Other People

Most times, I consider myself to be a nice person. Not as nice as, say... Alright. I'm having a real problem thinking of a good example here. I know a lot of people who are nicer than I am, but I was trying to think of a well-known example. What does that say for celebrities today? Ahh... I've got one now. Mr. Rogers. You can't get much nicer than that short of sainthood. So, I'm no Mr. Rogers, but I'm definitely much nicer than, oh, Paris Hilton? No, no... That's too easy. Just about ANYONE is nicer than Paris Hilton. I suppose I shouldn't make judgements because it's not like I know her personally, but with some people you really don't need to, you know? You just get that "feeling" about them one way or the other. Like, "Hey! That person looks like a really nice person. I wouldn't mind sitting next to them on a bus". Or the other way...

Anyway, I'm just your average girl/woman. I usually let people merge in front of me in traffic and I hold doors open for strangers at the store. Stuff any decent human being would do. So why is it that so many people seem to do things that are less than nice to me? Seriously. Is there a sign above my head that's only invisible to me? "Yeah, sure. Walk all over her. She'll take it." The other day, I was at Wal*Mart with Perrin, who was, of course, in his car seat in the seat of the shopping cart. After shopping, I go out to get into my car, which was parked one space up form the handicapped spaces ( for once we found a close spot ) near the door. The space between my car and the handicapped spaces was, at the moment, empty so I pulled the cart up next to my car in the empty space. As I started to unload the groceries into the front seat some guy in a new SUV pulls up and stops in the aisle behind the cart. Now, let me share something. There were SEVERAL empty spaces directly across the aisle, but he decides to sit there and wait on the ONE space that my cart is hanging into. I pretended to ignore him as I put the rest of the stuff in the car and turned to get Perrin in his car seat. Apparently, I was taking too long for Mr. A. Hole. He gives me a dirty look and pulls into the space anyway OVER the line into the handicap spot. Excuse me?! What was wrong with the other four or five spaces around us? I didn't even have the nerve to say anything to him as he got out and glared at me. I glared back. I DID, however, push the cart right up against the door of his SUV and leave it there. Childish, yes, but I hope it was still there when he came out.

I'm Getting Older...

How do I know this? Because I get excited over things that in my younger days I would have avoided like the plague. For example, today, we got our new washing machine. It's a fantastic washing machine, in my opinion, and I haven't even finished my first load of laundry yet. We bought it Monday, but because of the holiday and all, we couldn't pick it up until today. Let me tell you something strange... I could not sleep last night because I was so excited about getting a new washing machine. This would never have happened when I was, say, 20. At that age, a new washing machine would not have impressed me. Now that I have a husband and two kids, I am VERY impressed. Everyone I've talked to in the last few days has had to listen to me go on about the details as if I were talking about expecting another child. I may be a little on the nutty side, but even I know that's not normal. I'm going to have to stop myself before I start carrying pictures of it in my purse. I've been telling people all about our new blender, too. When did this happen? When did I stop caring about things like the latest movies, concerts, or clothes and start caring about appliances?

Another sign that I'm aging is the mail I get. A mailbox once full of Cosmo, Vogue, and Alloy catalogues has now given over to one stocked with Better Homes and Gardens, Parents Magazine, portrait studio coupons, and life insurance offers. I actually OPEN the Val-Pak envelope now instead of just tossing it into the trash. I find myself comparing deals on dry cleaning and wondering for the millionth time if those home dry cleaning kits really work or if I'll just damage my clothes beyond even professional help. And bills. Oh, yes. Let's not forget those. Somehow, whenever I'm having a bad day, it seems like all we get in the mail that day are bills and the local realty ad. ( Um, hello? We live in subsidized housing. Do you honestly think we can afford a house right now? )

I've also had to sort through my clothes and admit to myself that some of them have to be retired ( AKA: Goodwill ) because I am a MOM now and have to set an example for my children. The clothes I used to wear when I was a cocktail waitress in a nightclub are no longer appropriate. For some reason I kept holding onto them. I don't know why. It's not like I would actually WEAR them, but for some reason I wasn't ready to let go of them. I've finally gotten rid of them. Well...Almost. They're in a box waiting for someone to come pick them up. They'll be gone soon. Is this similar to what men call a "mid-life crisis"? I know I'm not middle-aged yet, but women DO mature faster than men. LOL. Whatever it is, I've finally come to terms with the fact that mini skirts and tube tops are just not for me anymore. Besides, if I can't stand the sight of my butt in a mini skirt, should anyone else have to? I do, however, like to flaunt my boobs on occasion. It's really impossible not to when you've been small breasted all your life and suddenly you have boobs that are two cup sizes bigger than you've ever worn. Thank goodness for breastfeeding. It's a shame they'll "deflate" once I stop nursing Perrin. I've seriously considered continuing to use the breast pump even after he's weaned. I could donate the milk to the local human milk bank. Help other people's babies. I'll tell you for SURE what I'm NOT going to do... Sell my milk on eBay. I don't know who's crazier, the people buying it or the people selling it.

At least I have a hot FedEx guy to install all my new appliances. I kind of enjoy watching Heath work in his uniform. He complains about all the climbing in and out of trucks he does at work, but let me tell you, it's paying off. That man has got a LOT of muscle. Sometimes, I pretend I can't open/reach stuff just so I can watch his muscles work while he does it for me. Heehee. And he likes it.

If I don't write for awhile, it's because I'm busy making margeritas in my new wave-action ( i.e. no stirring and chunk-free ) blender and washing all the clothes/bedding/towels in the house just because I want to play with my new washing machine.

The Joys of Potty-Training

Since having two kids in diapers can get pricey, we ( I ) have decided it's time to get Princess Abby potty-trained. She has been showing the usual signs of being ready, but I've been afraid to start. Why, you ask? Not because I LIKE buying diapers, let me assure you. I just knew it would be a messy process. Of course, so are diapers when you think about it.

Anyway, she's a very strong-willed child and, as our pediatrician says, a "great problem-solver". Which translated means, she lies. Not with malicious intent, mind you, but it's still not the truth she's telling you. For example, if she and I both have a snack, she will want some of mine. I will tell her she can have some of mine when she finishes her own. Her solution? She'll go dump hers out and come back telling me it's all gone. I ask if she ate it all and she happily says " Yes, Mommy!". Never trust a two year-old. I have to admit, she IS a great problem-solver and sometimes, it's really hard not to crack up laughing. She's using her brain and I love that. I just wish her using it didn't end in my having to vacuum the floor several times a day.

This "problem-solving" carries over into the potty-training, too. She's figured out that she can move her potty around the room. This, in itself, wouldn't be a problem. It's the way she does it. She grabs onto the sides and stands up while holding it on her bottom. This can get messy. I've lost count of the number of times I've cleaned spots on the carpet. Funny how it's always the carpet and never the tiled areas of the house. She also likes to disappear and come back with no diaper on. This signals the beginning of my least favorite kind of treasure hunt. Find the Poopy Diaper. Anyone who has potty-trained a child probably understands this game quite well. The child comes into the room no diaper and poo on their bottom ( if not on their legs and feet and several other places, too ) and the adult must, as quickly as possible, clean the child, put a fresh diaper on them and search for the discarded diaper. Usually, following the smell is good enough, but if the child has tracked poo all through the house, this can be a bit more challenging. You will find the diaper, but you never "win" this game.

At least Abby is making some progress. She likes to sit on the potty and she's even gone in it several times. I think she'd do better if I could give her more attention, but Perrin doesn't really allow for that. I know she'll get there someday. I just hope it's sooner rather than later.

It's Worth It...


Every middle of the night feeding. Every dirty diaper. Every crying spell. It's all so worth it when I look at their sweet little faces. I remember when I swore I would never have children. Now I can't imagine life without them. It seems like only yesterday that Abby was born and now she's two! I didn't even realize how much she'd grown until Perrin was born. It was like she grew up overnight. My baby wasn't my "baby" anymore. Her hands that had seemed so tiny in mine the day before, now looked huge next to her little brother's. It was hard for me to accept. I knew she would grow up someday, but I always thought someday was so far away. Days turn into weeks faster than I want to admit. I always hated it when older people would tell me how time goes by faster the older you get, but they were right. I try to hold my kids as much as possible while I can. I know that all too soon they won't want to be cuddled anymore.

Perrin laughed for the first time a couple of days ago. Not over me making silly faces or anything, but over me holding up different pairs of shorts to his belly to decide which ones to dress him in. He's already got a weird sense of humour. I wasn't too sure about how I was going to handle this whole "boy" thing, but I have fallen so absolutely in love with him. He's a needy little guy. There's no doubt about that. He loves his mum. His gorgeous blue eyes just melt my heart everytime he looks at me. Sometimes, he'll stare at me with the most serious expression on his face for several minutes. It's like the world stops turning and it's just the two of us, alone in the universe. I remember Abby used to do that, too.

I like to lie next to them when they sleep and just breathe them in. It's still a miracle to me that they grew in my body. I still feel like a part of me is missing when I leave them for any amount of time. I know it drives Heath a little crazy, but I just don't think men can really understand that bond. If they could be pregnant they would get it. They couldn't handle it, though. Men are great protectors, but pregnancy is too emotional for a man to deal with. They may have the physical strength, but we've got most of them beat when it comes to emotions. It's a good thing we aren't ALL emotional. The world would be such a mess. At least this way we balance each other out.

Poo-palooza

I never expected to get so much for Mother's Day this year. I got the usual cards and kisses, but along with my gifts my children gave me several "presents" of their own making. Let me start by saying that in the last few weeks, Perrin has stopped poo-ing on a daily basis and instead holds it all in for days at a time. The result is rather like a volcano erupting. It comes out fast, goes everywhere, the air is nearly un-breatheable, and NOBODY is happy about it. He seems to prefer Sundays for this. Last week he poo-ed and it went all the way up his back to his neck and through both layers of clothing and the blanket! Maybe it's because I like to do the laundry on Saturdays. I don't know. For whatever reason, he attempted to repeat this scenario on Mother's Day. All I can say is that at least it wasn't ALL the way up his back this time. This time I was sneaky and didn't wash the kids' laundry on Saturday so I had a whole load to put his poo-ed on clothes into. ( Score one for Queen Mommy! )

Abby also seemed eager to fill her diapers on Mother's Day. She poo-ed three times! ( Note to self: Potty train the princess. ) The last time was close to bedtime. She had been upstairs watching a movie while Heath and I watched part one of the season finale of "Grey's Anatomy" ( one of our only times together ). She came downstairs sans-diaper and smelling like poo. Heath was kind enough to take care of that one since Perrin was curled up asleep beside me on the couch. He had to go up there again a little later and said it still smelled up there, but he couldn't see any reason why. I discovered the reason at bedtime. Her diaper had leaked onto the sheet and one of the pillows. Of course, it was too late to wash and dry the sheets so I had to put the "good" sheets ( for OUR bed ) that I had just washed on her bed. I hate making the bed. I hate putting the fitted sheet on. I always put it on the wrong way first. It's one of those things I just can't ever remember.

On the bright side, Perrin has poo-ed everyday since then. Maybe he's back on track in that department. I hope so. I hate having to worry about going out of the house on day three or more of one of his poo stand-offs. That's all I need is for it to leak through to the carseat. I'm not even sure the cover comes off, but I AM sure the carseat won't fit in the washing machine. Maybe the dryer, but not the washing machine.

Speaking of washing machines...I don't hear ours running anymore. This means one of two things: ( well, three if you count theft, but that's not very likely ) One, the wash cycle is finished and it's time to put the clothes into the dryer; or two, the washer stopped functioning because we haven't replaced the hoses like we've been supposed to do. I'm really hoping it's one.

A few moments of silence creep slowly over the Hyder kingdom...King Daddy is asleep as are their royal highnesses Princess Abby and Prince Perrin. Alas, Queen Mommy realizes that she must resist her desire to nap with them if she is to get anything accomplished today. There is laundry to be washed, toys to be picked up, mail to be sent, floors to sweep/vacuum, diapers to be changed, children to be washed, food to be prepared, and the list goes on...

I remember when I used to have time to read. When I could spend an entire day devouring a really great novel and lose myself in someone else's imagination for awhile. I could read whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My, how times have changed. If I'm lucky, I can read a few pages a day in "my" book. On a not-so-good day...well, at least it's not gathering dust just yet. Once Prince Perrin becomes mobile I may have to retire it to the shelf for an unspecified amount of time. In the meantime, I get to read a plethora of storybooks. Many of which become temporary favorites of Princess Abby's and I am required to read nightly for several weeks in a row. This might not pose a problem for the average person. However, I have them memorized by about the third time through and am ready to bang my head on the wall by the seventh or eight time. I've tried solving this problem by acquiring more books. It didn't help for long. I have those memorized now, too. I've tried hiding the ones I get REALLY sick of ( who knew the Teletubbies books were even more painful than the show? ) for awhile. I still remember every word though. How is that a woman who forgets what day of the week it is even though there's a calendar on the wall can have every one of her children's storybooks memorized? If only I could forget the stories and remember the important stuff like eating lunch.

That's not to say I don't enjoy reading to the kids. I do. I love it. I've purchased/found a lot of the books I loved as a child to share with my own children. Books like "The Poky Little Puppy" and "The Boy with a Drum" and "Curious George". It's funny how reading "Curious George" as a parent totally changes the book. The man in the big yellow hat is ridiculously irresponsible. What kind of person would leave a monkey alone after telling him "Be good"? That's like leaving a two year-old alone and telling them to be good. Ask any mother how well THAT would work. A toddler has to idea what that really means and even if they do have a rough idea, they haven't got the attention span to remember it. Neither does a monkey. The man never seems to learn though. The same thing happens in every book. Even if George DOES have the mentallity of a toddler, he's still a whole lot brighter than the man in the big yellow hat!

I'm glad Abby doesn't see things the way I do. She still sees it as just a good book. She sees George, not the man with the big yellow hat. I'll never ruin it for her by revealing how ridiculous this man really is. She'll learn that kind of stuff on her own all too soon. Her innocence will gradually fade and drift away like morning mist and I will cry. I will mourn the loss of her childhood in a way only a mother can understand. Until then, I will cherish it. Hold it closely, but gently. Cupped in my hand like the most delicate, beautiful butterfly. Someday, it will fly away...but not today.

I don't know what it the world made me think I could actually have a moment's peace to even BEGIN a task like this, much less keep up with it. Who needs showers anyway? Bathing is SO over-rated. Except for the children, of course. Princess Abigael and Prince Perrin have a much different view on the matter. Her royal highness, Princess Abigael insists on staying in the tub as long as I'll allow it. When I finally decide it's time to get her out before her entire two year-old body does, in fact, shrivel like a raisin, she ignores me. Having no fear whatsoever of being sucked down the drain ( I think she'd find it a great adventure if it COULD happen ) she wallows around until the absolute LAST drop of water slips away. Even then, I pretty much have to drag her wet, shivering self out of the tub before she really does catch pneumonia or die of hypothermia. She's always been a water bug. Prince Perrin seems to be following in her footsteps already. At almost three months old he already knows how to manipulate Queen Mommy. He's very particular about having clean hair. If it's not washed everyday he makes his displeasure widely known. And heaven forbid Queen Mommy tries to put him in the BABY bathtub! He will not suffer such indignity! Queen Mommy must draw a bath in the large tub and accompany him into the water ( hey, I guess I DO get to bathe after all! ) and entertain him whilst he bathes.

Speaking of cleanliness, why is the house always such a disaster area? Oh. Right. I have a two year-old. What is it about putting things away that grabs a toddler's attention and tells their brain to shift into overdrive as they follow behind you and undo everything you've done? And why can't it work in reverse? Why can't I start getting stuff OUT and inspire her to start putting stuff AWAY? Our house would be spotless! At least last night I managed to get all of the pencil and MOST of the red and orange crayon off the walls and doors. It took an entire Magic Eraser, but I think it will be undetectable to the leasing office when we move. I forgot about the printer tray, though. ( How did she do all this without my noticing? Oh. Right. The Baby. )

Methinks I hear a summons from his royal highness even as we speak. Which brings me to another question. What is it about the word "quiet" that makes a toddler get louder? And why does the phrase "Leave him ALONE" mean "Please, wake him up"? I love my children more than life itself, but sometimes, I'd just like a minute to breathe. Better go before he works up to total meltdown. Thanks again, Abby.