Nothing ruins your perspective like having your 7-year-old drop an entire gallon of milk on the floor and have it explode open. (Don't blame her...she was holding the gallon on her head to bring it in from the garage fridge.)
Just sayin'.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
If I'd Only Known
I have always been analytical. Maybe it's one of those skills that you learn as a musician, but from my childhood I have always tried to "assess and then do it better." I guess that's what one of the habits you pick up from hour upon hour of piano practice... How did I play that passage? How can I play it better this time? Once you get one part right there is another layer that needs to be added. Don't be too excited about playing the right notes: now it's time to add the right dynamics and make it staccato and.... (Can you imagine how much Jared loves taking piano from his mother?)
I have always been an "analyze and assess" person and, I believe, fairly observant. So I have spent a lot of time in the course of my life evaluating and assessing things for future reference. For example, I really thought it was great that my mom had six kids. As one of the kids it was lots of fun: there were always other people to play with and talk to and lots of fun things going on. But (in all of my 8-year-old wisdom) I thought, "If I was going to do it, I think I would keep the house cleaner, instead of just being in a panic to clean up when people were coming over." I also decided that I wouldn't raise my voice to get my kids to clean up when dad had an interview at our house in five minutes (I couldn't understand why we couldn't still be cleaning-- wouldn't they just be impressed at how hard working we were?). And I would have more structured activities on Sunday instead of just watching Sunday movies or letting the kids run wild. We would have a gourmet, multiple-course family dinner on Sundays instead of popcorn and cold cereal. And I would make sure that my kids kept their rooms clean and made their beds and never had dirty faces.... yes, nuggets of wisdom, tucked away in my 11-year-old brain for future reference.
I would never let my child watch more than 30 minutes of TV in one day (like my little sister who had "The Little Mermaid" memorized!) or probably any TV at all and I would always give my children my undivided attention whenever they wanted it instead of doing annoying projects on the computer. I would always give my kids lots of warning before asking them to do jobs. My husband would never come home late from work like my dad did. He would pull more than his fair share of the house work, to set a good example for our boys of true egalitarianism. We would have a delightful family life of wonderful regularity and order. Oh, and did I mention that I would never, ever let my child go in public with a runny nose? (Yuck! How can you just not care like that?) And I would never tolerate being seen with a booger or barf on my shirt (my piano teacher had a kid's booger stuck on her shoulder during a lesson once and I was puzzled that she either didn't notice it or just didn't bother to change her shirt).
I suppose this is why we grow up and have lives of our own. There are a lot of things that are difficult or even impossible to fully comprehend without experience. I suppose it never occurred to my eleven-year-old brain that maybe my mother had fully intended to have a perfectly tidy house and for some unexplainable reason -well six, to be precise- was just never quite able to reach that goal. (In fact, my mom was a neat freak before she had kids. Much more so than her tidy-when-she-feels-like-it daughter.) It never crossed my mind that my dad probably fully intended to have dinner with his family every night too and wasn't missing just because he didn't feel like it.
I can't count how many times as a mother I have had one of those "a-ha" moments, when I suddenly realized why my mom raised her voice and got panicked to get the house cleaned up, why she let my sister watch TV when she was exhausted, why we often spent Sundays watching church movies or running wild while my dad was gone at meetings and why my piano teacher didn't bother to change the shirt with a booger on it. And it wasn't until I had my first "real" challenging job and found how exhausting and stressful it was-- or until I witnessed first-hand my husband's struggle to meet the expectations of both his employer and his wife-- that it suddenly dawned on me, with startling clarity, what a struggle it must have been for my dad to try to balance a time-consuming, competitive job with a demanding church calling and fathering a large family.
For the record, my intent was good (at least mostly). I wanted to figure out how to do things better. And I still try. But just like piano, we work in layers. And even though we try to get it all right from the beginning, sometimes we should be excited with "just" the right notes. Or even a valiant attempt at the right notes. And the additional layers do come eventually. Just not how we expect.
P.S. I would like to take this moment to say that I am really, really sorry to that one lady I babysat for that one time for thinking that her kitchen was a disgusting mess and being shocked that she would leave the house with it looking that. I can't even count how many times my babysitters must be thinking that exact same thing. But I'm still proud of myself that I cleaned the mess up for her so she came home to a clean house.
P.P.S. I can still quote whole sections of "The Ten Commandments" from memory. And some of my best childhood memories are when we were "running wild" while my dad was at meetings on Sunday.
P.P.P.S. I think eating Reese's Pieces while we watch the church history movies sounds like a fabulous Sunday dinner.
I have always been an "analyze and assess" person and, I believe, fairly observant. So I have spent a lot of time in the course of my life evaluating and assessing things for future reference. For example, I really thought it was great that my mom had six kids. As one of the kids it was lots of fun: there were always other people to play with and talk to and lots of fun things going on. But (in all of my 8-year-old wisdom) I thought, "If I was going to do it, I think I would keep the house cleaner, instead of just being in a panic to clean up when people were coming over." I also decided that I wouldn't raise my voice to get my kids to clean up when dad had an interview at our house in five minutes (I couldn't understand why we couldn't still be cleaning-- wouldn't they just be impressed at how hard working we were?). And I would have more structured activities on Sunday instead of just watching Sunday movies or letting the kids run wild. We would have a gourmet, multiple-course family dinner on Sundays instead of popcorn and cold cereal. And I would make sure that my kids kept their rooms clean and made their beds and never had dirty faces.... yes, nuggets of wisdom, tucked away in my 11-year-old brain for future reference.
I would never let my child watch more than 30 minutes of TV in one day (like my little sister who had "The Little Mermaid" memorized!) or probably any TV at all and I would always give my children my undivided attention whenever they wanted it instead of doing annoying projects on the computer. I would always give my kids lots of warning before asking them to do jobs. My husband would never come home late from work like my dad did. He would pull more than his fair share of the house work, to set a good example for our boys of true egalitarianism. We would have a delightful family life of wonderful regularity and order. Oh, and did I mention that I would never, ever let my child go in public with a runny nose? (Yuck! How can you just not care like that?) And I would never tolerate being seen with a booger or barf on my shirt (my piano teacher had a kid's booger stuck on her shoulder during a lesson once and I was puzzled that she either didn't notice it or just didn't bother to change her shirt).
I suppose this is why we grow up and have lives of our own. There are a lot of things that are difficult or even impossible to fully comprehend without experience. I suppose it never occurred to my eleven-year-old brain that maybe my mother had fully intended to have a perfectly tidy house and for some unexplainable reason -well six, to be precise- was just never quite able to reach that goal. (In fact, my mom was a neat freak before she had kids. Much more so than her tidy-when-she-feels-like-it daughter.) It never crossed my mind that my dad probably fully intended to have dinner with his family every night too and wasn't missing just because he didn't feel like it.
I can't count how many times as a mother I have had one of those "a-ha" moments, when I suddenly realized why my mom raised her voice and got panicked to get the house cleaned up, why she let my sister watch TV when she was exhausted, why we often spent Sundays watching church movies or running wild while my dad was gone at meetings and why my piano teacher didn't bother to change the shirt with a booger on it. And it wasn't until I had my first "real" challenging job and found how exhausting and stressful it was-- or until I witnessed first-hand my husband's struggle to meet the expectations of both his employer and his wife-- that it suddenly dawned on me, with startling clarity, what a struggle it must have been for my dad to try to balance a time-consuming, competitive job with a demanding church calling and fathering a large family.
For the record, my intent was good (at least mostly). I wanted to figure out how to do things better. And I still try. But just like piano, we work in layers. And even though we try to get it all right from the beginning, sometimes we should be excited with "just" the right notes. Or even a valiant attempt at the right notes. And the additional layers do come eventually. Just not how we expect.
P.S. I would like to take this moment to say that I am really, really sorry to that one lady I babysat for that one time for thinking that her kitchen was a disgusting mess and being shocked that she would leave the house with it looking that. I can't even count how many times my babysitters must be thinking that exact same thing. But I'm still proud of myself that I cleaned the mess up for her so she came home to a clean house.
P.P.S. I can still quote whole sections of "The Ten Commandments" from memory. And some of my best childhood memories are when we were "running wild" while my dad was at meetings on Sunday.
P.P.P.S. I think eating Reese's Pieces while we watch the church history movies sounds like a fabulous Sunday dinner.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Finale to "Some Days" or "How Not to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying"
So the day after my last whiny pathetic post I made yet another stab at getting Adelyn's picture taken, this time with success. I also learned a valuable lesson on how to successfully drive a business into the ground. Next time I have the urge to buy a quickie-kids-photo-where-they-run-the-camera-like-a-cash-register franchise, I'll remember it.
I returned to Kiddie Kandids on Friday, but this time I made an appointment. Despite all attempts at promptness, I hit traffic, construction and Jackson's willpower and ended up being late. I tried 3 or 4 times to call the studio to let them know I would be a few minutes behind, but got a busy signal every single time. I apologized when I got there and the photographer (that seems generous, I think "camera operator" is probably more appropriate term) said that "she was on the phone with her superior." Does "superior" translate into "boyfriend" in any English-related dialects? No matter. She was still finishing up someone else's photos when I arrived, so I didn't feel so very bad for being late.
We got down to pictures and, all in all, they went pretty well. Except that Jackson thought it looked like great fun, so he climbed down from the shopping cart and attempted to get in the picture with Addy. And distracted her so she looked at him instead of the camera. And generally interrupted the process however possible.
When I made the appointment, they informed me that the studio was under new ownership and a few things had changed. For one thing, they didn't print out your photos immediately any more: you had to wait two weeks and come back. That was definitely sad news, but hey, it still beat having to park at the mall, find the elevator at JCPenney's and wait 45 minutes when you had an appointment, right? I still got to pick out the photos on the spot. The difficulty was that there was someone with an appointment for pictures immediately after me and the other girl who was supposed to be working that morning hadn't shown up yet. So the camera operator asked if I could come back in 15 minutes to pick out the photos. Addy was getting fussy and wanted to nurse, so that actually worked out rather well. I went and nursed Addy in the mother's room (at least one plus for being in a Babies'R'Us store) and then went back. And waited. And waited. And waited. It was at least 30 minutes after I got back from nursing Addy that I waited just to get a chance to look through my pictures to pick which ones I wanted. You can imagine how patient and obedient Jackson was by the time we had puttered around a store for 45 minutes.
Finally, camera operator #2 showed up and she was able to help me look at my pictures. With only a quick "Sorry, I was detained," for my 45 minutes of confinement in a store with a two-year-old and a baby, we went on to the pleasant process of selecting pictures with a whiny two-year-old who refused to stay near me. "Just wait a moment please, while I put together some collages for you. Typically we do this during the 15 minutes while you are waiting," she added. I internally retorted, "I don't need to pay extra for fancy writing and a cheesy border. Just show me my pictures already. Finally we got to it.
"Let me show you our Premiere package," she began. "Actually," I interrupted her, "I just want four 8x10s please." She stared in disbelief, like I had just turned down a chance to purchase a Picasso for pennies and then proceeded with her spiel, adding only, "Well, just in case, let me show you our packages anyway." Translation: I am forced to try to sell this to you. It is my job. I don't care that you have a fussy baby and a whiny two-year-old, of whose whereabouts you are now uncertain. So I sat while she patiently explained that while the Premiere package was $999.99, it was on sale for only $459.99 and with the special discounts running right now it was a bargain at $429.99. She finally got to the last package and emphasized that this was the last package that included the CD with the digital images and rights to the photos. If you opted out of the wall portrait, it was only $199.99! I earned myself another shocked stare when I turned this opportunity down without a second thought. "But what if you want them someday?" she protested. Hmmm... maybe I'll take that money and use it on a real photographer?
I finally got to the photos themselves. I asked if there was any way to compare two photos side by side. There wasn't. So back and forth we went. I tried to go as quickly as I could in between breaks to race off and drag Jackson back from whatever part of the store he had wandered off to or lure him back with a toy. As I sorted past photos I didn't like, she would interject, "I really like that one. It's so cute." Or she would randomly butt in and say, "I think you should get this one with the fluorescent green border. It really brightens it up!" Well I don't, OK?
I tried to keep Jackson in the near vicinity by grabbing some toys or the floor model of a tricycle for him to play with and the camera operator had the gall to scold him at one point, "You need to be careful! This isn't a playground!" Well, he wouldn't be at the end of his rope already if we hadn't been waiting for 45 minutes (through the middle of his lunchtime) for you to show up for work! By the time we finished we had been there for two and half hours. With no lunch.
I finally got my four 8x10s, as predicted, along with a sheet of 5x7s and a free collage. That is, I got them ordered. I still have to go back and pick them up. So, how is that for being more convenient than JCPenney? I had to make an appointment, I had to wait around forever, I have to come back and pick the pictures up later. Well, at least I didn't have to go up an elevator....
I returned to Kiddie Kandids on Friday, but this time I made an appointment. Despite all attempts at promptness, I hit traffic, construction and Jackson's willpower and ended up being late. I tried 3 or 4 times to call the studio to let them know I would be a few minutes behind, but got a busy signal every single time. I apologized when I got there and the photographer (that seems generous, I think "camera operator" is probably more appropriate term) said that "she was on the phone with her superior." Does "superior" translate into "boyfriend" in any English-related dialects? No matter. She was still finishing up someone else's photos when I arrived, so I didn't feel so very bad for being late.
We got down to pictures and, all in all, they went pretty well. Except that Jackson thought it looked like great fun, so he climbed down from the shopping cart and attempted to get in the picture with Addy. And distracted her so she looked at him instead of the camera. And generally interrupted the process however possible.
When I made the appointment, they informed me that the studio was under new ownership and a few things had changed. For one thing, they didn't print out your photos immediately any more: you had to wait two weeks and come back. That was definitely sad news, but hey, it still beat having to park at the mall, find the elevator at JCPenney's and wait 45 minutes when you had an appointment, right? I still got to pick out the photos on the spot. The difficulty was that there was someone with an appointment for pictures immediately after me and the other girl who was supposed to be working that morning hadn't shown up yet. So the camera operator asked if I could come back in 15 minutes to pick out the photos. Addy was getting fussy and wanted to nurse, so that actually worked out rather well. I went and nursed Addy in the mother's room (at least one plus for being in a Babies'R'Us store) and then went back. And waited. And waited. And waited. It was at least 30 minutes after I got back from nursing Addy that I waited just to get a chance to look through my pictures to pick which ones I wanted. You can imagine how patient and obedient Jackson was by the time we had puttered around a store for 45 minutes.
Finally, camera operator #2 showed up and she was able to help me look at my pictures. With only a quick "Sorry, I was detained," for my 45 minutes of confinement in a store with a two-year-old and a baby, we went on to the pleasant process of selecting pictures with a whiny two-year-old who refused to stay near me. "Just wait a moment please, while I put together some collages for you. Typically we do this during the 15 minutes while you are waiting," she added. I internally retorted, "I don't need to pay extra for fancy writing and a cheesy border. Just show me my pictures already. Finally we got to it.
"Let me show you our Premiere package," she began. "Actually," I interrupted her, "I just want four 8x10s please." She stared in disbelief, like I had just turned down a chance to purchase a Picasso for pennies and then proceeded with her spiel, adding only, "Well, just in case, let me show you our packages anyway." Translation: I am forced to try to sell this to you. It is my job. I don't care that you have a fussy baby and a whiny two-year-old, of whose whereabouts you are now uncertain. So I sat while she patiently explained that while the Premiere package was $999.99, it was on sale for only $459.99 and with the special discounts running right now it was a bargain at $429.99. She finally got to the last package and emphasized that this was the last package that included the CD with the digital images and rights to the photos. If you opted out of the wall portrait, it was only $199.99! I earned myself another shocked stare when I turned this opportunity down without a second thought. "But what if you want them someday?" she protested. Hmmm... maybe I'll take that money and use it on a real photographer?
I finally got to the photos themselves. I asked if there was any way to compare two photos side by side. There wasn't. So back and forth we went. I tried to go as quickly as I could in between breaks to race off and drag Jackson back from whatever part of the store he had wandered off to or lure him back with a toy. As I sorted past photos I didn't like, she would interject, "I really like that one. It's so cute." Or she would randomly butt in and say, "I think you should get this one with the fluorescent green border. It really brightens it up!" Well I don't, OK?
I tried to keep Jackson in the near vicinity by grabbing some toys or the floor model of a tricycle for him to play with and the camera operator had the gall to scold him at one point, "You need to be careful! This isn't a playground!" Well, he wouldn't be at the end of his rope already if we hadn't been waiting for 45 minutes (through the middle of his lunchtime) for you to show up for work! By the time we finished we had been there for two and half hours. With no lunch.
I finally got my four 8x10s, as predicted, along with a sheet of 5x7s and a free collage. That is, I got them ordered. I still have to go back and pick them up. So, how is that for being more convenient than JCPenney? I had to make an appointment, I had to wait around forever, I have to come back and pick the pictures up later. Well, at least I didn't have to go up an elevator....
My Blogging Love Language
I loved this post: http://mormonmommyblogs.blogspot.com/2010/06/5-languages-of-blogging.html
P.S. Yes. I am a comment junkie. It makes my day. Unless you're a Chinese spammer.
P.S. Yes. I am a comment junkie. It makes my day. Unless you're a Chinese spammer.
Friday, June 4, 2010
More on "Some Days"
So my day wasn't really over yet with that last post, I was just tired of writing in present-tense. (It gets annoying really fast.)
After re-realizing yet again why it is that I don't usually attempt arduous tasks like folding laundry, I piled Addy and Jackson into the car to run errands. When Camryn came down this morning she said, "Mom, I need $16.69 or I don't get a class party." It turns out what she really meant was that she couldn't find her library book and unless she returned it or brought replacement money they wouldn't get a class party. I asked if she'd looked for it and she said, "Yes. I've looked everywhere." So I told her to eat her breakfast and I raced around the house, looking behind Camryn's bed and in the toy bins, but to no avail. Two minutes after Camryn had left for the bus, I saw her lunch sitting on the counter and I looked in a pile of papers on the paper-stacker where we put homework. Book found. Lovely. So basically that was a really long way of explaining why my first errand was to the school.
At this point Jackson was hungry, so I drove through Taco Bell and got him a cheese roll-up to eat while I sat in the parking lot preparing a bank deposit. When I checked to see how much he'd eaten, I saw a small stump of cheese roll-up by his feet and the rest was gone. Upon further examination I found that he had fed most of his cheese roll-up to Addy, who looked like she had enjoyed it immensely. After I drove through the bank, I pulled into a parking space to take a break to nurse Addy, who was starting to fuss. She had a stinky diaper... which had leaked onto her clothes. Which wouldn't be a problem except that I had 6 Jackson-sized diapers in the diaper bag and not a single one for Addy. After some creative folding, I got her changed and nursed her in the scenic parking lot.
Meanwhile, Jackson started to get fussy. He seemed hungry-- maybe that was because he fed his lunch to his 8-month-old sister. Baby back in seat, drive back to house, dump dirty clothes and diaper, get correct-sized diapers for Addy and milk cup for Jackson and off again.
In our family we wait to take baby pictures until the baby can sit up by herself. But Addy has been able to sit for a while now and is now 8 months old --and I still haven't gotten a studio picture of her taken. Even though it's been at the top of my list for over a week it still hasn't happened, so today, I determined, would be the day. We drove off to Babies'R'Us because they have a KiddieKandids that doesn't require an appointment. (I used to go to JCPenney but after enough experiences of waiting for an hour after my appointment before we got our pictures taken I just gave up.)
I got to Babies'R'Us and dinked around for a few minutes to see if they had an outfit there that was cuter than the one I brought. Jackson was still hungry (shocker, after how much of his lunch he fed to Addy) and was starting to whine for snacks, so I went to the back of the store and got a bag of baby cookies so he had something to snack on. Hopefully this would bribe Jackson to stay in the cart long enough to get Adelyn's picture taken.
I finally got up to the Kiddie Kandids desk and asked when their next appointment was. The lady cheerfully replied, "We have one at 3:00 pm." It was 1:42.... When I asked if there was anything earlier, she said, "I'm taking this customer at 1:45 and then we close for lunch from 2-3." Really... that's intuitive. I'm sure glad that wasn't posted on their website when I checked. The reasonable part of me realized that this was my fault. I should have called and made an appointment. I should have gotten an "appointment" as soon as I walked in the store. Honestly, I had been there before and never required an appointment or had them close from 2-3. But the unreasonable part of my was spitting mad. Did they realize that I drove 20 minutes through construction with a two-year-old and a baby just to come get her picture taken, not to mention wrestling Jackson through the store, trying to keep him in the cart? And I had to be home by 2:30 for the older kids to get home from school?
I wandered through the store, ready to punch somebody or at least put a two-year-old up for sale. At this point Jackson was trying to climb out of the cart seat and into the basket. He was putting a cookie in his mouth just long enough to get slobber on it and then spitting it out into the cart, where it was landing on the cute dress that I brought for Addy to wear in her picture. I don't believe in corporal punishment, but I had an overwhelming urge to smack that kid until he sat down in that cart and did what I said, but self-control prevailed at least in part and I contented my self with growling threats through clenched teeth. I got the handful of other things I needed and went to check out. By this time both children were upset and fussy. I imagine I didn't look very friendly. The checker asked, "Rough day?" Yeah. You could say that.
I wish I could say it got better. I got home and Camryn was a pill. We did her piano lesson and she had checked the box on her assignment sheet twice for a worksheet that she never did at all. During Jared's lesson we had weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth because I had the gall to ask him to play the right hand alone, "forte" like it was marked. And I asked him to practice slow!!!!!!! (Sob! The indignity of it all! The tragic, tragic horrible-ness....) "Mom," he explained in a cross between a growl and a sob, "how am I supposed to play it fast when I've practiced it slow?" "Jared," I responded in what was just plain a growl, "which one of us studied piano for 20 years (including studying just piano in college) and has taken lessons with famous teachers who are experts in the field just so she could know the best way to practice? I don't think it was you. So why are you trying to tell me the best way to do it?" (It turns out he was just expecting to pass off his piece right away and once he passed off one of his pieces on the first try he was happy as a lark.)
Grand illusions of cooking a beautiful, nutritious meal for dinner evolved into a plan to cook the corn on the cob before it went bad to supplement leftover mac and cheese. I sat Jackson up to eat, but he ate a few bites and then started chucking his food to the floor. I took away his high chair tray but then made multiple attempts to get him to eat more, to no avail. After dinner, the kids started building a fort out of chair cushions and Jackson's slide and a few minutes later Camryn erupted into a cacophony of savage screams, "Jared ruined my invention before I even got to try it!" By this point I had had enough. I sent Camryn and Jared to bed for the night at 7:00 pm followed by putting Jackson to bed. At this point, Jackson realized he was hungry. But I was not in the mood to be merciful, having spent 20 minutes trying to get him to eat that only resulted in him throwing food on my newly-mopped floor. So his sobs of, "My milk! My milk!" (as if maybe his milk would show compassion on him, now that his horrible mother wouldn't) fell on deaf ears. Sorry buddy, if you won't eat every time I sit you up, you feed all of your lunch to your sister and you've already had 5 cups of milk today that's what you're going to get.
Such was my day. The mother with the "lovely smile" who "cooks watermelon" that Camryn immortalized in her Mother's Day poem had turned into the wicked, evil stepmother. I guess I'll go buy a broom.
After re-realizing yet again why it is that I don't usually attempt arduous tasks like folding laundry, I piled Addy and Jackson into the car to run errands. When Camryn came down this morning she said, "Mom, I need $16.69 or I don't get a class party." It turns out what she really meant was that she couldn't find her library book and unless she returned it or brought replacement money they wouldn't get a class party. I asked if she'd looked for it and she said, "Yes. I've looked everywhere." So I told her to eat her breakfast and I raced around the house, looking behind Camryn's bed and in the toy bins, but to no avail. Two minutes after Camryn had left for the bus, I saw her lunch sitting on the counter and I looked in a pile of papers on the paper-stacker where we put homework. Book found. Lovely. So basically that was a really long way of explaining why my first errand was to the school.
At this point Jackson was hungry, so I drove through Taco Bell and got him a cheese roll-up to eat while I sat in the parking lot preparing a bank deposit. When I checked to see how much he'd eaten, I saw a small stump of cheese roll-up by his feet and the rest was gone. Upon further examination I found that he had fed most of his cheese roll-up to Addy, who looked like she had enjoyed it immensely. After I drove through the bank, I pulled into a parking space to take a break to nurse Addy, who was starting to fuss. She had a stinky diaper... which had leaked onto her clothes. Which wouldn't be a problem except that I had 6 Jackson-sized diapers in the diaper bag and not a single one for Addy. After some creative folding, I got her changed and nursed her in the scenic parking lot.
Meanwhile, Jackson started to get fussy. He seemed hungry-- maybe that was because he fed his lunch to his 8-month-old sister. Baby back in seat, drive back to house, dump dirty clothes and diaper, get correct-sized diapers for Addy and milk cup for Jackson and off again.
In our family we wait to take baby pictures until the baby can sit up by herself. But Addy has been able to sit for a while now and is now 8 months old --and I still haven't gotten a studio picture of her taken. Even though it's been at the top of my list for over a week it still hasn't happened, so today, I determined, would be the day. We drove off to Babies'R'Us because they have a KiddieKandids that doesn't require an appointment. (I used to go to JCPenney but after enough experiences of waiting for an hour after my appointment before we got our pictures taken I just gave up.)
I got to Babies'R'Us and dinked around for a few minutes to see if they had an outfit there that was cuter than the one I brought. Jackson was still hungry (shocker, after how much of his lunch he fed to Addy) and was starting to whine for snacks, so I went to the back of the store and got a bag of baby cookies so he had something to snack on. Hopefully this would bribe Jackson to stay in the cart long enough to get Adelyn's picture taken.
I finally got up to the Kiddie Kandids desk and asked when their next appointment was. The lady cheerfully replied, "We have one at 3:00 pm." It was 1:42.... When I asked if there was anything earlier, she said, "I'm taking this customer at 1:45 and then we close for lunch from 2-3." Really... that's intuitive. I'm sure glad that wasn't posted on their website when I checked. The reasonable part of me realized that this was my fault. I should have called and made an appointment. I should have gotten an "appointment" as soon as I walked in the store. Honestly, I had been there before and never required an appointment or had them close from 2-3. But the unreasonable part of my was spitting mad. Did they realize that I drove 20 minutes through construction with a two-year-old and a baby just to come get her picture taken, not to mention wrestling Jackson through the store, trying to keep him in the cart? And I had to be home by 2:30 for the older kids to get home from school?
I wandered through the store, ready to punch somebody or at least put a two-year-old up for sale. At this point Jackson was trying to climb out of the cart seat and into the basket. He was putting a cookie in his mouth just long enough to get slobber on it and then spitting it out into the cart, where it was landing on the cute dress that I brought for Addy to wear in her picture. I don't believe in corporal punishment, but I had an overwhelming urge to smack that kid until he sat down in that cart and did what I said, but self-control prevailed at least in part and I contented my self with growling threats through clenched teeth. I got the handful of other things I needed and went to check out. By this time both children were upset and fussy. I imagine I didn't look very friendly. The checker asked, "Rough day?" Yeah. You could say that.
I wish I could say it got better. I got home and Camryn was a pill. We did her piano lesson and she had checked the box on her assignment sheet twice for a worksheet that she never did at all. During Jared's lesson we had weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth because I had the gall to ask him to play the right hand alone, "forte" like it was marked. And I asked him to practice slow!!!!!!! (Sob! The indignity of it all! The tragic, tragic horrible-ness....) "Mom," he explained in a cross between a growl and a sob, "how am I supposed to play it fast when I've practiced it slow?" "Jared," I responded in what was just plain a growl, "which one of us studied piano for 20 years (including studying just piano in college) and has taken lessons with famous teachers who are experts in the field just so she could know the best way to practice? I don't think it was you. So why are you trying to tell me the best way to do it?" (It turns out he was just expecting to pass off his piece right away and once he passed off one of his pieces on the first try he was happy as a lark.)
Grand illusions of cooking a beautiful, nutritious meal for dinner evolved into a plan to cook the corn on the cob before it went bad to supplement leftover mac and cheese. I sat Jackson up to eat, but he ate a few bites and then started chucking his food to the floor. I took away his high chair tray but then made multiple attempts to get him to eat more, to no avail. After dinner, the kids started building a fort out of chair cushions and Jackson's slide and a few minutes later Camryn erupted into a cacophony of savage screams, "Jared ruined my invention before I even got to try it!" By this point I had had enough. I sent Camryn and Jared to bed for the night at 7:00 pm followed by putting Jackson to bed. At this point, Jackson realized he was hungry. But I was not in the mood to be merciful, having spent 20 minutes trying to get him to eat that only resulted in him throwing food on my newly-mopped floor. So his sobs of, "My milk! My milk!" (as if maybe his milk would show compassion on him, now that his horrible mother wouldn't) fell on deaf ears. Sorry buddy, if you won't eat every time I sit you up, you feed all of your lunch to your sister and you've already had 5 cups of milk today that's what you're going to get.
Such was my day. The mother with the "lovely smile" who "cooks watermelon" that Camryn immortalized in her Mother's Day poem had turned into the wicked, evil stepmother. I guess I'll go buy a broom.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Some Days
Today I decided to make a redoubled attempt to just get done what needs to get done. No more of this beating around the bush and getting distracted. If you just give enough ooomph to something you can make it happen. "So let it be written. So let it be done." (Somebody watched "The Ten Commandments" too many times as a "Sunday movie" as a kid.)
A.M.
Get Jackson dressed: check. (The "Want Jammies, No pants!!" tantrum only lasted about 3 minutes today. Woohoo!) Sit Jackson up with his breakfast: check. Start loading the huge pile of dishes from the night before, squish the ant that is exploring the drippings on our counter, shoo Jackson away from the dishwasher, refill Jackson's milk cup, give Addy a new toy to play with, what was I doing again? Oh yeah, the dishwasher. Back to the dishwasher. Jackson starts crawling on the counters and getting into stuff. I get him down. Did I remember to eat breakfast? No... so I put a piece of bread in the toaster. I get Jackson back onto the bar stool, making sure there aren't any crayons or pens in his reach. What was I doing again? Dishwasher, that's right. Back to the dishes. But there was something else I needed... what was it? Toast! Dangit, it's cold already. Put it back in for a second, get Jackson to sit up with his food, pop it out before it burns (phew), put on some Nutella. Now Jackson says, "Tella! Tella!" so I get him some on his piece of toast. Wasn't I doing something? Oh yes, the dishes. I take a bite of toast and go back to the dishes.
After a few dishes I turn to check on Jackson and he is down from the bar stool smearing brown Nutella hands on some object. I pull him back, wipe him up and decide maybe he is done. I grab Addy and we go up stairs. Laundry. Give Addy toys, Jackson a book; attempt to fold laundry: Jackson climbs on my lap. "Awwww. How sweet." I keep folding but after a few minutes my arms get tired and he starts grabbing at the laundry. Addy starts to fuss. "Wait, I forgot to feed Addy breakfast." We all go back downstairs, I sit her up and start scooping baby food in her mouth. "Wasn't there something I left down here? My toast, wait I only took two bites of it. I need to eat." I go across the room, pick up my toast and take a bite. While I'm gone for 5 seconds, Jackson picks up Addy's spoon and starts shoveling food in her mouth. He has also figured out how to take the lid of the new-fangled rice cereal container (I thought maybe a screw-top lid would keep him out. Nope.) and is licking the pour-spout and peeking inside.
Maybe we should just can this whole thing and go somewhere. But there was something I needed to do first... what was it? Oh yeah, the dishes.
A.M.
Get Jackson dressed: check. (The "Want Jammies, No pants!!" tantrum only lasted about 3 minutes today. Woohoo!) Sit Jackson up with his breakfast: check. Start loading the huge pile of dishes from the night before, squish the ant that is exploring the drippings on our counter, shoo Jackson away from the dishwasher, refill Jackson's milk cup, give Addy a new toy to play with, what was I doing again? Oh yeah, the dishwasher. Back to the dishwasher. Jackson starts crawling on the counters and getting into stuff. I get him down. Did I remember to eat breakfast? No... so I put a piece of bread in the toaster. I get Jackson back onto the bar stool, making sure there aren't any crayons or pens in his reach. What was I doing again? Dishwasher, that's right. Back to the dishes. But there was something else I needed... what was it? Toast! Dangit, it's cold already. Put it back in for a second, get Jackson to sit up with his food, pop it out before it burns (phew), put on some Nutella. Now Jackson says, "Tella! Tella!" so I get him some on his piece of toast. Wasn't I doing something? Oh yes, the dishes. I take a bite of toast and go back to the dishes.
After a few dishes I turn to check on Jackson and he is down from the bar stool smearing brown Nutella hands on some object. I pull him back, wipe him up and decide maybe he is done. I grab Addy and we go up stairs. Laundry. Give Addy toys, Jackson a book; attempt to fold laundry: Jackson climbs on my lap. "Awwww. How sweet." I keep folding but after a few minutes my arms get tired and he starts grabbing at the laundry. Addy starts to fuss. "Wait, I forgot to feed Addy breakfast." We all go back downstairs, I sit her up and start scooping baby food in her mouth. "Wasn't there something I left down here? My toast, wait I only took two bites of it. I need to eat." I go across the room, pick up my toast and take a bite. While I'm gone for 5 seconds, Jackson picks up Addy's spoon and starts shoveling food in her mouth. He has also figured out how to take the lid of the new-fangled rice cereal container (I thought maybe a screw-top lid would keep him out. Nope.) and is licking the pour-spout and peeking inside.
Maybe we should just can this whole thing and go somewhere. But there was something I needed to do first... what was it? Oh yeah, the dishes.
Whenever I Think About Pioneers...
A while ago I went to Costco to go grocery shopping. Adelyn was asleep, so I took her in the store in her baby car seat, which I put in the cart. I lured Jackson into the shopping cart seat with a hot dog and went about my shopping. Midway through the store Addy woke up so I put her in the front pack. I had a huge pile of groceries, so eventually there wasn't room for her car seat in the cart. At the end, Jackson started getting fussy so I made the grave mistake of getting him out of the cart while we were paying for our groceries at the cash register. Of course my chances of getting him back in the cart after that were nil.
I pondered how best to get myself and company out to the car in the rain: a baby strapped to my chest, a double-wide shopping cart- piled over the top with groceries and diapers, a baby car seat carrier that didn't readily fit anywhere and an energetic two-year-old running all over the place trying to avoid being caught, refusing to go back in the cart. I finally piled the car seat on top of the cart, took a deep breath, picked up my 35-pound two-year-old with one arm, and pulling the shopping cart with the other trudged out to the car in the rain.
As I walked out, an amusing spectacle to other Costco customers, I thought, "I feel just like a pioneer! Pulling my handcart with my belongings and children out into the rain." To my air-conditioned/heated car, to drive home to my spacious, modern centrally-heated house. With a car full of disposable diapers and fresh groceries that would boggle any pioneer's mind. So maybe it wasn't just like being a pioneer.
Maybe it's just having too much time on my hands, but I've often wondered what it would be like to be a pioneer or just to live in the 1800's in general. I had Mormon pioneer ancestors who crossed the plains in covered wagons and I am amazed at their strength and determination. I've read "Little House on the Prairie" and it amazes me how Ma can pick up and move time and time again. Or reading novels like "These is My Words" leads me to mull over how on earth you could live in Arizona with no air-conditioning. Or how you could handle 5 children while your husband left to fight in the army in an era of no disposable diapers? Or exactly how would you dry laundry in the freezing winter? Especially if you lived in a small one-room cabin to begin with....
Usually I end up with the conclusion that I am a total wimp. Not just a wimp, but a lazy wimp. I complain about doing my laundry when I have not one, but two front-loading washers and dryers (yes, the woman who built this house before we lived here and insisted on that feature was truly brilliant). Because I have to fold it and that's hard and boring. So instead I let my laundry pile up in the upstairs hallway while I sit on my computer and write blogs about it and ponder important things like whether this blog post has too many italics.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not an ungrateful wretch. On the contrary, I'm deeply grateful. After all, I am only one generation removed from when cloth diapers were your only option. (Can you imagine how considerably less comfortable of an arrangement co-sleeping would be in the era of cloth diapers?) Every single time I change a diaper I thank my lucky stars for the invention of disposables. I've also thought about inventing disposable socks that don't need to be sorted and folded. :)
It definitely would have been a hard life to be a pioneer, but there would have been things that were good about it too, like working together as a family and not being so split up all the time or not having all of the pressures of modern life. And maybe there are parts of my cushy modern life that a pioneer wouldn't really like that much. They probably wouldn't like that you can't just send your kids out to roam on your 10 acres of land. Or getting in trouble with your HOA for having chickens in your backyard (that was for you, Emily). Or maybe they couldn't stand having a backyard the size of a postage stamp. We have a whole slew of different expectations. They might hate the fact that while we have plentiful delicious food to eat, if you want to be considered attractive you should renounce it and try to look like you're starving. (Or maybe that has always been part of being female.) They might even share my dislike of sorting through the piles of papers that get sent home from school in my kids' backpacks. Maybe they wouldn't like dragging a two-year-old through Costco. :)
But regardless of what a pioneer would or wouldn't have thought of my life, I'm pretty sure that if one of my pioneer ancestors was placed in my shoes, they wouldn't think , "Let's be sure to make sure I feel bad every day because I'm a wimp and don't live in a log cabin and trudge through the Oregon rain and mud to get my water every day." So I guess all anyone can do in their given situation is to enjoy what you can for what it is and be grateful.
I pondered how best to get myself and company out to the car in the rain: a baby strapped to my chest, a double-wide shopping cart- piled over the top with groceries and diapers, a baby car seat carrier that didn't readily fit anywhere and an energetic two-year-old running all over the place trying to avoid being caught, refusing to go back in the cart. I finally piled the car seat on top of the cart, took a deep breath, picked up my 35-pound two-year-old with one arm, and pulling the shopping cart with the other trudged out to the car in the rain.
As I walked out, an amusing spectacle to other Costco customers, I thought, "I feel just like a pioneer! Pulling my handcart with my belongings and children out into the rain." To my air-conditioned/heated car, to drive home to my spacious, modern centrally-heated house. With a car full of disposable diapers and fresh groceries that would boggle any pioneer's mind. So maybe it wasn't just like being a pioneer.
Maybe it's just having too much time on my hands, but I've often wondered what it would be like to be a pioneer or just to live in the 1800's in general. I had Mormon pioneer ancestors who crossed the plains in covered wagons and I am amazed at their strength and determination. I've read "Little House on the Prairie" and it amazes me how Ma can pick up and move time and time again. Or reading novels like "These is My Words" leads me to mull over how on earth you could live in Arizona with no air-conditioning. Or how you could handle 5 children while your husband left to fight in the army in an era of no disposable diapers? Or exactly how would you dry laundry in the freezing winter? Especially if you lived in a small one-room cabin to begin with....
Usually I end up with the conclusion that I am a total wimp. Not just a wimp, but a lazy wimp. I complain about doing my laundry when I have not one, but two front-loading washers and dryers (yes, the woman who built this house before we lived here and insisted on that feature was truly brilliant). Because I have to fold it and that's hard and boring. So instead I let my laundry pile up in the upstairs hallway while I sit on my computer and write blogs about it and ponder important things like whether this blog post has too many italics.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not an ungrateful wretch. On the contrary, I'm deeply grateful. After all, I am only one generation removed from when cloth diapers were your only option. (Can you imagine how considerably less comfortable of an arrangement co-sleeping would be in the era of cloth diapers?) Every single time I change a diaper I thank my lucky stars for the invention of disposables. I've also thought about inventing disposable socks that don't need to be sorted and folded. :)
It definitely would have been a hard life to be a pioneer, but there would have been things that were good about it too, like working together as a family and not being so split up all the time or not having all of the pressures of modern life. And maybe there are parts of my cushy modern life that a pioneer wouldn't really like that much. They probably wouldn't like that you can't just send your kids out to roam on your 10 acres of land. Or getting in trouble with your HOA for having chickens in your backyard (that was for you, Emily). Or maybe they couldn't stand having a backyard the size of a postage stamp. We have a whole slew of different expectations. They might hate the fact that while we have plentiful delicious food to eat, if you want to be considered attractive you should renounce it and try to look like you're starving. (Or maybe that has always been part of being female.) They might even share my dislike of sorting through the piles of papers that get sent home from school in my kids' backpacks. Maybe they wouldn't like dragging a two-year-old through Costco. :)
But regardless of what a pioneer would or wouldn't have thought of my life, I'm pretty sure that if one of my pioneer ancestors was placed in my shoes, they wouldn't think , "Let's be sure to make sure I feel bad every day because I'm a wimp and don't live in a log cabin and trudge through the Oregon rain and mud to get my water every day." So I guess all anyone can do in their given situation is to enjoy what you can for what it is and be grateful.
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