Apparently, Monday night is NOT a hot choice for a night out. (What? You didn't know? Me, neither!)
After leaving our children in the care of 5 or so overwhelmed YMCA ladies, we joyously strolled to our local Indian restaurant to see this sign on the door: Closed Mondays.
Jeremy suggested Thai, so we walked the few blocks to the local Thai place, and... dark interior, empty tables. We turned around before we got close enough to read the Closed sign.
What the?
We finally ended up at a little local New Englandy place that was just fine. (Frankly, we were so happy to be alone and carry on an uninterrupted conversation we probably could've been sitting in a Dumpster and been pleased about it.)
On the way back we passed a nice Italian place, CLOSED, and our favorite coffee house, CLOSED.
Jeez! I know we live in the 'burbs, but c'mon! You can't be bothered to be open in the evening on a weeknight???
Ok, I guess after a busy weekend the restaurant workers need a night off, too. Go ahead and take Monday. Maybe those YMCA ladies can give me a different night of the week to work with next time.
---
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Change Night!
Or, actually, Date Night! Woohoo!
We don't go on dates anymore, not really. We go on them so rarely that our nights out are more like major events than dates. The last night we got out was in May. Right now, there are Halloween costumes at Target. So it's been a while.
First off, we can't afford the baby-sitting to have frequent date nights. And even if we could, then we couldn't afford to go anywhere.
Now, I know there are solutions to this. We have at least two sets of lovely, trustworthy neighbors who are eager to do a baby-sitting swap. And if we get out, we don't need to do anything expensive, just to go sit and watch the ocean without the kids would be a treat. But that requires me getting off my lazy butt and actually planning something. With other people.
Recently, another solution fell into our laps. Our local YMCA is offering a night of baby-sitting, at the Y, for $5 per kid... for two and a half hours! And no age requirements! Ten bucks for the both of them? Now THAT I can afford.
But how to pay for our date? Hmmm....
Jeremy randomly decided over the weekend to roll up all the dimes and nickels we've been collecting in an old mug. (It's a relic of my teaching days. It says, "Teachers Change the World!" Get it? CHANGE. Haha, I'm hilarious, I know. Also? Does it really need to be said that you should NEVER give a teacher anything that is teacher-themed? Or has an apple on it? Or an A+? STOP IT ALREADY.)
So, he rolls up all the change. There are no quarters because we use those for laundry and he left all the pennies because, pennies? Who has time to roll pennies? And the final total, (insert trumpet fanfare) was twenty-six bucks!
Jeremy: We can go have a $26 dinner!
Me: We have a $5 coupon to the Indian place! We can have a $31 dinner!!!
Jeremy: But we still have to pay $10 for baby-sitting.
Me: Ok... a $21 dinner? Yeah, we can get a $21 dinner.
And Change Night was born!
---
We don't go on dates anymore, not really. We go on them so rarely that our nights out are more like major events than dates. The last night we got out was in May. Right now, there are Halloween costumes at Target. So it's been a while.
First off, we can't afford the baby-sitting to have frequent date nights. And even if we could, then we couldn't afford to go anywhere.
Now, I know there are solutions to this. We have at least two sets of lovely, trustworthy neighbors who are eager to do a baby-sitting swap. And if we get out, we don't need to do anything expensive, just to go sit and watch the ocean without the kids would be a treat. But that requires me getting off my lazy butt and actually planning something. With other people.
Recently, another solution fell into our laps. Our local YMCA is offering a night of baby-sitting, at the Y, for $5 per kid... for two and a half hours! And no age requirements! Ten bucks for the both of them? Now THAT I can afford.
But how to pay for our date? Hmmm....
Jeremy randomly decided over the weekend to roll up all the dimes and nickels we've been collecting in an old mug. (It's a relic of my teaching days. It says, "Teachers Change the World!" Get it? CHANGE. Haha, I'm hilarious, I know. Also? Does it really need to be said that you should NEVER give a teacher anything that is teacher-themed? Or has an apple on it? Or an A+? STOP IT ALREADY.)
So, he rolls up all the change. There are no quarters because we use those for laundry and he left all the pennies because, pennies? Who has time to roll pennies? And the final total, (insert trumpet fanfare) was twenty-six bucks!
Jeremy: We can go have a $26 dinner!
Me: We have a $5 coupon to the Indian place! We can have a $31 dinner!!!
Jeremy: But we still have to pay $10 for baby-sitting.
Me: Ok... a $21 dinner? Yeah, we can get a $21 dinner.
And Change Night was born!
---
Friday, September 26, 2008
At Home vs. At the Zoo
Top 5 Reasons I'd Rather Live at the Zoo:
5. At the Zoo, the animals stay IN their enclosures.
At my home, the baby (who cannot even crawl yet!) pulls herself up on the crib rails, ready to vault over the side at any moment. This is the same crib that her big sister "graduated" from at age 2... only because I found her in mid-escape one day, hanging precariously over the side.
4. At the Zoo, the keepers lock the animals up at night and go home. To sleep.
Sleep! Glorious sleep! What I wouldn't give for one night of uninterrupted sleep!
3. At the Zoo, people pay good money to come see the animals.
Last time I checked, I had to pay someone else $12 an hour to come to my place and watch the two little people.
2. At the Zoo, you throw the food to the animals and they gladly eat it up.
Yesterday, I had baby oatmeal spit back at me. On my shirt. And face. My older daughter recently cried when I made her a PB&J because she wanted a liverwurst sandwich. Wha-huh?
And the Number One reason I'd rather live at the Zoo....
1. At the Zoo, they have churros.
I love those things!
---
This post inspired by the Parent Bloggers Network and the launch of iKnow Animals, Letters & Sounds
---
5. At the Zoo, the animals stay IN their enclosures.
At my home, the baby (who cannot even crawl yet!) pulls herself up on the crib rails, ready to vault over the side at any moment. This is the same crib that her big sister "graduated" from at age 2... only because I found her in mid-escape one day, hanging precariously over the side.
4. At the Zoo, the keepers lock the animals up at night and go home. To sleep.
Sleep! Glorious sleep! What I wouldn't give for one night of uninterrupted sleep!
3. At the Zoo, people pay good money to come see the animals.
Last time I checked, I had to pay someone else $12 an hour to come to my place and watch the two little people.
2. At the Zoo, you throw the food to the animals and they gladly eat it up.
Yesterday, I had baby oatmeal spit back at me. On my shirt. And face. My older daughter recently cried when I made her a PB&J because she wanted a liverwurst sandwich. Wha-huh?
And the Number One reason I'd rather live at the Zoo....
1. At the Zoo, they have churros.
I love those things!
---
This post inspired by the Parent Bloggers Network and the launch of iKnow Animals, Letters & Sounds
---
The Road Ahead
As of this morning, I am 28 pounds lighter than I was when I came home from the hospital with Savannah. Since I ruined my knees running in the early weeks of her life, I have achieved this weight loss chiefly through changes in my diet. Basically, I just eat less. It has not been easy, and I'm extremely proud of myself. Today I fit into some old pants that I can't remember wearing since before I was pregnant with Chelsea.
According to the BMI calculators, I have moved from the "obese" category into merely "overweight." Which is good. Progress is good. But I still have another 26 pounds to go before I move into the "normal weight" range. And the weight that is my target for the top end of that range is one I have not seen on the scale since college.
As excited as I am about my progress this far, I'm overwhelmed by the thought that I'm only half-way there.
So far, it has helped me to think in small steps: with my weight in the 160s, my goal is to get to 159, and so forth. So instead of thinking about losing 26 pounds, I'm just thinking about the few pounds that will change that second number on the scale.
I don't know how to end this post since there's really no big "take home message" or snappy joke I can make. So, yay me for getting this far, but woe is me for still having a ways to go.
---
According to the BMI calculators, I have moved from the "obese" category into merely "overweight." Which is good. Progress is good. But I still have another 26 pounds to go before I move into the "normal weight" range. And the weight that is my target for the top end of that range is one I have not seen on the scale since college.
As excited as I am about my progress this far, I'm overwhelmed by the thought that I'm only half-way there.
So far, it has helped me to think in small steps: with my weight in the 160s, my goal is to get to 159, and so forth. So instead of thinking about losing 26 pounds, I'm just thinking about the few pounds that will change that second number on the scale.
I don't know how to end this post since there's really no big "take home message" or snappy joke I can make. So, yay me for getting this far, but woe is me for still having a ways to go.
---
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Why I am Going Straight to Hell
On a recent walk, I passed one of the many local churches in our small town. The notice board outside read, "Sunday Sermon 10am. Nursery care provided. Coffee Hour 11am."
My first thought? They want to watch my children for an hour? Then give me coffee and snacks?! And I get to just sit quietly?!!?! I AM SO THERE.
Now I am admittedly not a religious person, so it would be truly ridiculous of me to join this church out of my desire for free baby-sitting and treats. But what if I joined a less churchy church? Like our local Unitarian-Universalist congregation? The UUs accept and respect a wide range of beliefs, up to and including atheism. But do they offer nursery care and snacks? Yes, my friends, yes they do.
In all seriousness, I have been thinking about joining our local UU church partly for the reasons I wrote about here. I'm hesitant to get involved knowing that we're moving in less than a year, but I would like the opportunity to meet like-minded people and to have a space to explore my core values and beliefs.
And the free baby-sitting? Well, that doesn't hurt either.
---
My first thought? They want to watch my children for an hour? Then give me coffee and snacks?! And I get to just sit quietly?!!?! I AM SO THERE.
Now I am admittedly not a religious person, so it would be truly ridiculous of me to join this church out of my desire for free baby-sitting and treats. But what if I joined a less churchy church? Like our local Unitarian-Universalist congregation? The UUs accept and respect a wide range of beliefs, up to and including atheism. But do they offer nursery care and snacks? Yes, my friends, yes they do.
In all seriousness, I have been thinking about joining our local UU church partly for the reasons I wrote about here. I'm hesitant to get involved knowing that we're moving in less than a year, but I would like the opportunity to meet like-minded people and to have a space to explore my core values and beliefs.
And the free baby-sitting? Well, that doesn't hurt either.
---
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
My First Meme!
I don't even really know what a "meme" is, but I do know that this nice lady did it, and then she told this nice lady to do it, and then she said anyone who reads her blog (that's me!) should do it, so here you go. The topic is Six Unremarkable Things About Me:
1. I wear two pairs of shoes the whole year: black, Reef flip flops all summer and black snow boots all winter. Very gross (same shoes all the time) and very boooooring. Also? Very cheap. My shoe size changed so much after two babies that none of my old shoes fit and I'm too cheap to buy new ones. Hence, two shoes all year. Nice.
2. I cannot be trusted around cookie dough. (Does that really need any more explanation?)
3. I cry easily. Especially watching movies and movie previews.
4. I have a hard time asking for help. Even when I clearly need it. Yesterday, I fell down and twisted my ankle trying to carry Savannah's stroller (with her in it) down a flight of stairs in a store. The owner came over saying, "Just give a shout, I can help you." Yeah, I know.
5. I don't like Starbucks coffee at Starbucks but I like it fine at my mother-in-law's house. Really. She buys their beans and brews it at home and it's fine. But when they brew it... ew.
6. I have a theory about Soap Opera Time. (It is either super-fast [someone's child goes from baby to teenager in a couple of years] or super slow [the same conversation lasts a week].) (Should number 6 have been: "I use too many parentheses?")
Totally unremarkable, yes?
---
1. I wear two pairs of shoes the whole year: black, Reef flip flops all summer and black snow boots all winter. Very gross (same shoes all the time) and very boooooring. Also? Very cheap. My shoe size changed so much after two babies that none of my old shoes fit and I'm too cheap to buy new ones. Hence, two shoes all year. Nice.
2. I cannot be trusted around cookie dough. (Does that really need any more explanation?)
3. I cry easily. Especially watching movies and movie previews.
4. I have a hard time asking for help. Even when I clearly need it. Yesterday, I fell down and twisted my ankle trying to carry Savannah's stroller (with her in it) down a flight of stairs in a store. The owner came over saying, "Just give a shout, I can help you." Yeah, I know.
5. I don't like Starbucks coffee at Starbucks but I like it fine at my mother-in-law's house. Really. She buys their beans and brews it at home and it's fine. But when they brew it... ew.
6. I have a theory about Soap Opera Time. (It is either super-fast [someone's child goes from baby to teenager in a couple of years] or super slow [the same conversation lasts a week].) (Should number 6 have been: "I use too many parentheses?")
Totally unremarkable, yes?
---
Jane of All Trades
One of the women whose blogs I read regularly recently wrote about her frequent, bizarre obsessions and asked readers to comment. It turns out that she is not alone. At all.
I currently have a mountain of knitting needles and half-used skeins of yarn mocking me from my bedroom closet, tackle boxes full of beads and beading supplies piling up in our storage area, and a broken sewing machine surrounded by scraps of fabric collecting dust in the hall closet.
I did (finally) manage to donate all of my unused scrapbooking supplies, stuff I'd bought for a hobby I never even began.
I think my problem goes a tad farther than crafting. I am also a serial foreign language student. In school, I studied Spanish, German, French, and Italian. "Wow!" you're thinking, "she's so poly-lingual!" But I'm not. I studied each of them just far enough so that I'm not fluent in any of them. Muy, sehr, tres, and molto USELESS.
I've also noticed about myself that lately every book I read becomes my new obsession, my new crusade. I read E.D. Hirsch's The Schools We Need and promptly set about trying to find a Core Knowledge school to target for my next teaching job. Then, I read Alfie Kohn's response to Hirsch's book and quickly flung myself from the Core Knowledge bandwagon.
When I read Quantum Wellness, I decided I needed to become vegan. I swung from doing a low-carb diet to an almost entirely vegan diet nearly overnight. Now I'm back to my previous omnivore diet (which also has a little bit of Special K diet thrown in for good measure).
I've always felt that I was a very self-assured person, strong in my opinions. One way to view all this obsessiveness is that I'm choosing books based on my strong interest, so it's not surprising that something already intriguing to me would become even more so after reading an expert's take.
But I am a worrier. So my way of looking at it is: what is wrong with me that I am so easily swayed by the views of others? That I jump from one obsession to the next, and the next? It also makes me question my commitment to my current obsessions since (judging by past experience) they could go the way of the dodo any minute now.
Some would say this is the curse of the modern housewife/mother: she's too educated to simply sit around, cook, clean, and tend babies. She needs something intellectual, something challenging, something beyond her daily domestic duties in order to feel like a success. Is that what's going on with me? I really don't know. I'll let you know after I find a book about it. (Or maybe I should just go read Twlight. Again.)
---
I currently have a mountain of knitting needles and half-used skeins of yarn mocking me from my bedroom closet, tackle boxes full of beads and beading supplies piling up in our storage area, and a broken sewing machine surrounded by scraps of fabric collecting dust in the hall closet.
I did (finally) manage to donate all of my unused scrapbooking supplies, stuff I'd bought for a hobby I never even began.
I think my problem goes a tad farther than crafting. I am also a serial foreign language student. In school, I studied Spanish, German, French, and Italian. "Wow!" you're thinking, "she's so poly-lingual!" But I'm not. I studied each of them just far enough so that I'm not fluent in any of them. Muy, sehr, tres, and molto USELESS.
I've also noticed about myself that lately every book I read becomes my new obsession, my new crusade. I read E.D. Hirsch's The Schools We Need and promptly set about trying to find a Core Knowledge school to target for my next teaching job. Then, I read Alfie Kohn's response to Hirsch's book and quickly flung myself from the Core Knowledge bandwagon.
When I read Quantum Wellness, I decided I needed to become vegan. I swung from doing a low-carb diet to an almost entirely vegan diet nearly overnight. Now I'm back to my previous omnivore diet (which also has a little bit of Special K diet thrown in for good measure).
I've always felt that I was a very self-assured person, strong in my opinions. One way to view all this obsessiveness is that I'm choosing books based on my strong interest, so it's not surprising that something already intriguing to me would become even more so after reading an expert's take.
But I am a worrier. So my way of looking at it is: what is wrong with me that I am so easily swayed by the views of others? That I jump from one obsession to the next, and the next? It also makes me question my commitment to my current obsessions since (judging by past experience) they could go the way of the dodo any minute now.
Some would say this is the curse of the modern housewife/mother: she's too educated to simply sit around, cook, clean, and tend babies. She needs something intellectual, something challenging, something beyond her daily domestic duties in order to feel like a success. Is that what's going on with me? I really don't know. I'll let you know after I find a book about it. (Or maybe I should just go read Twlight. Again.)
---
Friday, September 19, 2008
Her Thieving Ways
We have eleventy kajillion toys in our tiny apartment. Despite the fact that we actively refrain from buying toys and we have vastly fewer than some of our friends with larger living spaces, we still have far more than any child could need.
And all but about five of them are Chelsea's.
Savannah's few playthings are the gifts she was given as a newborn and the very few toys that are for such small babies that Chelsea forgot they were once hers. Like a teether.
So last Saturday while I was at the Swap Shed (a give and take section of our town dump), I picked up one little book for Savannah: Raffi's Baby Beluga. (It is her song, after all.)
Chelsea had appropriated it and memorized it by Tuesday.
Later in the week, we were out for an evening stroll. Savannah was just chilling and Chelsea was talking to herself nonstop (as usual). Jeremy and I took the opportunity to (gasp!) have an adult conversation. In which one of us talks and the other one listens. Without interruption!
Then, (although I was very dutifully listening to my husband) I couldn't help but notice what Chelsea was singing:
"Baby Percy
In the deep brown tracks,
Drive so wild and you drive so free,
Sky above and the tracks below,
You're just a little green train on the go.
Percy Wuh-Wercy,
Oh, Percy Wuh-Wercy
Is your tracks warm?
Is your Thomas home?
With you, so happy."
That's right. Not only did she steal her sister's only book, she commandeered the song AND TURNED IT INTO A TRAIN SONG. As if we didn't have enough Thomas in our lives.
---
And all but about five of them are Chelsea's.
Savannah's few playthings are the gifts she was given as a newborn and the very few toys that are for such small babies that Chelsea forgot they were once hers. Like a teether.
So last Saturday while I was at the Swap Shed (a give and take section of our town dump), I picked up one little book for Savannah: Raffi's Baby Beluga. (It is her song, after all.)
Chelsea had appropriated it and memorized it by Tuesday.
Later in the week, we were out for an evening stroll. Savannah was just chilling and Chelsea was talking to herself nonstop (as usual). Jeremy and I took the opportunity to (gasp!) have an adult conversation. In which one of us talks and the other one listens. Without interruption!
Then, (although I was very dutifully listening to my husband) I couldn't help but notice what Chelsea was singing:
"Baby Percy
In the deep brown tracks,
Drive so wild and you drive so free,
Sky above and the tracks below,
You're just a little green train on the go.
Percy Wuh-Wercy,
Oh, Percy Wuh-Wercy
Is your tracks warm?
Is your Thomas home?
With you, so happy."
That's right. Not only did she steal her sister's only book, she commandeered the song AND TURNED IT INTO A TRAIN SONG. As if we didn't have enough Thomas in our lives.
---
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Toddler Morning Workout
Before 9am, Chelsea has:
-heard a story,
-played with baby bottles,
-climbed into baby sister's exersaucer,
-gotten stuck in baby sister's exersaucer,
-"helped" me blow-dry my hair,
-played with make-up,
-"read" three books,
-tripped and fallen,
-played with baby ABC toy,
-traveled around the house on play car,
-rubbed lotion on her arms,
-played with her jack-in-the-box,
-tried on shoes,
-tried on hats,
-tried on mittens,
-discarded shoes, hats, and mittens,
-played with bubble wrap,
-"read" a magazine, and
-pulled all the cushions off the couch.
Whew. I'm exhausted just looking at that list.
---
-heard a story,
-played with baby bottles,
-climbed into baby sister's exersaucer,
-gotten stuck in baby sister's exersaucer,
-"helped" me blow-dry my hair,
-played with make-up,
-"read" three books,
-tripped and fallen,
-played with baby ABC toy,
-traveled around the house on play car,
-rubbed lotion on her arms,
-played with her jack-in-the-box,
-tried on shoes,
-tried on hats,
-tried on mittens,
-discarded shoes, hats, and mittens,
-played with bubble wrap,
-"read" a magazine, and
-pulled all the cushions off the couch.
Whew. I'm exhausted just looking at that list.
---
Thursday, September 4, 2008
California Girls
Just another typical day in sunny Southern California...
Yeah, I'm in the swing, but I'm not going to be happy about it.
I'm in the swing, too, and I don't think I like it either.
Oh wait! I do like it! Look at me! I like it!
Just kidding... I LOVE IT!!!
Aaaand, I'll just go climb this tree.
Why Jeremy Needs a Blog
We went to a local fair recently and there was a moonbounce. Two bucks to wear your child out. So worth it!
I was sitting in the shade with Savannah, so Jeremy walked over with Chelsea and watched her jump. At first, she was the bruiser: a big kid jumping super high among a bevy of littler toddlers. But after a little bit, some older kids came in and the attendant started to give Jeremy the stink eye, letting him know he should get her out of there already. Two dollars will only buy you so much jumping time, mister!
So Jeremy says, "Chelsea! You can do 5 more jumps, and then it's time to go." (She requires this kind of transition and will lose her mind entirely without it.)
So Chelsea does the first of her last five jumps... way up high into the stratosphere of the moonbounce and lands squarely on her head, twisting her neck in a way that makes all the other parents watching gasp.
Jeremy is running to the entrance to get her out. She's in a heap, crying.
She gets up, still crying, takes another jump and says, "Two."
And another, "Three."
Jeremy: "Chelsea! You don't HAVE TO do five more jumps!"
---
I was sitting in the shade with Savannah, so Jeremy walked over with Chelsea and watched her jump. At first, she was the bruiser: a big kid jumping super high among a bevy of littler toddlers. But after a little bit, some older kids came in and the attendant started to give Jeremy the stink eye, letting him know he should get her out of there already. Two dollars will only buy you so much jumping time, mister!
So Jeremy says, "Chelsea! You can do 5 more jumps, and then it's time to go." (She requires this kind of transition and will lose her mind entirely without it.)
So Chelsea does the first of her last five jumps... way up high into the stratosphere of the moonbounce and lands squarely on her head, twisting her neck in a way that makes all the other parents watching gasp.
Jeremy is running to the entrance to get her out. She's in a heap, crying.
She gets up, still crying, takes another jump and says, "Two."
And another, "Three."
Jeremy: "Chelsea! You don't HAVE TO do five more jumps!"
---
Blogging vs. Napping
Napping wins. (Are you really that surprised?)
My super-amazing, sleeping-through-the-night infant has morphed into a normal (gasp!) waking-up-in-the-night baby. Which means I've morphed into a grumbly, cranky, sleep-deprived mommy monster. Grrrr.
Sadly, I'm also slow to fall asleep in general (what? the sound of my husband snoring is supposed to lull me off to dreamland?) and lately, when I do wake up in the night, I have trouble turning my brain back off again.
So instead of blogging during naptime, I've been napping.
There is really no point to this post other than to say I'm sorry to my poor neglected little blog. Hopefully I'll get some cute pics from our California trip soon and then I'll at least have something cute to post (Mom: I'm looking at you!).
Edited to add: Thanks for the pics, Mom!
My super-amazing, sleeping-through-the-night infant has morphed into a normal (gasp!) waking-up-in-the-night baby. Which means I've morphed into a grumbly, cranky, sleep-deprived mommy monster. Grrrr.
Sadly, I'm also slow to fall asleep in general (what? the sound of my husband snoring is supposed to lull me off to dreamland?) and lately, when I do wake up in the night, I have trouble turning my brain back off again.
So instead of blogging during naptime, I've been napping.
There is really no point to this post other than to say I'm sorry to my poor neglected little blog. Hopefully I'll get some cute pics from our California trip soon and then I'll at least have something cute to post (Mom: I'm looking at you!).
Edited to add: Thanks for the pics, Mom!
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