Pulling my chain

A friend of mine posted a comment after I passed my exam that I was rocket scientist kinda smart. Maybe. I might even be smarter than a fifth grader. Maybe. But I am definitely not as smart as a two year old!
The baby is now in with the toddler because my parents have been in town since just before our vacation. The boys seems to be adjusting fairly well. The baby is becoming a deeper sleeper, which is very nice. The toddler seems to like the company...or at least the excuse to stay up later. I've caught him creeping over to the crib to check on The Baby. We've battled over the light for a while but adding the baby has given him all the more reason to get up and turn the light on. I tried to compromise (with a two year old) and leave the light dimmed as we have the circular dimmer knobs. I thought that if he could see the baby from his bed, then the curiosity wouldn't be so strong. But he kept turning the light all the way up.
After several attempts with the back to bed method and a few spankings, I spent over an hour googling light switch covers. I was trying to figure out whether anyone had devised some sort of cover for the entire switch plate or just the knob. Found about one thing and it wouldn't work for our type. I'd already thought about taping the knobs but figured the toddler would just pull it off. My mom suggested it so I gave it a try. That lasted for about 2 seconds.
I even asked a friend if her parents (the supreme grandparents, as they have an ultimate flock of little ones often under their supervision) if they'd ever encountered this problem.
Finally, last night dear hubby suggested the obvious: take out the bulb. DUH!!! Granted it's only taken him a few weeks to suggest it...but the point is, it wasn't my idea.
So I took a step stool into the boys' room and was just about to take off the light cover when EPIPHANY: just pull the chain connected to the light so that it is off and the dimmer knob no longer controls it.
In the words of Carlos Mancea: Dee-Da-Dee!!!
We were out so long this afternoon that the toddler got about a 15 minute nap in the car today and it was any early morning. He actually climbed onto the sofa tonight, pulled the blanket ("bunka") off me and made a "bed" and said nite-nite. He was so exhausted he just fell into his bed. Tonight was not a trial run on whether the light issue will resolve the staying up problem. I guess I will learn tomorrow. I did realize that if I want him to be ready for bed at 8pm it may mean forgoing the nap. But I am totally not ready to give up the time during the day. I just can't handle the two of them for 13 hours a day with no break. Can we start a Moms Union? Am I covered by the AFL-CIO? Don't I get mandatory breaks after a certain amount of hours of work? Oh wait, indentured servants don't get to join labor parties! So I think I will be limiting his naps to only about an hour and half. Cross your fingers for me!
Cross them that the sleep issues are resolving. Cross them that I might catch up to my toddler's level of intelligence. But let me tell you, after watching him with his new toys and his mechanical ability at 30 months old, there isn't much hope!

Poop Happens A Lot In this House

One of the nice things about having my parents around is that I can actually do things during nap time that don't require me being in the house with the kids. Instead of only doing housework, homework, working out on the elliptical, or catching up on my DVR, I am able to go for a run or go to the store alone! SO NICE! Being an only child, I really CRAVE some time alone. I just NEED to be by myself sometimes. I've always been that way.
Today, I needed to go to the commissary so I put the boys down for their nap and took off. The toddler waits until a pull up is put on him and then does his dirty deed. I usually know that he needs to be changed because he doesn't settle down to sleep right away. I go in, clean him up, either put underroos back on or a fresh pull up on and he zonks out. But I didn't wait around today. I turned the monitor on for my mom and told her that the baby would cry it out and then settle down. Apparently, the monitor got quiet but she could still hear the baby.
It should be noted, that the boys now share a room. My parents are in the third bedroom and since my dad will be staying on to watch the boys for me while I do my student teaching this spring, we moved the baby in with the toddler. The cruise was warm up for room sharing.
Anyway, back to today. My mom went up to check on them and could hear someone bouncing.
She went in and discovered the toddler standing up, laughing in the crib with the baby sitting up, next to him, laughing. WITH POOP ALL OVER THE FLOOR! He'd turned off the monitor transmitter (which I'd "hid" underneath the crib to try to prevent this from happening).
The toddler had taken off his pull up and left several deposits between the daybed and the crib.
My mom got the toddler cleaned up and into bed (with no pants or pull up on) and the baby fell asleep in her arms downstairs.
Tonight, I have already been in at least six times to settle the toddler down. I've already had to pull the toddler out of the crib. I've taken out all the toys that tempt him. The baby is asleep but the toddler doesn't want to settle. I've left the light on low (thank heavens for dimmers) because he keeps getting up to turn on the light and look at the baby. I've told him that the baby will be there when he gets up just like he has been during nap time (well at least he was yesterday since there wasn't a poop problem).
The little incident meant that the toddler didn't go down until almost 3 pm and slept until 5pm. So we didn't go to the kiddy gym which meant that he didn't run around enough to wear him out. It's a domino effect. It's now almost 10:30 and he's just settled down about 20 minutes ago. I know it comes from him just not being tired enough to fall asleep right away. But I just can't handle him being up that late. I need the quiet. He needs the quiet even if he's not asleep. And I just don't believe in children being up that late. Period. But it's a bit self-defeating b/c I am still dealing with it, he isn't quiet, I don't get the quiet, and he is still up this late.
The toddler definitely has a stubborn bone that runs the length of him. When he gets a burr up his bottom, there is no appeasing him. The back to bed method is being used frequently (plus some spankings-I admit it. But we all know I struggle with this method). Fortunately, the baby is so exhausted at night that he's actually sleeping deeply enough to not be woken up with the toddler's antics. Hopefully, a week will be enough to get the toddler settled into this new routine. That's about how long it took before the vacation to get him to fall asleep in his bed again (instead of the floor).
If I accomplish this, does this count as my first miracle? Can I count it towards sainthood? Oh wait, I probably would need to cut down the swearing (see the post below) and not be so judgmental (see the post below) and like other people more (see the post below)!
Anyway, that book is right. Everyone Poops.

Yet another example of just b/c you can procreate doesn't mean you should

As many of you know, my parents took the six of us (the two of them, the hubby, the kids and me) on a cruise to Mexico last week. My mom and I looked at various options and I felt that five days was as long as I could manage four people in a cabin and having the kids off their routine.
The cruise itself is a whole other post that may or may not happen depending on if and when I recover! Look to the other site in a couple days for some nice pics though.
When we boarded we had to do the obligatory safety drill which involved putting on our life jackets, going to our muster station and then standing on the deck near our life boats.
There was a woman there with her teenage son and twin tween daughters. She would not SHUT THE EFF UP while on the deck. She had a glass of wine that she sloshed as much on to the deck as into her mouth. I know that we were on vacation but do you really need to drink that badly that you couldn't put your drink down for 30 minutes to do the damn drill? How pathetic. And it wasn't like she was just talking quietly to the person next to her. Oh no, she was broadcasting for the whole known world. Really. Shut. The. Eff. Up. Lady.
The next day, I discovered that she was staying just a few cabins down from us, so basically in between my cabin and my parents'.
I had the baby in the snugli and the toddler by the hand and was trying to squeeze through the passageway. She was in the hall with her tweens, a security guard, some young woman, and a sobbing 10ish year old boy. Something about him losing his brother(s) or something. Anyway, I said excuse me at least three times to try to get past one of her girls. I didn't want to bump past her and then have Drunk Tank yell at me for knocking her kid around. Finally, she said "well just go" and I said "I would if you'd move."
Just as I slide the key into the door, I hear "someone needs a drink." I swear to holy heaven if I hadn't had my kids with me and she didn't have hers I would have said, "not everyone needs to be drunk to deal with their kids." Even at two and a half and eight months, that's not the example I want to set. But I swear, what a big bag of ass.
I later saw her lounging by the pool. Her top was not completely covering all the necessary space. And she had a tat poking out of her bottom and a tat around her belly button. Personally, I don't care for tats. Some are beautiful pieces of art but they're just not for me. Most of my friends have tats (many of which were the result of drunken college nights or from being in the military). But she was in her early 40s. She was not in college (if ever) during that craze. This is clearly someone who is trying to recapture a youth that she didn't have cause she probably got knocked up too young (aren't I a lovely shade of judgemental?). Anyway, the tats just didn't strike me as particularly maternal etchings. Shoulda figured.
Who knows, maybe she really actually is a good mom. But I doubt it. Because on the day of debarkation I heard her nagging her teenage son about getting in the shower and getting ready to go. That it wasn't necessary to lounge for 30 minutes upon awaking and prior to getting in to the shower.
Seeing as how we were supposed to be out of the cabins by 8:30 that morning, I planned ahead and had our stuff ready to go, clothes laid out, yada yada. Now with two small kids, I know it's easier to control their actions. But last I checked, she was supposed to be in charge and in control. Why'd she let her son lounge for 30 minutes? Easy for me to speak now since mine are years away from being teenagers. But I'm already instilling in them that when I say something, I expect to be listened to. And I expect it to be done the first time I say something. Lay the foundation now, have a sturdy structure later. Maybe she was too busy drinking when her son was little and she didn't quite get around to raising him.
So as I said before, just because you can procreate doesn't mean you should. If you're not prepared to be a parent everyday for the rest of your life, DON'T HAVE KIDS. It's a full time job that has no time clock. There is no punching off a shift once you become a parent. It's FOREVER.
Everyone needs a vacation and I like a glass (or two or three) of wine just like the next adult. But I don't drink around my kids. I also know that my kids don't care how I feel the next morning and that I'm chiefly responsible for them no matter what I did the night before. This means that drinking holds little appeal to me. And it's a sad sign if she's drinking to escape her kids. I can understand drinking to escape other things, but when you're the single parent of the kids with you, then what do you have to escape but them? And who else is going to be looking out for them while you "party like a rockstar"--her goal one afternoon?
So what happens when your kids grow up before you do? What happens when they out mature you? You end up like this woman.

You'd think she would have caught on by now

We joined the little kiddy gym near us. I spotted it when we moved here over a year ago but never made the effort to go in. First I thought that my toddler was too young; then I thought it was too much of a frivolous expense; finally, I thought that my toddler wouldn't be able to handle the structure. But we've joined open gym and go almost five days a week after nap time.
We're starting to recognize the "regulars" and they recognize us.
Today there was a mommy with a very small toddler--not young, small. I knew I knew her from somewhere but I couldn't place it. Until. Until she started goochey-gooing over my baby. She then tried to get her toddler to come over and look at him. Snap! I knew where I knew her from. A couple months ago, the boys and I met up with the toddler's BFF and her mom at the tot lot in the mall. This woman and her son were there and she was just as in our face there as she was today. GROAN! CRAP! Now I'm going to have to deal with her at my gym.
They had a Johnny Jumper out and I let the baby play in it today. Having a Jumperoo, the baby knew exactly what to do and since I was able to sit next to him, I wasn't worried that he would spiral around and choke himself. This lady sat down next to me and kept repeating OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER...about how he had mastered it and how much fun he was having. I don't know how many times I explained to her that he had a Jumperoo at home and was very familiar with the concept. And I explained at least twice that it was not a swing but a Johnny Jumper (for those who may not know, it's a suspended seat on a spring that allow the baby to bounce. I think we all know how a swing works). I didn't know at this point how old her son was, but come on---it doesn't look like a damn swing---unless you put your baby in a tire swing!
Earlier, I'd heard her tell a mom not to worry about her kid being too rough with her son because he hits, kicks, and scratches her all the time. This deserves a full out-WHAT THE MOTHER TRUCKER?! Since when is that in any way possibly okay. Since when does a toddler get to abuse their parent---on a regular basis? HOLY M-F, my kid wouldn't know night from day if he tried that. But then again, in no possible realm of reality would my children be in a position to even contemplate it being okay let alone doing it. I knew then she was a special kind of stupid.
Then the whole repetition about the jumper confirmed it. She even asked if she could put her son in it! I told her NO! He's way too big and too old. The point of a jumper, or swing, or bouncy seat is to entertain and exercise a nonstanding/non mobile child! So why would her child who is running around need or want to be in a jumper? Crazy woman!
At this point, I started paying more attention to their dynamic. She kept calling him over to try to get him to give her a hug. Except it was always just as he got engaged in a new toy or activity. He just flat out ignored her. When she was sitting next to me, he was generally across the gym. When she moved over there, he was near me. Whether he did it on purpose or not, I'll never know but he clearly didn't want to be around her. (Can't say as I blame him.) And she used this annoying baby voice, "Evan, my baby come here. Come to Mommy". It was clear that she has not figured out that she's the mom of a toddler not an infant. And therein lays the problems!
Then I found out while talking to another mom that her son is 25 months old! OMG!! I totally thought he was somewhere between 18-22 months. Not over two years old! She was talking to this mom because they are both still nursing 25 month olds!
As most of you know, I am a huge proponent of long term nursing. I think that it's nutritionally wise, it's great bonding, and just all around a good thing. If you can, do. It's not for everyone but good on you if you can or want to. BUT--if your child is old enough to crawl into your lap, interrupt a conversation, and start massaging your chest to let you know that they want to nurse, that's a bit old for me. I think that if your child is autonomous enough to demonstrate that want, they are autonomous enough to eat and drink on their own. This is just opinion, rightly or wrongly.
Well "crazy lady" says she still nurses 4-6 times a day! By the time I weaned the toddler at 14 months, we were down to only 3 times a day. What the hell, lady? Seriously. HE'S NOT A BABY ANYMORE! You would think she'd catch on by now!
I don't cuddle any less with my toddler now that he's weaned than I did when he nursed. We have any extremely affectionate relationship because we've found other things to do to bond. So will she be popping into his preK or kindergarten class to give him a quick fix? Will they be potty training when he's in second grade? Will she have the bottom bunk in his college dorm room? I thought they cut the cord when he was born. I see a Monster-In-Law waiting to happen.
As an experienced substitute teacher and a future full time teacher, I can already see what type of kid this one is going to be. OY VEY!!
Catch a frigging clue lady! Before you scar this kid for life. He's not a baby any more!
The evenings with them at the gym are going to be long ones....OY VEY!!

Holy Mother Trucker!!!

I PASSED!!!!
I sat for my Social Science CSET exams on November 3. They're required exams to show that I have enough content knowledge to teach and I had to take them before being able to step into the classroom for my student teaching.
I've been sweating bullets about this. If I didn't pass, then I wouldn't be able to student teach in Jan, which would mean no license by the time hubby gets out of the military. No license means no job. I would have had to wait till Sept to student teach and in the mean time pass the exam.

BUT HOLY MOTHER TRUCKER! I PASSED!!!
I was supposed to be able to find out at 5pm on Dec 3. Around 3 I decided to try and log onto the website and see if I could find out early. I needed to look in my email for my examinee ID. Low and behold, there were three emails with my unofficial scores. I was so prepared to see FAIL on each, or at least one. (You have to pass all three exams in one sitting, so if I failed one, I'd have to retake all three). And as I scrolled through each one, they said," status:PASS"!!!!
I didn't know if I wanted to cry, pee my pants, do back flips, throw up, or just pass out.

The only annoying thing is that if you pass, they don't tell you your score. You only get that if you fail. I want to know if it was by a landslide or just eeked out!

But either way! I PASSED!!! I will be student teaching in January. I just found out that I have been placed at a high school near here (not the one I had wanted but oh well). I start in just under a month!
YEAH!!! Such a relief!!!!

Some people deserve their pathetic jobs

A couple of weeks ago, a couple of my mommy friends and I, along with our respective kids went out to lunch at a sit-down, national chain restaurant. I suggested the restaurant b/c I had a gift card that I wanted to use.
One friend was running a bit late, but my other friend and I got settled, got some drinks and ordered an appetizer. That was to be about the last time we saw our waitress. Our appetizer arrived just as our friend did. But our appetizer was missing chips, we had no silverware and my toddler's food arrived too.
By the time our main courses arrived, my toddler had already chowed through his entire meal, my baby had eaten and gone through most of his toys. Again things were missing, such as my friend's side of honey-mustard. I asked for a knife and was given a meat cleaver. Who brings a knife that big to a table with four kids?!
When it was time to pay, I asked to see the manager who took her sweetass time to come over. I tried to play it off a bit and said we knew we had a bigger party and that one person was late but in the mean time we'd seen a couple arrive, get served, eat, pay, and leave while we waited. Could she perhaps tell the waitress to move things along in future? And if this is the way it was going to be, then in future we'd just go down the road to their competitor.
I see the manager and waitress talk and I got them to comp the appetizer. But does the manager come back to explain the situation? No. The waitress takes my gift card and gives the receipt to me and it looks as though I still owe a balance. The waitress never comes back so I had to flag down a different waitress to explain it to me. Had our waitress come back, she would have gotten a tip b/c I would have told her to add it to my balance since I didn't have cash. But she never came back...Neither did the manager.
As I walked out I asked if they were corporate or franchise. Corporate. So when I get around to writing to Victoria's Secret about nursing bras, I'll write to this restaurant. I told them I would write and both the manager and waitress gave me snarky responses.

I wanted to turn around and say, "With that attitude and work ethic, it's no small wonder you work here."
I've worked in food service before and I know two things: be nice to customers if you want to make money and sometimes it sucks to serve other people.
If I'd been rude or nasty, I could understand the snarkiness. But with four kids at the table, it was insane that it took over an hour to have lunch. Come on! Did they really want to hear three of the four fussing? I would have thought that would make them hurry things along.
I even tried to ease the tension by admitting that we were a larger party and one person was a little late. But no, some people just deserve their pathetic jobs.
It's not like this is a five star restaurant that takes specific culinary training. This isn't a serve to the left, clear from the right kind of place. This isn't a knife and fork for each course kind of place. It's a bottomless bucket of chips kind of place. And there probably is the explanation for why I shouldn't expect much.
But really, if either the waitress or manager had more to offer (in their 20s and 30s), they'd have better jobs by now.
I just rest assured that they'll get theirs...

Things not to say in a crowded elevator.

***TRUE STORY***THIS IS NOT A FUNNY FORWARD***Though it should be!

Two women get into a crowded elevator, one's carrying a sleeping baby. After the lady with the baby gets jostled like she's just carrying a sack of potatoes, a few more people force their way in and the warning bell starts going off and the doors can't close. No one steps off. The other lady turns red and mutters, "Oh God, we're all going to die."
Across the elevator comes a "MOMMY!" and "Don't worry honey, the nice lady was only joking. See she's laughing."
All the friend with the baby can say is, "And you're a mom. A mom of a two year old." The other friend is a very interesting shade of fuschia.

A very long ride...

Some days just Suck

On Monday, the boys and I saw off hubby's good friend who has just deployed for seven months (hopefully no extensions) to do a non-combat deployment. Hubby wasn't able to leave work but the boys and I really wanted to make sure that there was someone there to say goodbye and so that his girlfriend wouldn't be standing there alone.
Initially, I didn't think I would get that emotional. I knew it was sad but I felt very detached as he's not my friend so much as he is my husband's (even though he's often at the house just as much if not more than hubby) and I wasn't the one saying good bye to a significant other. But as I looked around and watched the faces of the women being left behind, I was touched by how well they were all holding it together and that made me sad.
I don't know what was worst the wife with the toddler and baby who was standing by herself or the pregnant wife with a toddler who obviously would be delivering without her husband there to meet the baby. Or maybe it was the dad who almost smacked his hand on the cement archway that covers the ramp the amphibious assault vehicles go down because he was waving goodbye to his son until the absolute last minute. Or maybe it was the Marine who adamantly pointed to his wife/fiancee and mouthed "I love you" as if to make sure she knew that no only did he feel that way but that he was just doing his job and he'd much rather go home with her.
Or maybe it was our friend's girlfriend who had to drive home to LA alone and return to being a doctor with no support that the wives receive. No one will be calling her to check on her, no one will be including her in holiday activities, and god forbid something happens to our friend, she won't be the one receiving the call or benefits because they're just dating. This was a significant reason for why hubby and I got engaged when we did. After the first deployment and the several scares that the noncombat deployment would become a peacemaking mission between the Koreas or India/ Pakistan, we decided that we did want to get married and soon. Just in case something happened to him, I'd be taken care of or at least consulted in some of the decisions.

Some days just suck.

How about my friend whose husband will be home for their daughter's second birthday but will miss Christmas...again because his orders just got bummed forward a few weeks. Or my other friend who is hoping that her daughter doesn't decide to make her arrival while her husband is away on training but hopes it's before he deploys. Or maybe it's my friend who still isn't sure where her husband will be stationed three months from now with the possibility that he may only be with their daughter a cumulative nine months out of three years. Or maybe it's my friend whose daughter will be about six weeks old when she meets her daddy during Thanksgiving.
I realized that there is no way to quantify who has it worst. There just isn't. Because for that person in that moment of leaving or being left, this is their reality and only theirs, so for them they each have it the worst.

Some days just suck.

Things I learned while I was supposed to be studying

For the past week, I've been going to Barnes and Noble to study and I learned a few things, or at least realized them, while I was supposed to be studying.
1. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy curling up in a wing back chair to read at a coffee shop. I'd forgotten how nice it is to study without someone crawling on me or having to constantly check the baby monitor. It would have been really nice to just chill there with someone to chat with.
2. Mutton dressed up as lamb just doesn't work. There was a woman there the first night I went. I soon realized that she's a regular there. From what I gathered, she must have worked there at some point because she seemed to know the entire staff and all the other regulars--hmm, "regulars" at night at a coffee shop in a bookstore that's part of a large chain (both the coffee shop and the bookstore) but I'll get to that in a moment. This lady must have been in her fifties and painfully single. The first night she was in black trousers, a black TUBE top, and a black blouse over it. This is what the British call mutton dressed up as lamb--something old trying to look young. She was talking to another much younger (as in younger than me by a lot) girl about dating and how she was wondering why this man hadn't called her. And all I could think was that I am SO glad that I'm not single anymore. I like my rut--it's been hollowed out of the past four years and reflects my very comfy life. I certainly wouldn't want to be in her position of being middle aged and still trying to interpret dating etiquette---or worse getting advice (bad at that) from a chick half her age. SERIOUSLY!
3. The huddled unwashed masses seem to like to congregate at places like this. These cliques are still espousing the same crap they were when my peers belonged to this category. Ironically, these anti-establishment fools are keeping the Man going by hanging out at a Starbucks in a Barnes and Noble. Anyone else see the irony? These kids, and I use that word both accurately and derogatorily, are either in college or are too "smart" to be in college. As in didn't do well enough in high school to get in anywhere but still think they are smarter than everyone else. They of course are so well versed that they are able to solve the world's problems while drinking their venti frappo whosey-whatsits and wishing that the professional career diplomats could have the common sense that their still living at home with mommy and daddy minds have easily produced. This new intelligentsia is just as naive as the ones from my generation and as a result are just as annoying to me. I get that it's part of the whole cognitive development of identifying their own identity but really, couldn't they do it somewhere so much less public. Go back to your basement and pick up your game of dungeons and dragons and leave the ruling of the world to those of us who buy our own big girl and boy panties. Oh and a shower wouldn't go amiss.
3. After the better part of almost 10 years around the Marine Corps, any man wearing a moss green t-shirt out in public looks like he's wearing an undershirt. It just looks odd to me. Incidentally, when my two year old son wears a green shirt out, he's Handy Manny.
4. No Marine, scratch that-- no man other than Fraser or Niles Crane, should ever order a coffee with more than one word to its name. It just isn't right.
5. After almost 30 years of watching my dad drink espressos, I learned that they come in decaf. Doesn't that sort of defeat the point? It's kind of like me ordering a super size double quarter pounder with cheese meal with a diet coke. Why bother?
6. If you tell a joke and it falls flat, don't beat it like a dead horse. I order a venti chai latte (I'm a chick, therefore it can have as many words as I want) and the barista (that's being flattering since it's just Starbucks in B &N) thought he was so funny telling me that it would be $50. I just looked at him. He tried to keep the joke going but I said, "No, it's $3.85". His response was something along the lines of how surprising it is that I'm literate since this is CA. Ironic--I'm there studying to become a teacher in CA and I'm not from here. Just let it go. Even John Leno knows when it falls flat and moves on.
7. This brings me to my final point- a venti anything is just a lot of hot liquid to imbibe at once. Especially when I've added six splendas to it. Since I was consuming these while pursuing an educational activity, can they be tax deductible?

It definitely felt weird to be home tonight with nothing to study. I don't know which part was more odd--to be home or to not be studying. Either way, it's nice to be in my rut, or rather my recliner, again. I crock potted a roast, gave the boys a bath, and caught up on my very full DVR.
Home sweet home.

Now that it's done

I know I've been MIA for the past week or so but that's because I've been studying for my ridiculous content area exam for my license.
Let me just break down how important and how stressful this chain of events is so that you get the full depth and breadth of understanding.
This exam covers world history and geography as one subtest, US history and geography as a second subtest, and CA history, econ, and civics as a third subtest. The first two have 39 questions and 3 short responses; the third test has 40 multiple choice questions and 3 short responses.
If I pass then I get to do my student teaching in January which means that 12 weeks later I will be eligible for my license and can get a teaching job in CA.
If I don't pass, then I won't be able to do my student teaching until Sept. That's assuming that sometime before Sept, I pass this exam.
If I don't student teach in Jan., then there is a possibility that I'll need to take a different state's exam b/c we may not even live here in Sept (remember, hubby is getting out of the Corps in July). I don't even know where I would need to be placed in Sept since I don't know where we'll live.
If I don't student teach in Jan, then I won't be eligible for a license and I won't be able to teach once we get out. I may be the primary bread winner for a while and that stresses me out! Especially since I may not be in a position to do that!
That's just a lot of "if"s but this is what I'm dealing with these days.
But it's over now. And I only feel so-so about it. But either I passed or I didn't so there isn't a damn thing I can do about it so I'm just going to wait until Dec 3 when I get my score to figure out what the next step will be.
It is what it is...

Tom Jones put it best:

"hold tight wait till the party's over
hold tight we're in for nasty weather
there has got to be a way
burning down the house"

San Diego is still ablaze in many places. There have been several fires aboard base. For those familiar, there was a fire in and around Camp Horno which caused that camp to be relocated up to San Mateo and for the San Onofre housing to be moved. There was some threat to Camp Margarita (hubby's office) but no buildings were damaged, last I heard. The Wilcox fire threatened the DeLuz area but that's been put out. A fire near the back gate was apparently the result of arson, San Luis Rey housing had to be evacuated and the back gate is still closed.
I heard that there was a fire near the commissary, but I'm not sure if that was Pacific Plaza near me or the one up near San Onofre. The back burns that were set to help deter larger fires did close the 5 for a chunk of the early morning but the interstate has been open since about 10:30am.

The air was much clearer today. The sky was visible and mostly blue, no orange/yellow tinge. There was noticeably less smoke in the air. But most things are still closed and the local officials are still asking people to minimize cell phone and roadway usage.

As a family, we're going STIR CRAZY!!! Well at least the boys and I are. Dear hubby has his Everquest to keep him ever entertained. One wife I know has dubbed it Evercrack, so right, so accurate. The baby keeps looking at his jumperoo and exersaucer and then at me as if to say, "are you serious? Those AGAIN?!" The toddler is just straight up bored. He's had some serious melt downs because he just wants to go outside. We are NEVER home this much. I need to get over myself and let him do some more arts and crafts at home. If I did, he would have had some safety scissors and construction paper here. We could have made some crazy crafts, but we don't so he didn't.
Dear hubby will probably be off work for the rest of the week. Yesterday, it was sort of a nice idea. The prospect of family time was great. I just wish we could have family time somewhere other than the living room with the doors and windows closed! We're just all too on top of one another.
I think tomorrow I will meet up with one of my girlfriends and her kids because we just can't handle it anymore. I hope there is somewhere open for lunch! This is throwing off my entire grocery plan. I wasn't expecting to cook two meals a day for three people! My lists! All messed up! Damn nature! So inconvenient! I really do only like it from a distance.
A bunch of my friends escaped; not because their houses were in risk of burning but b/c of the air quality. Our air has been bad but not horrible. So my ever so practical hubby thinks that there is no need to worry. And he is right, to a certain degree. Our house hasn't been in danger. There isn't any where nearby to go and we'd have to drive past fires to get anywhere good up north and the desert is still hot. But he's not the one having to devise infinite methods to entertain two kids! If everyone else gets to have a fire party, I want one too!
Oh well. I'm here holding down the fort with my one other friends (the one I hope to meet for lunch tomorrow)! Her fiance works at the hospital one base so he can't leave, so she didn't leave either. We're hanging tough (military wife style, not New Kids on the Block style).
Okay, enough for tonight. I'll keep you posted. Email me, use my landline, or text me.

Getting on like a house on fire

Okay, maybe it's tacky that I used that tag for this post but just wanted to let everyone know that as of right now, we are fine. We are still at home and looks like we will be here tonight.
The fires are erratic and unpredictable. The fires are about 10-20 miles from here depending on which direction you're facing. There are some voluntary evacuations on the other side of base, but as far as I know, there are no fires on Camp Pendleton at this time.
I have packed up some essentials and irreplaceables. They're by the door; I don't want to pull the car around back b/c I'd have to open the garage door which might wake the baby. We just have to toss them in the trunk and go.
If we have to go anywhere, we will first go to the beach which is about a mile away. If that doesn't work, then we'll head north.
I really don't think that we will need to evacuate at all during the next three days. But, as a parent, I no longer have the luxury of thinking in terms of immortality. I'm just being prepared in case I hear PMO (military police) over the loud speaker at 2am.
If you need to contact us, please first try email. I'm on the computer constantly right now. If that doesn't get an immediate enough reply, either call my landline or text me. Try not to use my cell number if possible; they are requesting that we keep cell use to a minimum.
I will keep you posted as best I can...
I should be studying for my CSET right now, so I'm going to hop off the comp for a little while while I take notes/watching the scrolling news on TV.
Don't worry about us---NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS!

On this most auspicious occasion

Today marks the third wedding anniversary of a good friend. And by my calculations the second of three that she has had to spend alone. That SUCKS!
But I get it. I get the life, as military wives, that we've chosen. It's still hard and at the end of the day to crawl into bed alone just reminds you how lonely this life can be. So I made a very solid effort to spend as much time with her today as I could without suffocating her. I wanted to offer a good balance of having company but some peace to cope.
The holidays are a rough time to be without your special loved one. You want them there to enjoy in the festivities and the family nature of the get togethers. But when you're the one left behind, people realize that and try to include you. You can almost get swept up in the happy holiday spirit.
But your anniversary is different. To the rest of the world, it's just a Saturday or a Tuesday or whichever day. But to you, it's the most important day. Holidays happen regardless. They always have. But your anniversary marks the day that you chose to be with someone. You chose to make a life with that one particular somebody. And as such, it's kind of nice if they're around to share it.
Another friend's husband left just two weeks before their second anniversary. So my friend was left alone, after only celebrating one anniversary, to celebrate this one alone. That SUCKS!
I wonder how the wives of WWI and WWII veterans handled being left for years at a time. Did the Vikings' wives mind their husbands being gone for years just to go sacking and pillaging?
It's always so much harder being the one left behind. The one who leaves has an adventure to begin while the one left behind is picking up the pieces and figuring out how to fill the void that's created.
I remember when darling hubby left for Hawaii and then on deployment. We were dating and then not dating and then dating again. We spent a total of ten months apart and it was rough, to say the least. But it's a totally different level of rough when it's a spouse rather than just a significant other. I remember how hard it was to have to wait for the phone call, never knowing when it might come. The joy of recognizing the country code on the caller ID, the absolute gut wrenching pain of seeing that missed call, the frustration of dealing with people (who with great intentions, but we know the road to Hell is paved with those) asking when he was coming home or when I was going to talk to him next.
It's just rough.
So to my girlfriends who have dealt with a deployment, to those dealing with one, and to my bestest gal pal who is about to deal with one, I get it as best that I can considering mine is upstairs playing Everquest (where he always is and will be). I commend your honor, your courage, and you commitment (note the nuance). And on your anniversaries, know that you're not so very alone; I'm there, even if not in person. My thoughts and love are always there.

If you can't deliver....

...then don't tell me you will.
What's up with the total inability of UPS and USPS to actually deliver priority and express mail on time?
If I'm going to pay extra to get something to its destination in 3-4 days or especially next day, it better damn well show up on time. Otherwise what the hell's the point?
It's not like I'm sending something to Uzbekistan. I'm just mailing things to cities within the US (Hubby's family may be from Ohio but it's not no electricity Appalachia)! I always ask if the destination is available for expedited shipping. If it's not, then I don't pay extra. If it is, get it there on time!
Or what's worse is when I order something and it's supposed to arrive in three days and more than a week goes by and nothing. That's like telling a kid that tomorrow is Christmas but really it's two months away!
I ordered a book from Barnes and Noble the other day and got the three day shipping b/c I was eligible for the fast and free delivery. Well it's neither fast nor free! I still had to pay $4 something for the shipping and it's not here yet!
Hubby is waiting for books to arrive from his school so that he can begin his courses. He's got a quieter week at work (no classes to give or attend, just regular work) so this would be a great time for him to get started ploughing through some reading. But where are the books? Somewhere between South Cakalaki and Alabama. "The stars fell on" that state and seemed to have knocked out all the UPS drivers.
This has happened to me several times when my mom has sent me things from St. Louis. It's gotten to the point where we've just pretty much agreed that snail mail really is better.
Slow and steady wins the race or at least is more cost efficient--and doesn't get your hopes up.
Moral of the story---don't expect too much of the service industries and you don't always get what you paid for.
***After this is all said and done, I still WANT my book NOW!.

Manic Moments

I know I haven't posted in about a week but that's because I've been having as close to a manic moment as I have. There has been no exuberance or binge shopping. Rather I've been busily doing school work.
I just finished another class---in a week! From October 2-8, I turned in 14 assignments. One was creating a grading rubric but the rest were two to four page essays. I basically churned out about 30 pages of writing in a week. So I should be good when it comes time to do my Capstone. I figure I should have that done in, oh what, a weekend.
I spent about four hours a night typing. Most of the reading was already covered in other courses so it was a matter of reviewing and scanning it from the perspective of this course. I still have a bit more reading to do but the syllabus gave twelve weeks to do the work I did in seven nights!
Hopefully, all of it passes the first go round and I don't have to make any revisions. I can spend the rest of the month studying for a school exam (on instructional planning, design, and presentation) and the CSET for Social Studies (the content area exam for my CA teaching license). I just want to get all of that done. Do my pedagogical class in November. Take December off. And be back in the classroom at the beginning of January.
SO SOON!!! I won't be a full time SAHM. I'll actually be in charge of my own classes. I'm over 80% done with my Masters! Whoooweee!

The post that I just did below this one totally shows my mania right now. It's a bit long winded, to say the least. Bear with it. There is a point somewhere in the rant.
I'm now ready to refocus my mania on my weight loss. I can't wait to have time to workout 60 mins each night. The fall season of TV is back so I have something to entertain/distract me while on the elliptical.
Okay, I need to get away from this midnight bedtime. Nite nite!

Onward Christian Soldiers...

Marching off to war, with the cross of Jesus, going on before...
This was the verse of a hymn that my mom used to sing to me (along with Rule Britannia and What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor---ecletic mix, huh).
And I couldn't help but think of it on Saturday morning (not just b/c it's part of my repitoire w/ the boys) while I was at a military support brunch hosted by a local church.
It's fairly common around here for churches to host these brunches or dinners, usually for wives. They have great food, an inspirational speaker, some door prizes, and they serve as a chance to mingle with other women who live a similar lifestyle.
This particular one was just interesting. It was not quite what I had anticipated.
Let me preface my story by giving a little perspective. I am part of a small and select order---cradle Episcopalians (or Anglicans, as I prefer). There are not that many people who are raised as Episcopalians. Most come to the denomination when they leave Catholicism or Lutherism or other sects. We're a very traditional denomination and are kissing cousins to Catholics. High churches use incense and do solomn sung masses. I also tell friends that the reason that I like it so much is b/c I've always loved tradition, pomp and circumstance and so if I going to do church I want to DO church.
As a result, I really am very uncomfortable with liberal churches. And by that I mean any type of hand holding or raised arms. Exchanging the peace is almost too much interaction for me. Three handshakes and I'm ready to sit down. I think adding a guitar or any type of percussion is just out of control! I just can't handle it. So needless to say, some of the more modern churches leave me wanting to run---far---fast.
I also don't get the whole nondenominal thing. And I've spoken to a friend who was a Seminarian about this along with friends who are nondenominational. If the definition of a denomination is a group of people who gather together in agreement to practice certain aspects of a faith with a certain liturgy of service then how can you not really be a denomination? Doesn't that mean that nondenomination is in fact a denomination? I think so. So either they're a denomination or they're just confused...But that's just me. If you are nondenominational, cool. I just don't get it.
So anyway. I went to this thing on Saturday and I'd called for directions and to reserve my spot. I was told that it was located in an industrial park. I just thought that meant that the building was surrounded by an industrial park. Uh no. It's actually the industrial park. It must be a huge church because they have rooms in several buildings and enough room to break up their Sunday school into several age groups that have huge rooms. But nonetheless, it just was so odd to me. I mean, a church isn't a church if it doesn't have a steeple and a bell.
The food was very nice and they had pancakes being made to order. We sat down and the speakers were three couples who have managed marriage and deployments. There was a moderator who asked questions and the panel just gave their perspectives.
All was going pretty well and then the evangelism began. I am SO NOT comfortable with evangelism. I completely understand that it is an integral part of Christianity and of any church. But I just have a hard time swallowing religion worn on one's sleeve. Last I checked, the Crusades ended a few thousand years ago. Don't convert me! I believe faith to be an intensely private affair. I'll talk about mine if asked but I really don't offer much about it. Each unto their own. I think it comes from being raised in a tri-cultural/bi-religious family.
When they began talking about giving oneself up to Christ and the scriptures stating that a woman should be a submissive wife to a Godly husband. I got kind of uncomfortable.
And it gave me pause to think about why I was uncomfortable. As I said, I'm not comfortable with evangelism. But I think the reason why I'm not is not because I don't agree with that lifestyle but it's a latent sense of guilt that I'm not living that life. And I haven't made enough of an effort to do it. I go to church most Sundays of the month. I take the boys with me. I used to say my nightly prayers. I've partaken in most of the sacraments, yada yada. But as for my day to day life, I know that I'm falling short. I know I am.
And so when I hear about those people who have and do make the effort, I seem to respond with some contempt or disdain as a way to cover up my shortcomings. Cut them down to make myself feel better. How old am I?
Ironically, the sermon at my church the next day was about giving one's self over to Christ. But the sermon was delivered at a much more analytical, cerebral, and albeit humorous level. And it just resonated more. My priest, well one of them, is about as much of a hippy as you can get within the Episcopal church. He has a son named River and a daughter named Eden. And I always have to stifle a giggle when I remember that he surfs--I always can't stop but picture him (and he's a big guy--over 6 feet and a sturdy midwesterner) on his board with a dog collar on... His sermon began with an analogy. He said that if the disciples had a theme song, it would probably be the Stone's "Can't Get No Satisfaction". As in no matter what they did they just couldn't quite get it. That until one turns their life over to Christ, there is no satisfaction. He then went on to speak about how Jesus is not politically correct but religiously correct. And how everyone is a slave--either to themselves and their vices or to God. Long story short, same message as Saturday but totally different delivery. I left feeling uplifted and wonderful. Just b/c of the presentation. Go figure.
Moving on...
What's really interesting is that, in the past 10 years or so, most of my closest friends have all come from a very strong religious background. It seems like most of them are just nicer people for it. Perhaps it's an ability to forgive and to love their neighbors as themselves. Perhaps they have a better understanding of Jesus' work. I've thought now for a while that had I a stronger religious education, maybe I would be--well--nicer. And certainly more patient. Whatever the reason, I'm drawn.
None of my friends, however, wear their religion on their sleeves. It's not something that I find out about within the first five minutes of meeting them. My friend who was the Seminarian doesn't feel the need to drop that into every conversation. The only reason that I know is because we've discussed our educational backgrounds and she was in graduate school when she met her husband. When we traded the stories of how we met our husbands, that came out. Otherwise, I'd probably be none the wiser.
What is it about some people that makes them feel the need to blurt out their religion immediately? As though it's game day and you get a bye straight to heaven just because you're batting for team Christian. I find it interesting when I hear people chat and they say something along the lines of "oh I met so and so the other day. She's a Christian too so we blah blah blah..." As though being tagged as a Christian instantly makes you destined to be soul mates.
Incidentally, I by no means think that this is a unique feature of Christianity. I grew up in a predominantly Jewish area and my friends joked that they had Jewdar---kinda like gaydar but for other Jews.
But there is just something in the tone of these Christian declarations that gets to me. Christian is such a broad grouping. It means you believe in Christ. But I know as an Anglican, I have little in common with a Pentecostal or a Jehovah's Witness or even a Methodist. That's why there are so many denominations. It's the uniqueness of each sect that makes religious history and theology so interesting to me. And I just love it when people don't realize that Catholicism falls into Christianity. Last I checked, it's kinda like the uber Christian. If anyone loves themselves some Christ, it's them.
***And I pause now to reflect on the fact that this entire thesis is probably totally sacrilegious and I'll probably going to be doing penance for a while.***
Onward I chug regardless.
At the end of the brunch, they announced that this will be a monthly ministry. The first Sunday of the month will be a military support brunch. Part of me if very intrigued--the part that is a Marine Corps wife. The other part of me---the stand offish Anglican-- is a little nervous about going. Am I hypocrite for wanting to go but not wanting to deal with evangelism since I know that will be the crux? Am I setting myself up for failure by going to something that will by its and my nature lead me to some rather unChristian thoughts? When will I stop praying every Sunday to have the wisdom and strength to live a Christian life and actually start doing it? When will I stop trying to forge my own path and instead walk in the footprints already laid out for me?

I'm a local now

I know I've been in SoCal for a while now because it hit 69 degrees and I've busted out my children's winter clothes--albeit long sleeves and pants. It's even cold enough (50s) at night that we turned on the heat today!
Only in SoCal do you wear a sweater, jeans, and sandals or flip flops...I've even seen this with a winter coat before. Because everything besides your toes has been magically transported to the Arctic.
Go figure! We should all be so lucky.

BTW

By the way, for those of you who might have given up on my other site since it's been a month since I updated the family blog, there are a ton of new pictures up. I finally sat down for a good two hours and patiently maneuvered around blogger to get it squared away.

Conflicted Mind

Last night, several of my mommy friends and I got together to do a craft. That massive whooshing sound you hear is the wind being knocked out of you as you realize that I did in fact engage in arts and crafts.
I know. So totally not like me since it involves a free and unrepressed spirit!
In all actuality, I have a very strong creative side and I would love to be far more artsy fartsy but the perfectionist side is WAY stronger. I'm dead serious when I tell people that I'm a temper tantrum waiting to happen when it comes to arts and crafts.
If I can't get it right on the first (or really up to three) tries then I want absolutely nothing to do with it. And if the final product is anything less than stellar, I feel it's been a total waste.
I'm also like that with shooting pool and bowling, incidentally. Two things that dh excels at...go figure.
I'm not naturally inclined towards drawing but I used to love working with paints and clay when I was younger. I was a very good creative writer and I loved expressing myself that way (hence the creation of this blog, as a means to keep the creative juices trickling if not flowing).
Secretly, I would love to scrapbook because I do think the final product is terrific and I whole heartily endorse creating family memories. But, besides the fact that it elicits a near cult mentality and can almost bankrupt you, it involves a great deal of precision and flair. Which you would think would suit me since I am a perfectionist. However, I reiterate the flaw in me--if I can't get it right right away, I want nothing to do with it.
I've always been blessed in academics and fairly blessed in athletics that I've never really needed to try very hard. As a result, I tend to just avoid those things that do not come easily to me as they necessitate effort that I'm not used to offering forth.
I can remember as a teenager trying out various hairstyles and trying to get them to look just right. Especially the au naturale that really took two hours to create. Since I just could not do it to my standards of flawlessness, I just gave up. That's why to this day I am a wash and go kind of girl. I try to pass it off as my pragmatic side but really it's the screaming two year old in me.
Back to last night, my friend who hostessed the party really has an incredibly artistic nature. I saw her son's room for the first time and was blown away by the mural she'd created through stencils and free-hand drawing. It's truly the room you dream of giving your child---planets, stars, and a rocket painted on the walls. We were making name plaques for our children's doors. As though one wouldn't be enough to push me around the bend, I had two to make. My girl friend suggested (after I'd used a stencil somewhat successfully and chicken scratched their names on their stars) that I add some free-hand lines to the stenciled fish and to add sea grass. The thought of doing anything based upon my own creativity (just picking the right stencil and writing two names was enough for me) truly struck fear in my soul.
What if I messed up? What if they looked weird? What if....I ruined the whole damn thing? Then everyone would know and my boys wouldn't have name plaques . Or worse, I'd have to show my dh, who wouldn't say they looked bad, he just wouldn't say they looked good---which is even worse because it means that he couldn't come up with anything nice to say so he just didn't say anything.
Ahh the neurotic ramblings of a perfectionist.
Anyway, this is why I don't engage in arts and crafts!
But in the end, I joked that worst case scenario, I would just tell the boys when they're older that they made them! "What, don't you remember?"
So ended the tug of war between my left brain and right brain. "Come on, you know you want to create art. Everyone else is doing it." "Don't succumb to the pressure. It's not worth it."
It ended up a tie--I did my project but I'm totally not satisfied with the outcome; however, as a glutton for punishment, I did hang them on the boys' respective doors. Maybe to show off or maybe to remind myself that art is not my forte.
Or maybe it's just practical to know whose room is whose (in case I forget or something because we have so many random people wandering through). Or to give the boys a sense of independent identity...
John Nash watch out, my mind is more beautiful now.

I love and am in love

With my boys. The toddler is in his brand new jammies that actually make him look his age, for once. Tonight, they have frog faces all over them and actually have the little footies. Tomorrow will be teddy bear heads. His big boy clothes (all in 3T despite his barely being 2 and a 1/4) make him look like he'll be pledging a frat house by the end of the week. I love that look but at night, when he's clean and in his jammies and climbing all over me for hugs and snuggles, I just love it. And I love how the baby still scooches his little legs up underneath himself and his little diapered tooshie sticks out just asking to be rhythmically tapped as I rock him.
I am that mom who always creeps in to check on them one last time before I turn in for the night. It's been suggested to me by a couple of friends who have the video monitors that I should get one, especially since the baby is a rather light sleeper. But really, I go in not just to make sure that they're still breathing (that's the primary reason) but to sneak in one last touch and one last kiss. Oh and these days to move the baby tornado out from under the bumpers.
When the rocking chair was still in the toddler's room, I used to sneak in and pick him up out of bed (once he's out, he's DEAD to the world---as in the fire alarm went off in our old apartment and he slept through the whole debacle of ringing and leaving the building) and sit with him in the rocking chair. Just because he's so peaceful when sleeping. He just instinctively wraps his arms and legs around me and hugs me with no fussing or wriggling. After the whirlwind days of emotional roller coasters, it's just so calming. Even now, when I'm scooping him up off the floor to put him back into bed, I get that one last hug. We've even had a couple naps in the past week where I laid next to him on his bed until he fell asleep, just stroking him hair. Usually, he trashes around too much for this but of late he's been exceptionally cuddly and so he was game to just rest his head on my shoulder. It was tempting to just stay and nap with him.
I love it when the baby falls asleep in the Snugli. I can gently rest my cheek on his head and wrap my arms around him. It's as close to the feeling I had when I would rest my arms around my belly while pregnant as I can get.
Obviously, I love my boys because they're mine. I fed the little parasites and then hatched them so I have that bond. But I'm in love with them because I truly like them. They may leave me exhausted, frazzled, frantic, frustrated, exasperated, overwhelmed....but that's just a facet of their ages. I truly like their personalities and so I've fallen completely in love with them.
They say that the sense of being in love fades over time as the novelty of a relationship fades. I foresee myself singing a different tune when they hit middle school (ugh what a heinous age, really, to my friends who electively teach/taught that age, God bless!). I might not be so in love then. But till then, I love and am in love with my little muchachitos.

Where God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window

The other day, as I was getting out of the shower, I thought about what I could be doing if I didn't have bambinos or if they were old enough for full day school.

Really the list wasn't too long:

1. I would row every morning

2. I would swim on a regular basis

3. I would do a triathlon (albeit a mini)

4. I would get mani/pedis

5. I would sleep in on weekends

6. I would go to the gym

7. I would go out dancing (maybe even take up ballroom)

See not so long...I couldn't even come up with three more to make an even ten. But the theme was (and no, not just working out) that I could do with some time to myself.

So since one door seems to have closed, a window has been opened.

I set a resolution to run a 5k a month and so far, I have done that for three months now. Today, I actually got to run it solo. Run being the operative word; I didn't have to stop to readjust any heads or toys or walk with a baby strapped to me. It was FABULOUS!!!

Darling hubby and his friend wrangled the boys while I got to run with my friend and her little girl (who was very still in her stroller).

I'm not sure what part I liked better: not having 50+lbs of kids in a stroller to push or seeing my boys watch me run a race. I may not get much time to myself (door slamming shut) but it was freeing to run the race without having to worry about anyone else's needs (window opening). I really want to set my boys up for a healthy lifestyle that includes participating in sports. And for the sake of their bone density, I would like them to be runners (engaging in high impact sports while growing up helps to increase bone density) so that they have a healthy athletic career in whichever sport(s) they want---ahem, say swimming and rowing. And more than anything, I want them to be proud of their mama.

And as someone who aspires to be a lifelong athlete, now that I'm not rowing anymore, I need to actually engage in a sport to make this a bona fide claim. Non sequitur, there was a couple there today who had to have been well into their sixties and they were absolutely adorable. They were decked out in their San Diego Track Club garb--as in she was wearing the little silky running shorts and tank top and he had on his running shorts and shirt. You could tell they are totally hard core runners. It was wonderful to see them. That's what I would like for me and my dh in forty years (hell, that's what I would like for us now). That grandma is faster than I am now as a mommy (and probably faster that I was before I was a mommy). It gives me something to aspire to. It also makes me wonder how long she's been a runner. Has she always been a runner? I mean, when I think of senior citizens (particularly women), I wonder what sports they competed in when they were in school or even afterwards. Because really, the only woman runner I can think of from around that generation is Wilma Rudolph (you know, black lady who overcame Polio to win some clinkage at the Olympics in 1920 something or other). It makes me wonder what it was like back then. I certainly wonder what she wore if she was a runner back then b/c for some reason the long cheerleader skirts from Grease pop into my head and while I know she clearly didn't wear that, I wonder what was the appropriate equivalent for runners during those generations. I kind of remember Wilma Rudolph in a picture in shorts, but who knows.
Anyway, back on topic...

I never used to enjoy running, at all. I did it when I was training for other sports. I did it when chased on the playground. I did it b/c the Marine Corps thinks it's a great pastime.

It's taken about twenty years (b/c I was about seven the last time I enjoyed running a mile) but I've finally started to really enjoy running. Since I can't swim or row easily, since it means having to find childcare, this is something that I can do with them in tow. I really love the outlet for my competitive nature. And I get the satisfaction (even if I have the kids in the double) of doing something just for me.

Next month, I'm going to do another 5k; in November I'm going to do a 5k at the beginning of the month and then a 10k on Thanksgiving. Yeah me!

A 10k! Now that I've blogged it, I'm committed! So on Black Friday, ask me how it went!

I realized after today, when I sprinted through the finish and then stopped and wasn't even slightly winded (it was as though I'd just walked a block not 3.1 miles), if I can do a 5k that easily then I can do a 10k too. I'd had such a mental block against anything longer than 3 miles. Now I know I can do it! Yet again, a window opening.

Incidentally, hubby's friend brought over Knocked Up tonight. So it has taken me the better part of an hour to type this post. Ironic choice of movies while I type about opportunities that have changed.

While one door may have closed, it seems like plenty of windows have opened.

One of the greatest compliments in life

I've come to the conclusion that one of the greatest compliments in life is being trusted to watch someone else's child.
Choosing who you make responsible for your child's well being, be it for thirty minutes or days at a time, is an arduous mental activity. There is a lot of weighing and measuring of the options and humming and haaing over whether it's worth even leaving the little rugrats. So once you actually decide to relinquish sole proprietary control, it can be very daunting to figure out who you trust to watch your child.
I've had people, within minutes of meeting me, offer to watch my boys. Not a chance in hell! If I don't know you from Adam (or more likely Eve), you're not watching my kids. The offer may be appreciated as a kindness received, but that doesn't mean I'm taking you up on it. Give me a chance to get to know you, then I'll reassess. Who knows, you might make the cut after all.
Now that I've been a mommy for a couple of years, I'm a little bit more relaxed in acknowledging that there are times that I just can't take my kids with me (or more relaxed in admitting there are times I just don't want to take them with me). This means that someone is going to have to watch them. My list is pretty short. And anyone new who is added is added with some trepidation. Not because they won't do a good job, but simply because it's not ME. I may not do the best job, but they're my little munchkins to screw up not anyone else's (well, okay other than dear hubby).
In return, I think it is a tremendous compliment when others bestow their trust in me to watch their child. I think it is one of the greatest testimonies to my character that someone thinks I am capable enough to guard their most precious and dear accoutrement.
One of my friends a while back was having a bit of a rough day and wasn't feeling very loved by the world. I reminded her that if she were truly such a bad person, she would not resemble Old Mother Hubbard (not the part about the bare cupboards but the part with all the kids). My friend often has a house full of kiddies because just about everyone else I know who has kids picks her as their first choice in babysitter.
Compliments that plump your vanity are fleeting, but compliments about who you are at the depths of your character are far more lasting, thus far more valuable.

Amendment

Okay, so maybe I was a little overzealous in my diatribe on the clothing industry yesterday.
Plus sizes begin at size 14 not size 10. But regardless, if that is the average size of an American woman it does one of two (well probably both actually) things: a) confim that we are a FAT culture or b) make the average woman feel fat.

Answer me this...

If the average American woman is 5'4", somewhere between 145-163 lbs, and wears a size 14, why is that once you hit double digit clothing sizes, you are technically "plus" sized?
For all you skinny minis out there, who have never seen double digits on a clothing tag other than the cost, perhaps we should call you minus sized and the rest of us can just be regular.

Growing up, I always ranged between 8-14 depending on the garment. In later years, I've gone up to a 16 (and this last pregnancy does not count b/c I'm still not sure what type of clothes I was in at the end--basically a muumuu). It wasn't until just recently, as I've moved out of 16s and into a loose 14, that I realized that even in my "skinny" days of being a teen or in my early twenties (when I did look GOOD), I was still plus sized. Granted, I did think (and still do) that a 16 is big. Actually, I take that back. I think I thought that any size you could buy off the rack in the mainstream section of a store was average. But that's around where I thought plus sizes started. Not at a 10. Isn't a 10 supposed to be perfect?!

So WTF? Why even bother losing the weight? It seems like I'm fight a losing battle. If, after it's all said and done, and I get back to my premarital weight, I will have lost 100lbs from the day I delivered the baby to that goal weight. And I'll still be plus sized!
But I'll tell you why I'm doing it. Because I just can't stand feeling like I look fat. (Oh yeah and all that healthier way of life crap.) I want to get back to what I see in my head. The way I used to look is what I think of when I think of myself. And it comes as a bitter kick up the backside when I realize that what I look like to myself is not what everyone else sees now. What's worse is that all the people I've met since being married only know me stout. There are less and less people in my daily life who knew me back when.

But going back to my rant on clothing. If stores are now using vanity sizing, where they cut clothes bigger but put a smaller number on the tag, what the dickens is a size 16 really? I mean am I sharing a habitat with Shamu? Should I just put a potato sack on and call it quits?
If I do get back (well really, when I get back) down to a 10, I'll still technically be plus sized. And that 10 is probably what was a 14 ten years ago. So where do I stand? Preferably not too close to a full size mirror, that's where!

Well the writing was on the wall. This little event has been a burr up my backside since it happened: when I was about 20, I went into a department store to buy a pair of brown leather knee high boots (back when they were an abosolute must have for college girls) and I remember having to squeeze my calves into the pair I wanted. I never used to think I had fat legs (at least not from the knee down). I remember the sales woman telling me that buying boots is hard for women with plus sized calves! I remember looking at her and saying that I didn't know that's what you called the legs of a collegiate varsity athlete (never mind that I'd stopped competitively rowing the year before). When I went to pay for them (b/c after that I damn well made sure they fit), I told the cashier that no one had helped me...haha working on commission's a bitch.
Shoulda read the memo that day...I'm plus size. Mo'nique watch out, I am PHAT and lovin' it.

Sharing is Caring

Top 5 Signs My Toddler Understands the Concept of Sharing:
5. He empties out his toy basket and brings them all over to me, stacks them on and around me, thus creating his own live toy box.
4. He insists that I have a sip from his sippy. As in he shoves the spout into my mouth.
3. He takes off his fully saturated pull-up and gives it to me for disposal.
2. He offers the baby his paci, strokes/pats his head in the stroller or in their car seats, and "borrows" his rattles/toys.
And the number 1 example of sharing:
1. He takes a sip of water from his sippy, spits it into his play cup, and then pours it into my water glass.

This last demonstration occurred this morning. We went for a run and when we got home, I strapped the baby into his highchair for his routine smorgasbord of rice cereal. Before getting started, I poured myself a glass of water and placed it just out of reach of the baby (but clearly not out of reach of the toddler) on the highchair tray. Over walks the toddler. In a flash, I see him take a sip and then spit it in the cup. As I reprimand him for spitting anything other than his toothpaste, he pours it into my glass. Now I know I've been a mom a long time because I actually contimplated drinking the water anyway. I figured it wasn't in his mouth that long. But even I couldn't stomach the idea. So after the baby chowed down on his man sized portion of Gerber goodiness, I got some fresh water---in the same glass.

And I thought just days ago that my children were selfish...

Only in America...

...Or better yet, only on a highway in California.
Today, on the way home from church, I noticed that the highway was just stopped. So I was going to take the coastal road but after I took the wrong detour (b/c I was somewhere in lala land) I ended up just taking the highway after all.
Wondering why the highway was so congested at 12:30 on a Sunday afternoon? Well, let me tell you. It was a five car accident. Nothing serious, just some dented fenders. Actually, it was so not serious that the folks involved were standing on the shoulder taking pictures.
Not so odd; an accident happens so you take some pictures for the insurance. Haha, not exactly. Here's the kicker: They weren't taking pictures of the cars. No, instead, there was a man and woman in FULL German costume taking pictures with a couple other people. Obviously, they must have been going to or coming from an Oktoberfest. But really, could they have not done it so obviously in view of the gajillion cars driving by. Because what does everyone do? Rubberneck! Really, folks. COME ON!
So that was my oddity of the day--a German couple on the side of the road taking pictures after being involved in a five car pileup. Only in America and only on a California freeway!
If only I'd had a camera handy. Now that would have been ironic!

Children are SO selfish

Comedienne Kathy Griffith (notice, folks, the proper use of a feminine noun--androgyny went out with Ziggy Stardust, it's actress, waitress, even aurthoress- like adverbs, learn 'em, love 'em, use 'em) says this about the reason why she doesn't like children, "what six month old do you know asks you about your day. They're so selfish."
Well ain't that the truth!
Yesterday was my birthday and the baby decided that 3:30 am would be a great time to serenade me with his version of happy birthday---for the better part of an hour. The second rendition came at 5:30am. I prefer my well wishes to not come in at o dark hundred! Darn selfish kids!
I thought this might be an ominous sign of the day to come but it turned out to be one of the best birthdays I've had in a while. The last few years have been blighted by national catastrophe, work, and bickering with a certain dh who will remain nameless ;-D
With the exception of my 22nd birthday, which was spent with now hubby in Hawaii, the last seven to ten or so could have just been slept through.
I spent the morning with some mommy friends who helped me celebrate with cake, that had the rockingest--yes, I made up that word; my blog, my rules of grammar!-icing--green and purple and wearing my son out with four little girl playmates.
Hubby got off work early, coming home with a half dozen long stem red roses, and I didn't feel pressured to do any homework or housework during nap time. He and I even got to go out to dinner---just the two of us! I ate like I'd been starved for days. We had great Japanese. No hibachi, but terrific sushi and I polished off an Bento box by myself--teriyaki chicken, rice, salad, veggie tempura, pork dumplings and some Sake.
Essentially, all the progress I made the first week of this month in my weight loss has stagnated thanks to my eating binge of the last two weeks. But it does taste so good. As my granny always says, "some people eat to live, the rest of us live to eat!"
All in all it was a great day with plenty of well wishes and no fighting--with a two year old or a twenty six year old (for three days each year I'm robbing the cradle).
My children even decided to cooperate and while they each fussed a bit after being put in bed, neither caused significant enough issues to worry about. So maybe they're not so selfish after all...
Actually, quite the opposite. Tonight proved that I have two exceptionally loving boys. The toddler and I read a Beatrix Potter book and then laid together on his bed to sing some nursery rhymes. As usual, just before leaving, I put my head on his chest to receive my special death grip hug. As I lay there, he stroked (sometimes tugged) my hair. It was quite the role reversal since I usually do that to him. It was so nice and soothing. I just lay there giving him little kisses on his cheek as he stroked my hair and then patted my head. It just made my heart feel so big. It was a glimpse into what it will be like once he's bigger than me. It was a glimpse into when he'll be able to protect me, even though I'll always protect him. It was a glimpse into what it will be like to be old and have my children look after me. I wish that moment could have lasted forever.
Maybe one day, if Kathy Griffith has kids, she'll realize they may be the neediest creatures alive but they are the most appreciate as well.

On a side note, as I've always said: raising kids is like raising dogs. The toddler walked around in circles today and then hid on the stairs for a few minutes. Then he ran into the kitchen. When he came out, his head was down and he pointed babbling back at the kitchen. He'd taken the biggest POOP on my floor. The joys of house breaking---I mean potty training.
It's like when you take the puppy out for a long walk and then as soon as you get home, they have an accident. My son sat on his potty, acted like he was going to do the right thing, and then has an accident.
Walking in circles and then the guilty head hang--could be a dog, but instead it's a two year old.
Thank heavens for my new Hoover Floormate (a la my parents!), it took care of the issue. But really, who does that?!

They should get together for a little coffee tawk

I haven't posted in a day or so and it's given me a chance to reflect. I didn't intend this blog to just be a recantation of the day's events but rather how my daily activities influence my intellectual wanderings. Since I didn't have anything deep to offer, I took a day off. Now I'm back and swinging...
What are we coming to? Tonight, while on the elliptical, I watched the Jon Stewart Show and the Colbert Report. This is how I get my current events. The regular nightly news is just too dull in comparison. And the Today show is on until the kids get up.
The Chancellor of New York Public Schools was on the CR episode aired tonight (it was a repeat from Sept. 12). He discussed paying students to do well in school.
This gets a resounding WTF from me. Last I checked, that's the point of school---go, learn, and thus do well.
I get that not every child will do well in school (thanks Darwin, we're not all special) but why should students get a monetary reward/incentive to do what they're supposed to? What does this teach students? How is it in any way appropriate to pay a 7th grader $500 to pay attention and apply themselves? This assumes that a 7th grader has the maturity to handle being given such a large amount of money. Or that parents, who send their students to public school more than likely because they can't send them elsewhere or even choose not to, are going to support this.
Again, intellectually I understand the concept behind this program. The Chancellor was arguing that we need to use ingenuity to get the attention of kids these days. But as a pragmatist, I just have to say-UH NO.
When I was a child, I remember that my parents periodically gave me an allowance. It wasn't a routine occurrence b/c my parents (smartly) wanted to know what I was buying and what I had rather than send me off blindly to do what I wanted with money. I remember once asking my mom why I couldn't earn extra money for doing my chores since that's how most of my friends earned their allowance. She explained to me that my chores are just things that have to be done. That you don't get rewards for doing things you're supposed to. You get them for doing something special. It made sense then and it makes sense now.
Here is the video from the show:




What do you think?

In comparison, last week author/commentator Laura Ingraham was interviewed on the Today Show. She's written a book about the decline in American society. She deems it the pornification of America. She argued that the behavior of most celebrities should not be deemed news worthy, that ads campaigns such as Abercrombie & Fitch are indecent (which they are, but I still like looking at the bags--even at almost 27!) and that we as a society should take a stance against this trend. She spent a little too much time knocking the Today Show in her attempt to get her message across, but if you can get past that, she makes some interesting points.
I couldn't imbed the code (as it wasn't offered) but here is the link:

http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?g=6657b6e2-2df6-42b7-964a-cacc1af62c5b

So after watching this evening's Colbert Report, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if these two (Chancellor Joel Klein and Laura Ingraham) were to meet for some coffee tawk in NYC.
I know some of you reading this are either New Yorkers or teachers or both so is this just another crazy movement (paying kids) that will be gone in a New York minute? Can America retrieve its culture from the gutter? Who would come out on top if the two panelists were to have it out?
Ahh, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall with my locks, cream cheese, and a bagel.

Split screen brain or was it picture in picture

Last night, several mommies and I went out to celebrate some September birthdays. About an hour into the evening, I get a call on my cell ---HOME. Oh crud, what now? Which one is it?
I ducked out and answered it. In the background, just over the barely audible voice of my darling husband, I hear wailing! I know exactly exactly who it is.
Apparently, the baby had been crying incessantly for almost an hour. Off I scooted to the house.
MOMMY TO THE RESCUE! With the promise that I would be back at the bar as soon as possible.
So I zoom through Carlsbad and Oceanside, it was like a split screen in my head. Or was it really picture in picture? It was like something you would see on Court TV, half my brain was showing a picture of me needing to get home to my distressed baby and half of my brain was showing a picture of me needing to get home to my distressed baby so that I could hurry up and get back out to the bar.
I pulled up behind the garage and slipped through the sliding glass door. As I walked up, at first I didn't hear anything. Then I was greeted by the screaming of a seriously angry baby. But what happens when I walk in? He spots me and starts laughing!
Hubby'd brought him downstairs and was sitting on a blanket with him on the floor watching Comedy Central or something, looking VERY tired. Funny, one hour of screaming has him DONE and a whole day leaves me running a sub 28 min 3 miles. What am I running from? Simple! My kids! Even if I have them in the stroller in front of me. Figure out what that means!
So anyway, I digress. Upstairs we go. In the bathroom and into the medicine cabinet. Ahh the best bottle of purple goo---a little baby Tylonol. Because of course, it has to be teeth! When all other explanation fails with babies, it must be teeth. Or if they're really little, colic.
A little dropper of med and into the rocking chair for a little cuddle nursing. And all the while, I'm thinking, "it's nice to know that I can fix anything for my kids but really, how long is this going to take. I want to get back to the bar. And I wonder if the ladies will still be at the same place. And will anyone hear/feel their phone ringing? How am I going to find them if they've moved on?"
Back into the crib he goes and back into the car I go. But before I head out, I turned up the monitor really loudly hoping that if hubby fell asleep, he'd be woken by a crying baby (b/c he sleeps like the dead). And for the rest of the night I wondered if hubby was awake and all was calm or if hubby was asleep and baby was really having a fit.
I zoom back to the bar. It seemed like a super quick 45 mins to me. But that was b/c I'd driven home, dealt with the baby, and then had to drive back. I wondered if it had gone that quickly for the ladies and so they'd still be at the same bar. I found them and they were surprised that I did actually come back. Obviously they don't know me that well! Was there really any doubt that I wouldn't come back--if the baby was okay? A night out! A real night out, as in somewhere that my children positively, absolutely cannot come. Hell yeah, I'm making an effort to go out. I love my children more than life, and that's never in question, but sometimes it's just nice to get dressed up and not look like someone's mommy. It's nice to have a drink that I can't, won't, or don't have to share. To have a drink in an open top glass and not have to worry about whether it's going to get spilt by a two year old. Or to wear something that I don't have to worry about the ease in which I can nurse.
I won't recap the rest of the evening b/c it went well and with it all said and done, it was nice to be out. I had a blast. But as always, it was even nicer to be home again for the night.
There's a show with what's her face, Elaine from Seinfeld called Old Christine (or something like that) and she's the ex wife and her ex husband has New Christine, the girlfriend. Well I'm no one's ex wife but I do sometimes feel like Old Maria needs to come out and play.
Old Maria for a moment, New Mommy for a lifetime.

It's not easy being two!

We had a bit of a rough morning today. Poor little guy was truly upset about a few things today at the mommy workout.
1: He was very upset that he couldn't shoot the ball into the big babbit (basket). We were in a real gymnasium and it was just too high for him.
2: He was very upset that other people might want the same ball he did (even though it wasn't his to begin with).
3. He was very upset that Mommy just wasn't able to solve the above problems.

I could elaborate on how frustrating this was for me since I just wanted to work out. Or how other people were giving me dirty looks because I let him cry while I tried to workout and deal with the baby.
But instead, I've decided to go the other way. I feel that I spend more than ample time articulating all my struggles with the boys. I'd rather just mention all the things I love about them.

I love that the baby now scootches and rolls all around the living room.
I love that the baby gets so excited about his rice cereal that he blows raspberries that get the cereal everywhere.
I love that the baby gives me a look of disdain as I make a monkey of myself trying to sign to him.
I love that even when the baby's totally melting down, the site of me can calm him down. Just because me being me is enough.
I love that he has a tremendous wet gummy smile and hence his nickname Gummy Bear.
I love that the toddler has the cheekiest smile.
I love that the toddler finds fun in everything, whether it's sitting in his drawer (with or without pull-ups )or kicking the back of my seat.
I love that the toddler still lets me rock him to sleep sometimes.
I love that the toddler holds my hand when we watch TV.
I love that the toddler comes and strokes my head or arm or leg when I'm lying on the couch.
I love that the toddler, at the end of the day after I'm yelled at him about twenty times and made him cry about thirty times, still gives me the tightest arm-around-the-neck hug at bedtime and just wants to snuggle for just one more minute.
I love that my children love me because I'm the mommy, not matter what mistakes I'm making.
I love that I'm the Mama Bear and they're my Bear Cubs.

It's not easy being two.
It's not easy not being able to talk.
It's not easy being tired all the time because they make you walk.
It's not easy not getting what you want when you're two.
But I still love you!
This was the little ditty I sang to him as I took him upstairs for his nap this afternoon.

On the upside

My head is still attached to my shoulders, though for parts of the day it did feel like it was floating somewhere in the stratosphere.
Things seems to be on the way to resolution with the bank. Now it's just a waiting game. Amazing how quickly they can deduct money out of your account but they take their sweet ass time to put it back in. I know how the banking system works, they make money off of your money. But it's MINE! Sorry, that's the only child coming out in me.
Belle does seem to be doing better now that she is getting to go out with her adoptive mom more. She's my little girl, she can pull through anything. Sending good vibes and love all the time to her.
But on the upper upside, I have knocked out a few homework assignments tonight. Hopefully, they won't need any revisions.
Explain to me this, though: if I'm in a performance mastery program (I don't progress in my program until I am able to demonstrate mastery or competency of certain criteria), isn't it somewhat ironic that some of my tasks ask me to perform tasks that would never actually be done in the classroom? What does this prove that I can master?
For example, I had to create a unit with two lesson plans. Each of these lesson plans had to have two goals. Each goal had to have three objectives. Okay, I may not yet be a full time teacher, but I have spent enough time in the classroom to know that this is totally unrealistic. This unit would take over a month to implement. The kids would be overwhelmed with information and I would feel pressed for time to get it all in.
So why set up novice teachers to think that this is how it's done? I get the point--make sure we know how to write goals and objectives in a lesson plan. But a competent teacher would not do this! So no competency or mastery truly demonstrated.
This assignment took me almost a week to do b/c along with the goals and objectives, I also had to create the activities for the lessons and give samples of desired work and list resources, yada yada.
In comparison, I just knocked out two assignments tonight. Each took about half an hour to do.
Ugh, instead of inundating me with one assignment and then making the others just busy work, consolidate and balance!
But I'm almost half way through this class! I need to go create a bulletin board now and take a picture of it to submit. Really, for high school?! Okay, whatever. Too bad I'm not in elementary ed (I'm doing secondary) b/c I just put together a kickass "bulletin board" for the toddler. It has a reusable calendar so that he can learn the days of the week, the months, and such ("calendar math"). I put Velcro tabs on the numbers and months so that he can learn to tack them up. And he now has a weather frog he can dress according to the weather. As well as complete the sentence "today's weather is..." with clouds, sun, snow, and their corresponding picture.
One downer--darling hubby pointed out that the weather frog was pointless b/c how many outfits would the frog really wear in SoCal. Whatev--we wear sweaters here with our flip-flops.