unlike his mother, an incredibly picky eater. The only foods he agrees to eat on a consistent basis are bananas and chicken nuggets. Awesome diet, huh? Everything else has about a 97.87463% change of ending up tossed onto the floor. (The dogs love this.) Even foods that make it into his mouth are subject to being removed and flung onto the high chair tray or aforementioned floor. Gross, dude. To counteract his horrible eating habits, which do not go into effect at day care, just at home, I've been sneaking veggies into him via V8 Fusion juice, but he's a sipper, not a guzzler, and it takes most of the day to get him through one cup of the stuff. And yes, he's on a multivitamin.

Add together these traits and the fact that he's almost walking (at just a few days shy of 16mos he is seriously holding out on us just to piss us off, I know it) in that take-your-eyes-off-me-for-a-nanosecond-and-I'll-have-bashed-my-brains-out-on-something mode, and I just can't take it anymore. My baby needs to go to school full time so I can get my work done while knowing he is safe and happy. And I'd like to be happy, too, frankly.

After much soul-searching I have decided to part with my bambino on Mondays and Fridays and instead allow his big brother to stay home with me. Padraic will love it. The kid has never gotten over his separation anxiety at dropoff time, and he is morose almost every morning because of it. Meanwhile, Henry sees the front of the day-care center when we pull into the parking lot in the mornings, and he giggles and kicks his feet with excitement. (It doesn't hurt that the first thing they do there every day is serve him breakfast. He loves food as long as its not served by me.)

Will this change cost me more? You betcha. Will it possibly keep me from throwing my frazzled self into traffic? More than likely. Will it make Padraic happier than Christmas does? Also likely. And since he is easier to take out in public and old enough to enjoy things like movies and play places, I envision some afternoon outings in our future. Which will be nice since in less than two years he'll start kindergarten, and then it's 5 days/week no matter what we'd rather do.

I guess we're all growing up a bit, and it's time for a change. Wish us luck.

Here's the positive post

2008-11-05T19:59:00.002-05:00

OK, I probably should balance out that vitriolic post from the other day. Life is not all doom and gloom (though there's a ton of stress that has me creaking like a weathered board about to snap) and here are some examples of the things in my life that make it worthwhile to tough out the hard times:

--When I was sick over the weekend, Padraic would sit next to me on the couch, rub my back and say, "Mommy, I rub your back. Now you feel better?" How selfless and adorable.

--When Henry smiles (as opposed to screams bloody murder), his smile is about the width of our whole house. Add in the blond hair, and he really is my little sunshine.

--Ken can always make me laugh, especially at the most unexpected times. On the way home in the car today, Henry pulled off his shoes like always and started working on his socks. At a red light, I turned to look in the back seat and reported, "Henry's got one bare foot," at which point Ken went "Roar!" without a second's hesitation.

--From 4hrs away, my parents remain a constant source of support, including being willing to come out here and help with the boys (or take one home with them) even though it would mean total upheaval to their normal schedules.

--I've got friends all over the US who each have amazing stories to tell and unique hopes and dreams. We don't agree on everything, but it really doesn't matter.

--I am going to be an aunt any day now! My SIL will be 37wks pregnant at the end of this week, and while little Peep has been knocking on the door to get out since 31wks, she's off bedrest and it's safe from now on for him or her to come out and meet us. I can't wait!

Releasing the pent-up rage

2008-11-03T17:54:00.005-05:00

I've been steaming about several things over the past months, years, hell my entire life. I am a bottler, not a releaser. If something bothers me, I tend to just repress it and move on. But I'm stressed, I'm pissed off, and I'm coming clean. So here's my list.

--I have trouble relating to SAHMs. Yup, I admit it. I don't see the enchantment of staying home with the kids all day long. My mom was a SAHM because circumstances dictated it. From talking to her after I became a mom, I have learned that while some moments were pure joy, in general she was exhausted and unhappy staying home w/my sister and me. She taught us to read well before kindergarten because she couldn't stand reading the same dumb books to us over and over. (I can relate. Repetition in any form makes me want to poke my eyes out.) I'm ticked that I tried to start a working moms' meetup group earlier this year, and all I got were moms who defined themselves as working moms solely because they did Pampered Chef parties or the like on some evenings. Yes, that's work, but I was looking for other women who put their kids in day care and understand how obnoxious it is that libraries no longer have Saturday story hours. I can admire what you do (more happily than I would), but I can't claim to understand you.

--I hate to travel. Do I want to see Paris, Rome, Africa? No. If someone told me tomorrow that I would never have to travel again in my life for either work or pleasure, I would hug them and then burn my luggage.

--I am pro-life and am only voting for a Democrat tomorrow in opposition of this belief because I truly fear that moron VP of McCain's as our potential Commander in Chief. Sure, it's your body, ladies. Until you create another little life inside of you who happens to have a body, too. And you are responsible for it. So live up to the responsibility and take care of it, and I don't by that mean "take care of it."

--No, Ken and I do not plan to "try for a girl." Where do I begin with that question, which I still get from time to time? Let's try this: (1) While I know you know this already, you cannot try for a baby of a certain sex, idiot. (2) You are implying that my sons are inherently insufficient. Go fuck yourself.

--I'm a dog person. You can keep your cats, gerbils, reptiles, and fish. And no, that tarantula little Billy brought home from the pet store is not cute. I'd step on it, but I'm afraid. And furthermore, pet stores are evil. EVIL. Avoid them at all costs.

--Who decided that men were not responsible for either housework or buying gifts for their own family members once they were married? I would like to have words with that person because my house is a mess, but I cannot clean it alone, and I am tapped out from trying to think of (and acquire, wrap, and mail in a timely manner) gift ideas for people my husband has known his entire life when I have a hard enough time coming up with ideas for the people I've known my entire life.

--Why must my day-care center, which already gets almost $2000 of our hard-earned dollars per month keep pummeling us with flyers for enrichment classes (extra fee) and catalogs full of t-shirts and drink cozies (not free) with their corporate logo on them? You already get the maximum amount of money I am planning to give you. Give it up.

--Living in an area where you didn't grow up and have no family, when you seem to be surrounded by people who are from exactly here, is like being the only one wearing KMart sneakers in 8th grade when everyone else has K-Swiss.

--Cancer can suck it. Suck. It. I mean, how dare you?

Making memories

2008-10-31T06:53:00.003-04:00

When the Phillies won Game 5 on Wednesday night to take the title of World Champions, our son Padraic was up watching the game. He was excited that they won, but I could tell he didn't understand the magnitude of the win. Then they brought out the trophy, and he turned to me in awe and gasped, "Mom, the Phillies won the Piston Cup!" Hey, buddy, close enough. After all, to the under 5 crowd, the Piston Cup is the ultimate prize their heroes can win.

Since my awesome hubby works right at the corner where the celebration parade will start today, he has taken Padraic on the train (no point in trying to drive into Philly today, egads) with him so he can experience the parade, too. Even though Padraic is a little young to fully understand what's going on right now, he's old enough to have this memory with him forever. I am excited thinking that he'll be telling his own grandchildren some day about how the Phils won the 2008 World Series and he was there to help them celebrate their huge accomplishment.

Maybe after today I'll finally have some pictures or video to beef up this otherwise boring, dry blog!

I might be crazy

2008-10-27T17:48:00.002-04:00

I am normally one of those moms who thinks bedtime is sacred and would never keep her kids up to all hours of the night for something. But tonight is different. I have actually agreed to take the kids to the local hangout tonight w/a bunch of neighbors to watch Game 5 of the World Series. They are both getting their baths and wearing red pjs, and I hope they (and I) can actually make it to the end of the game.

Go Phillies!

P.S. I am such a hypocrite. I can't stand baseball normally, but tonight might be historic, and I think of it not as rooting for baseball so much as rooting for the city of Philadelphia.

A bicornuate uterus and all the fun it brings

2008-10-25T16:22:00.007-04:00

You who are faint of heart, especially about female things, should go read something else now.

During my second pregnancy I had an ultrasound at 7 weeks. I hadn't had an ultrasound during my first pregnancy until 20 weeks, and I used the same OBGYN so I have no idea why the difference in protocol. It just happened that way. During that 7-week ultrasound (I know that sounds like the procedure lasted 7 weeks, but really that's the lingo so stay with me here), the tech said one of those cryptic things techs say and then don't explain. This one was, "Did anyone ever tell you that you might have a double lining?" Uh, no. I had no idea what she meant, and she clammed up upon further questioning (I hate that) so I did a Web search when I got home and figured she must mean I had an extra thick uterine lining. I was a little worried since it sounded like that could be a problem for the fetus, so I posted a query on my favorite parenting site, Babyzone.com. One of my message board friends asked, "Do you think she might mean you have a bicornuate uterus?"

I initially scoffed at that idea since a Google search of that term immediately showed some rather strange images of a two-chambered uterus (sort of heart-shaped, hence the name "bicornuate") and alarming statistics on difficulty conceiving, higher incidence of miscarriages, interuterine growth restriction, and even stillbirth. Zoinks. No, I told myself. I cannot possibly have that condition. After all, I carried one baby to term already and had no problem conceiving and then what was considered a low-risk pregnancy.

The next day at work my phone rang, and when I answered, my surprised-sounding OBGYN announced, "Sara, we just discovered you have a bicornuate uterus!" Oh, my. I remember breaking out into a sweat. Let me fast forward a bit: After 30 more weeks of worrying like crazy and trying not to get too attached to the baby I was carrying just in case, I had a successful second pregnancy. The only difference from the first was that instead of going into spontaneous labor at 37wks like I had with my first child, I ended up being induced at 37wks because I had been dilated to 4cm for over 3 weeks already, and I have super rapid labors. As in, from the time my OBGYN broke my water w/baby #2 to the time he appeared was less than an hour. Zoooooooom!

We're probably done having kids, but my bicornuate uterus still plays a part in my life. It turns out that since the uterus and kidneys of a female fetus form at the same time, it's possible I might also have a kidney malformation or a number of kidneys other than two. Yup, I might only have one kidney, and if I do chances are it's located in line with my spine, rather than off to one side. Weird. Now that I'm done nursing that second baby, I have been told by my doctor that I need to have an intravenous pyelogram, which means I'll be injected with an iodine-based contrast material while an x-ray tech takes pictures of how it flows through my kidney(s) and bladder. I cannot tell you how much I do not want to do this procedure, but I suppose if I have less than a normal amount of kidneys, or two kidneys that aren't both fully functioning, I should know about it to protect my future health.

If any of you have ever had an IVP or are experiencing life with a bicornuate uterus, I'm happy to hear from you. Meanwhile, I want to express that while having a bicornuate uterus can lead to a lot of misery for couples trying to conceive a child or carry a healthy one full-term, there is hope. Somehow, and I know it's the grace of God, I conceived and bore two healthy children with this thing that a friend of mine dubbed my "kooky uterus." It can happen, and I hope that medical science figures out a way to make it happen more often.

Should I be this tired?

2008-10-16T20:21:00.003-04:00

Hey, working mommies, are you really, really tired? I mean, so tired your eyes cross during the workday? Sometimes before lunch? I have been having a lot of "Stop the world; I want to get off!" moments lately.

Having just gotten back from a work trip, I have the issue that the house is in a shambles. For those of you who've seen my house, I mean a worse shambles than usual. Yeah, that bad.

Tonight when I got home from work I had to run right out to get some stuff Ken and I need for the afternoon wedding we're going to tomorrow. Then I had to run next-door to the neighbors' house where Ken was playing horseshoes so I could take over watching my own children and serve them dinner while he played.

Then I brought Henry home and got him ready for bed while also trying to get the laundry and other accumulated detritis of our lives off the guest bed since my father-in-law will need to sleep there tomorrow night while we're at the wedding and he is on babysitting duty.

Then I cleaned the bathroom, which I don't think Ken had done in a few weeks. I mean, a touchup here and there is fine for awhile, but it's not a permanent cleaning solution, kwim?

Now I need to get Padraic ready for bed, and Ken is not back yet to help out with anything. I have a feeling the guys are watching the Rays/Sox game on the neighbors' huge-mongous plasma TV. Lucky him. I could use a hand but will look like a witch if I call over there and ask him to come home.

Did I mention I have bronchitis and a splitting headache? I really just want to crawl in bed and come out in, maybe, April. That sounds about long enough.

I have a freelance project sitting in front of me, too, but I don't have the energy to read it right now. Maybe I'll get a second wind after Padraic is in bed, who knows?

Tomorrow I am working from home until lunchtime, and then Henry and I have to do the grocery shopping and pick up Padraic at day care before 2pm, which is when Pop-pop gets here for the babysitting gig. Ken will roll in around 3pm, and once he's thrown on his tie and jacket, we will need to scoot up to the wedding, which starts at 4pm. The reception runs 7pm to midnight (God help me) so it's gonna be a late night.

Saturday morning we need to get up and eat breakfast and then get ready for the 1.5hr trek up to Ken's Great Uncle Harry's 80th b'day party. We'll go, eat lunch, and then need to scoot back home so I can get to this freelance project. It needs to be put in the mail back to the client first thing Wednesday morning.

Sunday Ken will spend all day helping a friend with a fairly sizeable home repair project. I'll need to fit some freelance project work in around naptimes and mealtimes. Padraic doesn't always nap anymore, but I can probably get him to play in his room for a while during Henry's big midday nap. Knowing how these home projects go, the 6hrs Ken has allotted for getting it done is more likely going to be 8-12hrs. Once he gets home, it's probably going to be time to get ready for the imminent Monday morning.

It's weeks like this that make me want to plan social events absolutely never. But what fun would that be? Maybe Padraic can help get me ready for bed, instead of vice versa, and then he can stay up playing on the computer. I can hardly keep my eyes Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.... .........................................................................................

A Guide for Conference Attendees

2008-10-13T19:39:00.002-04:00

I attend a fair number of conferences for my job, say, 6-8 per year. And I see the same mistakes being made by attendees every single time, no matter what the conference or location. So I've put together a handy little list of helpful hints that may never reach the people it is meant for but will sure make me feel better for having vented.

(1) Before stepping foot outside the conference center or hotel, please take off your nametag or lanyard. Hasn't anyone ever taught you that when you are in a strange city you don't want to call attention to yourself as a tourist/outsider/clueless individual? I cannot tell you how many times I have seen people walking around blocks and blocks from the conference venue in full disregard of this rule. Why not just paint a sign on your back that says "Target for pickpockets and other unsavory individuals"?

(2) Maybe this should be (1b), but leave your free conference totebag--you know, the one with the huge logo on the side that announces to the world that you are in town for a conference?--in your hotel room next to your lanyard. Besides the same flaw of calling you out as someone who doesn't know the area, carrying your conference bag just makes you look like a dork and is a useless exercise. Were you really planning on reading the program while eating dinner? How about just grabbing your handbag, or putting your wallet in your (front) pocket, and walking out to dinner or sightseeing without this useless encumbrance?

(3) Do not give a presentation in an outfit you wouldn't wear to a job interview. Birkenstocks, flip-flops (God help us), Bermuda shorts, t-shirts, and other very casual wear does not look appropriate on people who are standing at the front of a room, talking about important research they have conducted. You lose credence when you dress like you forgot about your presentation until the last second and just rushed to the meeting from the beach or your backyard hammock.

(4a) Please practice your talk before the session starts so you can figure out for yourself that a 400-slide PowerPoint presentation does not fit into a 20-minute timeslot.

(4b) When the session chair gives you the look of death and the hand signal that means, "Cut to the end now, Bub, because you are out of time," please wind up your talk in 60 seconds or less. Do not just talk faster while trying to complete slides 283-400.

(5) Do not ask vendors in the exhibit hall if all their wares are complimentary. If they were free, we couldn't afford to rent the space in the exhibit hall in the first place. Think about it.

Thank you for your time.

The best part

2008-10-12T21:08:00.002-04:00

Ah, the business/pleasure trip to DC. We got down here later in the afternoon on Saturday than we expected, and then our parking spot in the self-park garage was so far from the lobby, which was likewise so far from our room, that it took half of forever to get our stuff to our room and head out for the zoo. Then I headed us in the wrong direction because I felt so sure I knew where we should go. There went another wasted half-hour.

Finally, we arrived at the zoo, and Padraic was so excited to see the animals. And it would've been awesome had the animals actually (a) been visible or (b) if visible been awake. Oh, well. We saw the baby giant panda flat out asleep on his back in the indoor exhibit, and then one of his parents was asleep next door. Totally cute. We saw a few other animals, but nothing too exciting since it was so late in the day.

We also, though, forgot the camera in the truck when we arrived at the hotel, and there was no way we were hiking back there to get it before heading out, so we went to the zoo without it. Ken got some cell-phone pictures of the pandas, but we'll have to see if they are clear enough to really be worth sharing.

Still, we had a good time in the hour or so we were at the zoo, and really the weekend was about family time, not just seeing animals. It was great having all of them with me for the start of this trip. It was awesome coming back to the room between meetings and having my family to enjoy time with, rather than having just an empty room (like I do now).

Sadly, this afternoon my three best guys had to head home since Ken had to get some stuff related to the new gas hookup (yes, they finally hooked us to the gas main last Monday) before the utility company comes tomorrow to connect the meter and get the gas flowing. I miss them like crazy, though the room is a lot more spacious without a rollout bed and pack-n-play. Of course, all the fun toys are gone. No Hotwheels for Mommy. Guess I'll just have to watch real TV shows. It could even have swearing in it, and no one will hear it but me! And I'll sleep in a big X in the middle of the bed.

All those benefits aside, the good news is I was supposed to be here until Wednesday evening, but instead I think I'll head home Tuesday night since I have no appointments on Wednesday after all. Might as well just get back and tuck my little guys into bed one night earlier than I thought I'd get to, right? Cuz the best part about being a traveling mommy is getting back home.

Tip #4 for working mommies

2008-10-10T12:47:00.002-04:00

Take your family with you when you can!

I'll be the first to admit that this is seldom possible for me. We took Padraic with us when he was 7mos old and I had a conference in Minneapolis, but only because my SIL and BIL live out there. We stayed at the conference hotel, and Ken and Padraic hung out with my SIL at her house as much as possible while I was working. It turned out to be a nice trip. My MIL got the plane tickets for Ken and Padraic (yes, I always got him a seat of his own, even when he was young enough to be a lap infant), and my flight and the hotel were completely covered by my employer. So our only expenses were food and the rental car. Not too shabby.

We're once again combining family fun and a business trip of mine this upcoming weekend. I have to go to DC, which is only a 2hr drive from our home, and as luck would have it, our hotel is insanely closes to the National Zoo. As in "You're an idiot if you don't take advantage of how close this hotel is to the zoo." Which is what I said to mysellf when booking the travel and accomodations for the trip.

If everyone stays healthy (Henry had a fever yesterday and is not quite himself today), we're driving down tomorrow midmorning so we arrive around lunchtime. We'll grab a bite to eat (I already know there is a McD's between our hotel and the zoo--Padraic loves McD's and gets to eat there about 3 times/year when we're doing something special like this) and then hit the zoo after ditching the truck and our belongings at the hotel. We'll stay there for as long as the kids hold out. And us, too, since the National Zoo is, well, shall we politely say, hilly?

We'll bring our own drinks and a few snacks, but we'll willingly splurge on something like ice cream or another treat while we're hoofing it around. After all, that's what family fun time is about. A bit of a splurge. This trip is pretty low-cost, too, what with the hotel room being again taken care of by my employer, our gas for getting down there being reimbursed since, hey, I had to get down there somehow, and the zoo being free admission.

After (or maybe at?) the zoo we'll have some dinner--possibly with some relatives of mine who live in nearby Fairfax--and then we'll start the interesting task of getting two kids with different bedtimes to fall asleep in the same hotel room. Ha. My MIL recommended taking the kids to the pool before bed to wear them out, but the hotel has an outdoor pool that is closed for the season. So scrap that. Maybe we can put the kids on the treadmills in the fitness center? Ha, just kidding.

I'm glad we'll be able to work some time into my busy travel schedule to expose the boys to something they might not otherwise get to see for a little while because, while DC is not far from our home in the grand scheme of things, life hurtles by so quickly that we don't always take advantage of the great attractions that are within a day's drive of us. And I'm racking up some decent hotel points at a couple national chains by doing all this traveling for work. Trust me when I say that I am squirreling both them and my frequent flyer miles away for a nice family vacation. I'm aiming for probably the summer before Padraic starts kindergarten, at which point we should be able to do a nice 4-night (or so) stay at a hotel in the city of our choosing, without dropping a dime on accomodations or travel. The biggest problem will be deciding where to go! And what to eat when we get there. Yum!

So the next time work sends you off to God-knows-where, take a minute to consider whether some or all of your family members could join you for part or all of your trip. It can make traveling more enjoyable for you, and it can give your loved ones an opportunity to experience a new town on the (relatively) cheap. Happy travels!

Tip #3: This one's for the traveling mommies

2008-10-07T21:23:00.005-04:00

I used to travel once or twice a year for work for about 4-7 days at a time. Not so bad in the grand scheme of a 52-week, 365.25-day year. But my job has changed over time, and now I travel to conferences about 6-8 times per year for 4-6 days at a time, and then I do a bunch of little one- and two-day trips sprinkled throughout the intervening weeks. This tends to wear on this working mommy, her little ones, and her hubby.

One of the things that saddens me most about being away is missing the bedtime routine. Yes, when I'm at home I often think it's a pain, but when I'm away on my own I suddenly become sentimental about it. I realized rather quickly on my trips that logistically there was no way I could help with bathtime while I was sitting in a hotel hundreds or thousands of miles away, so that was out. I couldn't do the changing of the boys into their jammies or the tucking in. Sigh. So those tasks were out. But wait! What I could do was read them a bedtime story! I mean, what are all those minutes on my cell phone for, anyway, if not to connect me to the people I love?

After this realization, the next time I had a business trip I snagged 2-3 slim children's books that my older son was known to enjoy, and I tucked them into my suitcase. That first night I was away, I called around bedtime (this can be challenging if you are in another time zone, but if you aren't available at the real bedtime, hey, you can always just read a story by phone during another part of the day) and read one of the stories to him (his baby brother was already in bed). Now, admittedly, he has not always wanted me to read him a bedtime story when I call, but it's the attempt that makes me feel better. While I'd love for him to let me read to him each and every time, knowing that I tried to be part of bedtime assuages a part of the guilt that I carry with me whenever I leave the house. And it lets me know that he's OK without Mommy, at least for a little while.

If your little one might enjoy hearing your voice reading a favorite tale while you are physically unable to participate in the bedtime rituals, you can either handcarry the actual book with you (this works even better if you have more than one copy so the little one and Daddy or another caregiver can look at their copy while you read from yours) or type the story into a Word document before your trip and read it to your cherished one from the glowing screen of your laptop. Not as nice for you as if you had a real book in your hands, but hey, you're a grownup and can handle reading a story without pictures. ;)

Next time you have to be away from your child(ren), consider giving this concept a try. You might find that when sharing a little piece of your child's day through the magic of technology, that hotel room you're staying in doesn't feel quite as far from home after all.

Tip #2 for working moms

2008-10-07T19:25:00.002-04:00

Before I start tip #2 for working moms, let me be clear: These are going to be suggestions to do fairly obvious things. But when you're really sleep deprived and are juggling two full-time jobs--parenting and earning a paycheck--the obvious can rush right past you without you noticing more than a rush of wind.

If you have an infant, you can try putting him or her into tomorrow's clothes tonight so you just have to change a dipe in the morning, not start from scratch with a complete clothing change. If, in the worst-case scenario, there has been a diaper leakage or blowout, you do have to start from scratch. But if there hasn't been, you just saved yourself a few minutes, and your bambino is still comfy in his or her already-warmed outfit.

I've heard of people trying this with older children, and if it works, good for them. I just think babies are ideal candidates since they don't look like a slouch lying around all day in a footie sleeper that's equally comfortable to sleep in at night. I'd be hesitant to put my almost-4-year-old son into his daytime clothes at night because jeans or slacks and a t-shirt are not totally snooze-inducing. I don't wanna make one of my kids uncomfortable just to shave a little time and stress off our nutso mornings. Which, by the way, start at 5am. And that should be illegal.

Tip #1 for working mothers (and mothers-to-be)

2008-10-06T13:20:00.003-04:00

OK, when I started this blog I did mean to offer up some tips to other working moms, based on my experiences (note I didn't say "successes") as a full-time working/ part-time business-traveling mom. Here is the number one tip I can offer to you:

When someone suggests you stock up on sleep either before baby comes or while the grandparents are borrowing your child, smile and nod. Then move on because there is no physical way to stock up on sleep. You could sleep from now until next Thursday, and then your child could keep you up all night for exactly one night, and you'd still feel like crap and like you hadn't slept in a year.

So here's what you do instead: Stock up on paid time off so you can call in "sick" one day when your child has day care, and then you can crawl your tired behind back into bed and get some uninterrupted sleep. Oh, don't forget to keep your cell phone nearby for emergencies but to turn off the ringer on your home phone (assuming that yours is like my household and many others in that if the landline rings, you automatically know it's someone who doesn't know you).

For those of you who crave time with your day-care bound child(ren) more than you crave sleep (God bless you!) the same "sick" day can instead be used for a day full of time enjoying your children. I have done this in the past, too, and it can be a lot of fun. Or it can be really exhausting, leading me to wish I had enacted part A of this tip instead.

Happy working/parenting!

A last goodbye

2008-10-06T07:20:00.002-04:00

Dear all, my friend's niece Peyton will be buried today, and while I believe that the services will be some consolation to her parents and other loved ones, it's sure to be a difficult day as well. If you are so inclined, please pause for a moment to think of them and wish for them the strength that they will need to get through this day and the many long days to follow now that they are without Peyton. Thank you.

The frivelous post

2008-10-03T11:23:00.002-04:00

I need to post about something fairly meaningless today. So here goes....

Over the past 2-3 years I have noticed a disturbing trend in my neighborhood: People are full-on decorating their houses for Halloween! Now don't get me wrong, I love trick-or-treating and all that jazz, but 3 immediate neighbors of mine have gone through the trouble of lining their homes' profiles with orange lights and then putting giant inflatables on their front lawns. The inflatables I can wrap my mind around pretty well, but lights, people?! Lights?! For Halloween?! Am I making my disbelief clear?

How do these people find the time and inclination to put this much effort into what is a fun, but minor, holiday? And yes, what ticks me off the most is that it makes my house look like a dark piece of crap. The only Halloween decorations we have up so far are some real-life cobwebs in the shrubs out front. Thank goodness for Mother Nature or we'd fall even further behind the Joneses.

Gotta go. I'm off to find some yard decorations for Columbus Day. Ha.

A million tears

2008-10-03T00:00:00.002-04:00

I cannot sleep tonight. My two boys are tucked into their beds...OK, well, Padraic is tucked into my bed, but regardless, they are here, they are safe, they are sleeping. But my friend Kate's family is in turmoil tonight because they just lost her sister's not-quite-4-week-old daughter, Peyton, to leukemia. It feels so selfish that it's hitting me so hard. I am trying to mentally sort out whether I am feeling all this pain for their sakes, or for mine. I think it's impossible to separate the two.

There is pain because an innocent child has died. There is pain because I know her parents must be going through hell. There is pain because I worry that I could lose one of my children simply by a bad twist of fate. And that is the selfish part. That I am thinking about my own situation as a mother and how I would handle such overwhelming grief. I don't know that I could, to be honest. I pray for them that they have more strength than I think I would have.

There is anger because life shouldn't be this way. I know God has a plan for us all and that we aren't supposed to understand every nuance of life, but I am having trouble digesting the idea that a child could come into this world, suffer from a medical condition and its attendant treatments from the first moments, and then die so young. I have a brain that thrives on logic, and it is asking, What was the point? Why make a baby and so many other people suffer like this? Why? What did it accomplish, other than extreme sadness, a permanent grief?

There is relief that the physical suffering of a little baby is over, although I'd prayed with all my might that her suffering would end with a cure, not her death.

And so, I can't sleep.

Bracing myself

2008-09-29T15:32:00.002-04:00

In about 60 hours, Ken will leave for his annual 4-day canoe trip on the upper Delaware River. I recall last year's trip being a blur for me because I had a newborn (Henry) and a 2.5yo (Padraic) and was still trying to figure out exactly how to juggle both their needs by myself. To make matters more interesting, Ken's trip was Friday through Monday, and Padraic didn't go to day care on Fridays or Mondays. So it was four solid days of Mommy + the boys. I seem to recall coming close to losing my mind on days one and two, but somewhere around the end of day two or beginning of day three I got into a groove. To the point where when Ken returned, I wasn't as ready to flee as I had expected to be.

Let's hope that is the case this time around.

Our schedule will be different this year, anyway. Ken leaves on Thursday morning and gets home around suppertime on Sunday. So I just have to get the boys to day care and myself to work on Thursday, and then during the workday I need to make sure I retain some bit of sanity to use that evening until the precious hour when both little doodles are snug in their beds. On Friday I'll need to get Padraic to day care, but heck, I'll throw on sweats and a baseball cap, grab Henry out of his crib in jammies, and just head on up there and return home quick as a bunny. Then I'll have my usual work-at-home day with Henry and go get Padraic in the midafternoon. Friday evening will probably seem looooooooong. We'll survive.

Saturday we are meeting up w/my parents and sister partway out the good ole PA turnpike to have lunch and celebrate my dad's upcoming b'day. (He'll only be 56!) That oughta be fun and keep the boys amused for several hours. The drawback is that they tend to sleep in the car, which is good for while we're in the car; not so good for once we get home and Mommy is tired but they are not. We'll work it out.

Sunday I plan to do not a thing outside of this house, unless absolutely necessary. OK, maybe I'll splurge and take the boys out for McD's or ice cream or something. If I am feeling really bold, I might take them to Linvilla Orchard and let Padraic pick out a pumpkin that doesn't have a hope in hell of making it to Halloween (but it would still be fun to get it). We'll see. A lot depends on the weather and how thinly worn my nerves are by then.

Ken and I are such opposites at the childcare thing. When I travel for work, he thinks the hardest days are the ones where he has to get the kids ready for day care and then get himself to (and through) work. I think it's harder to spend the whole day trying to come up with things to keep the boys entertained and that don't make me bored out of my own mind. This is why we make such a good pair. Or at least one reason why.

Anyway, so I am bracing myself and starting to plan for what supplies we might need for the four-day Daddy absence. Number one on the list? Chocolate. In its many forms. Bars of chocolate. Hot chocolate mix. Chocolate ice cream. From there, I'm not sure. I think we probably should have diapers for Henry, but other than that, just chocolate.

Bye, bye, Wachovia

2008-09-29T13:37:00.002-04:00

I've been waiting for this news for a few months now, and the day has come: Wachovia has sold its assets (and liabilities up to $42bil) to Citigroup. So I guess our next mortgage payment will be going to Citigroup, which Ken jokingly says cannot be since then he'd be indirectly supporting the Mets. Well, who cares, now that they're out of the pennant race anyway? ;)

I continue to have unsettled feelings about the economy, the bailout that's in process, and the volatile oil-price situation. We're on track to be free of all debt (credit cards, student loans, car payments) but our mortgage by sometime in 2010, but what happens in the meantime? What happens to the home improvement project we'd wanted to do in the spring? We have a great credit rating, but should we even risk taking out a home equity loan? Should we just putter around next year, doing smaller projects around the house so we feel better about our home but only use money that comes directly from our paychecks, not from a creditor?

The one thing I do feel good about is that our "life savings" (wait a second while a giggle....ok, moving on) is at the credit union, which is financially sound since they didn't take part in any subprime mortgage lending. I'd get rid of my accounts at Commerce Bank (which recently merged with TD Banknorth), but it's the only way to keep cash available locally and seven days/week. It's nearly impossible for us to get to a branch of the credit union since the closest one is in South Philly near the stadiums, and we're about 20mi from there. Plus, they keep bankers' hours, while Commerce has at least some hours every single day. Very nice. I know our money is FDIC insured (I mean, let's be honest, we're waaaay below 100,000), but still, if a bank goes under, it's bound to cause a ripple effect in our lives while we put the money elsewhere and change over our automated payments. I don't really know what Commerce/TD's status is right now in the financial world. Guess that's some research I need to do.

Meanwhile, we still await the gas line we need for our new home heating efforts this winter. Maybe the steam pouring out of my ears will get us through until they show up to install the line, though.

It isn't fair

2008-09-27T08:10:00.003-04:00

My friend Kate's niece, Peyton (welovepeyton.blogspot.com), who is suffering from a rare form of infant leukemia, now has a dangerous fungal infection. Definitely in her nose tissue, where her feeding tube has been, and possibly in her eye, brain, and lungs. I've never met Peyton or her father, Dru, and I've only met Kate's sister--Peyton's mother--a handful of times in my life, during our college years and again over the weekend of Kate's wedding, so why do I care so much? Well, because she's a mom and I'm a mom.

Those of you with kids will understand when I say that being a parent is like having your nerves and emotions living on the outside of your skin. Everything that goes wrong with your kid or someone else's kid is akin to having someone run a cheese grater over your body. It hurts. It just freaking hurts. You might cry at a news article about a child being abused by caregivers. Those commercials for children's charities overseas, where you see starving children in dirty villages, will make your heart cringe. Life becomes more precious when you're a parent and have someone else's life to watch over.

Babies are born with the expectation of so much potential, a lifetime of holiday memories, milestones achieved, photos in the ever-growing albums to be pored over at graduations, weddings, births of their own children. Birth should not bring about the horrifying experience that Peyton, her parents, and everyone who loves her is going through. And mostly what her parents are going through. Because although so many people love Peyton, the people who brought her into this world are the ones who are suffering most. Count on it.

It isn't fair. This little girl should be at home with her parents, enjoying the nursery they surely set up for her and getting to know her big cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, neighbors, friends. She shouldn't be in a children's oncology ward, fighting for her life.

I don't know if prayers will be enough. I really don't. But I hope that they are. I want Peyton to get the miracle that she needs. I want her parents to be able to smile and see their little girl grow up. If you're the type to pray, please do. If you deal with the universe in another way, keep Peyton and her family in your thoughts the way you feel is most appropriate. If you have money to donate, send it to St. Jude's or another charity that helps sick children, or reach out to a family in your own community that is staggering under the weight of medical bills for a child who shouldn't be sick but is. Please.

Random thoughts

2008-09-24T20:34:00.003-04:00

Ever want to feel really, really wanted and needed? Register as an Independent. You'll get more phone calls and knocks on your door during an election season than you'll know what to do with.

Henry still isn't interested in walking on his own. He'll cruise around like a little devil, but he will not let go and take that first step. He's now surpassed his big brother in terms of being a holdout. Who wants to place bets on whether he'll walk on his own before 15 months (October 11)?

After feeling like hell for 48hrs, I got an amazing night's sleep last night, and even though I'm tired today, I can't complain. It often takes feeling like crap for me to realize how good I actually feel on a regular old day.

My annual review at work is approaching, and (gasp) I haven't met all of my goals. That will be a first, and I'm not liking it. Nothing I can do about it except try harder next year. And try to learn some mental telepathy powers so I can force authors to do my bidding. LOL.

I like wearing cozy sweatshirts and comfy warm pjs when fall first comes, but the charm is going to wear off in about two weeks. Then I'll want the nice hot summer back. Winter can go bleep itself. I am not a fan of cold weather and the white stuff. And trying to buckle kids into car seats while your (inclined) driveway is a patch of ice? Talk about fodder for America's Funniest Home Videos. Good thing we leave for work before many people in the neighborhood are even awake.

In my next life I want to be a beagle that's spoiled as badly as we have spoiled our beagles. Especially the part about getting to sleep 25hrs per day. That part must really rock.

Is it evil to use the earlier sunset as an excuse to get the kids into bed at, say, 6pm? ;)

Side effects may be more prominent than they appeared in the little pamphlet

2008-09-23T06:53:00.002-04:00

Have you ever, like me, found it fun to mock pharmaceutical commercials for their full-speed babble about all the horrible things the drug will do to you while so-called fixing your original complaint? Jeff Foxworthy has an awesome tribute to side effects (http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Jeff_Foxworthy), and he is pretty close.

I took a new medication Sunday night (for a female issue...you don't want the details), and instead of experiencing the first-tier side effects like, say, headaches and mild nausea, I got to enjoy the second-tier side effects of staying up allllllll night long vomiting and having the shakes. Clearly, this is not the medication for me. I have not taken it since Sunday night, but, oh, it is not done with me. I am home from work today (thank God I telecommute on Mondays so I at least didn't waste another day off on this crap) to continue recuperating. I was up most of last night, though I was able to fall asleep for restless little jags starting around 3am, which, sadly, is a massive improvement over Sunday night.

I guess I'll be grateful that I didn't have the "holy crap, get to the ER right now" third tier of side effects, but when you're vomiting up individual Cheerios that you'd been hoping were innocuous enough to make it past the bouncers guarding your stomach, that distinction starts to make a lot less difference than you might think. I was at least intelligent enough to put a call in to my dr's 24hr answering service and talk to the dr on call, who calmly informed me that some people react strongly to this particular medication. No shit, Sherlock. He also informed me that what I took was a "very small dose" (and again, thank God for that) and that the symptoms would improve eventually. Again, gee, thanks. I mean, while there is some reassurance in not having a medical professional tell you to high-tail it to the ER, that fades pretty quickly when you hang up the phone and go barf for the billionth time. I felt better when I had morning sickness with Henry, and at least that was for a more worthwhile reason.

So I'll be trying to catch up on my sleep today while the remainder of my "very small dose" works its way out of my system once and for all. Then I'll give my dr a call when her office opens and see what the next step is. I can tell you what it is not: Taking any more of those horrible little pills. Next time you get a prescription and read the pamphlet, consider how you might feel if you did get some of the worse side effects. Better yet, ask your dr more questions about the drug before you agree to take it. That was my first mistake. I only learned of the first-tier side effects and went no further until it was toooooo late. Lesson learned, I can tell you that!

He kissed me!

2008-09-22T20:00:00.002-04:00

The greatest joy of my life is that Ken and I have two little boys. They are not always in a good mood (and neither am I), but they bring me joy on a daily basis. Today's best moment was when Henry kissed me for the first time. I feel silly, but I'm welling up with tears just thinking about it. It was one of those amazing but awkward kisses from a baby who keeps his mouth wide open and just plants it firmly into the side of your face. Or nose. Whatever happens to be in the way. I've had a few rough days lately, but that little moment really brightened this one for me. I couldn't get him to repeat it, but I know it's only a matter of time. Just like him deciding to walk on his own. Just a matter of time.

Meanwhile, his big brother continues to grow at such a fast pace, both physically and in maturity, that it astounds me to think he was once a tiny baby in my arms. If I try to pick him up now, that nasty shoulder injury acts up, and that is such a shame. I am not old enough to be falling apart at the seams and unable to carry my children. But even if I can't carry Padraic, I can still hold him, and I try to get in as much snuggle time as I can. Because at what age is it that boys stop wanting to snuggle with their moms (or dads) and start to be macho and independent? Please, please say it's a long time from now. I'll be proud to see them grow into young men, but my heart will ache when they stop showing the affection they do now both spontaneously and when encouraged.

Time

2008-09-19T14:55:00.002-04:00

I spend a good part of each day striving to be efficient, on time or ahead of it with tasks, and so on. Given the effort I expend on things like meeting deadlines at work, making dinner as soon as possible after work to avoid having the whole family starve to death, keeping enough clean laundry in our dressers to avoid having us go to school and work naked, I admit that I am pretty miffed when other people don't follow through in the same timely fashion with things. In fact, lately I feel like I am running a race that no one else is even aware of. Why do I even bother? Probably just because I would feel disappointed in myself if I slacked off, but apparently others do not have the same kind of feeling about tardiness and foot-dragging that I do.

The main focus of today's rage is how freakin' long it has taken to get not all the way through the process of having our house hooked to the natural gas line. The utility company filed the necessary permit paperwork back on June 19. By August 19, not a single thing had happened, and we started banging down doors, so to speak, to find out what the hell was taking so long. A week later, we arrived home to find that the one-call had been made because there were spray painted markings in the street and on our front lawn, pointing out where all the hidden utilities are. Good, we thought. According to Ken, you need to do a one-call within 10 business days of starting the work you're planning to do. I thought we were nearly home-free.

Except today is business day #10, and no one has come to tear up my lawn yet and install the gas line. The nights are getting down into the 60s, and soon we will want to turn on the heat to keep the boys from turning into kidsicles in the middle of the night. Ken and I will be fine since we each end up with a beagle glued to us while we're sleeping anyway, but it would be awfully nice to raise our children in a home with heat this fall and winter. If gas weren't so flammable, I swear I'd be out front with a shovel right now, doing it myself.

What's worse?

2008-09-16T03:42:00.003-04:00

What's worse than having to get up at 4:30am to catch a flight to Raleigh? Waking up an hour before even that horrendous time and not being able to fall back asleep. Geez, Henry started sleeping through the night a month ago...what the hell is my problem?

Actually, some early-morning insomnia has crept into my life in the last week or so, and I am not a fan. As it is I usually don't get to bed and really get to sleep until 11pm, and on a morning that I have to go to the office, I have to get up around 5/5:15am. (And yet I recall a time in my life when I thought 7am was ridiculously early.) But lately, if something (or someone) wakes me up in the wee hours, I am up for good. It's not a lot of fun to be the only one up in a household of six (I counted the doggies, too, who are currently snoring away on my side of the bed) while it's still dark outside. I know I'll be exhausted later today, and I hope I can snooze on the plane in both directions.

The good news is this: I will be home to tuck the boys into bed tonight. This fun little trip to Raleigh is just a day trip. 7:30am flight down; 6pm flight home. That is, as long as USAir doesn't screw up like they usually do. I try to avoid USAir as much as possible, and I'd been planning to take Southwest for this trip, but (a) my boss is coming on this trip, too, and she wanted to take USAir, and (b) I had a credit on USAir to use up before November 8 and this is my only trip until then that requires a flight. Since I was using up a credit for a flight I should've taken to San Francisco in January, I didn't nearly break even (USAir ended up with the residual $200+), but at least I got to use part of the leftover funds, and besides, it's not my money.

So the kids' clothes are laid out to make life easier on Ken later this morning--I leave the house around the time he'll be waking up but before the time the boys usually get up--and the crockpot is set up to make pulled pork...well, a human has to do the pulling part, but it'll do the cooking the pork roast part. Ken just has to plug it in and set the right program (fingers crossed) so he and Padraic will have dinner waiting when they get home from work/day care tonight. I don't see Henry eating pulled pork, and really I don't want to see what those diapers would look like, so he'll get something more baby friendly. And then I'm hoping he'll manage to stay awake until I get home from the airport around 8pm, again if my flight is on time.

After today I'm hoping for a little normalcy for a few weeks, until I have to travel to Washington, DC in mid-October. That trip ought to be kind of fun, though, since Ken and the boys are planning to drive down with me on a Saturday so we can do the National Zoo if the weather cooperates, or the Air and Space Museum if it doesn't. They'll drive home on Sunday once my conference starts, and then I'll take the train home Wednesday afternoon/evening. Somewhere in there I hope to get out to Fairfax to see my Aunt Kris and Uncle Rob and their girls. Last time I was in DC, they had gotten whomped by the flu, and we had to cancel our plans to get together. I know how that goes. Ugh. Virus season. Don't get me started.

Well, instead of boring you to tears any longer, I'm off to take a shower. Might as well indulge in a nice, long shower since no one else needs any hot water for hours, and I have plenty of time to get ready. Sigh. Wish I were snoring like the beagles.

Batten down the hatches!

2008-09-15T20:07:00.002-04:00

How very comforting to awaken in the morning to the news telling you that two major financial institutions in your country have just gone belly up. Holy shit, people. Our economy is not just struggling, it is in a full-on tailspin. How far can our government stretch if this process continues? So far the feds have had to enact some bailouts, and other financial institutions have bought out previous competitors to keep things somewhat moving. But there has to be a breaking point, doesn't there? Where everyone just throws their hands up and goes home for the day?

I find it all completing unsettling, and so I am battening down the family financial hatches even tighter than I had before. That kitchen renovation that we'd been dead set on starting next spring (after I'd suggested pushing it back a year for each of the past four years)? Maybe not going to happen after all.

No, we don't have stocks and bonds with the large investment houses, but the economy is crumbling in large and small ways that affect us all. I'm starting to think I should read up on how my grandparents' and great-grandparents' generations survived the Depression, just so I'm prepared when things really go down the crapper. Having three months worth of income stashed away for an emergency no longer seems a high enough benchmark. Ken and I both have fairly good job stability, but never say never when it comes to layoffs or places just plain going out of business. I'd much rather be prepared for bad times--an ant, not a grasshopper. It's not as if we've been wasting money; we budget pretty tightly as it is. But now I'm doubly intent on avoiding any unnecessary spending and increase our savings as much as we can.

Do you think it's too early for Padraic to get a paper route? He has a tricycle and a wagon. OK, just trying to toss some levity into this downer of a post. Seriously, though, I feel like Ken and I are already pulling our full weight apiece, and we have good jobs, but that's not a guarantee of a comfy lifestyle anymore. Constant vigilance of your finances can be a huge stressor and brain drain so I know I can't go over the top with worrying, but I do hope after the election things will begin to turn around. I'm trying hard not to envision what it'd be like if things got worse.

Murphy's Law Post #1

2008-09-14T05:49:00.002-04:00

You can see from the title of this post that I am planning ahead. Think I'm a pessimist? No, just a realist. When your last name is Murphy, Murphy's law is just part of life. As my father-in-law often says, "Our family members must've done something pretty bad back in the old country."

I do have to say that in the 9.5 years Ken and I have been together, I have been witness to a higher than normal incidence of bad/stupid/unlucky stuff than I can recall from life pre-Ken. The most mundane task or trip can turn into a struggle. Everything usually works out OK in the end since Ken--having lived a lifetime as a Murphy--has developed quite a bit of ingenuity for getting himself out of a jam. In comparison to some past experiences, yesterday's episode of Murphy's Law is quite tame but frustrating nonetheless:

If you've read my earlier posts, you know that yesterday Ken, our neighbor Todd, and Ken's friend/coworker Mike spent the day splitting wood at Mike's in-laws' property. Let me start by saying that everyone made it home safely, limbs, eyes, etc., intact. That was my first worry, to be honest. Ken is mechanically inclined so I knew he'd be able to work the logsplitter with no mechanical issues, but he is accident prone, which causes me great fear when he works with such unforgiving machinery.

Because there was going to be so much wood resulting from this expedition, Ken not only took his F150 on the journey but also stopped along the way to pick up his cousin John's beat-up old metal trailer, which is a handmade (not by John or anyone he knows) piece that looks for all the world like it was meant to haul coffins. Definitely crypt-shaped, though it's also perfect for holding a motorcycle, and I think that's why John acquired it in the first place. But I digress.

Ken, with Todd riding shotgun, picked up the trailer and met Mike at the location of the downed trees. The three spent the day splitting the wood, stackinng one cord onsite for Mike to retrieve later, and gradually piling the remaining wood in the bed of Ken's truck and in the trailer. Early estimates of the total amount of wood had been one-and-a-half cords, a nice half-cord for each of them for merely the cost of renting the splitter. In the final analysis, there was more like three cords of apple, oak, and cherry, nicely seasoned from sitting outside for a full year since being chopped down in the first place.

With the truck and trailer fully loaded, and with the end of the rental period for the splitter approaching, Ken and Todd hopped in the truck and headed home. All seemed well, and I talked to Ken as they were getting ready to leave around 3:45, and he was planning to be home in a little over an hour. Around 5:00 is when Murphy's Law kicked in. Ken was not home yet, and I was getting worried. I tried his phone once, and he didn't answer, but since he was in Jersey and you can't talk on a cell phone while driving in that state, I tried not to get more worried. At 5:30 he called me to report that they were about a mile from crossing the bridge into PA and that a tire had blown on the trailer. Egad, now what, I thought? No problem, Ken said. There is a spare tire for the trailer, and he had a jack and tools in the truck to change it.

Except, as it turned out, Ken didn't have a spinner in the truck and so couldn't get the damaged tire off the truck. The only choice they had was to limp down the road to the tool booth area by the foot of the bridge and ask for help from a state trooper. The troopers didn't have the right tool, either, but the tow truck driver, who is on-call at the bridge to help clear the lanes of traffic pronto if ever there is the need, did. And he even pulled his truck behind the trailer and used his forks to lift it so Ken wouldn't need to use the hand jack. Sweet. So Ken got the lug nuts off the wheel while Todd dug out the spare tire.

Around the time Ken realized the wheel wouldn't come off the trailer is when Todd found the spare. And it was flat. Let's pause and remember the wording of Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will.

Their only choice: Ride the rest of the way home with a blownout tire on the trailer, and the trailer listing slightly to the left as a result. The finally made it home around 6:30, looking for all the world like a set of tinkers who had spent the day trolling for crap to throw in the truck and trailer. I kinda think the whole rig was overloaded, but I'm just glad they (a) made it home before dark and (b) made it home alive.

I realize this is an awfully long post about something fairly insignificant. Maybe you'll pity me just a little if I tell you that similarly long stories result from almost everything Ken gets himself involved in. Changing brakes on one of our vehicles? A hour-long job will turn into 5 hours and two trips to Pep Boys. Changing the faucet on our kitchen sink? That one took 4 hours, a cut to the hand, and three, THREE trips to Home Depot. So we won't even talk (for now) about the summer Ken built our detached garage in the backyard. "Oh, hon, it'll only take two months." Yeah, right. And maybe he should've taken my name on our wedding day!

Silly things

2008-09-13T07:32:00.002-04:00

By now you've realized, I hope, that you won't find lofty, inspired ideas in my blog. Sorry to disappoint you, but I think I fried my brain in grad school--not with drugs but with overanalyzing every damn thing in the world--and now I'm just puttering along with my pedestrian thoughts. And I'm fine with that.

--I just watched two of NKOTB's live reunion performances on YouTube (I swear I didn't go seeking this stuff. I was led there by a tantalizing headline that in the dumbed-down state I currently live in I couldn't resist), and holy crow, Jordan Knight is still hot. They didn't sound that great, to be honest, but boy, watching them brought me back to my tweenhood. I wasn't a raging fan back in the day, but I did know their music and I went to a concert at Hagerstown (MD) Fairgrounds with my friend Tiffany when NKOTB was opening for, um, Tiffany. We had 2nd row seats and caught a sweaty towel that Jordan threw. Oh, be still my beating heart. I think I finally threw it out in the early 90s, though I can't recall exactly what did happen to it.

--With the winter approaching, something I dread every year since if you didn't already know I hate winter, Ken is spending the day with our neighbor Todd and friend Mike, splitting firewood on Mike's inlaws' property. They just want these downed trees gone so the cost of this expedition is about $25, whiich is Ken's share of the rental of the logsplitter for the day. Not too shabby given that he should come home with 1/2-3/4 a cord of wood. The only thing I like abot winter is being able to use our fireplace so that gives me something to look forward to.

--Later this morning our good friend and fellow working mommy, Tori, is swinging by, and we are headed off to the St. Tim's consignment sale to shop for bargains in fall/winter clothing for our boys. I first went to this sale on a whim last fall, expecting to find banged-up clothing that Padraic could use at day care or to play outside on messy days. But to my surprise, a lot of the stuff people sell there is like-new, and the prices are irresistible. Especially since Saturday is half-price day. Wheeeeee! And this time around I've become a consignor and brought the boys' 6-12mo clothes to move along since Henry is solidly in 12-18mo now, and we are done, done, done with the baby makin'.

Those are my enlightened topics for the day, my friends. Really, that's all I've got. Tune in later to watch paint dry!

Please help Peyton if you can

2008-09-12T14:23:00.001-04:00

My college friend Kate's niece, Peyton, was born last Thursday with a rare form of leukemia. She's enduring transfusions and chemo, and she and her parents could use your support, whatever form that may take. Kate tells it better, so please visit the blog she's set up for Peyton at www.welovepeyton.blogspot.com. Thank you.

An amazing day

2008-09-11T21:20:00.002-04:00

Padraic and I stayed home together today because we had ill-timed dentist appointments smack dab in the middle of the day. I worked a half day from home to keep from falling further behind (took yesterday off due to extremely not-nice stomach illness), but otherwise we got to do a lot of fun things together.

You wouldn't think a dentist appointment could be fun per se, but Padraic was a delight. First, we have the world's coolest dental office: a huge tropical fish aquarium in the lobby, all dentists and technicians wearing wireless earpieces to communicate with each other, and even heated massage chairs for the grownups to enjoy during procedures. Ahhhh. It's like a mini spa...well, sort of. I still had to get gunk scraped off my teeth. Yuck.

But Padraic had a great time with his first-ever checkup. They let him wear cool kids' sunglasses to keep the bright light and any splashing water out of his eyes. And they raised and lowered the chair several times so he could feel like he was on an amusement ride. I really had no idea how he'd react to someone poking around in his mouth, but he's a flirt, and she was cute, young, and blonde, so he had no problems. He just reclined in the super-cool chair with his super-cool sunglasses and let her work away with the Tickle Brush and Mr. Thirsty. Then he got to pick out toothpaste (Spongebob), a toothbrush (Cars), and two toys from their prize box. And being cavity free, he got entered into their prize drawing for a gift certificate to Toys R Us.

After the dentist I treated him to a Happy Meal, and since he couldn't decide on a cheeseburger or chicken McNuggets, I got two Happy Meals to let him choose when we got home. Um, he ate both. Thank goodness they now have those apple slices instead of fries! Meanwhile, I thought I was going to get to indulge in a McD's cheeseburger (one of my guilty pleasures), but he snarfed it down right before my eyes.

Then I had to work some more, including a conference call, so Padraic played in his room. After which he helped me run clothes to the consignment sale (bye bye 6-12mo clothes that neither of my growing boys will ever wear again) and got to play at the church's playground until Ken was ready to snag him on the way home from picking up Henry. I had to go straight to physical therapy. But that's another story for another time. Bah.

All in all, it was a fantastic day with my big boy. I had forgotten how much fun it can be to spend one-on-one time with Padraic since it's Henry who stays home with me Mon/Fri these days. Once Padraic has moved into the four-year-old room in Jan/Feb I plan to switch and send my little baby to day care fulltime and keep my preschooler home w/me. I'll miss Henry, but it's about self-preservation. If I can't get work done because I'm chasing a toddler, I could lose the privilege of working from home, and that would be bad for our family in many ways. So it's better to make the decision myself. It'll give Henry some great social time, and it'll give Padraic and me some more quality time together before he starts kindergarten.

Well, I'm beat, and tomorrow will be a crazy day. Henry's adorable, but you can't reason with him and he's got a stubborn streak as bad as my own. I need to go get my sleep cuz I'm going to need it!

The monster returns

2008-09-11T06:49:00.003-04:00

Avert your eyes, those of you who are not comfortable with personal details. Don't say I didn't warn you....

After 23 blissful months without her, my period has returned. I'd been hoping to make it at least until October so I could say "I've gone two whole years without my period," but she had to go and ruin it all. Not that I think this is going to come up in conversation a lot, but two years is just a lot easier to say than 23 months if it ever did need to be said.

Yes, I am overthinking this. I'm already counting ahead and realizing that next month she will arrive at the time of a business trip I'm taking (gee, thanks, Mother Nature).

I guess while Padraic and I are out running errands after I finish working from home today, I'd better reacquaint myself with the aisle at the drugstore that contains Pamprin, or whatever wonder drug they've come out with in the last two years (ahem, 23 months) that can get rid of the crappy way I'm feeling right now.

My dogs' inner monologues

2008-09-10T13:15:00.002-04:00

For better or worse, even when I am home from work I am never alone. We have two beagles, Bailey and Tully.

Bailey is a sweet girl who came to us in June 2002 via a short stint as a Philly firehouse dog after being a stray whose family could not be found. The firefighter who took her in tried very hard, but given her disposition back then I have a feeling her family did not WANT to be found. She was roughly 9mos old, in heat, and very, very active. The vet pegged her b'day as roughly September 2001, and so we choose to celebrate it on September 11 to honor her time among firefighters and to bring a small bit of joy to an otherwise ominous anniversary day.

Tully we adopted in March 2006 from the beagle rescue that we used to volunteer and foster dogs for (www.brewbeagles.org). We thought Bailey could use a buddy since before we had kids she was very used to having a second beagle around to play with, even if who that actual beagle was changed sometimes week to week. Tully was born at roughly the same time Padraic was in January 2005. We hope that causes them to bond some day so Tully will leave us alone. LOL.

Anyway, it's a joy to have dogs, sure, but the sure can be a pain in the ass, too. Here, for example, is what I am assuming their inner monologues to be today (and most days):

Bailey: You know what? I think I'd really like to be outside. [Goes to Mommy, whines, paws, and looks generally about to burst at the seams with pee.]

[Mommy gets up, goes to back slider door, and opens it. Bailey runs out. Tully remains on couch or floor in living room. Mommy closes door and heads back to couch. Sits down.]

Tully: You know what? I think I'd really like to be outside with Bailey. [Heads to back door and starts scratching at it, making ominous signs of possibly peeing on it if it is not opened quickly.]

[Mommy sighs, gets up, goes to back slider door, and opens it. Tully runs out. Mommy shuts door and sits back down on couch.]

[Eight seconds elapse.]

Bailey (still outside): You know what? I've been outside now for almost 15 seconds. I think I'd really like to see what's going on inside. [Goes to back door and barks. Loudly. And insistently.]

[Mommy gets up off couch and lets Bailey back in. Checks Tully's location. He is happily sniffing a part of the yard nowhere near the back door. Closes door and goes back to sit on couch.]

Tully (still outside): Hey, where's Bailey? She must be inside, and that makes me want to be inside!

[Tully runs to back door and leaps and barks at it until Mommy, whose butt has just hit the couch cushion, lurches back up off the couch and goes to the back door to let Tully in. Tully comes racing in, and meanwhile...]

Bailey: Hey, Tully is coming inside, but you know what? It'd be totally rad to be outside!

[Bailey runs out the door that has been opened for Tully to enter. Mommy closes the door, sits back on the couch, and Tully settles on the floor.]

Tully: Hey, where's Bailey? Dude! She is outside!.....

End of play and end of Mommy's patience. You can see how this gets to be a loooong day. You're probably wondering why we don't have a doggie door. Well, here are a few reasons:
(1) It's not safe for dogs to be left unsupervised in their yard so we don't really want them choosing to leave the house on their own.
(2) Since we have only a slider door onto our deck for egress to the backyard, mounting a doggie door within it would lessen who secure our house is to potential burglars.
(3) Unless we would get the kind of doggie door that comes with electronic collars so it only opens for our dogs who'd be wearing same, all sorts of critters could join us in the house.
(4) The kids could get out!

So I just suck it up and keep opening and closing the door for these canine crazies. Ken is less of a sucker than I am, and he'll flat out refuse to let them out/in a lot more often than I refuse. And I'm sure they take advantage of me for it. Kinda like kids once they learn your weaknesses.

I thought we had more time

2008-09-10T06:38:00.002-04:00

I've been saying to Ken lately that we have about 5-6 weeks of good health left to our family until virus season hits us full force. With one kid in day care, you bring home a host of unfamiliar germs to make the rounds in your family. With two kids in day care, you are seriously screwed. If we charted out how many people and their germs the kids come in contact with directly and indirectly throughout one day-care day, we'd surely be disgusted, but such is life. We experience the same things at our offices; it's just that the situation is compounded now that our family is bigger.

I am grateful for the day-care center we switched to when Padraic was 14 months since they take germ battling seriously. Henry is still in the infant room, where anyone who enters must wear hospital booties over their shoes so as not to track outside germies onto the very floor where the little ones will be crawling and picking up things to put in their mouths.

And the whole center does a full-on sanitizing every single night. All the crib/cot sheets are washed, and all the toys are cleaned with a bleach solution. Every. Single. Night. A cleaning company does a surface cleaning every night as well, and then every weekend they return for a deep cleaning. Kids with fevers of 100 or higher get sent home within the hour, and they cannot return until they've been feverless for 24hrs. I can only imagine how many more illnesses my family would struggle with throughout the year if it weren't for these precautions. Because even this system isn't perfect protection against getting sick, and we can't wrap the kids in their own bubbles before sending them off into the world.

Anyway, as for the title of this post, which I have digressed from, I thought we had until mid- to late October before we'd all start getting ill, but I was wrong. Henry has just gotten over what we initially thought was a bout of teething w/some yucky diapers ensuing, but turns out it was a stomach virus. You know how I know? I got sick as a dog yesterday afternoon at work, and it's only gotten more interesting in the meantime. So I am at home, sipping tea to get rehydrated, and then I am off to bed. Ugh, ugh, and more ugh. Perhaps it is time to order some bubbles.

If I seem to complain a lot...

2008-09-07T10:57:00.003-04:00

It's only because I don't complain aloud very much in real life, and this blog proves to be a good outlet for the things I'd never say aloud. I have it ingrained in my personality from my upbringing that I should try to get along with everyone and every situation, without complaining. I've gotten to the point where at least I will point out a wild injustice, or I will advocate for something I really need, but overall, I smile and nod a lot. Just so you know if/when I seem to be a big ole complaining jerk on here.

I'm going to come clean

2008-09-06T20:57:00.002-04:00

This probably sounds like blasphemy coming from a mommy's mouth, but after a day cooped up in the house because of the rain, I have reached the point of uber-boredom and must say it: I don't like playing with kids' games/toys. There, I said it. I envy people like my dad, who are an endless supply of childlike fun and make up games on the spot that cause my boys to collapse into giggle fits. And can sit for hours, enjoying whatever stash of toys we have on hand. But building train tracks or racing HotWheels (pretend there's a registered trademark symbol here...LOL) makes me want to lose my mind.

I am now the grownup version of the kid whose kindergarten teacher laughed at her for saying, "I don't want to color. I don't like coloring." As if ever kid has to like the same things. Certainly, my classmates seemed to like coloring (btw, it was a coloring page of The Letter People...extra points to you if you remember who they are). So I was clearly the oddball in the group.

I don't think it has anything to do with having boys and their ilk of toys, rather than girl toys, either. I didn't play with dolls much as a kid. I remember my mom being very frustrated with our pleas for help in putting shoes on our fake Barbies. I don't recall returning to those dolls very often. The things I most remember are playing made-up games with my sister. Oh, my parents certainly had it rough at first with us being 13mos apart, but once I was old enough to play with my sister, then they got to sit back and watch us entertain ourselves. I keep reminding myself that some day Padraic and Henry will be the same way.

Yet I wish I could find a way to enjoy it just a little bit since playing with my own kids should be fun. Right? The things I do enjoy are reading with them and helping Padraic with his letters and numbers. If you're thinking by now that I'm a big nerd who doesn't have a fun bone in her body, you are probably on target. I was born w/o a creativity gene, so all I can build with blocks is a larger block, and all I can build with train tracks is a circle or oval. While Ken practially recreates the Eiffel Tower and the Trans-Siberian Railroad.

If I look into the future, I see me being the homework helper and Ken being the fun dad. I guess there's nothing wrong with that...as long as he steps up when it's time for the science fair. I am, after all, also the one who opted to write a 30-page paper for Chemistry class my junior year of high school, rather than do a science fair project. NERD!

Utilities can be exciting

2008-09-05T09:38:00.002-04:00

I'm being a bit facetious, but Ken and I were pretty excited to arrive home from work yesterday to find our street is marked with various colors of spray paint, delineating where all the utilities are under the pavement. Why is this so exciting? Because it means that finally, after 2.5mos of waiting, our permit has gone through and the company will be coming in 10 working days or less to install a natural gas line from the main out in the street to our house.

This past March our oil heater went on the fritz and we decided this was the key time to investigate what it would take to switch our house over to natural gas. As it turned out, the process was not all the difficult. We filled out some paperwork for PECO, the utility co that supplied natural gas service out here in the 'burbs, and they told us what the charge would be for installing the line and how many appliances we'd have to switch to natural gas to get the best installation price. [I think it's horrible how they hold you over a barrel re: the number of appliances you need to switch over to avoid a higher installation price. They are, of course, forcing you to use more gas so they can make more money on a monthly basis in the long run.] In the final analysis, if we were to switch the heater, water heater, and dryer to natural gas, it would cost us only about $550 to have the line hooked up. Since Ken used to work for an HVAC supplier, we got the gas heater for the price a contractor buys it for before raising it astronomically to make a profit, and our neighbors' nephew works for a plumbing supply company so we got a tankless water heater for a steal. For the dryer, we figure we'll buy a gas dryer new and then will put our electric dryer on Craigslist to make a little bit back on it since it's only a few years old.

I'm psyched to the hilt about the tankless water heater. Our electric bill should go down once we no longer have to keep 50gal of water hot round the clock, even when we're all out of the house. And we should shake the problem we've had every winter so far where the first person to take a shower in the morning has enough hot water, but the second person starts to run out after a few minutes. Plus, the darn heater is about the size of an average microwave, and the technology is just totally cool. Ken, of course, knows how to install all these various things so that is a huge help in financial terms, though not so much in terms of time. Every one of our home projects ends up taking roughly twice as long as it should, but in the end it all works out. I always have to buy my tongue and focus on the positive, if long-in-coming, result.

So this winter we won't have to worry about oil deliveries, the scummy bottom of our oil tank that gums up the heater and causes it to shut off at the absolute worst times, and all the other fun things that we've enjoyed with oil heat for 6 years. And some day when our 3yo electric range goes belly up, I'll finally have a gas stove to cook with. Something I've always wanted but never had.

Of course, we'll still use our fireplace a lot this winter, and actually next weekend Ken is heading to a friend's inlaws' land to chop up a whole bunch of downed trees that they're letting us haul off for free. He estimates they'll come home with over a cord of wood. I think we usually use a half cord during the winter, if we do a fire maybe 3-4 nights a week, sometimes all day long on the weekends if we're just going to be home puttering around.

Part of me hates to think of impending winter, and the rest thinks it'll be nice to have a change of pace. We tend to get more done around the house since there's little to do outside and no yard work to speak of (yippee), and Lord knows our interior could use some cleaning up and decluttering. And we'll have plenty to keep us busy with planning out the building of our new kitchen that we hope to start next April/May. As much as I hate spending significant sums of money, I am going to love to have a kitchen that is laid out how I want it and has a dishwasher. Hallelujah!

Many random thoughts

2008-09-04T21:17:00.002-04:00

Padraic enjoyed watching a football game tonight. I have to laugh because it's adorable to hear him yelling commands at the players, even though he knows nothing about the game. Are boys just born knowing how to watch a football game? It's like watching him play with cars before he was 1yo and noticing that he already knew what noise they should make.

One thing I have had to teach him lately reminded me that the whole world is new to kids. We had gone to DQ the night of the almost-accident, and Padraic's chocolate-dipped cone was too big to let him eat at once. So we put the leftover half upside down into an empty paper cup and tucked it into the freezer when we got home. We pulled it out the next day after he'd been good and earned a treat, and when I pulled it from the cup, the ice cream that had been above the cone stayed stuck in the cup. I figured, no big deal, it's still too much ice cream for a 3yo anyway, and I handed him the cone that had ice cream level with the top. He looked at me with confusion and muttered something ending with "...small." It took me a minute, but I realized he didn't know you can eat the cone. Once I explained that, he lit up in a nanosecond and dove right in. It was neat to think that I just taught him one of life's great joys: you can eat the cone and all the creamy goodness inside at the same time!

--------------------------

Our weekends are packed to the gills from now until late October, and I'm going batty just thinking about it. Two weddings (on the same day, oy), two christenings, Ken's canoe trip, my business trip to DC, a crabfest with neighbors, a consignment sale where I'm moving some of the boys' clothes along to new owners, the list goes on. This weekend is the crabfest on Saturday and one of the christenings on Sunday. It's supposed to pour on Saturday so we tried to convince the host of the crabfest to postpone to another weekend (not that we're really free on another weekend, but we'd figure something out), but he insists, even if it means cracking open messy crabs at their dining room table, instead of outside. It could be a real disaster, but we can only wait to see.

--------------------------

Henry is getting closer to taking his first steps. He at least knows now that when someone holds his hands to help him stand, he can move his feet to make forward progress. Maybe this weekend we can convince him to let go and take a step or two. My neck and shoulder will be ever so grateful when I no longer have to schlep this 22lb child everywhere. Of course, my lower back will get a big workout with all the bending over to help him keep vertical. Darn that gravity, anyway.

Extracurriculars for children?

2008-09-03T21:19:00.003-04:00

While doing some (ugh) yard work (ugh) tonight, I witnessed my neighbor playing catch with his 6yo son who is on a softball team. Or whatever you call it that a young kid plays that involves a ball, a bat, and running bases. Is it actually called baseball? I know it's not T-ball, anyway...I digress.

It got me thinking, as I do a few times a year, about whether we should start Padraic in any activities between now and kindergarten. By 3.5yo our neighbors' son had already been in T-ball, and also had swimming lessons. And then when he turned 4yo he did spring soccer, and this year and last year have been base/soft/whatever-ball in addition to the continuing swimming lessons. Comparing Padraic's life to his friend next-door's makes me feel like our little guy is getting shafted. I mean, we've meant to take him to swim lessons but (a) I hate swimming bc it involves being cold and wet (I get this from my mom, people...she'll tell you) and (b) Ken was thinking of taking him but hasn't been able to figure out a time when he could commit to several weeks of lessons on weeknights. So we've taken Padraic to exactly nothing so far in his formative years.

Then I get to thinking, Hey, I didn't have a single extracurricular activity until I was in junior high, and I don't think I'm horrendously damaged by that. (I made up for it in high school by participating simultaneously in nine extracurricular activites. My poor parents.) I guess, then, that when I think it over, I lean more toward the letting kids be kids side of things. It's tempting to let him try 4yo soccer next spring, especially when his godfather is a soccer coach, but we'll see. Besides the time commitment that I don't want to make unless we can, um, commit, I admit that I am loathe to meet "those" parents that you hear and read about. You know the ones I mean. The ones who think their little Timmy is going to be an all-star and your little talentless-by-comparison twerp is messing it up for everyone. Oy. I think we'll just wait until Padraic can have some input into what he wants to do. After all, the activities would be for him, not for us.

Out of the mouths of babes

2008-09-02T20:31:00.002-04:00

Hysterical. When Ken and Padraic came back from the neighbors' house last night, they brought me a gift since I hadn't been able to join them. I opened the door to find my husband and son, the littler one beaming with pride as he held aloft a plastic bag and yelled, "Mommy, I have crabs!"

Not something you expect to hear from your 3-year-old. ;) Priceless.

Too much togetherness

2008-09-01T19:23:00.002-04:00

You all know I love my boys dearly, right? OK, please remember that while you read this post.

We're at the end of the 3-day Labor Day weekend, and I am at my wits' end with parenting. Except for yesterday afternoon for roughly 4hrs, we have been at home the whole damn weekend, and it has made me batty. Henry is cranky from teething and has the constant poops from it, too (hence the staying close to home so much), and Padraic exhaustively says sentences that start with, "Mommy...." I will soon lose my mind.

Ken gets out of most of the fun because (a) neighbors are always calling him to help w/something, and he can slip out the door to go do whatever they need help with and (b) the boys do not ask for him like they demand my attention constantly.

Henry is settling in for bed now, and Ken has Padraic next-door at the crabfest I should also be attending but can't bc just on the off chance that Henry's poops are from germs, not teething, I can't have him near the hosting neighbors' 2-month-old son. This sucks. Last night Ken got to go to the first round of this get-together, too, while I sat home with the sleeping boys. It got so rowdy next-door that they kept waking me up, that is, until roughly 1am when Ken finally came home and things went quiet over there. Must've been a good time, though I'll never know.

Is it wrong to be so looking forward to dropping the boys at day care tomorrow and going to work? The entire rest of my 4-person department is on vacation so I will be blissfully alone for 8 whole hours. It just may give me time to store up some energy for tomorrow night, when Ken will once again be hanging out with the neighbors, this time for his Fantasy Football pool. Must be nice.

Hormones and whatnot

2008-08-31T22:13:00.002-04:00

Something I'd want all my female friends of child-bearing years to know: Weaning a child can cause post-partum depression-esque symptoms. Hormones are crazy things, my friends. I had Henry almost weaned right before my trip to Denver, and while I was there I gradually stopped pumping because the plan was to not resume nursing when I got home. My last night in Denver, a huge panic attack hit. Yowzah. I've had them before in times of high stress, and traveling does tend to make me more susceptible (lack of sleep from difficulty adjusting to a new time zone, not eating right, worrying about the kids while I'm away, etc.) so I thought I was just having a rough time being away for so long.

Then I got home and kept having anxiety attacks almost every morning thereafter. Finally, I thought, Wait, the only thing different now from before I started having these attacks is that I'm not nursing Henry. I did some online research and found anecdotal evidence from other women who experienced increased anxiety and even PPD-like symptoms after weaning. Come to think of it, I had panic attacks after weaning Padraic, too, but I had ascribed them to my trip to San Francisco that I took right after weaning him. I'm sure both things played a part.

I don't see my OBGYN until October for my annual exam so I've made my own decision on treatment for the time being: I've resumed nursing Henry once a day (first thing in the morning), and it has worked wonders. The anxiety disappeared like magic. I guess I have a sensitive system and it's out of whack from close to 4years w/o having a period. When I look back, I had probably a dozen periods between weaning Padraic and conceiving Henry, and I still haven't had one since then. My body needs some serious readjusting time, but for now I am happy to nurse the little booger just enough to keep my sanity in check. Dr. S will help me sort out the long-range plan next month.

See, there are all sorts of weird things the female body is capable of. Know you probably all know more about my inner workings than you wanted to. Just wait until I get my kidney study done as a result of discovering my bicornuate uterus early in pregnancy #2! LOL!

Close call

2008-08-31T10:52:00.002-04:00

Since we were at Gertstock the weekend of Ken's birthday (he's 31, btw...so ha!), we celebrated here at home last night. I made lemon pepper tilapia with my homemade mac & cheese. And no, we did not have a veggie with it. This was a celebration. ;) The mac & cheese was a huge gift to both of us because I have not made it since January, which was when we discovered Henry's lactose intolerance. I was able to avoid a lot of dairy products while I kept nursing him, but this mac & cheese is not something I could've stared at without eating. Sorry, Henry. My willpower only goes so far.

Anyway, after dinner we decided that since I had been too busy to make a b'day cake, I would take us all out for ice cream. We packed Henry a Lactaid since he can't have ice cream, and we all got in the car for the drive to Dairy Queen in the next town north of us. We were less than a mile from DQ when we had to go around a sharp left-hand curve, and a car shot out in front of us, cutting across our lane of travel without stopping. I was absolutely sure we were going to collide, and in that split second before the impact I was expecting, I braced myself and started praying for the boys to be OK. I pictured us all being loaded into ambulances and my car (a lesser consideration, but it's only 5-6 payments away from being paid off) being towed off to a junkyard.

Thankfully, we did not collide. Somehow Ken slammed the brakes to the floor, and the woman cutting across our bow slammed on hers, and we stopped what must've been less than an inch away, given how close she and her passengers were to us when all was said and done. I thought the guy in her passenger seat was going to start mouthing off at Ken, but instead, he was waving his arms and mouthing, "Sorry, man." We all paused for a quick breath, and then we drove around them and continued on our way as I turned around to see how the boys were doing. They hadn't even noticed what had happened, thank God.

After that close encounter, we could've used a beer more than an ice cream, but we pulled into DQ and enjoyed what they had to offer anyway. And we took another way home to avoid that horrible intersection, which just asks for trouble. I'm so thankful my little family is whole and well. The alternative doesn't even bear thinking about.

Getting it together

2008-08-29T10:14:00.002-04:00

Friends, there was a time that I was a very organized person. My room was not necessarily clean, but I never forgot birthdays or anniversaries, and I always could put my hands on items that I needed. Then I got married, bought a house, got some dogs, and had kids. Now my friends and family are lucky if I get my head out of my butt often enough to look around and notice there is a world out there. I'm making small strides to reorganize my life (or, I should say, our lives), and I hope they lead to bigger steps. These may not seem profound, but they are important to me.

For starters, about 5 months ago I joined the Women in Red Racers . No, it's not a group of women wearing red tennis shoes (as I envisioned when first hearing about them). It's an offshoot of the Women in Red (http://moneycentral.msn.com/community/message/default.aspx) on MSN.com, which is a group of ladies talking about their debts, their savings, the financial state of their households and the world. The Women in Red Racers have chosen to list their debts for all to see and are racing those debts from here into oblivion. If that sounds competitive, it's not. Each woman is merely racing against herself to try to become debt free. It's a nice way to be accountable to yourself and your financial mistakes, all the while remaining anonymous if you so choose.

I do choose to remain anonymous and won't tell you my WIRR screen name, but I do urge you to join if the situation suits you. In 5mos I've cleared out 23% of my debt, and it is a good, good feeling. Knowing that I'm going to be reporting monthly on my debt paydown has made me much more aware of where every dollar is going. DH and I have perpetually been about 2yrs from financial solvency, and finally I think we'll actually get there. I can't wait to see what it feels like.

Other organizational parts of my life involve getting rid of all this baby stuff that the boys will no longer use. It's a bittersweet process--I cried a few months ago when sorting out the 0-6mo clothes to give to a coworker whose daughter was going to bring them to an orphanage in Haiti--but it has to be done. The bigger gear is headed soon for my ILs' house, where it will sit in anticipation of my forthcoming niece or nephew coming to visit. The clothes are going to various places. Some will go to my neighbors' nephew who recently had a little boy join the family, and the rest will go to a local church's consignment sale. Proceeds of which will go toward purchasing gently used play clothes for the boys from the same sale. Reduce, reuse, recycle.

The harder part will be organizer the grownup stuff here in the house. I know I should just do one box at a time. I will. Some day. But first the baby stuff, and then I'll tackle the rest. I'm motivated by the urge to some day see the corners of my house. I know they're there. Somewhere.

Political leanings

2008-08-29T07:54:00.003-04:00

With the Democratic National Convention over now, and with the United States (and anyone else in the world who gives a crap) poised for John McCain's announcement today of his running mate, not even I can avoid thinking about the political scene. Even with my insular life of butt wiping, snot aspirating, and food-spill cleaning.

Let me get the big question and answer out of the way early:

Who will I be voting for in November? Obama.

I sighed with audible relief back when he won the primaries and Hillary got bumped out of the running. While I'd love to see a woman as POTUS before long, I find her abrasive, and I just don't want to see her and her hubby's familiar faces back at the head of the power pack in Washington. I know it's hugely judgmental of me, but when it comes to issues of marital fidelity I see things in black and white. You're either an honorable person or you're a cheating bastard. Bill is the latter. And Hillary could've kicked him to the curb, but I think she puts her own political aspirations before that sort of consideration. That just doesn't sit well with me.

Anyway, Obama may yet prove himself to be a slick career politician like so many of the other big players are, but I'll willingly suspend my disbelief for now and consider him the real down-to-earth person he's coming across as. His having grown up w/o everything little thing his heart desired being handed to him on a platter speaks volumes to me. I think we're pretty soft as a nation now, and I see it all the time in the microcosm of life around me--people spoiling their kids rotten, thereby raising a person who thinks they are entitled to successes without the work that is necessary to earn them. Hey, it'd be great if life worked that way, but it doesn't.

It's never an easy decision for me when there's a presidential election because I'm a die-hard Independent. So with each election season, I have to start from scratch. I specifically want to leave party loyalty out of the mix, and that's why I choose to remain an Independent. During the last presidential election, a now-former coworker of mine remarked that I should register with one of the big parties so I could vote in the primaries because, as she put it, not doing so was "a waste." Well, it'd be great if I could vote in the primaries and keep my Independent status at the same time. I am not proud of, nor in agreement with, the politics of either the Democratic or the Republican party, so why should I choose one of them to be associated directly with? I reminded her that it's my choice and my right to remain separate from either of those parties, and that's what I plan to do for the foreseeable future.

Ah, vacation

2008-08-26T20:39:00.003-04:00

Why can't vacation last forever? Oh, right. That's called retirement. ;)

We had a fantastic time on our trip to Gertstock. I will have to upload pictures at some point, but Ken has the camera and won't be home until later. Lake George is beautiful, and the weather couldn't have been better. OK, well, it was a little hot in the midafternoon, but then it started to cool down, and it was downright lovely.

We are blessed with two boys who do very well in the car. Up to Albany is only about 5hrs of road time, and they slept most of the way. We stopped at a McD's (couldn't find anything else that the boys would eat) halfway up, and then we hit the road and they fell back asleep until close to the end. I learned the trick of turning around and putting Cheerios onto Henry's car seat next to his left leg, and he could reach them and eat them at will. This helped him get over the hunger hump that he hit during the last 20mins of the ride to my uncle's house.

My parents had driven up the day before and were there to greet us. Given that I've been stressed to the hilt lately, it was such a relief to get out of the car and have my mom and dad ready and willing to take over caring not only for the boys but also for me and Ken. Ahhhhhh. Sometimes I honestly wish I could be a child again for just a little while to get that feeling of being completely cared for without having any responsibilities. Wouldn't that be nice?

The next day was the big event: Gertstock. We left the house around 10am to get up to Lake George, which is a little over an hour north of my uncle's Albany-area home. Nana wasn't there yet when we arrived, but Aunts Mary and Kate had been sitting at the pavilion since 7am to reserve it for the Triller family. Other picnickers looked on in envy, but the pavilion was already decorated with streamers and table clothes so we definitely had dibs.

People started to trickle in as the day worn on, and all in all we had 44 people there. The only one of my dad's 11 siblings who couldn't make it was Uncle Kevin. He is a NY state trooper, and he'd been tapped to help with security at the state fair in Syracuse. So he had to miss out. His kids were there, though, and his daughter Trisha and her hubby brought their 8mo daughter, Ariah, who I got to hold. Such a cutie. And Trisha's brother John was there with his wife, Rhonda. They are expecting triplets around New Year's. She's 15wks along and has the belly I had when I was 5mos pg with Padraic. I wish her the easiest pg possible when you're carrying three babies at once. In about a month we should all hear how many boys and girls are in there.

Padraic got to do his first ever ride on a power boat with Uncle Darren, Daddy, 3 of Darren's 4 girls, my cousin John, and Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob took Padraic out on the inner tube behind the boat when they had anchored up near one of the islands (this was after pulling up somewhere to get ice cream sandwiches) , and he apparently had a blast. So much so that when Uncle Bob and Aunt Maureen were leaving at the end of the day, Padraic dove into his arms, kissed the side of his face, and then snuggled into his cheek. I think Uncle Bob was a bit surprised by all this affection, but Aunt Marie got a good picture that I can't wait to see.

Of course, the main event was celebrating Nana's 81st birthday. The actual day isn't until mid-Sept, but the whole family is used to getting together at the end of August for Pop-pop's b'day, and now that he's gone, we just can't seem to shake the habit. Getting another year of having Nana around, even if I don't get to see her very often, is priceless. She got to play with Padraic and hold Henry, and I'll cherish those memories forever.

Now we're back home, back to the old grind of work and day care dropoffs/pickups, but it was a nice break from our routine. Next year we're planning to make a weeklong trip of it to get to spend more time enjoying family and the beautiful setting of Lake George.

Gertstock, here we come!

2008-08-22T05:39:00.002-04:00

The morning I've been waiting for during the past several months is now here: We're leaving for Gertstock! What, you may ask, is that? It's our annual family reunion on my dad's side. It used to be a b'day party for my grandfather, but he passed away in July 2006, and one of my uncles renamed it to celebrate my grandmother, Gertrude.

While we miss Pop-pop incredibly much, it is only fitting to celebrate a woman who birthed and raised 12 children with him. Here are their names in order from oldest to youngest, which I learned from my aunt Kris when I was in middle school: Brian (my dad), Kevin, Patricia, Mary, Paul, David, Mark, Kathy, Beth, Maureen, Darren, Kris. Say that 10 times fast. :)

I love being from a big family, and it's neat seeing my dad's siblings interact at this get-together ever year, which in some cases is the only time certain members of the family see each other. There is such camaraderie that I can only imagine what fun they all had as kids, that is, when they weren't fighting like siblings so often do.

Also in celebration of family, I've made myself a promise this very morning: I am going to call my dr (maybe even from my cell phone while we're on the road this morning) and make an appt to talk to her about my recurring anxiety attacks. I can't help but think that they have a hormonal basis since they came surging into my life right at the time I weaned Henry. I have a feeling my hormones are all out of whack and might need some gentle nudging to get them to behave. Whatever the cause(s), physical or emotional--not that a working mom has any stress, oh no--it's time to work them out so I can be the best wife and mommy I can be. Family, yeah, that's the core of it all. In the midst of the worst days I can look at the two boys Ken and I somehow brought into this world and feel like there is a center to my chaotic universe.

Well, I have some packing to finish, and I should take advantage of the fact that everyone else is still asleep. Henry's been sleeping through the night more and more lately, but he usually wakes up screaming in hunger around 5am and so far he's still snoozing soundly. I've even already had a chance to shower and shave my legs! What luxury!

Have a great weekend, and blogging should resume Tuesday-ish once we're back.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G...

2008-08-15T20:05:00.004-04:00

I should be working on my freelance project, but Henry is asleep and Padraic is next-door with Daddy, playing baseball with friends. Too tempting to opt for a little "me" time.

Strange goings on at day care lately. Yesterday Padraic was suddenly sent home with a packet of homework. He's THREE! The homework consisted of practicing writing the numbers 1-10 and then counting groups of objects and circling the correct number from three choices offered below the picture. What really steamed me was the note at the top of the page that said, "Needs help." Um, yeah. At this age kids should be learning to hold a writing implement correctly, not writing all their numbers. He was actually pretty good at the counting thing, but he just wasn't interested in it. Funny thing was, my 3yo kid wanted to play instead of count. No kidding.

I talked to the assistant director this morning to find out what the deal was with the sudden burst of super academia for preschoolers, and she said not to worry: The new teacher in Padraic's class is just trying to find a baseline for what the kids in the class can/cannot do so she can use that to inform the new curriculum that starts up Aug 29. I felt much better after that conversation.

Then I picked Padraic up from day care this afternoon and found a new packet of homework. This one requiring him to practice writing his name and the full alphabet. The note at the top made me see red: "Didn't want to Do it! [Last two words underlined] Wanted him to write his name. He refused. Did first one FOR HIM! [Last two words underlined twice and in all caps.]"

Now I'm steamed again. You can't just take a child who's at a scribbling stage and ask him to practice writing his name. What ever happened to breaking down a large task into baby steps? Not to mention choosing age-appropriate tasks for your students. I guess I'll be having another chat with the assistant director on Monday. Mommy is mad! I'm worried that trying to force inappropriate skills work onto Padraic will make him more resistant to learning that he would otherwise be, and I'm not gonna let that happen.

In better news, Henry is getting a lot more stable on his feet. I caught him trying to stand independently today, which was neat. He just about had it, but he wobbled and plopped down on his butt. Still, I'm guessing within about 6 weeks we'll have a full-fledged toddler on our hands.

I'm also loving how he points to everything, or if he's holding something he shows it to you, and says "See it!" Of course, it sounds like "seeeeeeeeet!" but I know what he means.

OK, back to the freelance project. Soon the big boys will be coming home, and then I'll wish I'd accomplished more.

Good night, sweetheart

2008-08-13T21:45:00.004-04:00

Henry slept through the night last night! And I would've gotten a full night's sleep for the first time since about month 2 of my pregnancy with him, except around 4am the dogs woke up to go out and pee, and when Ken let them out he crashed on the sofa and didn't hear them barking to be let in. So I had to get up and go downstairs, let them in, and wake him up so he could come back to bed and not break his neck sleeping on the sofa. But dogs aside, it gives me great hope that Henry finally made it through the night w/o needing help getting back to sleep. Padraic did a similar thing--started STTN when he was done nursing shortly after I returned from a business trip. I am trying not to go over the moon with joy quite yet since anyone who's been at the mercy of a baby knows that life is all about surprises, but maybe, just maybe I can start getting, oh, 5 solid hours of sleep a night. Just imagine!

I'm starting to think about this weekend...Saturday we're having dinner at the IL's house, and Sunday we head to the Sassafras River to hang out with our neighbors at their shore house. Gotta think of some good appetizer/snacky type ideas for Sunday. Something already prepared that we can just eat w/o me having to do any work would be perfect. I'll have to browse the Web a little over lunch tomorrow and gather some ideas.

Tons of work-related things got accomplished today, and I even got some household stuff done this evening, but nothing too exciting to report. Still yearning for a vacation and really looking forward to Gertstock weekend.

Well, off to get ready for bed!

Just another manic...Tuesday?

2008-08-12T22:05:00.003-04:00

Coming back from a work-related trip is always interesting, even if I check my email every single day during the trip to keep the numbers from getting out of hand. No matter how hard I try, I can't avoid having an avalanche of work when I get back since (1) the trip itself generates a lot of new work and (2) it keeps me from really being up-to-date on what's going on in the office. Hey, at least the days go by quickly until I'm relatively back on track.

While I hate the travel part of my job, I do get jazzed by having new leads for books I might get to sign, and this trip certainly generated a bunch of 'em. I should have paperwork flying around my cubicle in no time once I follow up with everyone I talked to at the meeting plus all the people I didn't meet but had suggested to me as future authors.

I gave in on the way home tonight and decided to buy fast food for dinner, which is something I almost never, ever do. But I justified it to myself thusly: (1) Work was crazy and I could use a little break this evening; (2) I got paid today; (3) Last week my parents fed Ken and the boys and I lived off my corporate AMEX so funds are a little higher than usual, and (4) it was, um, fast, and I had other stuff to do after dinner. So we ate our various toxic-but-yummy items from Wendy's, and then Padraic joined me at the store for real groceries. I just hadn't had the energy over the weekend to slog through that errand, but now it's done again until roughly Sunday/Monday. Padraic had a blast riding in the offensively loud and rumbly fire truck cart, and I ran into only a few store displays with that piece of junk. Then he wanted to go to the dollar store next door to the grocery store (he knows there are toys there), but I lured him home with the promise of ice cream. So you can see it was a health-food day all around.

Well, the boys are in bed and Ken's butt has grown to his daddy chair downstairs so I am off to bed. Tomorrow brings all the joys of today, but with the added fun of the freelance project I just took on that's due next Thursday.

I fall to pieces

2008-08-11T22:27:00.003-04:00

There's a song for everything.... So here I am, a 32-year-old wife and mother of two little boys, guardian to two beagles, full-time working woman, etc. I wish I could say I have it all, but my neck and back are killing me from maneuvering Henry around, the boys wouldn't fall asleep until after 10 tonight, I'm swamped at work and at home, and somehow I have to get our entire family ready for our 3-night trip to my family reunion. We leave Aug 22, and things just keep getting added to the schedule in between now and then. No wonder I have anxiety attacks.

I could use a real vacation, but at $40 a night just to kennel the doggies, and with having to pay half the day-care payment even when the boys don't go at all, a week's vacation costs $500 before we've even gone anywhere. Given those grim circumstances, there won't be a real vacation this year. I'll have to set my sights on next year. Miracles happen sometimes, I suppose.

How cool! and one day to go

2008-08-07T05:31:00.002-04:00

I discovered something very interesting yesterday: The author I was so excited about yesterday was one of the expert witnesses at the O.J. Simpson trial! I hadn't watched all the expert testimony back then (hey, I was in college and had lots of other things to do, though I vividly recall watching the verdict and thinking it was wrong) so I hadn't recognized his name, but someone else clued me in. So he definitely is well known in his field, and now I am even more shocked (in a good way) and excited that we have his book proposal coming our way.

The other great news is that today is my last day in Denver. Here's what my day involves:

Printing my boarding pass at the earliest possible moment to get a good boarding order on my Southwest flight--and I'll finally find out, I think, where it stops along the way home. I'm guessing Chicago.
Present in a session on how to publish in the book series I handle. I have a feeling that since it's the last scheduled session on the program that we'll have a small crowd, if any crowd at all.
Pick up my rental car--I splurged on the Hyundai (ha)--and head to Boulder to meet with a bunch of potential authors.
Meet up with my cousin Aileen for dinner and to meet her adorable little girl for the first time.
Drop off the rental car and pack all my stuff since my flight leaves bright and early tomorrow morning!

It's going to be a busy day, but I'm hoping that just means the work part will be over before I know it. I also hope the weather holds since I'm not too keen on driving unfamiliar highways in a storm like we had last night. I found myself reading the hotel's info on what to do in case of a tornado, and I even slept in something I wouldn't be entirely embarrassed to be seen in if, as the instructions said could happen in a severe weather situation, all hotel guests would be told to report to the ballroom. Here's wishing never to experience that kind of excitement.

I wanna go home in the worst way, and I'm counting down the hours. Enough is enough already. I feel like I've been here for weeks. It's a great city, but it's not my city.

Getting better all the time

2008-08-06T07:27:00.000-04:00

Even though this trip is insufferably long, it does have its purpose. And thank God for that because if I had to leave my family for 6 day for no good reason, I'd completely lose my mind.

One of the main reasons for this journey is to attend a huge conference of people working in a field directly related to a book series that I am responsible for. A series that has been floundering for much of its 11-year existence and that hasn't had a new book publish since June 2007.

But things are looking up. We had an amazing editorial board meeting a couple days ago, and the new people working on the board are actually going to do something, instead of just let us put their name on the list and then disappear into the darkness.

Yesterday was a huge success because a guy I've been trying to get to write a book since this same meeting in 2006 came up to me in the exhibit hall and said, "OK, I'm going to do this thing." I could've hugged him! His book will sell well...very well. And this series being seriously in the red (which is slightly ironic since the book covers are also red--ha, maybe a self-fulfilling prophecy? should've made them black, I guess), it could use a few high-selling books to drag it back out into the light of day.

So I'm excited. Although the travel part of this job is a stressful thing for me and my entire family, at least I can rest easy knowing that I'm using my time wisely and helping to secure my job's future by making progress with a series that used to be considered a bit of a dud. When I took it over a couple years ago, I wasn't sure there was any life left to be breathed into it, but it didn't take me long to see that all that was needed was some enthusiastic people to help us and some elbow grease. We're on our way!

In personal news, last night I actually got about 9hrs of fairly decent sleep. I feel almost like a human being again, and that is a good thing. Another night of crappy sleep and I was going to be pretty sick. Sleep deprivation comes in different forms, I've come to realize. And tossing and turning all night in a hotel bed creates a very different type of deprivation than getting good chunks of sleep in your own bed, broken by occasional crying jags from your baby across the hall, creates. To paraphrase Laverne & Shirley, I'm gonna make it after all.

Ugh, time zones

2008-08-05T05:22:00.001-04:00

Am I the only one in Denver who is up at 3am each morning? My body is still on Philly time, and since I'm only in Denver for a few more days, at this point I might as well just go with the flow, rather than try to get my body to recognize Mountain Time. Luckily, there is a pretty nice view out my 26th floor hotel window that I wouldn't be able to appreciate in quite the same way during the daylight hours. Ha. I'm really reaching for reasons why it's not so bad to be an early-morning insomniac during a business trip that has little downtime. I am going to be so damn exhausted when I get home, especially since the only public transit I'm good at sleeping on is a train, not a plane.

The good news: We're at the bright-and-early start of day 3 of 6 so I'm roughly halfway to getting back home to see DH and the boys. Yesterday my parents valiantly toughed out the first day of wrangling both boys and both dogs, but they were a little frazzled around 8pm (EDT) when I called them. Padraic had skipped his only nap of the day, and Henry had skipped his afternoon nap. Too much excitement from having Mim and Pip around is what I'm guessing caused this blip in their day, but it sure leads to an interesting evening when the boys are overtired. Yikes. But Mom and Dad called me back after they and DH successfully bathed and put to bed both of my favorite little men, and things didn't go as badly as they could have. You should try one of those nights when the boys are both strung out from not getting enough naptime but you're home alone with them, trying desperately to get them both to go to sleep, but ending up bouncing back and forth between their rooms like a ping-pong ball for hours: Rock Henry to sleep; get Padraic water or a book or whatever he's demanding in a voice loud enough to wake Henry; go console Henry. Repeat until you're run off your feet and just want to cry.

Please wish the remaining days to go by quickly for me, OK? The grass is always greener, I know, but still I find myself yearning for my own bed in our incredibly messy bedroom back home and endless hugs and demands from two of the cutest little boys in history.

One down, five to go

2008-08-03T22:57:00.001-04:00

Days of this trip, that is. Remember that internal clock I mentioned. Tick, tick, tick.

Ken got Padraic to leave me a voice mail on my cell phone saying, "I like Mommy." Awww, couldn't help the tears in my eyes so I was glad I was in my hotel room when I checked my messages. Then I called them to say hello, and Padraic eventually got on the phone and said, "I love you, Mommy." Awesome and painful all at the same time.

You know what bothers me most about traveling for work? Thinking that if something happened to me, my kids probably wouldn't remember me as they grow up. How old does a child have to be to have permanent memories that wouldn't seem like vapor as they got older? I can hardly breathe when I think of my boys growing up without knowing how I madly in love with them I am. That's what always got me choked up as I followed Randy Pausch's blog. Of his three children, only one of them would definitely be old enough to have indelible memories of Dad. His middle child might remember him, and his little girl almost certainly would not. How horribly painful must that knowledge have been? To be a parent and know that a child that you helped bring into the world not only would have to grow up without you but would have to do it without strong memories of doing things together with you, being loved unconditionally by you. I'd want my kids to remember how it felt when I hugged them, or took care of them when they were sick, or giggled with them. I'd want them to remember me enough to be able to feel me there with them throughout the rest of their lives.

OK, this is getting really depressing. Let's take a turn for the positive. The kids and Ken are doing great, and my parents arrived right when they had expected to. Everyone sounded happy and content when I called before bedtime. It's relieving and makes me a little jealous. How I'd love to spend a week with my family and my parents, without work hanging over my head. At least at the end of the month we are all going to get together at Gertstock, the family reunion named for my Nana. I can't wait.

Traveling for work

2008-08-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

Today is another one of the days I dread most: Today I leave for a business trip. This particular trip is a doozie, too. I'll be two time zones away for 6 days. My stomach is already clenching at the thought of Padraic crying as I get out of the car at the airport. There's no way around it, though. I have to go, and saying goodbye is just part of the deal.

After my maternity leave with Henry I had to travel to the opposite coast for a conference. Henry was 4mos old, and leaving him killed me. And Padraic was 2.5yrs old so he was now aware of what was happening, and I was afraid of saying goodbye. Stupid Mommy, I thought sneaking out of the house when the airport shuttle arrived would save Padraic and me from a wailing session. Well, it did, but it produced something worse. My husband reported daily for the four days I was gone that Padraic kept asking if I was upstairs when they were downstairs, and vice versa. Crap. My beautiful son thought I was home but just didn't want to spend any time with him.

A month later I had to travel again, and this time I did the right thing, even though it wasn't easy. I endured Padraic's tears while saying goodbye and explaining that Mommy was going to work on a big airplane and would call him every day. Half and hour after I left the house, I called Ken to see how things were going. Padraic was fine, but I still had to get through my trip with the image of his heartbreak raging through my head. To top it off, baby Henry ended up at the ER with a case of pneumonia. Can we say "Mommy guilt"?! I was going to hop the next plane home, but Ken assured me it was mild and under control, though the hospital only let him take Henry home, rather than admitting him, because Ken proved he was very familiar with dealing with respiratory issues. Padraic had been treated for possible asthma for a year-and-a-half at that point.

I've done other trips since those first two, and it's always hard to say goodbye and then spend days away from my family. What's awesome is coming home. So when we say goodbye at the airport today, my internal clock will immediately start ticking down the seconds, minutes, hours, days until we're reunited. What will make this trip a scooch easier, too, is knowing that while I'm gone my parents are coming into town to spoil the boys rotten and give Ken a much-appreciated helping hand.

OK, let's get this over with.

First birthday!

2008-07-11T21:59:00.000-04:00

My younger son, Henry, turned one year old today. Wow. Since we don't plan to have any more children, I guess this is the last first b'day I'll ever celebrate for one of my own offspring. The actual party is on Sunday, but I spent all day today with Henry, enjoying his cute little self. I even broke out the camera, which I am usually too lazy to do. He wouldn't sit still with the little sign I made, so I would get his attention, hit the button on the camera, and then shove the sign into the frame. Not a perfect way to get good pictures, but DH was out tonight and it's the best I could do. There will be many better pictures taken on Sunday, I am sure. Pip (my dad) is an awesome photographer. Used to do it professionally.

The house is still less than guest-worthy, but we're just having the four grandparents, two aunts, and a smattering of neighbors so it's no one who hasn't seen it this bad and worse. I'm not entirely sure how one is supposed to keep a house clean with two little kids and two dogs, anyway. Especially when DH and I are freaking exhausted every day of our lives. Something about getting up at 5am and getting two little ones ready for day care and then not getting to bed until 11pm after doing just the basics (some laundry, the dishes) makes us a little less motivated to launch into huge cleaning projects.

Well, my little one-year-old is tucked in for the night in his crib (OK, not really tucked in since he doesn't use blankets yet), and his big brother, who is officially three-and-a-half tomorrow, is almost asleep. He takes forever to go to bed, but then he sleeps like a rock so it's a tradeoff, like a lot of things are when you're a parent. Since they are finally settled in and I am exhausted as usual, I'm going to say good night!

Who are we?

2008-07-07T11:00:00.000-04:00

I guess before I get too ahead of myself, I should introduce my guys and myself.

I'm Sara, and I acquire books for a technical publisher in Philadelphia. My job requires travel about 6-8 times per year, during which times DH either is a single parent or has grandparents on tap to help him out.

DH is Ken, and he's a highway designer who's working on getting his PE (professional engineer) license. He's into rebuilding cars (though he hasn't had time for this hobby since Padraic was born), canoeing, camping, fishing, riding his motorcycle, and other manly pursuits.

Padraic is our 3.5yo son who exhibits definite traits of a first-born child. For example, his hands CANNOT be sticky, dirty, dusty, etc., without a full-on freakout. If he drops or spills something, same thing. It's gotta be cleaned up NOW! Still, I wouldn't say he's totally off his rocker or in need of therapy just yet. He's otherwise a very awesome kid. He loves me and Daddy and his little brother ("That's MY Henry!" he'll say when he sees H in photos), and he is into playing with dump trucks, sand, and bubble soap.

Henry (aka Noodle) is about to turn 1yo, which is a startling fact. At this point last year I was sitting at home waiting for him to arrive at any second, but he waited until my induction on July 11. His birth was so easy it made me want to have about 100 more babies, except that just with having two kids we're broke! Henry is a happy-go-lucky baby like Padraic always was at this age. He's lactose intolerant, which is a hassle but we're managing, and he seems to want to nurse until the end of time. We're working on that not happening. He doesn't walk yet, but then again, Padraic was a late walker so I'm not surprised.

Our household is rounded out by two beagles: Bailey and Tully. Both named for Irish alcoholic drinks and both a little nutty. Bailey is our "princessa" who demands the best of everything, including a pillow for her head at night...in our bed. Tully is our lover. He overdoes it with the affection, but he's cool. Except for his habit of eating poop. But no one's perfect, right?

Well, that's our little family here in the surburbs of Philadelphia.

Remembering childlessness

2008-07-06T22:33:00.000-04:00

DH and I spent the afternoon and evening at the home of friends of ours who are newlyweds, and it got me thinking about how we spent our time when we were newlyweds and childless. It is hard to recall exactly how I used to fill the hours, but I recall two things: (1) a lack of direction with occasional pangs of loneliness and (2) the ability to do whatever I wanted w/o encumbrances. I never took advantage of (2), and (1) really sucked.

Now that we have kids, I sometimes yearn for the times when we could sleep in late and then goof off all day, running errands or not as we so wished. These days we need a schedule to keep our household operational, and errands must be run because while DH and I might not have minded living off the last, unrelated food products in the cabinets when we were too lazy to go grocery shopping on a particular day, it turns out that kids need to eat real food every day. Being lazy and being a parent are practically mutually exclusive ways of existing.

Do I regret having my days dictated for me, though?

Not as much as my griping might lead you to believe.

I think the exhaustion and somewhat limited ability to do various things are but small, barely significant side effects to endure in exchange for helping two incredible little boys have a great childhood and learn all about the world. When Padraic helps hand Henry his lost pacifier, or when Henry giggles at Padraic's antics, I find it hard to believe that there was a time in my life that didn't include both of these enchanting little guys. And I take heart knowing that even long after DH and I are gone, they will have each other.

So I'll still pull my hair out from time to time. Perhaps even daily for years at a stretch. But behind all the angst and turmoil that might be visible on the surface is my realization that in having these children, I found the purpose I'd been lacking and the direction I'm meant to move in.

Parenthood requires heavy lifting

2008-07-05T22:04:00.000-04:00

Literally: I have chronic back and neck problems from carrying around "baby" Henry, who weighs in at close to 22lbs just shy of his first b'day (July 11) and probably away from taking his first steps. If he takes too long, I'm going to need physical therapy and lots of ibuprofen.

Figuratively: I'm often worn out by the psychological and physical demands of being a working mom. I make sure we all eat food, wear (clean!) clothes, feed the dogs, buy gifts for people, make it to those people's special events, get to the dr when needed, live in a house that L&I won't condemn, etc., all while striving to be an exemplary employee at a job that I love and living off the same too-little sleep that most parents get.