So there we are, going through our morning routine, and it seems as though it's going to be a day like any other. Until we back out of the garage...and hit a 20 foot limb that's fallen across the driveway.
This one wasn't as big as the one that fell and damaged the fence on Wednesday, but it was still a doozie. We dragged it out of the way and took off for the train station.
This tree has made us nervous for years, and all the rain in the last week has seemed to weaken it greatly by saturating the limbs.
We've been lucky so far, in that it hasn't dropped anything on the house, the car or one of us.
But I guess we're going to need to come up with that $2000 to take it down sooner rather than later.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
It Just Is
I thought August was supposed to be hot and dry...what's the deal with the weather lately? 70 and rainy - that's okay for April, but this is getting old! I'm not usually one to complain about the weather, but it's freaking August and I wore long jeans today. Could have done with a hoodie too, but had to leave it home on principle alone.
Work didn't suck. That makes me happy. :)
Julie Time today was a battle of wills. My 2-year-old decided that all of a sudden she didn't want to do anything - and I mean anything - Julie's way. Every activity bore a new battle...and if you've never matched wills with a 2-year-old Autistic kid then you just don't even understand the concept. Meltdown after meltown. Screaming, kicking and flailing. It was not a good day for The Princess and Julie.
Forty minutes or so into her usual hour session, Julie was forced to give up. The Hubbs took The Princess to her room for a "time-out". When she gets like this, the only thing that will cool her off is some Alone Time in her bedroom.
While The Princess screamed herself into oblivion, Julie stayed late to talk to us again. We've been dancing around the subject for months, and today we talked more specifically about The Princess's issues.
Julie is a fantastic resource, and I wouldn't trade her for the world. That's why it's such a pain that she doesn't happen to work with our current insurance...come April, the state-funding runs out and we either need to switch therapists or pay about $40 more each paycheck ($80+ a month) to switch to PPO so we can stick with her.
Not a big fan of the whole insurance bureaucracy, personally, but you've got to play the game if you want to get your benefits. Heaven forbid they actually cover something the first time through.
Within the next few months The Princess will be formally diagnosed as Autistic, and I'll be drowning in paperwork with referrals and general information about all of the related hullaballoo. We'll do everything we can to prepare and make the (hopefully) right decisions as far as insurance goes.
Most likely, The Princess will also be starting work with additional therapists for occupational , and possibly developmental and/or physical, therapy. There's an awful lot about my daughter that seems to scream Look at me, I'm Autistic, but on the other hand she is doing a few things that some Autistic kids can't do until much later - if at all. It's all very confusing and I guess I just need this time to vent.
We all know Autism isn't as cut-and-dry as it used to be. Just because you're labeled as Autistic doesn't mean you're going to grow up to be Rain Man. There's a whole spectrum, from mild to severe. Some Autistic people can function normally in social situations, and some can't.
No matter what, she's still our kiddo and we love her unconditionally. I just hope with every little piece of my heart that the rest of the world will come to the same conclusion. I know that she will be fine, and she will still be her no matter what.
It's the other people who make me nervous.
The kid who always takes the teasing just a little too far; the grown man with no children who thinks it's okay to groan loudly when kids have the audacity to make a sound in a public place; and the other soccer moms down the line.
This is not something to poke fun at. Don't roll your eyes or yell at the kid's parents to shut them up. It's not pitiful.
It just is, and I hope you can see past that to the wonderful little girl behind those big innocent blue eyes.
Work didn't suck. That makes me happy. :)
Julie Time today was a battle of wills. My 2-year-old decided that all of a sudden she didn't want to do anything - and I mean anything - Julie's way. Every activity bore a new battle...and if you've never matched wills with a 2-year-old Autistic kid then you just don't even understand the concept. Meltdown after meltown. Screaming, kicking and flailing. It was not a good day for The Princess and Julie.
Forty minutes or so into her usual hour session, Julie was forced to give up. The Hubbs took The Princess to her room for a "time-out". When she gets like this, the only thing that will cool her off is some Alone Time in her bedroom.
While The Princess screamed herself into oblivion, Julie stayed late to talk to us again. We've been dancing around the subject for months, and today we talked more specifically about The Princess's issues.
Julie is a fantastic resource, and I wouldn't trade her for the world. That's why it's such a pain that she doesn't happen to work with our current insurance...come April, the state-funding runs out and we either need to switch therapists or pay about $40 more each paycheck ($80+ a month) to switch to PPO so we can stick with her.
Not a big fan of the whole insurance bureaucracy, personally, but you've got to play the game if you want to get your benefits. Heaven forbid they actually cover something the first time through.
Within the next few months The Princess will be formally diagnosed as Autistic, and I'll be drowning in paperwork with referrals and general information about all of the related hullaballoo. We'll do everything we can to prepare and make the (hopefully) right decisions as far as insurance goes.
Most likely, The Princess will also be starting work with additional therapists for occupational , and possibly developmental and/or physical, therapy. There's an awful lot about my daughter that seems to scream Look at me, I'm Autistic, but on the other hand she is doing a few things that some Autistic kids can't do until much later - if at all. It's all very confusing and I guess I just need this time to vent.
We all know Autism isn't as cut-and-dry as it used to be. Just because you're labeled as Autistic doesn't mean you're going to grow up to be Rain Man. There's a whole spectrum, from mild to severe. Some Autistic people can function normally in social situations, and some can't.
No matter what, she's still our kiddo and we love her unconditionally. I just hope with every little piece of my heart that the rest of the world will come to the same conclusion. I know that she will be fine, and she will still be her no matter what.
It's the other people who make me nervous.
The kid who always takes the teasing just a little too far; the grown man with no children who thinks it's okay to groan loudly when kids have the audacity to make a sound in a public place; and the other soccer moms down the line.
This is not something to poke fun at. Don't roll your eyes or yell at the kid's parents to shut them up. It's not pitiful.
It just is, and I hope you can see past that to the wonderful little girl behind those big innocent blue eyes.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Adventures in Tree Trimming
Sheesh, what a day!
The evil alarm clock initiated a fresh battle this morning at 5:21, much to my dismay. I had not properly prepared for combat, and felt I needed more time to rest before taking on the enemy. So I whacked him over the head until 5:45 when I had no other choice but to get up and hop in the shower. It's cruel to have to pry yourself out of bed and go to work when it's dark and raining. There should be a rule forbidding this. Time to write a letter...
I showered and dressed in the regular 5-10 minutes, retrieving The Princess from her slumber to plop her on the pot and present her with her pink Snoopy toothbrush. Sitting there brushing her teeth as I took my vitamins and put gunk in my hair, she peed like a champ. Life was good. Running a bit late, we graduated directly from the potty to the car...no pit stop at the high chair. Though it was raining fairly steadily, the ride to the train was uneventful.
I plopped myself in my seat upstairs - they're not wide enough for two people...this allows me to avoid the creepy miscrients who frequent the train - and hunkered down with the CrackBerry to check emails and Facebook. This is becoming a morning ritual...it's usually safer to finish my tea and let the train get moving steadily before I try to apply any makeup. There's a bump between Ingleside and Long lake that always seems to get me when I'm doing either eyeliner or mascara - with unflattering results of varying degrees, depending upon the weapon that is in my hand at the time we reach that point in the track. I've found it's just safer to get past Long Lake before brandishing any sharp instruments in the general vicinity of my eyes.
Just past Round Lake, my CrackBerry began playing the theme from St. Elmo's Fire as I was applying my lip gloss. "Swatta" showed up on the screen - always happy to hear from my love, I picked up right away.
The Hubbs: "You know that tree in front of the kitchen?"
Oh. Shit.
Me: "Um, yeah. Where'd it land?"
The Hubbs: "On the fence. And the branch is hanging by a thread. Oh, I have to go move the car - I think it's gonna fall. I'll call you right back."
So there I am at 6:50 AM on a train bound for Hell, with no way to turn around and help...which, of course, is all I can think about. My mind is racing, trying to imagine the damage and thanking my lucky stars he hasn't called to tell me that it's raining in the kitchen.
St. Elmo's Fire again.
Me: "Hi, is everything okay?"
The Hubbs: "Yeah, we're fine. I drove under it and got into the garage, but I don't think I can go back out for a while."
So The Hubbs called Hambone to come over and help us out...my brother, the monkey, climbed the tree and worked his magic - narrowly avoiding being knocked from the tree by a swinging branch that started going the wrong way. With a little quick thinking and some help from his F-150, the boys managed to remove the 30+ foot branch from its perch 30+ feet in the air with minimal additional damage to the fence and themselves.
For pictures, see The Hubbs' blog.
Everything was cleared up by mid-afternoon, and I'm very proud of my Swa for handling the whole ordeal.
My wonderful, lovely little family came to pick me up from the train station after work, and from there we headed straight home to have leftover pork fried rice and watch Adventureland. Hambone stopped by this evening to say yo, and he just left.
T minus 5 minutes to bedtime and counting...5...4...
The evil alarm clock initiated a fresh battle this morning at 5:21, much to my dismay. I had not properly prepared for combat, and felt I needed more time to rest before taking on the enemy. So I whacked him over the head until 5:45 when I had no other choice but to get up and hop in the shower. It's cruel to have to pry yourself out of bed and go to work when it's dark and raining. There should be a rule forbidding this. Time to write a letter...
I showered and dressed in the regular 5-10 minutes, retrieving The Princess from her slumber to plop her on the pot and present her with her pink Snoopy toothbrush. Sitting there brushing her teeth as I took my vitamins and put gunk in my hair, she peed like a champ. Life was good. Running a bit late, we graduated directly from the potty to the car...no pit stop at the high chair. Though it was raining fairly steadily, the ride to the train was uneventful.
I plopped myself in my seat upstairs - they're not wide enough for two people...this allows me to avoid the creepy miscrients who frequent the train - and hunkered down with the CrackBerry to check emails and Facebook. This is becoming a morning ritual...it's usually safer to finish my tea and let the train get moving steadily before I try to apply any makeup. There's a bump between Ingleside and Long lake that always seems to get me when I'm doing either eyeliner or mascara - with unflattering results of varying degrees, depending upon the weapon that is in my hand at the time we reach that point in the track. I've found it's just safer to get past Long Lake before brandishing any sharp instruments in the general vicinity of my eyes.
Just past Round Lake, my CrackBerry began playing the theme from St. Elmo's Fire as I was applying my lip gloss. "Swatta" showed up on the screen - always happy to hear from my love, I picked up right away.
The Hubbs: "You know that tree in front of the kitchen?"
Oh. Shit.
Me: "Um, yeah. Where'd it land?"
The Hubbs: "On the fence. And the branch is hanging by a thread. Oh, I have to go move the car - I think it's gonna fall. I'll call you right back."
So there I am at 6:50 AM on a train bound for Hell, with no way to turn around and help...which, of course, is all I can think about. My mind is racing, trying to imagine the damage and thanking my lucky stars he hasn't called to tell me that it's raining in the kitchen.
St. Elmo's Fire again.
Me: "Hi, is everything okay?"
The Hubbs: "Yeah, we're fine. I drove under it and got into the garage, but I don't think I can go back out for a while."
So The Hubbs called Hambone to come over and help us out...my brother, the monkey, climbed the tree and worked his magic - narrowly avoiding being knocked from the tree by a swinging branch that started going the wrong way. With a little quick thinking and some help from his F-150, the boys managed to remove the 30+ foot branch from its perch 30+ feet in the air with minimal additional damage to the fence and themselves.
For pictures, see The Hubbs' blog.
Everything was cleared up by mid-afternoon, and I'm very proud of my Swa for handling the whole ordeal.
My wonderful, lovely little family came to pick me up from the train station after work, and from there we headed straight home to have leftover pork fried rice and watch Adventureland. Hambone stopped by this evening to say yo, and he just left.
T minus 5 minutes to bedtime and counting...5...4...
Yesterday...All my troubles seemed so far away...
...Now it looks as though they're here to stay...Oh, I believe in yesterday...
With all that's been going on today, I almost forgot to tell y'all about yesterday! What kind of a mommy would I be if I just skimmed over the best day so far this work week?
I don't want to say it too loud, for fear that they will hear me, but work is going pretty okay. I'm pretty much caught up with most things, and I'm getting a chance to do some routine file maintenance that I have been neglecting lately due to lack of time. Yesterday was mercifully quiet, and I got started on some of this maintenance. Plugging along, the day went by quickly.
In the afternoon, my sis-in-law dropped by with her sweet little girl to return some folding chairs we had whored out for K's party on Sunday. It's always really nice to see J and K outside of the family party environment...if you're not one of this clan, you can't possibly understand the craziness that is a "simple" family party for these people! It's a huge group, and it's always great fun...just one of those situations where you feel like you've said hello to 30 people without properly visiting with any of them. And even if you didn't really do anything while you were there, you always leave exhausted. :)
The Princess and K played for a while...or to be more accurate, K started pulling out some of The Princess's old toys and my daughter decided that all of a sudden - though she hasn't touched them in months - they are once again the coolest things in the whole wide universe. And ripped them, one by one, out of K's hands and ran them back to her bedroom. Little stinker had a plan...sure, Cousin K can crawl, but The Princess can run like the wind. I'd have been mad if it wasn't so stinking cute.
After J and K left, I decided it was just about time to start making my newly-famous pork fried rice for dinner. The Hubbs, The Princess and I sat down and chowed until we couldn't chow anymore, and then sat around staring at the TV in a stupor. Come 9:00 we were all ready to hit the hay, and we slept like logs until the evil alarm clock declared war once again this morning.
With all that's been going on today, I almost forgot to tell y'all about yesterday! What kind of a mommy would I be if I just skimmed over the best day so far this work week?
I don't want to say it too loud, for fear that they will hear me, but work is going pretty okay. I'm pretty much caught up with most things, and I'm getting a chance to do some routine file maintenance that I have been neglecting lately due to lack of time. Yesterday was mercifully quiet, and I got started on some of this maintenance. Plugging along, the day went by quickly.
In the afternoon, my sis-in-law dropped by with her sweet little girl to return some folding chairs we had whored out for K's party on Sunday. It's always really nice to see J and K outside of the family party environment...if you're not one of this clan, you can't possibly understand the craziness that is a "simple" family party for these people! It's a huge group, and it's always great fun...just one of those situations where you feel like you've said hello to 30 people without properly visiting with any of them. And even if you didn't really do anything while you were there, you always leave exhausted. :)
The Princess and K played for a while...or to be more accurate, K started pulling out some of The Princess's old toys and my daughter decided that all of a sudden - though she hasn't touched them in months - they are once again the coolest things in the whole wide universe. And ripped them, one by one, out of K's hands and ran them back to her bedroom. Little stinker had a plan...sure, Cousin K can crawl, but The Princess can run like the wind. I'd have been mad if it wasn't so stinking cute.
After J and K left, I decided it was just about time to start making my newly-famous pork fried rice for dinner. The Hubbs, The Princess and I sat down and chowed until we couldn't chow anymore, and then sat around staring at the TV in a stupor. Come 9:00 we were all ready to hit the hay, and we slept like logs until the evil alarm clock declared war once again this morning.
Stupid Old Tree!
Damned thing threw another big branch at our fence, breaking my favorite planter and making an interesting archway to get into the garage. Hambone will be by today to help The Hubbs with the cleanup...for pics and more info see The Hubbs' blog.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Monday Monday
"Monday Monday, so good to me, Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be."
Believe it or not, today didn’t actually suck! Work went by swiftly and I actually got caught up with everything (for the moment anyway). I don’t like to say that out loud, for fear that they will hear me and bomb me again, but I’m throwing caution to the wind and celebrating for a moment.
The Princess fell asleep in the car on the way to pick me up from the train this afternoon, and boy did she have a fit when we woke her up after we got home. She screamed, hollered, yelled and bellowed until we finally had to lay her in her bed in the hopes that she’d settle down. Little stinker went right back to sleep!
From there I grabbed her up, put her on the potty and brought her out to the living room. She was in no shape to be left to her own devices, so I took a seat on the couch with her in my lap. Conk. Out like a light again.
The next time I woke her up I had the good sense to make it seem as though it was all her idea. She let me get up and deposit her in the high chair so I could go make inky-dinks for dinner. She chowed those things like nobody’s business, gunned a sippy cup or two, and she’s been a perpetual motion machine ever since.
The Hubbs and I watched Carolina tonight, and I really enjoyed it. I was really surprised to find that there was a romantic comedy out there with Julia Stiles in it that I haven’t already seen. I’d definitely recommend it if you’re not some kind of movie snob who poops all over romantic comedies.
So here I am, winding down in front of the computer…seems to be turning into some kind of ritual. Maybe it’s because staring at the screen makes my eyes tired? Whatever the reason, I’m just about ready for some good old-fashioned shuteye.
'Night, y'all!
Believe it or not, today didn’t actually suck! Work went by swiftly and I actually got caught up with everything (for the moment anyway). I don’t like to say that out loud, for fear that they will hear me and bomb me again, but I’m throwing caution to the wind and celebrating for a moment.
The Princess fell asleep in the car on the way to pick me up from the train this afternoon, and boy did she have a fit when we woke her up after we got home. She screamed, hollered, yelled and bellowed until we finally had to lay her in her bed in the hopes that she’d settle down. Little stinker went right back to sleep!
From there I grabbed her up, put her on the potty and brought her out to the living room. She was in no shape to be left to her own devices, so I took a seat on the couch with her in my lap. Conk. Out like a light again.
The next time I woke her up I had the good sense to make it seem as though it was all her idea. She let me get up and deposit her in the high chair so I could go make inky-dinks for dinner. She chowed those things like nobody’s business, gunned a sippy cup or two, and she’s been a perpetual motion machine ever since.
The Hubbs and I watched Carolina tonight, and I really enjoyed it. I was really surprised to find that there was a romantic comedy out there with Julia Stiles in it that I haven’t already seen. I’d definitely recommend it if you’re not some kind of movie snob who poops all over romantic comedies.
So here I am, winding down in front of the computer…seems to be turning into some kind of ritual. Maybe it’s because staring at the screen makes my eyes tired? Whatever the reason, I’m just about ready for some good old-fashioned shuteye.
'Night, y'all!
Happy Birthday to Pop and K!
What a great weekend!
On Friday we went to see Inglourious Basterds and, as I'm sure you know by now, I loved it.
Saturday was the get-everything-done-that-we-haven't-done-in-the-last-two-weeks day. I was Little Miss Efficient-Pants, clearing out the garage and hauling car-loads of stuff to the Salvation Army for donations. D stopped by to hang out, and the boys were up until 4:00 AM. I kicked the bucket by about 1:00, which is pretty impressive for me...especially considering the fact that I was up just as late the night before! Prior to sleeping where I fell, I actually had one last ounce of energy to get something done. So I cut up all of the ingredients for the gigantor salad we were bringing to The Hubbs' folks' house on Sunday. Not too bad of a job, considering I was able to do this in the middle of the night while shooting the shit with D and The Hubbs in the kitchen. :)
Yesterday was a blast. It was Pop's 53rd birthday, as well as K's 1st. Jenn and Adam pulled together quite the shindig for 40 or so of their closest friends who arrived to celebrate the one-year anniversary of The Birth of the Bear. K was unbelievably adorable in her tutu (made with love by her momma, of course!), and she was all smiles.
The Princess, having recently mastered the fine art of stair-climbing (we don't have any in our house, so she practices at the grandparents' places), was all over the place. Up and down, down and up, so cute to watch her sliding on her butt down the stairs. She'd get up and jump from the last stair to the floor, starting off in a dead run toward who/whatever she had decided was to be her next victim...I mean playmate.
Alexandria was adorable, as always, and continues to seek the impossible...affection (or even acknowledgement) from The Princess. That little girl really is a peach. :)
And there were balloons. Mylar ballons. Filled with helium. A stroke of pure genius on J's part, I have to say. What kid isn't enthralled with balloons? One of K's presents even came with a giant dragonfly balloon, which The Princess quickly commandeered. I hope Nana got a couple of good pictures...this thing was bigger than her whole little body and she insisted upon running around with it. And if I'm being perfectly honest, she also insisted upon shoving her way through the crowd while hanging onto the monstrosity by its tail, narrowly avoiding a few spilled beers (alcohol abuse!), and I'm sure she stomped on some toes in the process. Everyone was cool with her, though, for which I'm thankful.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of 4:00, The Hubbs and I were both about ready to drop. We're not used to all this excitement, people! The moment The Princess was strapped in her carseat, she conked out with her pig and her blanket, sleeping all the way home. Our evening was short, and our sleep was deep. Back to the land of the living for the next few days...I can only hope next weekend is just as fun, if not as eventful!
On Friday we went to see Inglourious Basterds and, as I'm sure you know by now, I loved it.
Saturday was the get-everything-done-that-we-haven't-done-in-the-last-two-weeks day. I was Little Miss Efficient-Pants, clearing out the garage and hauling car-loads of stuff to the Salvation Army for donations. D stopped by to hang out, and the boys were up until 4:00 AM. I kicked the bucket by about 1:00, which is pretty impressive for me...especially considering the fact that I was up just as late the night before! Prior to sleeping where I fell, I actually had one last ounce of energy to get something done. So I cut up all of the ingredients for the gigantor salad we were bringing to The Hubbs' folks' house on Sunday. Not too bad of a job, considering I was able to do this in the middle of the night while shooting the shit with D and The Hubbs in the kitchen. :)
Yesterday was a blast. It was Pop's 53rd birthday, as well as K's 1st. Jenn and Adam pulled together quite the shindig for 40 or so of their closest friends who arrived to celebrate the one-year anniversary of The Birth of the Bear. K was unbelievably adorable in her tutu (made with love by her momma, of course!), and she was all smiles.
The Princess, having recently mastered the fine art of stair-climbing (we don't have any in our house, so she practices at the grandparents' places), was all over the place. Up and down, down and up, so cute to watch her sliding on her butt down the stairs. She'd get up and jump from the last stair to the floor, starting off in a dead run toward who/whatever she had decided was to be her next victim...I mean playmate.
Alexandria was adorable, as always, and continues to seek the impossible...affection (or even acknowledgement) from The Princess. That little girl really is a peach. :)
And there were balloons. Mylar ballons. Filled with helium. A stroke of pure genius on J's part, I have to say. What kid isn't enthralled with balloons? One of K's presents even came with a giant dragonfly balloon, which The Princess quickly commandeered. I hope Nana got a couple of good pictures...this thing was bigger than her whole little body and she insisted upon running around with it. And if I'm being perfectly honest, she also insisted upon shoving her way through the crowd while hanging onto the monstrosity by its tail, narrowly avoiding a few spilled beers (alcohol abuse!), and I'm sure she stomped on some toes in the process. Everyone was cool with her, though, for which I'm thankful.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of 4:00, The Hubbs and I were both about ready to drop. We're not used to all this excitement, people! The moment The Princess was strapped in her carseat, she conked out with her pig and her blanket, sleeping all the way home. Our evening was short, and our sleep was deep. Back to the land of the living for the next few days...I can only hope next weekend is just as fun, if not as eventful!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Another Day In Paradise
This was one of those lovely days where everything just kind of fell into place.
At one point this morning our stomachs were complaining so loudly that we could no longer sleep. Having been up until 1:00 watching Death Proof after our earlier outing to see Inglourious Basterds, it felt unbearably early. Rolling over to peer at the alarm clock, I was surprised to find that it was 10:00. That’s when I remembered The Princess was across town at Grumma and Grumpa’s house, so The Hubbs and I drove on up to Twin Lakes to enjoy breakfast at our favorite joint – Manny’s Snack Shack.
Mmm…Denver omelet.
From there we headed to Grumma and Grumpa’s to retrieve the princess and visit for a bit while they chowed on our leftovers.
Pop gave me a little bit of a scare for a minute when he said he had a funny backache this morning and that he had taken a Nitro pill…and that after the Nitro it had gotten better. In case you’re not aware, my dad had a heart attack in December of 2003 that left him in the hospital for a couple of weeks and home from work for a couple months. It was a very scary time for all of us and, being a Daddy’s girl, I tend to get a little over-sensitive when he starts talking about backaches, etc. The Nitro pills are what he should take when he feels like he might be having a heart attack…which is the reason for my nervousness when he told me this.
I’m happy to report that he’s just fine. The pill knocked him on his ass and he felt a little better after taking it. Then after we left he realized he hadn’t taken any of his normal daily medicine, which seems to be what had caused him to feel a bit off in the first place. Pop, if you’re reading this, TAKE YOUR DAMNED PILLS IN THE MORNING TOMORROW. We do not need another scare on your birthday!
On the way home from Grumma and Grumpa’s house, we stopped off at Aldi and WalMart for some essentials. Might as well add some productivity to the day as long as we had to drive past the stores anyway, right?
Anyone who’s been keeping up with this blog is aware of our disaster of a garbage sale a couple of weekends ago. It flopped so spectacularly I found myself looking around for Bennifer…nothing else could have cursed any production so flamboyantly, could it?
Anyhoo…the garage has been all but unusable since. Every time I walk out the kitchen door there it is, staring me in the face and flaunting the failure of the sale. All of our old crap that we’d dragged up from the basement, mocking me every time I went to fill the dogs’ food bowl or bring out the trash.
Well, I’ve had enough. Today, I decided, was the day I was going to tackle the aisles and piles and take back my garage. Tuning the radio to the we-play-anything-we-want station that I love, I got down to work. A few hours and two donation trips to the Salvation Army store later, I pulled the car into the garage…and man did it feel good.
Oh, and while I was out I also got the oil changed in The Cab (that’s our car, in case you didn’t know…) and ordered dinner. I figured after all my hard work on the garage today I had earned a repeat performance of those life-changing nachos from Dusty’s. You’ll be happy to know they did not disappoint. :)
Once the delivery guy left and we had our grub, we settled down in front of the TV. The Princess was taking a nap – the grumparents wear her out, don'tchaknow – so we decided it’d be a good time to start a movie. I really needed some time to veg.
About halfway through Forrest Gump, The Hubbs' phone rang. D was out and about, and wanted to come up for a visit.
So now I’ve been serenaded with both piano and guitar, and the boys are hanging out like old times. Why am I sitting in front of the computer? Two reasons: I don’t have the energy for much else, and sometimes boys just need to be boys.
I think I’ll go play with The Princess. ‘Night, y’all!
At one point this morning our stomachs were complaining so loudly that we could no longer sleep. Having been up until 1:00 watching Death Proof after our earlier outing to see Inglourious Basterds, it felt unbearably early. Rolling over to peer at the alarm clock, I was surprised to find that it was 10:00. That’s when I remembered The Princess was across town at Grumma and Grumpa’s house, so The Hubbs and I drove on up to Twin Lakes to enjoy breakfast at our favorite joint – Manny’s Snack Shack.
Mmm…Denver omelet.
From there we headed to Grumma and Grumpa’s to retrieve the princess and visit for a bit while they chowed on our leftovers.
Pop gave me a little bit of a scare for a minute when he said he had a funny backache this morning and that he had taken a Nitro pill…and that after the Nitro it had gotten better. In case you’re not aware, my dad had a heart attack in December of 2003 that left him in the hospital for a couple of weeks and home from work for a couple months. It was a very scary time for all of us and, being a Daddy’s girl, I tend to get a little over-sensitive when he starts talking about backaches, etc. The Nitro pills are what he should take when he feels like he might be having a heart attack…which is the reason for my nervousness when he told me this.
I’m happy to report that he’s just fine. The pill knocked him on his ass and he felt a little better after taking it. Then after we left he realized he hadn’t taken any of his normal daily medicine, which seems to be what had caused him to feel a bit off in the first place. Pop, if you’re reading this, TAKE YOUR DAMNED PILLS IN THE MORNING TOMORROW. We do not need another scare on your birthday!
On the way home from Grumma and Grumpa’s house, we stopped off at Aldi and WalMart for some essentials. Might as well add some productivity to the day as long as we had to drive past the stores anyway, right?
Anyone who’s been keeping up with this blog is aware of our disaster of a garbage sale a couple of weekends ago. It flopped so spectacularly I found myself looking around for Bennifer…nothing else could have cursed any production so flamboyantly, could it?
Anyhoo…the garage has been all but unusable since. Every time I walk out the kitchen door there it is, staring me in the face and flaunting the failure of the sale. All of our old crap that we’d dragged up from the basement, mocking me every time I went to fill the dogs’ food bowl or bring out the trash.
Well, I’ve had enough. Today, I decided, was the day I was going to tackle the aisles and piles and take back my garage. Tuning the radio to the we-play-anything-we-want station that I love, I got down to work. A few hours and two donation trips to the Salvation Army store later, I pulled the car into the garage…and man did it feel good.
Oh, and while I was out I also got the oil changed in The Cab (that’s our car, in case you didn’t know…) and ordered dinner. I figured after all my hard work on the garage today I had earned a repeat performance of those life-changing nachos from Dusty’s. You’ll be happy to know they did not disappoint. :)
Once the delivery guy left and we had our grub, we settled down in front of the TV. The Princess was taking a nap – the grumparents wear her out, don'tchaknow – so we decided it’d be a good time to start a movie. I really needed some time to veg.
About halfway through Forrest Gump, The Hubbs' phone rang. D was out and about, and wanted to come up for a visit.
So now I’ve been serenaded with both piano and guitar, and the boys are hanging out like old times. Why am I sitting in front of the computer? Two reasons: I don’t have the energy for much else, and sometimes boys just need to be boys.
I think I’ll go play with The Princess. ‘Night, y’all!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Friday, "Glourious" Friday
Mud, glorious mud!
That's the battlecry we make Sookie "say" every time it rains. Our sweet little (she weighs 80 lbs...little is a relative thing...) white bulldog wants nothing more than to be permanently stained gray or brown. And she does everything in her power to absorb as much dirt as possible, especially during the summer months.
Mud makes this process so much easier on her.
The past few days have been heaven for the Sook Sook. It's been raining on and off, but staying away enough for her to wallow like the sow she aspires to be when she grows up. I think I even heard her oink the other day...
As many of you may know, Quentin Tarantino's new movie - Inglourious Basterds - opened in theaters today. As you may also know, I am the mommy of a 2-year-old little girl. Toddler mommies and daddies don't typically have the opportunity to see many movies.
This one was worth the extra work, getting Shorty ready for a night with Grumma and Grumpa.
The Hubbs dropped The Princess off on his way to get me today. He picked me up at the train and we had an upscale dinner (actually went inside and everything) at McDonald's. Mmm...lard.
From there we headed directly to the theater (did not pass Go, did not collect $200...sadly) and procured our tickets for the next showing of Tarantino's latest project.
Our first date was a Tarantino flick (Kill Bill: Volume 2).
Fast-forward to 2007: Me, 9 months prego, ready to pop...but not ready to give up the opportunity to see the Grindhouse double feature in the theater. We walked in and the pimply faced, froggy-voiced ticket boy looked at me - wide-eyed and innocent - asking when I was due. "3 days," I said. "I'm hoping to scare it out of there - think it'll work?" I kid you not...he went as white as a sheet. I could swear I saw him swaying just a bit as The Hubbs walked, and I waddled, away cackling.
Since I met my husband, we've been to every (okay, so they're not that often...but, hey, it's something!!) Tarantino movie during the opening weekend. This was to be no exception. We’ve been dying to see this new project, and it’s been absolute murder trying to avoid all of the online buzz, reviews and spoilers.
I’m certainly not going to spoil it for anyone else, but I can tell you I absolutely adored the film. Brad Pitt’s southern character, Lieutenant Aldo Raine, was hilarious and scary as hell at the same time; Melanie Laurent was haunting as Shosanna Dreyfus; and Christoph Waltz, as Colonel Hans Landa, was the most intriguing bad guy I’ve ever encountered.
This was a wonderful, fabulous, amazing, nail-biting gem of a film. Run out and see it – don’t let this bomb like the Grindhouse flicks did. It’s definitely worth the money. Gals, if you’re squeamish you may have to hide behind your hands a few times, but just battle through it. You’ll be glad you did.
All right, y'all...I'm off like a prom dress. Gotta go watch me some Death Proof to continue the Tarantino Love Fest.
That's the battlecry we make Sookie "say" every time it rains. Our sweet little (she weighs 80 lbs...little is a relative thing...) white bulldog wants nothing more than to be permanently stained gray or brown. And she does everything in her power to absorb as much dirt as possible, especially during the summer months.
Mud makes this process so much easier on her.
The past few days have been heaven for the Sook Sook. It's been raining on and off, but staying away enough for her to wallow like the sow she aspires to be when she grows up. I think I even heard her oink the other day...
As many of you may know, Quentin Tarantino's new movie - Inglourious Basterds - opened in theaters today. As you may also know, I am the mommy of a 2-year-old little girl. Toddler mommies and daddies don't typically have the opportunity to see many movies.
This one was worth the extra work, getting Shorty ready for a night with Grumma and Grumpa.
The Hubbs dropped The Princess off on his way to get me today. He picked me up at the train and we had an upscale dinner (actually went inside and everything) at McDonald's. Mmm...lard.
From there we headed directly to the theater (did not pass Go, did not collect $200...sadly) and procured our tickets for the next showing of Tarantino's latest project.
Our first date was a Tarantino flick (Kill Bill: Volume 2).
Fast-forward to 2007: Me, 9 months prego, ready to pop...but not ready to give up the opportunity to see the Grindhouse double feature in the theater. We walked in and the pimply faced, froggy-voiced ticket boy looked at me - wide-eyed and innocent - asking when I was due. "3 days," I said. "I'm hoping to scare it out of there - think it'll work?" I kid you not...he went as white as a sheet. I could swear I saw him swaying just a bit as The Hubbs walked, and I waddled, away cackling.
Since I met my husband, we've been to every (okay, so they're not that often...but, hey, it's something!!) Tarantino movie during the opening weekend. This was to be no exception. We’ve been dying to see this new project, and it’s been absolute murder trying to avoid all of the online buzz, reviews and spoilers.
I’m certainly not going to spoil it for anyone else, but I can tell you I absolutely adored the film. Brad Pitt’s southern character, Lieutenant Aldo Raine, was hilarious and scary as hell at the same time; Melanie Laurent was haunting as Shosanna Dreyfus; and Christoph Waltz, as Colonel Hans Landa, was the most intriguing bad guy I’ve ever encountered.
This was a wonderful, fabulous, amazing, nail-biting gem of a film. Run out and see it – don’t let this bomb like the Grindhouse flicks did. It’s definitely worth the money. Gals, if you’re squeamish you may have to hide behind your hands a few times, but just battle through it. You’ll be glad you did.
All right, y'all...I'm off like a prom dress. Gotta go watch me some Death Proof to continue the Tarantino Love Fest.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Stopping to Smell the Roses
Feels like I've been going 240 with my hair on fire for a couple of years now, and it can be stressful at times for sure. Days like today, though, are appreciated all the more because of it.
I wasn't so sure how the day was going to go...considering the fact that when the alarm went off this morning I was convinced it had somehow reset itself. It was dark as pitch outside and I was honestly convinced that it was the middle of the night.
Stumbling to the kitchen to confirm the time, I found myself heaving a great sigh and stifling a yawn/grog combo rivaled only by the truly bushed toddlers of this world. No way was I getting up yet. 5:00 AM, raining, dead silence in the house. The dogs weren't even snoring. I'm not as dumb as I look...I know enough to take advantage of these situations when they present themselves.
Every 9 minutes until 5:45, a new epic battle was staged in my bedroom. I, the hero, kept finding myself ambushed by the villainous alarm clock, which insisted upon screeching in my ear every time I fell back asleep. With a grunt and a well-placed whack (okay, so sometimes it whack #4 or 5 by the time I connected with my target), I found myself victorious again and again.
Being Thursday, I needed to leave a bit earlier than normal to make it to the office by 7:00. Never having been very high-maintenance, I've honed my morning routine to the point where I can get out of bed, shower, fix my hair, slap on some tinted moisturizer, quickly make a PB&J, and be in the driver's seat within 7 minutes. Very helpful on days like today.
I love having a garage. Somewhere warm, dry and safe to park the car...where I can ease myself into the big, mean world, using the car as a security blanket to shield me from the elements.
Crap. The garage is still full of stuff from the garbage sale and the car is in the driveway.
I made a mad dash for the car, impressively avoiding such potentially ruinous moments as dropping my purse, forgetting my keys or falling flat on my ass, to name just a few. Once I was safely inside I cranked that baby over and got my bootie on the road. There were a few times where the torrential downpours bordered on legendary.
And then the sun came out. Poof...and it was a beautiful day, just like that. Got to be a good sign, right?
Work was blessedly uneventful, compared to the last 439 days or so...not that I'm counting. I actually got a bit accomplished by putting my head down and pretending not to exist. Believe it or not, it actually worked for a while.
I think I've mentioned before that I leave early on Thursdays to come home for The Princess's "Julie-time". Today was going to be a bit different...
Like every woman on the planet, I've waited - once again - until the last possible moment to make my annual girlie doctor appointment. We all put this off. I don't care how nice your doctor/midwife/nurse practitioner is, this is hardly something you look forward to.
The only available appointment was at 3:15 today so I took it. Leaving straight from work at 1:45 I figured I had a good shot of making it there with a few minutes to spare. Little did I know the wind would be at my back and the traffic would part like the Red Sea...I arrived with no less than 30 minutes until my appointment. And that's after I went next door to the pediatrician's office to get some information about something for The Princess. I was dragging my heels, and I was still a half-hour early.
So I walked into the waiting room, faced with the usual suspects: teenagers with their moms, either there for their first PAP or something a little more serious; young women in varying stages of pregnancy and discomfort; new mommies...and the shell-shocked men who sat beside them, looking like a buck caught in the headlights - stock-still with vacant, glazed eyes.
Makes me giggle every time. Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I'm always entertained somehow by the wide range of personalities I run into at the OB/GYN office. No one wants to make eye contact or talk, and the trashy soaps are loud enough to drown out a herd of African elephants during mating season.
Walking up to the window, I explained that I was early. I paid my co-pay and headed across the waiting room with the intention of getting comfy with my current Carl Hiaasen novel.
I didn't even get to crack the book open before they called my name.
I looked up and, sure enough, she was talking to me. We walked into the back where I stepped on the dreaded scale (we'll just glaze right on over that part) and she led me to the exam room. Did the normal stuff...took my blood pressure, talked about what's going on since last time, etc., and she handed me "the drape" and explained that the nurse practitioner would be right in.
Dignity is not something you try to hang onto when you walk into these places. Get yourself too uptight about things, and you're bound to really embarrass yourself (ladies, you know what I'm talking about...ever fart at your doctor? Not something I'll ever forget, I assure you!). So, off came the lower half of my outfit and I plopped myself down on the chair with my CrackBerry.
We all know doctors' offices are notorious for running behind schedule. I kid you not, 5 minutes after I walked through the office door and sauntered up to the receptionist, the nurse practitioner was in my room. 10 minutes later I was on my way out the door. I was home 14 minutes after my appointment was originally scheduled...such luck!
Julie Time went very well today. The Princess was attentive and cooperative, and she willingly participated in a few activities that can, from time to time, send her over the deep end. All with a smile on her pretty little face!
While The Princess and Julie were playing, I got a big ol' pan of banana bread going. We are definitely addicts. This stuff makes the bestest on-the-go breakfast ever. We ran out a few days ago and I, for one, have been sorely missing it ever since.
Banana bread out, biscuits in. Mmm...biscuits and gravy for dinner...doesn't get much better than that! With banana bread for dessert, of course!
We've been on a bit of a movie kick lately, and the flavor of the night was The Devil Wears Prada: one of my all-time faves. And we were done watching it by 8:00...funny, it seemed like it should have been so much later.
So many days I come home from work and feel as though I have about 5 minutes between walking through the door and collapsing into bed...
Just when you think the world is flying by and you're desperate for somem precious time with your family, someone upstairs grants you a momentary reprieve. These days are my favorites. I think it helps that I don't know when they're coming...if I did, I'd probably plan so many activities I'd never be able to stop and smell the roses.
I wasn't so sure how the day was going to go...considering the fact that when the alarm went off this morning I was convinced it had somehow reset itself. It was dark as pitch outside and I was honestly convinced that it was the middle of the night.
Stumbling to the kitchen to confirm the time, I found myself heaving a great sigh and stifling a yawn/grog combo rivaled only by the truly bushed toddlers of this world. No way was I getting up yet. 5:00 AM, raining, dead silence in the house. The dogs weren't even snoring. I'm not as dumb as I look...I know enough to take advantage of these situations when they present themselves.
Every 9 minutes until 5:45, a new epic battle was staged in my bedroom. I, the hero, kept finding myself ambushed by the villainous alarm clock, which insisted upon screeching in my ear every time I fell back asleep. With a grunt and a well-placed whack (okay, so sometimes it whack #4 or 5 by the time I connected with my target), I found myself victorious again and again.
Being Thursday, I needed to leave a bit earlier than normal to make it to the office by 7:00. Never having been very high-maintenance, I've honed my morning routine to the point where I can get out of bed, shower, fix my hair, slap on some tinted moisturizer, quickly make a PB&J, and be in the driver's seat within 7 minutes. Very helpful on days like today.
I love having a garage. Somewhere warm, dry and safe to park the car...where I can ease myself into the big, mean world, using the car as a security blanket to shield me from the elements.
Crap. The garage is still full of stuff from the garbage sale and the car is in the driveway.
I made a mad dash for the car, impressively avoiding such potentially ruinous moments as dropping my purse, forgetting my keys or falling flat on my ass, to name just a few. Once I was safely inside I cranked that baby over and got my bootie on the road. There were a few times where the torrential downpours bordered on legendary.
And then the sun came out. Poof...and it was a beautiful day, just like that. Got to be a good sign, right?
Work was blessedly uneventful, compared to the last 439 days or so...not that I'm counting. I actually got a bit accomplished by putting my head down and pretending not to exist. Believe it or not, it actually worked for a while.
I think I've mentioned before that I leave early on Thursdays to come home for The Princess's "Julie-time". Today was going to be a bit different...
Like every woman on the planet, I've waited - once again - until the last possible moment to make my annual girlie doctor appointment. We all put this off. I don't care how nice your doctor/midwife/nurse practitioner is, this is hardly something you look forward to.
The only available appointment was at 3:15 today so I took it. Leaving straight from work at 1:45 I figured I had a good shot of making it there with a few minutes to spare. Little did I know the wind would be at my back and the traffic would part like the Red Sea...I arrived with no less than 30 minutes until my appointment. And that's after I went next door to the pediatrician's office to get some information about something for The Princess. I was dragging my heels, and I was still a half-hour early.
So I walked into the waiting room, faced with the usual suspects: teenagers with their moms, either there for their first PAP or something a little more serious; young women in varying stages of pregnancy and discomfort; new mommies...and the shell-shocked men who sat beside them, looking like a buck caught in the headlights - stock-still with vacant, glazed eyes.
Makes me giggle every time. Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I'm always entertained somehow by the wide range of personalities I run into at the OB/GYN office. No one wants to make eye contact or talk, and the trashy soaps are loud enough to drown out a herd of African elephants during mating season.
Walking up to the window, I explained that I was early. I paid my co-pay and headed across the waiting room with the intention of getting comfy with my current Carl Hiaasen novel.
I didn't even get to crack the book open before they called my name.
I looked up and, sure enough, she was talking to me. We walked into the back where I stepped on the dreaded scale (we'll just glaze right on over that part) and she led me to the exam room. Did the normal stuff...took my blood pressure, talked about what's going on since last time, etc., and she handed me "the drape" and explained that the nurse practitioner would be right in.
Dignity is not something you try to hang onto when you walk into these places. Get yourself too uptight about things, and you're bound to really embarrass yourself (ladies, you know what I'm talking about...ever fart at your doctor? Not something I'll ever forget, I assure you!). So, off came the lower half of my outfit and I plopped myself down on the chair with my CrackBerry.
We all know doctors' offices are notorious for running behind schedule. I kid you not, 5 minutes after I walked through the office door and sauntered up to the receptionist, the nurse practitioner was in my room. 10 minutes later I was on my way out the door. I was home 14 minutes after my appointment was originally scheduled...such luck!
Julie Time went very well today. The Princess was attentive and cooperative, and she willingly participated in a few activities that can, from time to time, send her over the deep end. All with a smile on her pretty little face!
While The Princess and Julie were playing, I got a big ol' pan of banana bread going. We are definitely addicts. This stuff makes the bestest on-the-go breakfast ever. We ran out a few days ago and I, for one, have been sorely missing it ever since.
Banana bread out, biscuits in. Mmm...biscuits and gravy for dinner...doesn't get much better than that! With banana bread for dessert, of course!
We've been on a bit of a movie kick lately, and the flavor of the night was The Devil Wears Prada: one of my all-time faves. And we were done watching it by 8:00...funny, it seemed like it should have been so much later.
So many days I come home from work and feel as though I have about 5 minutes between walking through the door and collapsing into bed...
Just when you think the world is flying by and you're desperate for somem precious time with your family, someone upstairs grants you a momentary reprieve. These days are my favorites. I think it helps that I don't know when they're coming...if I did, I'd probably plan so many activities I'd never be able to stop and smell the roses.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Wednesday Evening Gripe Fest
Why, oh why, can't I just be a mommy?
I am done, finished, over being treated like a piece of garbage by these people. I arrived at work this morning to find yet another War-and-Peace-length email from The Bitch herself, once again berating me because she has absolutely no business sense whatsoever.
You're afraid for your job. I get that.
It is not my fault.
I'm trying to help you, you relentless bitch, and if you can't see that...well, you can just kiss my ass.
Being berated on a mass-email that you type with no consideration for the fact that I am a living, breathing human being? I'm done.
Being dragged into the CEO's office because you had a shitty day and decided to take it out on me? Done.
Bending over backwards to shut your stupid ass up? D-O-N-E...Done.
Get in line. I'll get to you when I get to you. While you're waiting, maybe you can take a few classes in business. Or maybe common courtesy. You certainly couldn't get worse.
Sorry, folks. This woman has been thrashing me for the last two years and from time to time a gal just needs to vent. I bend over backwards, stay late and put everything else on hold so I can cater to this woman, and this is what I get. It's days like today that make me wish more than ever that I was a stay-at-home mommy.
Oh well...off to bed. Tomorrow's another day, and she's on vacation until Tuesday. Perhaps I'll actually get something done, dare I say, without even getting thrown under the bus? But that remains to be seen...this one is known to deliver class-A tantrums at 3 A.M. in the middle of her vacations.
Cross your fingers for me, y'all, and maybe say a little prayer. I could use all the help I can get.
I am done, finished, over being treated like a piece of garbage by these people. I arrived at work this morning to find yet another War-and-Peace-length email from The Bitch herself, once again berating me because she has absolutely no business sense whatsoever.
You're afraid for your job. I get that.
It is not my fault.
I'm trying to help you, you relentless bitch, and if you can't see that...well, you can just kiss my ass.
Being berated on a mass-email that you type with no consideration for the fact that I am a living, breathing human being? I'm done.
Being dragged into the CEO's office because you had a shitty day and decided to take it out on me? Done.
Bending over backwards to shut your stupid ass up? D-O-N-E...Done.
Get in line. I'll get to you when I get to you. While you're waiting, maybe you can take a few classes in business. Or maybe common courtesy. You certainly couldn't get worse.
Sorry, folks. This woman has been thrashing me for the last two years and from time to time a gal just needs to vent. I bend over backwards, stay late and put everything else on hold so I can cater to this woman, and this is what I get. It's days like today that make me wish more than ever that I was a stay-at-home mommy.
Oh well...off to bed. Tomorrow's another day, and she's on vacation until Tuesday. Perhaps I'll actually get something done, dare I say, without even getting thrown under the bus? But that remains to be seen...this one is known to deliver class-A tantrums at 3 A.M. in the middle of her vacations.
Cross your fingers for me, y'all, and maybe say a little prayer. I could use all the help I can get.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Magnitude Of My Greatness
Catching up now from this weekend...time sure flies!
Work sucked the fun out of last week, and I was so ready for the weekend when it rolled around. The Hubbs and The Princess picked me up at the train, and we all (okay, The Hubbs and I) decided on the way home that making dinner was completely overrated for that evening. So, being the irresponsible food fiends that we tend to be from time to time, we ordered food from Dusty's. Lord, I love a place that will not only deliver pizza, but nachos, soda, chicken, sammies...whatever you could want, really. I had me some life-changing nachos, and I didn't even have to go out to get them. :)
On Saturday I glanced at the thermostat and realized it was time to change the furnace/air conditioner filter. I love me a thermostat that does my rememberin' for me. Otherwise it'd never get done.
So down the stairs I went to change the filter, la-di-da, not a care in the world. I took the cover off and - oh, dear God, no - there was a puddle on the floor. There was water leaking out of the air conditioning unit, onto the top of the furnace, and from there it was splooshing its way onto the concrete.
Changed the filter, freaked out for about 0.3, and did what any self-respecting gal would do...I called my mommy. She came over and we figured it out together - it was the line that drains the condensation from the air conditioner, and the hose was clogged. This caused the water to back up and leak at the connection to the air conditioning unit.
One trip to the Cheapo, and two hours later, we returned with replacement parts, Wendy's for dinner, and a couple of new plants (a rubber tree for me - Cheech - and a palm for my mom - Chong). You see, like many things in this house, the drain line was jury-rigged to within an inch of its life. After removing miles of duct tape we decided to do it right.
Once we got downstairs it took a whopping 5 minutes or so to connect the new stuff and string the hose through to the sump pump. Add this to the repairs I've done (some with, some without my momma) on the washing machine, dryer, lawn mower and dishwasher, and I'm pretty stinkin' proud of myself.
Oh, I can't neglect to mention the happy side effect of this minor disaster...we actually have a laundry room again! All of the crapola that was piled in the middle of the rug had to move, so now it's all pretty and clean...I even vacuumed.
Sunday morning I asked The Hubbs if he wanted to see what we replaced on the air conditioner, and I followed him down the stairs...almost knocking into him as he came to a dead halt and went, "Holy shit."
Don't tell me that SOB is leaking again!! is all that was going through my head. Amazingly, all that came out when I opened my mouth was, "What?"
By this time I had forgotten about the big clean spot in our otherwise trashed basement, but he was quick to point it out. This, my dear readers, is the biggest accomplishment around here in quite some time. Let us all take a moment of silence to observe this momentous occasion.
...
Okay, now that that's over I can tell you that Cheech found his new home this weekend, atop our entertainment center. He seems happy, and I sincerely hope he stays that way. He makes a great addition to our living room, if I do say so myself.
Ooh, and I've done somewhere in the neighborhood of 9 loads of laundry since there's actually space to move down there now. :)
The rest of the weekend was uneventful - my favorite! Marisa swung over on Sunday evening for a short visit and started talking about taco salad.
Yeah. Guess what we made for dinner yesterday? And guess what is completely gone without a trace, even though we made probably (I kid you not) 5 pounds or more? Mmm, taco salad. *drooling, just a little*
This morning I did not want to get out of bed. Being my work-from-home day, I have a terrible snooze button habit on Tuesday mornings. Once I finally dragged my butt out of bed, Julie was calling on my cell to tell me that her dog had - and I don't even fully understand why I feel compelled to share this with you - explosive diarrhea. She was worried for her little sheltie, who had not been feeling so hot since yesterday afternoon, and was calling to say that she needed to stay home this morning to make sure her kiddo didn't need to go to the vet.
Score!
The Princess slept until just after 9:00. I heard her stumbling around in her room and went to say good morning. She looked up at me and grinned, making a beeline for the bathroom across the hall. I helped her out of her pee-soaked clothes - it somehow got up to her armpits, and there was some in her hair - and sat her on the potty. I didn't expect anything, due to the state of her clothes, hair and bed, but she peed right away!
From there I decided it'd probably be a good idea to throw her directly into the bath tub. No one wants to smell pee all day, ya know. Plus, baths are always a big hit with her water obsession.
After bath time was over, I was left with this snuzzly warm, sweet little girl who was all clean and wanted nothing more than to sit on my lap. Lurve it! I combed her hair and got her set up in the ol' high chair for some breakfast - two whole bananas and somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 grapes...this kid can eat!
She chomped on her fruit while I clomped down the stairs with all of the bedding from up here. Hers was covered in pee, and mine in dog hair, so I figured what the hay. It's not like I don't have a perfectly clean laundry room to use or anything...
The rest of the work day was uneventful, if you don't count The Princess running from the back of the house to the front, saying, "Ma ma ma momma mom ma MA" all day. There are worse things, I assure you.
Oh, and I vacuumed all of the spider webs and dead bugs out of the window sills so we could actually open up the house.
Go me!
Feel free to leave many long-winded comments regarding the magnitude of my greatness.
Work sucked the fun out of last week, and I was so ready for the weekend when it rolled around. The Hubbs and The Princess picked me up at the train, and we all (okay, The Hubbs and I) decided on the way home that making dinner was completely overrated for that evening. So, being the irresponsible food fiends that we tend to be from time to time, we ordered food from Dusty's. Lord, I love a place that will not only deliver pizza, but nachos, soda, chicken, sammies...whatever you could want, really. I had me some life-changing nachos, and I didn't even have to go out to get them. :)
On Saturday I glanced at the thermostat and realized it was time to change the furnace/air conditioner filter. I love me a thermostat that does my rememberin' for me. Otherwise it'd never get done.
So down the stairs I went to change the filter, la-di-da, not a care in the world. I took the cover off and - oh, dear God, no - there was a puddle on the floor. There was water leaking out of the air conditioning unit, onto the top of the furnace, and from there it was splooshing its way onto the concrete.
Changed the filter, freaked out for about 0.3, and did what any self-respecting gal would do...I called my mommy. She came over and we figured it out together - it was the line that drains the condensation from the air conditioner, and the hose was clogged. This caused the water to back up and leak at the connection to the air conditioning unit.
One trip to the Cheapo, and two hours later, we returned with replacement parts, Wendy's for dinner, and a couple of new plants (a rubber tree for me - Cheech - and a palm for my mom - Chong). You see, like many things in this house, the drain line was jury-rigged to within an inch of its life. After removing miles of duct tape we decided to do it right.
Once we got downstairs it took a whopping 5 minutes or so to connect the new stuff and string the hose through to the sump pump. Add this to the repairs I've done (some with, some without my momma) on the washing machine, dryer, lawn mower and dishwasher, and I'm pretty stinkin' proud of myself.
Oh, I can't neglect to mention the happy side effect of this minor disaster...we actually have a laundry room again! All of the crapola that was piled in the middle of the rug had to move, so now it's all pretty and clean...I even vacuumed.
Sunday morning I asked The Hubbs if he wanted to see what we replaced on the air conditioner, and I followed him down the stairs...almost knocking into him as he came to a dead halt and went, "Holy shit."
Don't tell me that SOB is leaking again!! is all that was going through my head. Amazingly, all that came out when I opened my mouth was, "What?"
By this time I had forgotten about the big clean spot in our otherwise trashed basement, but he was quick to point it out. This, my dear readers, is the biggest accomplishment around here in quite some time. Let us all take a moment of silence to observe this momentous occasion.
...
Okay, now that that's over I can tell you that Cheech found his new home this weekend, atop our entertainment center. He seems happy, and I sincerely hope he stays that way. He makes a great addition to our living room, if I do say so myself.
Ooh, and I've done somewhere in the neighborhood of 9 loads of laundry since there's actually space to move down there now. :)
The rest of the weekend was uneventful - my favorite! Marisa swung over on Sunday evening for a short visit and started talking about taco salad.
Yeah. Guess what we made for dinner yesterday? And guess what is completely gone without a trace, even though we made probably (I kid you not) 5 pounds or more? Mmm, taco salad. *drooling, just a little*
This morning I did not want to get out of bed. Being my work-from-home day, I have a terrible snooze button habit on Tuesday mornings. Once I finally dragged my butt out of bed, Julie was calling on my cell to tell me that her dog had - and I don't even fully understand why I feel compelled to share this with you - explosive diarrhea. She was worried for her little sheltie, who had not been feeling so hot since yesterday afternoon, and was calling to say that she needed to stay home this morning to make sure her kiddo didn't need to go to the vet.
Score!
The Princess slept until just after 9:00. I heard her stumbling around in her room and went to say good morning. She looked up at me and grinned, making a beeline for the bathroom across the hall. I helped her out of her pee-soaked clothes - it somehow got up to her armpits, and there was some in her hair - and sat her on the potty. I didn't expect anything, due to the state of her clothes, hair and bed, but she peed right away!
From there I decided it'd probably be a good idea to throw her directly into the bath tub. No one wants to smell pee all day, ya know. Plus, baths are always a big hit with her water obsession.
After bath time was over, I was left with this snuzzly warm, sweet little girl who was all clean and wanted nothing more than to sit on my lap. Lurve it! I combed her hair and got her set up in the ol' high chair for some breakfast - two whole bananas and somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 grapes...this kid can eat!
She chomped on her fruit while I clomped down the stairs with all of the bedding from up here. Hers was covered in pee, and mine in dog hair, so I figured what the hay. It's not like I don't have a perfectly clean laundry room to use or anything...
The rest of the work day was uneventful, if you don't count The Princess running from the back of the house to the front, saying, "Ma ma ma momma mom ma MA" all day. There are worse things, I assure you.
Oh, and I vacuumed all of the spider webs and dead bugs out of the window sills so we could actually open up the house.
Go me!
Feel free to leave many long-winded comments regarding the magnitude of my greatness.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Muddy Butt Prints
*heaves a gigantic sigh*
This week is finally over, thank goodness. It’s been stressy-and-a-half in my world for the last 7-8 days or so and I need a break.
Last weekend we had the evil garbage sale that effectively sucked all of the fun out of those three days. Hell, if I’m being honest, it really wasn’t that fun setting up for it either. So let’s count 5 days down the drain for that.
Since Monday, work has been absolutely unbearable. I have a full load as it is, and I’m also covering for someone else while she’s on vacation. She happens to have a PITA client who is far too needy and helpless for my liking. Naturally, they’ve been bombing me all week…and I’ve found out over the past few days that these people have absolutely no idea what in the world they want. They seriously don’t have any concept what any of the information in their database means, and they rely far too heavily upon the knowledge of their rep. Cross your fingers that I don’t completely screw up this account beyond recognition by the time she’s back on the 24th.
Stuff at home has been crazy, as usual…but a little more so with the few things that are thrown slightly off kilter by the fact that our garage is still full of junk (I mean treasures) from the crap sale, and that the finished section of our basement is in complete disarray. The car is in the driveway, we’re actually locking our doors (though it might be a welcome surprise if we were to wake up to find that someone had taken our old stuff and saved us the trouble of donating it), and the dogs have to stay outside when Julie comes.
This is a big deal, by the way, if you are a bulldog. They’re usually in the basement, lounging on the futon, for a little while before Julie shows up each time. The beauty in this is that they never necessarily know when she comes in or leaves…providing blissful peace during these times, if you don’t count the tantrum-throwing toddler. The last few times Julie has been here, though, The Girls have been outside.
I, for one, would rather be outside than cooped up in the basement, were I given the choice. The Girls, however, take it as a personal attack that we are not allowing them to greet our guest in the traditional and oh-so-endearing nose-to-crotch, tail-wagging, snuffling way. For this, we are repaid by rhythmic body-slamming of the front door by Bubbles. In between slams, there’s always a tentative scratch from Sookie.
My front screen door is now covered in muddy paw and butt prints. Yep, butt prints. And it won’t wash off with just the hose…I’m going to have to give it a proper scrubbing. Classy.
So the plan for this weekend (after tonight’s dinner of nachos a la Dusty – highly recommended!! – and the conclusion of the Back to the Future trilogy)is to return some semblance of order to this funny farm we call home.
Wish me luck!
This week is finally over, thank goodness. It’s been stressy-and-a-half in my world for the last 7-8 days or so and I need a break.
Last weekend we had the evil garbage sale that effectively sucked all of the fun out of those three days. Hell, if I’m being honest, it really wasn’t that fun setting up for it either. So let’s count 5 days down the drain for that.
Since Monday, work has been absolutely unbearable. I have a full load as it is, and I’m also covering for someone else while she’s on vacation. She happens to have a PITA client who is far too needy and helpless for my liking. Naturally, they’ve been bombing me all week…and I’ve found out over the past few days that these people have absolutely no idea what in the world they want. They seriously don’t have any concept what any of the information in their database means, and they rely far too heavily upon the knowledge of their rep. Cross your fingers that I don’t completely screw up this account beyond recognition by the time she’s back on the 24th.
Stuff at home has been crazy, as usual…but a little more so with the few things that are thrown slightly off kilter by the fact that our garage is still full of junk (I mean treasures) from the crap sale, and that the finished section of our basement is in complete disarray. The car is in the driveway, we’re actually locking our doors (though it might be a welcome surprise if we were to wake up to find that someone had taken our old stuff and saved us the trouble of donating it), and the dogs have to stay outside when Julie comes.
This is a big deal, by the way, if you are a bulldog. They’re usually in the basement, lounging on the futon, for a little while before Julie shows up each time. The beauty in this is that they never necessarily know when she comes in or leaves…providing blissful peace during these times, if you don’t count the tantrum-throwing toddler. The last few times Julie has been here, though, The Girls have been outside.
I, for one, would rather be outside than cooped up in the basement, were I given the choice. The Girls, however, take it as a personal attack that we are not allowing them to greet our guest in the traditional and oh-so-endearing nose-to-crotch, tail-wagging, snuffling way. For this, we are repaid by rhythmic body-slamming of the front door by Bubbles. In between slams, there’s always a tentative scratch from Sookie.
My front screen door is now covered in muddy paw and butt prints. Yep, butt prints. And it won’t wash off with just the hose…I’m going to have to give it a proper scrubbing. Classy.
So the plan for this weekend (after tonight’s dinner of nachos a la Dusty – highly recommended!! – and the conclusion of the Back to the Future trilogy)is to return some semblance of order to this funny farm we call home.
Wish me luck!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Disco-dancing, Oscar-Wilde reading, Streisand-ticket-holding friend of Dorothy
Uh-oh...now we're in trouble. I've been up since 5:00 this morning and I ate a heaping plate of biscuits and gravy for dinner a couple of hours ago before zoning out in front of the X-Files, so I'm pretty groggy.
What a relentless day at work, man. My old boss is on vacation and I'm covering her accounts for her while she's out and today just freakin' blew up in my face. Thursdays are interesting to begin with, when you consider these things:
Yet, here I am...sitting in front of the computer rubbing my eyes like a toddler, unwilling to admit defeat.
Ooh, one funny-ass thing that happened today for those of you who are still reading through this stream-of-consciousness mess that is my blog today...and I totally forgot about it until right now, so I haven't even shared this with The Hubbs yet.
So I'm on my way home at lunch time and I pull up behind the girliest pickup truck I've ever seen in my life. It's an opalescent Cadillac Escalade EXT in Wonder Lake with the frilliest license plate cover and just an all-around air of snooty bitch. It's going 10 under, and we hit a passing zone. I drop it into 3rd and zip on by, unable to avoid sneaking a peak at the driver.
A man. Scratch that...a big, hairy man. Smoking a cigar and listening to what I swear was Barbra Streisand. And wearing a pink polo shirt with the collar popped and - I kid you not - movie-star shades (think Angelina, not Brad).
It was all I could do to keep my Focus on the road.
That's right, folks...right here in the good ol' Tucky I had an encounter with a real, live disco-dancing, Oscar-Wilde-reading, Streisand-ticket-holding friend of Dorothy.
Seriously. I couldn't make this shit up.
What a relentless day at work, man. My old boss is on vacation and I'm covering her accounts for her while she's out and today just freakin' blew up in my face. Thursdays are interesting to begin with, when you consider these things:
- I drive on Thursdays. This may seem normal to some of you, but I usually take the train. Driving is insanely different and throws off my whole damned schedule.
- In order to miss the brunt of the traffic, I need to leave shortly after 5:30 if I want to get to work in the neighborhood of 7:00. That's right...90 minutes with virtually no traffic. Meh.
- I have a weekly job that needs to be done every Thursday, which takes up the bulk of the day.
- I leave the office at lunch time, packing up my laptop and files and hightailing it home so I can be here for The Princess's Thursday-afternoon Julie sessions.
- The remainder of my day is worked from home.
- One, albeit previously announced, big-ass project for one of The Boss's accounts today
- The fact that her other clients are completely and utterly clueless
- And the fact that this other, clueless, client is bombing me with requests where they don't even know what they want
Yet, here I am...sitting in front of the computer rubbing my eyes like a toddler, unwilling to admit defeat.
Ooh, one funny-ass thing that happened today for those of you who are still reading through this stream-of-consciousness mess that is my blog today...and I totally forgot about it until right now, so I haven't even shared this with The Hubbs yet.
So I'm on my way home at lunch time and I pull up behind the girliest pickup truck I've ever seen in my life. It's an opalescent Cadillac Escalade EXT in Wonder Lake with the frilliest license plate cover and just an all-around air of snooty bitch. It's going 10 under, and we hit a passing zone. I drop it into 3rd and zip on by, unable to avoid sneaking a peak at the driver.
A man. Scratch that...a big, hairy man. Smoking a cigar and listening to what I swear was Barbra Streisand. And wearing a pink polo shirt with the collar popped and - I kid you not - movie-star shades (think Angelina, not Brad).
It was all I could do to keep my Focus on the road.
That's right, folks...right here in the good ol' Tucky I had an encounter with a real, live disco-dancing, Oscar-Wilde-reading, Streisand-ticket-holding friend of Dorothy.
Seriously. I couldn't make this shit up.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
November 12, 1955
"Of course...the day I invented time travel!"
It's been a while since I've seen any of the Back to the Future movies, but I've had a jones for some vintage Robert Zemeckis/Michael J. Fox action lately.
A couple of months ago I checked out Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist from the library. This is Fox's second auto-biographical memoir-style book to date, and deals mainly with his life since his Parkinson's diagnosis in the early 1990's.
This book touched me in a way that few have in my lifetime. None of us ever know how we'll act if we're faced with the diagnosis of a life-threatening illness, but if I ever have to take that bullet I hope I do it with the dignity and resolve of Michael J. Fox.
Sure, he had some hard times in the beginning. Who wouldn't?
But how many people do you know who have devoted their lives to helping others with the same condition with which they've been diagnosed? He's poured all of his time and resources into the Michael J. Fox Foundation, which mainly funds Parkinson's research and works to further Parkinson's awareness in our country.
While I was reading this I realized exactly how much I've always liked Fox. Think about it: Alex P. Keaton, Teen Wolf, Marty McFly, Doc Hollywood...what's not to like?
And did I mention the fact that I grew up 3 doors down from Robert Zemeckis's childhood home? His mom was always known to the neighborhood kids as Aunt Rose, and if you knocked on her door on Saturdays she'd come to the door with candy for you. But you could only get candy once each Saturday...believe me, we tried. One was definitely the limit. Unless it was your birthday. Or especially nice out. Rose is still there, but she's getting on in years and I haven't heard any "Aunt Rose" stories circulating around the neighborhood lately so my guess is that she's retired.
Robert's dad, Al, was a wonderful old man, God rest his soul. He came across as gruff to us kids, but that's just because we decided to pick flowers for our mom. From his prized flower bed. Tulips...bulbs and all.
But to my dad and everyone else on the block, he was just Al. One of my favorite Al-related stories involves my dad obtaining bootleg copies of the Back to the Future films in the 80's and mentioning how great the movies were to Al. Who had yet to see them, because they hadn't been released.
The year of Forrest Gump, the entire neighborhood had a gigantic Oscar party in celebration of the 13 nominations, 6 of which the film ended up winning. One of the features about Zemeckis during this awards ceremony included footage he shot as a kid, back when he was an aspiring filmmaker. It was surreal to see our neighborhood, our park, beach and rickety old red-painted wooden pier on TV. That night we all felt just a little bit like movie stars.
On Monday I talked The Hubbs into watching Back to the Future, and I couldn't be happier with our recent movie choice. It's been just long enough since either one of us has seen the movies that everything seems new again.
Tonight we watched Part II, and I'm super-excited about hunkering down to watch the conclusion within the next couple of evenings.
I may have been young when these movies came out, but that doesn't make them any less magical. And seeing Michael J. Fox in his prime, pre-Parkinson's glory...well, it almost makes me speechless after seeing what he's gone through since his diagnosis in 1991. Throw into the mix the fact that he remains an optimist after all he's been through, and you may begin to see why I find the man so inspiring.
Plus, he got to fly in a freaking DeLorean. It just doesn't get any cooler than that, people.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Hair Saga
(Who-o-o-oah) For the longest time (get it??) my entire family went to this one gal at the Cost Cutters in Fox Lake to get our hair did. Momma, Pop, Hambone and I all loved Dawn.
She was the only person who ever touched my hair except for my mom. I started going to her when I was in the neighborhood of 9 years old, and absolutely loved the fact that I could go in and tell her to have fun and make me cute. She never let me down. We followed her to different salons and congratulated her when she won awards from the company.
Then she had the nerve to move to Florida when I was about 20 or so. I was lost - I didn't know what to do. She was my hair gal, and I didn't know anyone else.
Finding a new stylist is a scary thing.
For the next couple of years I bounced around from salon to salon, visiting a never-ending barage of mediocre stylists...never connecting with anyone the way I had with Dawn. I found myself growing my hair out rather than getting a kind-of-okay cut from a stranger.
My favorite hair story so far involves Momma, me, a plane and a surprise visit. In 2003, my mom and I flew to Orlando to spend time with my then-best friend while she was on an internship at Disney. Before we left IL, Momma did her homework...
Between trips to Sea World, Cocoa Beach and Clearwater, we ended up in Brookfield, FL. I can't remember the name of the salon, but it was classic when we walked in. Dawn, working on someone in the first chair behind the register, looked up and said, "Hey gals...I'll be with you in a sec." And she turned back to her client as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Priceless. That's the only way I can describe the look on her face as she realized she hadn't seen us in a couple of years and we tracked her down in freaking Florida of all places.
Following this revelation were a few very girly moments of shrieking, hugging and jumping up and down like 12-year-olds who have come face-to-face with the entire cast of High School Musical.
We hung for a while, got our hair did like the old days (mine was a sassy little flipped bob, burgundy with fuchsia highlights), and shot the shit with Dawn.
Good times. Those of you who know me...well, you know I like to mess with my hair. It's fun, and every so often you can completely change it. I've always had fun with this stuff, but man do I miss Dawn.
I'm thinking it's about time to start planning another trip to Florida!
In the six years since our visit to Dawn down south, I've bounced around to a few different places. Most notable moments include the butch job that was so bad I had to take a day off work to go get it fixed at Tricoci, and the chocolate-cherry-colored asymmetrical 'do I sported in our family picture for 2008.
Four of those six years have been spent loyally returning to Paige at Mario Tricoci in Crystal Lake. Her prices have continued skyrocketing, and she has stopped even pretending to listen to me. A couple of months back I asked for this:
And she did this:
A few tear-stained hours later I had my $85 back, but I knew I could never return to that salon.
This cut has grown out like absolute poop, and I've been dying to get a new style since the last one so wasn't what I wanted. But frankly I've been terrified to find someone new. It's a big deal for me, I guess.
This morning The Hubbs said I could raid the garbage sale money and go get my hair cut after work. After much deliberation I decided I'd try a cheap place...after all, I'd gotten great service at one before and I'd just gotten completely screwed by Tricoci. So what did I have to lose?
I walked into Cost Cutters in McHenry and showed Nicole this picture:
And here's what she did:
For $10. That's right - just $10. Why can't the hoity-toity $50+ beeyotches ever get it right?
I've learned my lesson. Not only have I found someone who listens when I ask for something...she's cheap enough that I can actually get my hair cut every month if I want to. And she was done in 15 minutes or less.
Take that, Tricoci.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Don't Look At Me Like That
Oh, the humanity!
I'm glad to report that the suck-fest that was our garage sale is done and over with. Not only did the village completely neglect to advertise this thing to the public...it seems they didn't inform the village residents either. There was only one other sale I knew of, a couple of blocks away from us.
That's what we get, I suppose, for assuming the Tucky would do anything remotely resembling productivity. Well, we won't be making that mistake again. **shaking fist rebelliously**
All in all, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least we didn't lose money, and we got rid of a couple of items that took up a bit of space. The Hubbs' old PA speakers from his band days went to (the parents of) an up-and-coming local band. His old Schwinn 10-speed has gone on to a new home with a chubby kid who will hopefully put it to good use. Other than that, everything that left was small. But at least it left.
The rain. Can we just talk about that for a minute? Is this not August - the hottest, dryest summer month? What kind of cruel joke *was* that, anyway?
Friday was a wash...by the time anyone could really stop by in the afternoon, no one wanted to because of the torrential downpour. The rain started at about 11 AM, and I stopped paying attention by about 6. For all I know, it could have rained all night.
I woke up Saturday morning excited for a new day, thinking it had to have cleared up. Yeah, not so much. The morning was painful with the rain, lack of customers, angry bulldogs (they couldn't go out because of the rain/mud, so they were especially cranky about not being allowed to greet all of the strangers walking up to our garage), and the restless toddler. We decided to put up a baby gate across the opening in the garage door for a while so The Princess could run around inside and The Girls could join us for a while. It's not like anyone was coming in anyway.
Around noon on Saturday it finally cleared up and - drumroll, please - the *sun* came out. We filled the kiddie pool in the driveway, and The Princess hopped right in. How, I'll never know...may as well have been ice water as far as I was concerned, but she seemed happy. I took the time to move some stuff out into the driveway and we settled in for the afternoon. Many more people stopped by in the nice weather, but "many more" is a relative thing. Can you slap a numerical value on "many more" than zero? Especially when one of them is a Jehovah's Witness who can't take a hint...subtle or blunt? That particular visit seemed to last somewhere in the vicinity of 9 years. Why, oh why, did no one else walk up while she was babbling? That's right...because it was raining again. She had us cornered and she knew it.
The highlight of our day on Saturday was when we got to lock up, go inside and veg out in front of the TV. We'd gotten "Coraline" from Netflix on Friday and were both dying to see it. We're both big Gaiman fans and the movie was excellent. My favorite moment, I think, was when I realized that the voice of the cat was the same guy who narrated my favorite documentary, "Ken Burns' Jazz". This entertained me to no end. It's the small things, I guess.
Yesterday the sun was out when I woke up - I could hardly believe it. We trekked outside and opened up. Nothing doin'. Went inside to check on The Princess - sleepin' like a log. Sat there for almost two hours, checking on KiddoHead every so often, and she finally woke up. She came outside and had breakfast, did some coloring, and got back in the pool.
By noon we had had all we could takes and we couldn't takes no more. Packed it up and went inside to veg, and realized we were hungry enough to start gnawing on anything that couldn't get away fast enough.
So, like any responsible adults would do, we raided the cash box and went out for pizza and beer. Don't look at me like that...we earned it.
I'm glad to report that the suck-fest that was our garage sale is done and over with. Not only did the village completely neglect to advertise this thing to the public...it seems they didn't inform the village residents either. There was only one other sale I knew of, a couple of blocks away from us.
That's what we get, I suppose, for assuming the Tucky would do anything remotely resembling productivity. Well, we won't be making that mistake again. **shaking fist rebelliously**
All in all, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least we didn't lose money, and we got rid of a couple of items that took up a bit of space. The Hubbs' old PA speakers from his band days went to (the parents of) an up-and-coming local band. His old Schwinn 10-speed has gone on to a new home with a chubby kid who will hopefully put it to good use. Other than that, everything that left was small. But at least it left.
The rain. Can we just talk about that for a minute? Is this not August - the hottest, dryest summer month? What kind of cruel joke *was* that, anyway?
Friday was a wash...by the time anyone could really stop by in the afternoon, no one wanted to because of the torrential downpour. The rain started at about 11 AM, and I stopped paying attention by about 6. For all I know, it could have rained all night.
I woke up Saturday morning excited for a new day, thinking it had to have cleared up. Yeah, not so much. The morning was painful with the rain, lack of customers, angry bulldogs (they couldn't go out because of the rain/mud, so they were especially cranky about not being allowed to greet all of the strangers walking up to our garage), and the restless toddler. We decided to put up a baby gate across the opening in the garage door for a while so The Princess could run around inside and The Girls could join us for a while. It's not like anyone was coming in anyway.
Around noon on Saturday it finally cleared up and - drumroll, please - the *sun* came out. We filled the kiddie pool in the driveway, and The Princess hopped right in. How, I'll never know...may as well have been ice water as far as I was concerned, but she seemed happy. I took the time to move some stuff out into the driveway and we settled in for the afternoon. Many more people stopped by in the nice weather, but "many more" is a relative thing. Can you slap a numerical value on "many more" than zero? Especially when one of them is a Jehovah's Witness who can't take a hint...subtle or blunt? That particular visit seemed to last somewhere in the vicinity of 9 years. Why, oh why, did no one else walk up while she was babbling? That's right...because it was raining again. She had us cornered and she knew it.
The highlight of our day on Saturday was when we got to lock up, go inside and veg out in front of the TV. We'd gotten "Coraline" from Netflix on Friday and were both dying to see it. We're both big Gaiman fans and the movie was excellent. My favorite moment, I think, was when I realized that the voice of the cat was the same guy who narrated my favorite documentary, "Ken Burns' Jazz". This entertained me to no end. It's the small things, I guess.
Yesterday the sun was out when I woke up - I could hardly believe it. We trekked outside and opened up. Nothing doin'. Went inside to check on The Princess - sleepin' like a log. Sat there for almost two hours, checking on KiddoHead every so often, and she finally woke up. She came outside and had breakfast, did some coloring, and got back in the pool.
By noon we had had all we could takes and we couldn't takes no more. Packed it up and went inside to veg, and realized we were hungry enough to start gnawing on anything that couldn't get away fast enough.
So, like any responsible adults would do, we raided the cash box and went out for pizza and beer. Don't look at me like that...we earned it.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Yes, it rained. Interestingly enough, this post has nothing to do with that.
At 7:30 this morning I peeled my eyes open to see The Hubbs struggling to dress quietly, so as not to wake me. Feeling pretty good, I gave a big stretch and rolled onto my back (taking up every square inch of puffy mattress real estate in the process...hey, he'd vacated, that baby was mine). After screeching like a pterodactyl, which is my signature stretching noise, I asked what he was doing out of bed. I had thought we'd sleep in a little and open the garage sale at about 9:00.
Apparently, my poor defenseless husband awoke somewhere in the neighborhood of 2:30 this morning and was never able to properly get back to sleep. My guess is that his mind was going a million miles an hour about the upcoming garage sale, but you never know. Either way, the day started out with a very groggy, sleep-deprived Swatta.
I felt pretty rested so I got up and took my shower, shuffling out to the garage after I got dressed. We opened the door and set up shop at about 8:30 or so, I think, bringing some of the more interesting items out into the driveway to (hopefully) capture the attention of unsuspecting passersby -- I mean potential customers.
About 9:00 or 9:30 this morning a small red car pulled up across the end of our driveway. A woman carefully got out, not making a sound when she shut her door. Walking up our driveway, she turned toward her car and made the universal gesture for "stay still, be calm, I'll be right back", mumbling under her breath...Please stay asleep.
"How old?" I asked.
"6 months," she whispered. I got the feeling she was in the middle of a difficult time with the kiddo, based on the look on her face and the fact that she was still whispering even though he was sleeping in a car 30 feet away. I made some kind of appropriate response, though I don't remember precisely what I said.
She browsed through our old clothes, games and brick-a-brack, visibly loosening up little by little as she went along. It was obvious that she was enjoying this baby-free time in a way only the parent of a fussy infant can understand.
We chatted a little here and there, and she smiled at The Princess and talked to her a bit. There were a few baby things set out - the useless potty chair that does no good since The Princess much prefers to use her Pooh Bear seet on the Big People Potty, that God-awful Diaper Genie (I'd pay someone to get that piece of junk out of my garage!), and a couple of onesies. I hadn't brought out any of the good baby stuff because we still don't know if we're going to have another kid or not, and we don't want to get rid of anything until we know for sure that we're done. This stuff is spendy, and it seems silly to buy it all twice if we don't absolutely have to.
Seeing that we had a little one, she must have realized we'd understand...so she told us her story. She is 40 years old, and her husband is disabled. They live on $700 a month. Her children are 19 and 21, and her daughter had a son 6 months ago. Shortly after the child was born, his mommy was in a serious car accident. She is also suffering from severe post-partum depression and has decided that she wants nothing to do with her newborn child. So his grandmother, standing in my garage, told me about how she has taken guardianship and how she and her husband are raising this little boy on a fixed income.
By this point I was fighting to keep the tears out of my eyes. She was a sweetheart, and I couldn't imagine being in that situation. The Hubbs and I looked at her and said if there's anything specific she needed for him, just to mention it. I said we had a bunch of stuff inside that we weren't putting out because we weren't sure about having another kid, etc., and she told me that the one thing she was really looking for was an exer-saucer. She's been looking for weeks and everyone wants $30-$40 for them (they're $60-$100 brand new) and she just can't afford that.
I asked her to hang on a sec, and I ran down to the basement. Her eyes lit up when I came back with The Princess's old Baby Einstein activity center, and she tentatively asked how much we wanted for it. The Hubbs and I looked at each other, and we could just tell that we were on the same wavelength. We wanted more than anything to be able to help this woman out.
So we asked her what she could afford to pay for it. She ran out to the car and grabbed the little boy who, by this time, was awake and none too happy to be left alone. She plopped him in the activity center in the driveway and he immediately stopped crying, enthralled with all of the great toys around him. He looked up at me with the most precious little grin.
She had $11 on her, so that's what she offered to pay - we took it in a heartbeat. Sure, this was The Princess's very favorite thing for 6+ months, but what good is it doing sitting in our basement collecting dust?
I helped her disassemble the activity center and loaded it in the trunk of her car. As she pulled away I stood at the end of the driveway, waving goodbye.
It's not very often that I get the opportunity to be someone's fairy godmother or guardian angel. I'm proud to say we recognized this opportunity, and we were able to help this grandma and little boy today - even if it was only in a small way. The only part I regret is that I never got their names.
Apparently, my poor defenseless husband awoke somewhere in the neighborhood of 2:30 this morning and was never able to properly get back to sleep. My guess is that his mind was going a million miles an hour about the upcoming garage sale, but you never know. Either way, the day started out with a very groggy, sleep-deprived Swatta.
I felt pretty rested so I got up and took my shower, shuffling out to the garage after I got dressed. We opened the door and set up shop at about 8:30 or so, I think, bringing some of the more interesting items out into the driveway to (hopefully) capture the attention of unsuspecting passersby -- I mean potential customers.
About 9:00 or 9:30 this morning a small red car pulled up across the end of our driveway. A woman carefully got out, not making a sound when she shut her door. Walking up our driveway, she turned toward her car and made the universal gesture for "stay still, be calm, I'll be right back", mumbling under her breath...Please stay asleep.
"How old?" I asked.
"6 months," she whispered. I got the feeling she was in the middle of a difficult time with the kiddo, based on the look on her face and the fact that she was still whispering even though he was sleeping in a car 30 feet away. I made some kind of appropriate response, though I don't remember precisely what I said.
She browsed through our old clothes, games and brick-a-brack, visibly loosening up little by little as she went along. It was obvious that she was enjoying this baby-free time in a way only the parent of a fussy infant can understand.
We chatted a little here and there, and she smiled at The Princess and talked to her a bit. There were a few baby things set out - the useless potty chair that does no good since The Princess much prefers to use her Pooh Bear seet on the Big People Potty, that God-awful Diaper Genie (I'd pay someone to get that piece of junk out of my garage!), and a couple of onesies. I hadn't brought out any of the good baby stuff because we still don't know if we're going to have another kid or not, and we don't want to get rid of anything until we know for sure that we're done. This stuff is spendy, and it seems silly to buy it all twice if we don't absolutely have to.
Seeing that we had a little one, she must have realized we'd understand...so she told us her story. She is 40 years old, and her husband is disabled. They live on $700 a month. Her children are 19 and 21, and her daughter had a son 6 months ago. Shortly after the child was born, his mommy was in a serious car accident. She is also suffering from severe post-partum depression and has decided that she wants nothing to do with her newborn child. So his grandmother, standing in my garage, told me about how she has taken guardianship and how she and her husband are raising this little boy on a fixed income.
By this point I was fighting to keep the tears out of my eyes. She was a sweetheart, and I couldn't imagine being in that situation. The Hubbs and I looked at her and said if there's anything specific she needed for him, just to mention it. I said we had a bunch of stuff inside that we weren't putting out because we weren't sure about having another kid, etc., and she told me that the one thing she was really looking for was an exer-saucer. She's been looking for weeks and everyone wants $30-$40 for them (they're $60-$100 brand new) and she just can't afford that.
I asked her to hang on a sec, and I ran down to the basement. Her eyes lit up when I came back with The Princess's old Baby Einstein activity center, and she tentatively asked how much we wanted for it. The Hubbs and I looked at each other, and we could just tell that we were on the same wavelength. We wanted more than anything to be able to help this woman out.
So we asked her what she could afford to pay for it. She ran out to the car and grabbed the little boy who, by this time, was awake and none too happy to be left alone. She plopped him in the activity center in the driveway and he immediately stopped crying, enthralled with all of the great toys around him. He looked up at me with the most precious little grin.
She had $11 on her, so that's what she offered to pay - we took it in a heartbeat. Sure, this was The Princess's very favorite thing for 6+ months, but what good is it doing sitting in our basement collecting dust?
I helped her disassemble the activity center and loaded it in the trunk of her car. As she pulled away I stood at the end of the driveway, waving goodbye.
It's not very often that I get the opportunity to be someone's fairy godmother or guardian angel. I'm proud to say we recognized this opportunity, and we were able to help this grandma and little boy today - even if it was only in a small way. The only part I regret is that I never got their names.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Good Times
So tired.
Princess popped over to the grumparents house after she and her daddy picked me up from the train yesterday. Grumpa doesn't go in until later on Thursdays, so Wednesday is a good day for sleepovers -- he can stay up later than normal and watch The Princess Show.
While BabySnakes was hanging with the g's, Mommy and Daddy got crackin' on the garage sale prep. After about two and a half hours of hauling the contents of our basement up to the garage last night, we had both had it. The basement was a mess. The garage was a mess. The smell emanating from my armpits was impressively offensive. Even to me. You know how you can sometimes go without noticing a smell that's coming from you? Yeah, I was way beyond that.
Took a shower and went to bed.
I woke up this morning feeling vaguely as though I'd been dropped off a cliff into a dump truck full of porcupines, just before that dump truck was smashed by a steam roller. Good times.
Dragging my butt out the door before 6:00 am just felt wrong. But there was no choice. I went in to the office and rotted for a few hours before I could finally run away at lunch time to pick The Princess up and come home for her afternoon therapy session with Julie.
I was feeling pretty good on the way home. No better way to cheer up than the prospect of seeing your kiddo after a day away from her. :)
As I pulled into the driveway at the Grumparents' house, I noticed The Princess and Grumma down the street by the pond. I walked down to join them and The Princess let me know in no uncertain terms that she did not want to be captured. The kid had been granted freedom (grumparents love to be doormats, you know!), and she wasn't giving it up without a fight.
Sleepy girl hadn't taken a nap...not good on Julie afternoons. I was convinced she was going to fall asleep on the way home, but I was worried for nothing. She stayed bright-eyed the whole time, though she did crank at Julie for a while anyway. Could be worse. Hell, has been worse. Many times.
I finished work just about the same time Julie left, and by this point The Hubbs was exhausted. He had spent the entire day organizing the garage and bringing more things up from the basement. The boy deserves some credit...he busted his hump and did a great job.
Seeing as how the poor guy hadn't had a break all day, I decided to run the few errands we needed to get out of the way before the grand opening of Aisles and Piles. So I ran to the bank for change-ola, Aldi for soda, dollar store, Target, Sears and Wal Mart looking for flag banners (no one in town has them...wtf?) and garage sale signs (Wal Mart was the only place with these...found this odd as well). Picked up a few bags of ice and I was on my way home.
After I got back I filled out the signs and put them up at the intersections. Started getting warm. Filled the cooler with soda, water and ice. Dripped sweat profusely. Priced everything in the garage. Hubby closed up the house and turned on the AC. Watered a few plants and picked tomatoes. Came inside to nice, comfy, air-conditioned house.
Time for sleep. Not gonna make it.
And the fun hasn't even started yet!!
Princess popped over to the grumparents house after she and her daddy picked me up from the train yesterday. Grumpa doesn't go in until later on Thursdays, so Wednesday is a good day for sleepovers -- he can stay up later than normal and watch The Princess Show.
While BabySnakes was hanging with the g's, Mommy and Daddy got crackin' on the garage sale prep. After about two and a half hours of hauling the contents of our basement up to the garage last night, we had both had it. The basement was a mess. The garage was a mess. The smell emanating from my armpits was impressively offensive. Even to me. You know how you can sometimes go without noticing a smell that's coming from you? Yeah, I was way beyond that.
Took a shower and went to bed.
I woke up this morning feeling vaguely as though I'd been dropped off a cliff into a dump truck full of porcupines, just before that dump truck was smashed by a steam roller. Good times.
Dragging my butt out the door before 6:00 am just felt wrong. But there was no choice. I went in to the office and rotted for a few hours before I could finally run away at lunch time to pick The Princess up and come home for her afternoon therapy session with Julie.
I was feeling pretty good on the way home. No better way to cheer up than the prospect of seeing your kiddo after a day away from her. :)
As I pulled into the driveway at the Grumparents' house, I noticed The Princess and Grumma down the street by the pond. I walked down to join them and The Princess let me know in no uncertain terms that she did not want to be captured. The kid had been granted freedom (grumparents love to be doormats, you know!), and she wasn't giving it up without a fight.
Sleepy girl hadn't taken a nap...not good on Julie afternoons. I was convinced she was going to fall asleep on the way home, but I was worried for nothing. She stayed bright-eyed the whole time, though she did crank at Julie for a while anyway. Could be worse. Hell, has been worse. Many times.
I finished work just about the same time Julie left, and by this point The Hubbs was exhausted. He had spent the entire day organizing the garage and bringing more things up from the basement. The boy deserves some credit...he busted his hump and did a great job.
Seeing as how the poor guy hadn't had a break all day, I decided to run the few errands we needed to get out of the way before the grand opening of Aisles and Piles. So I ran to the bank for change-ola, Aldi for soda, dollar store, Target, Sears and Wal Mart looking for flag banners (no one in town has them...wtf?) and garage sale signs (Wal Mart was the only place with these...found this odd as well). Picked up a few bags of ice and I was on my way home.
After I got back I filled out the signs and put them up at the intersections. Started getting warm. Filled the cooler with soda, water and ice. Dripped sweat profusely. Priced everything in the garage. Hubby closed up the house and turned on the AC. Watered a few plants and picked tomatoes. Came inside to nice, comfy, air-conditioned house.
Time for sleep. Not gonna make it.
And the fun hasn't even started yet!!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
All Thumbs
"Aisles and Piles" was my first attempt at blogging from my CrackBerry. Having read through it I am terribly ashamed of the sheer volume of mistakes, which I cannot edit from here.
Rest assured...all of those ghastly typos will be corrected from the home PC this evening. And I solemnly swear to check CrackBerry posts before publishing them from this point on!
Rest assured...all of those ghastly typos will be corrected from the home PC this evening. And I solemnly swear to check CrackBerry posts before publishing them from this point on!
Aisles and Piles
We all have stuff, junk...whatever you want to call it...that clutters up our houses, cars, basements, garages and lives.
Being the child of an obsessive packrat, who is the child of two insanely obsessive packrats (we're talking the kind of people who pilfered condiments from restaurants at such an impressive pace they never bought a bottle of ketchup, container of salt, or jar of jam in my lifetime), I'm beginning to notice an alarming amount of brick-a-brack in my house.
Cook books and sewing supplies from my grandmother's house seem to grow legs of their own, crawl out of nooks and crannies, and reproduce at unbelievable rates. Clothing I purchased during my junior high years continues to haunt me by not-so-gently pointing out that I used to be thin enough to put my entire body into it without getting arrested for indecent exposure. These days I'm lucky if those old pants fit around my thigh...we won't even delude ourselves into thinking they'd ever in a million years make it around my waist. Unless I sewed a few pairs together to make a skirt...
Okay, One Mom...this has got to stop! Step away from the material chronicles of things (and dress sizes) long ago dead and buried. Or do you want to end up with your extended family at your house for Thanksgiving in 35 years, shaking their heads as you sift through the salt and pepper packets and plastic silverware (fresh from the dish washer - who in their right mind would throw away a perfectly good spork?) to set the table for your feast?
Sorry, folks. That was just my conscience. You'll notice she needs to interject from time to time to help keep me in line.
The point is that I don't want to be a packrat. I really don't care about material things, so why should I continue creating new aisles and piles where I could have usable living space?
I am putting my foot down. No more. The madness ends here.
We found out yesterday that The Tucky is sponsoring a huge village-wide garage sale this weekend and there's no permit fee. What does this mean?
We can empty our basement onto our lawn and have people pay us for the privilege of cleaning up our mess! Anything left at the end of the weekend will either be marketed one more time in our fabulous garage before the end of the season or donated, depending upon the item.
So come one, come all, to the spectacular grand opening of Aisles and Piles - this weekend, August 7th through 9th. Everyone in attendance is encouraged to leave with at least two useless pieces of garbage...I mean, previously undiscovered treasures.
Being the child of an obsessive packrat, who is the child of two insanely obsessive packrats (we're talking the kind of people who pilfered condiments from restaurants at such an impressive pace they never bought a bottle of ketchup, container of salt, or jar of jam in my lifetime), I'm beginning to notice an alarming amount of brick-a-brack in my house.
Cook books and sewing supplies from my grandmother's house seem to grow legs of their own, crawl out of nooks and crannies, and reproduce at unbelievable rates. Clothing I purchased during my junior high years continues to haunt me by not-so-gently pointing out that I used to be thin enough to put my entire body into it without getting arrested for indecent exposure. These days I'm lucky if those old pants fit around my thigh...we won't even delude ourselves into thinking they'd ever in a million years make it around my waist. Unless I sewed a few pairs together to make a skirt...
Okay, One Mom...this has got to stop! Step away from the material chronicles of things (and dress sizes) long ago dead and buried. Or do you want to end up with your extended family at your house for Thanksgiving in 35 years, shaking their heads as you sift through the salt and pepper packets and plastic silverware (fresh from the dish washer - who in their right mind would throw away a perfectly good spork?) to set the table for your feast?
Sorry, folks. That was just my conscience. You'll notice she needs to interject from time to time to help keep me in line.
The point is that I don't want to be a packrat. I really don't care about material things, so why should I continue creating new aisles and piles where I could have usable living space?
I am putting my foot down. No more. The madness ends here.
We found out yesterday that The Tucky is sponsoring a huge village-wide garage sale this weekend and there's no permit fee. What does this mean?
We can empty our basement onto our lawn and have people pay us for the privilege of cleaning up our mess! Anything left at the end of the weekend will either be marketed one more time in our fabulous garage before the end of the season or donated, depending upon the item.
So come one, come all, to the spectacular grand opening of Aisles and Piles - this weekend, August 7th through 9th. Everyone in attendance is encouraged to leave with at least two useless pieces of garbage...I mean, previously undiscovered treasures.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Quiet Little Miracles
I woke up this morning to the sound of The Princess singing in her room, waiting for Mommy to peel herself out of bed, away from the nice warm dogs, and take her to the potty. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tearing myself away from the puppy hugs, I made my way to her room where I was greeted with a huge smile and a "Momma".
From there we headed across the hall into the bathroom, where The Princess stepped up on her stool and patiently waited for me to get her jammies out of the way so she could sit down. And not a second too soon - the very moment her butt hit the seat I heard the glorious sound of tinkles in the toilet instead of in her pants.
It was going to be a good day.
I worked from home today, and Julie (The Princess's speech therapist) dropped by for her Tuesday morning session. Kiddo has started cycling back to having a fit when she sees Julie - we were good for a while, but last week it started up again. This morning, she was inconsolable for about 37 seconds, until she spotted a toy in Julie's myriad supplies that just couldn't be ignored.
For being two years old, this little girl amazes me more than I ever thought possible. Being a parent means worrying...when something seems off with your kid, you can overreact at levels previously unheard of. This is your child. Nothing can possibly be wrong, and when it is...well, it's the end of the world. We've gotten over the negative attitudes about The Princess not speaking thanks to a few reasons:
1. What good does it do to worry all the time when you could be playing with your kid?
2. Her social skills are visibly improving, especially after upping her therapy sessions to twice a week.
3. She's begun to communicate clearly, even if it isn't spoken.
A bit of background for those of you who are new to my story...my daughter was born in April of 2007. At 18 months old, the pediatrician did an autism screening and she hit all but one point of concern. As a result of that screening, Dr. Joe recommended a more in-depth evaluation from a state-funded program called Early Intervention.
We were put in contact with our case worker at Options & Advocacy, a local non-profit that works with Early Intervention. Heather is a delight, and she's been unbelievably helpful through all of this. She set up our first evaluation, where they determined that The Princess is 50% or more behind where she should be as far as speech is concerned. Heather then set up weekly speech therapy sessions for The Princess with Julie, another guardian angel who has swooped into our lives.
After about 6 months of therapy with Julie, we requested another evaluation because we didn't feel that the changes were as significant as we'd hoped. And the state funding runs out when Kiddo turns 3 -- after that it's up to the public school system to help her out if I can't pay out-of-pocket (Lord, help me!). At that time we received the okay from Options & Advocacy/Early Intervention to increase her speech therapy sessions with Julie from once a week to twice a week. So for the last few months, Julie has been coming over to play on Tuesday mornings and Thursday afternoons.
You wouldn't believe the difference. She's not speaking yet, but the lines of communication are certainly open. She has begun to indicate clearly when she wants something, and if you're not paying proper attention she'll let you know. She'll take her sippy cup and put it in my hand when she's thirsty. If she's hungry, she'll hand me a plate or a bowl. If I'm not paying attention she'll grab my hand, turn it over, plop whatever she wants into it and give me a look like, "Come on, Ma! What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
These seem like trivial things, I know, but when you spend so much time with a person with whom you cannot communicate, you take what you can get. Small things, like my grabbing her cup when she really wanted a snack, used to cause inconsolable meltdowns. Now there's no doubt what she wants - she is telling me in her own way. I couldn't care less if she decides to speak yet - showing me is just fine.
Since Julie started coming twice a week, The Princess's tantrums have decreased - I kid you not - by about 75%. Now that's saying something.
I just love to watch her play with Julie - you can almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she picks up on things. I swear sometimes I can actually see her learning.
It's too early to diagnose anything like Autism at this point. As a mommy, I'm going to love my daughter the same no matter what may happen down the line.
But it's those sneaky moments, the ones that seem inconsequential if you don't look hard enough, which make life so great as it is right now. Sitting on the potty, with a grin spreading across her face as she realizes she has to go...knowing that if she tinkles in there like a big girl you'll let her flush all by herself. Playing the picture matching game with Julie and getting every single solitary one right on the very first try - the pride in her eyes, the joy in her giggle. If you're not careful, these quiet little miracles can slip by unnoticed and vanish into the night like so much fairy dust.
From there we headed across the hall into the bathroom, where The Princess stepped up on her stool and patiently waited for me to get her jammies out of the way so she could sit down. And not a second too soon - the very moment her butt hit the seat I heard the glorious sound of tinkles in the toilet instead of in her pants.
It was going to be a good day.
I worked from home today, and Julie (The Princess's speech therapist) dropped by for her Tuesday morning session. Kiddo has started cycling back to having a fit when she sees Julie - we were good for a while, but last week it started up again. This morning, she was inconsolable for about 37 seconds, until she spotted a toy in Julie's myriad supplies that just couldn't be ignored.
For being two years old, this little girl amazes me more than I ever thought possible. Being a parent means worrying...when something seems off with your kid, you can overreact at levels previously unheard of. This is your child. Nothing can possibly be wrong, and when it is...well, it's the end of the world. We've gotten over the negative attitudes about The Princess not speaking thanks to a few reasons:
1. What good does it do to worry all the time when you could be playing with your kid?
2. Her social skills are visibly improving, especially after upping her therapy sessions to twice a week.
3. She's begun to communicate clearly, even if it isn't spoken.
A bit of background for those of you who are new to my story...my daughter was born in April of 2007. At 18 months old, the pediatrician did an autism screening and she hit all but one point of concern. As a result of that screening, Dr. Joe recommended a more in-depth evaluation from a state-funded program called Early Intervention.
We were put in contact with our case worker at Options & Advocacy, a local non-profit that works with Early Intervention. Heather is a delight, and she's been unbelievably helpful through all of this. She set up our first evaluation, where they determined that The Princess is 50% or more behind where she should be as far as speech is concerned. Heather then set up weekly speech therapy sessions for The Princess with Julie, another guardian angel who has swooped into our lives.
After about 6 months of therapy with Julie, we requested another evaluation because we didn't feel that the changes were as significant as we'd hoped. And the state funding runs out when Kiddo turns 3 -- after that it's up to the public school system to help her out if I can't pay out-of-pocket (Lord, help me!). At that time we received the okay from Options & Advocacy/Early Intervention to increase her speech therapy sessions with Julie from once a week to twice a week. So for the last few months, Julie has been coming over to play on Tuesday mornings and Thursday afternoons.
You wouldn't believe the difference. She's not speaking yet, but the lines of communication are certainly open. She has begun to indicate clearly when she wants something, and if you're not paying proper attention she'll let you know. She'll take her sippy cup and put it in my hand when she's thirsty. If she's hungry, she'll hand me a plate or a bowl. If I'm not paying attention she'll grab my hand, turn it over, plop whatever she wants into it and give me a look like, "Come on, Ma! What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
These seem like trivial things, I know, but when you spend so much time with a person with whom you cannot communicate, you take what you can get. Small things, like my grabbing her cup when she really wanted a snack, used to cause inconsolable meltdowns. Now there's no doubt what she wants - she is telling me in her own way. I couldn't care less if she decides to speak yet - showing me is just fine.
Since Julie started coming twice a week, The Princess's tantrums have decreased - I kid you not - by about 75%. Now that's saying something.
I just love to watch her play with Julie - you can almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she picks up on things. I swear sometimes I can actually see her learning.
It's too early to diagnose anything like Autism at this point. As a mommy, I'm going to love my daughter the same no matter what may happen down the line.
But it's those sneaky moments, the ones that seem inconsequential if you don't look hard enough, which make life so great as it is right now. Sitting on the potty, with a grin spreading across her face as she realizes she has to go...knowing that if she tinkles in there like a big girl you'll let her flush all by herself. Playing the picture matching game with Julie and getting every single solitary one right on the very first try - the pride in her eyes, the joy in her giggle. If you're not careful, these quiet little miracles can slip by unnoticed and vanish into the night like so much fairy dust.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Hello, World!
Bear with me...I've been away from blogging for a while. I used to keep this up on myspace, but haven't signed in there in months. And Facebook is a joke as far as this goes.
I suppose I should take a moment to introduce myself for those of you who don't already know me personally.
I'm a sometimes-shy-until-I-know-you class-clown tomboy who grew up in a family of goofballs. I have an older brother - my BFF, and don't you forget it - who I wouldn't trade for the world. My mom and dad are hysterical, and great to have around for parties...endless hours of entertainment, they are.
Five years ago I met the love of my life, and it was a bit of a whirlwind. In the spring of 2004 a mutual friend introduced us, we were engaged by October, buying a house in May (from that same friend...thanks, man!), getting our first puppy (Dee) in June, and getting married in October. The next May we got our second American bulldog, Sookie.
And the following April, I gave birth to The Princess. She is my angel, my babycakes, my end-all-be-all reason for everything. She is now just over 2, and I couldn't ask for a more perfect little girl.
While all this growing up was going on, I wandered through a few jobs. Until 8 years ago I worked in different auto shops and stores, doing maintenance on cars and selling parts. Ford laid me off and I fell into this job at a database management company, where I'm currently rotting my life away in an 8x8 cubicle with no natural light.
Don't get me wrong...the job is not bad. Heck, I'm even good at it.
The problem is, as you'll soon find out, I just want to be a mommy.
I suppose I should take a moment to introduce myself for those of you who don't already know me personally.
I'm a sometimes-shy-until-I-know-you class-clown tomboy who grew up in a family of goofballs. I have an older brother - my BFF, and don't you forget it - who I wouldn't trade for the world. My mom and dad are hysterical, and great to have around for parties...endless hours of entertainment, they are.
Five years ago I met the love of my life, and it was a bit of a whirlwind. In the spring of 2004 a mutual friend introduced us, we were engaged by October, buying a house in May (from that same friend...thanks, man!), getting our first puppy (Dee) in June, and getting married in October. The next May we got our second American bulldog, Sookie.
And the following April, I gave birth to The Princess. She is my angel, my babycakes, my end-all-be-all reason for everything. She is now just over 2, and I couldn't ask for a more perfect little girl.
While all this growing up was going on, I wandered through a few jobs. Until 8 years ago I worked in different auto shops and stores, doing maintenance on cars and selling parts. Ford laid me off and I fell into this job at a database management company, where I'm currently rotting my life away in an 8x8 cubicle with no natural light.
Don't get me wrong...the job is not bad. Heck, I'm even good at it.
The problem is, as you'll soon find out, I just want to be a mommy.
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