Saturday, November 22, 2008

It's almost 10:30, we're all still in our pj's and I just made a huge batch of crepes, which we are eating on the living room floor.

It’s not officially winter yet, but the weather outside is most certainly frightful. I don’t desire the opportunity to venture out for any reason, yet we have a full agenda for today, if we ever get started! The cold weather is sapping all my energy. I am already feeling short of breath and tremulous. And fat! I just want to pull up a good book, a direct line to my kitchen, and an endless supply of DVDs and camp out on the couch til, say, late March, early April!


Monday, November 24, 2008

I tell my boys they need good feet and strong walking legs this morning. We drive Mac to school in the sick car and then drop off the noisy, sick car. We walk a block to the dentist’s office where I am told my earache is due to stressed mouth muscles. My dentists then proceeds to massage my stressed mouth musles. This is the weirdest dentist appointment I have ever had. But when he is done, my ear no longer hurts. Too weird. Sailor wants to sit in the dentists chair becuz of a problem that comes up as we are walking into the office. Something about his teeth getting out of line when he bites into food and how he has to get them all back where they belong. He gets his pearlies looked at and is disappointed not to be given a goody bag of toothbrushes and dental floss. We make an appointment for Friday the 5th to have his teeth cleaned – and procure said goody bag. We walk home. Slowly. To the sounds of Sailor’s incessant whining about how the new winter boots I bought him last night are too heavy, too itchy and not good for walking. We stop at Starbucks. No, not to reward his whiny behaviour but to give me a break and him a rest. We sit at a table and I play hangman with him on a napkin. Except he is not clear on the concept of how the game works. The final “word” is something like ERDOLPA. Or some other random combo of letters that he chooses at will during the game. He runs home, energized on vanilla milk. Following his gymnastics class, we lunch with my dad. On the walk I ask him if he knows what a grandma and grandpa are. “They are old and they are the same as a Nana and GrandDad and that’s all they are.” We eat a hearty lunch of breakfast foods. When Sasilor orders a bear-shaped pancake I tease him that it might have fur. “It’s not meat, it’s a pancake!” Then he proceeds to eat the strawberry and whipped cream face off with much delight. When the waitress asks us if we want to wrap our food to go, Sailor replies, “As a fact of the matter, yes.”

After lunch the garage calls. I need a new muffler. And it will cost $225. I suppose it could be worse.

Without the car we have to walk to Judo after school. Mac spends most of the walk explaining that he has to do all the pages of math homework that he missed. “Because you forgot to call someone and ask for the homework.” What the heck is this kid talking about?? When? When did I forget to call? When you were absent? “No, when I was too busy in class doing my D.O.L. and didn’t get all the homework written down.” And I am supposed to know that he has homework that is not written in his agenda?!?!? What am I now, a mind reader? I’ll tell you what I am. An incensed mommy. How the h*** am I supposed to know when he doesn’t write down the homework completely!? There was no note from the teacher asking for the missing homework. What the bleep?! I am trying to be patient as I explain to my darling boy that this situation is in no way any fault of mine. He is seriously trying my patience. I suggest that if he knows he didn’t write down all of his homework then he should ask to call a friend. Or at the very least as me to.

We make it to Judo just on time. Mac is being weird about his box of vanilla milk and ends up dropping it in the trash. I am livid. I tell him to fetch it out but it was more than half full and sank to the bottom. I tell him he owes me a buck and won’t get anymore vanilla milk boxes.

By the time the time the boys are in their “gi” and on the mat I am so agitated. I am supposed to be enjoying this, people!

They do well at Judo and eat all their dinner. It is better.


Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Mac is in need of an outlet to plug in the vacuum cleaner. “Mom, I am going to have to unscrew your computer.”


Thursday, November 27, 2008

Thanksgiving Day. We have a 5-day break from school and I intend to leave the alarm clock unplugged for the duration. But a construction crew – yes, I said a construction crew – has other ideas for the morning. 7:30 a.m. we, and my parents below us, are awake to the sounds of pounding in a rhythm akin to knocking. My father wakes wondering what we are doing up here. Mac looks out the window. “There’s an orange cone near the stroller.” We are all up. We sit on the sofa together somewhat dazed. “You can go back to sleep, Mommy,” one of my boys offers. “No. I’m up.” Sailor asks if it is Thanksgiving Day. “Happy Thanksgiving!” Mac says. “I have an Indian movie,” Sailor says, retrieving The Prince of Egypt from the TV shelf. “I don’t think that’s a Thanksgiving movie,” I tell him. “We can watch ANTZ! But it needs to be washed off,” Mac says heading to the bathroom. Before I know what we are doing there is an argument going on around me over which movie to watch at 7:45 in the morning. I don’t recall having granted anyone permission to watch anything. It is just after 8:00 when I send both boys to their rooms and close the TV cabinet.

At 8:15 Sailor comes out on his own. “I have spots on my arm.” Indeed he does. He is in fact covered in spots from his neck to his feet, front and back. I call the pediatrician and have a nice chat with her. She sounds like she has make-up on. I like talking to women pediatricians so much more than their male counterparts. They are so much more amenable to talking to the mom and figuring out what is wrong.
Over breakfast I watch Sailor’s face break out. Literally watch it break out.

It takes some time before we are mobilized to get to the store for the allegry medicine the doc suggested. Before we leave I tell off the workmen. “Do you not realize today is a holiday? And I did not want to be up at 7:30 on a day off! You are supposed to be at home helping your wives cook turkey! You should have covered this stroller with plastic.” Ah, finally a word they understand. “Mumble mumble mumble plastic.” “I’m covering it myself but you should have done it already.” When we come out later there is a tarp over the stroller. Before we leave we also have to reorganize all the kids’ books. I don’t know why, really. We just do.

Whole Foods is open and busy. Mac is pushing the cart. Sailor is throwing a fit becuz Mac won’t let him hold the side of the cart. “You’re making me run into things!” I quietly whisper to my boys how I will spank them right in the middle of the store if they don’t stop. Sailor goes on and on even after I suggest they take turns pushing, which Mac is fine with.

Everyone needs a snack. We choose croissants and leave the store without the allergy medicine becuz it is $8. At CVS Benadryl is $7. And Mac suddenly has to pee right now. We return to Whole Foods, everyone pees, we get the allergy stuff that is homeopathic and tastes good and has to be administered every 2 hours til the symptoms go away. We get more croissants. We go home. It is too warm out for our winter coats. I am grumpy and tired and feel fluish. I am not in a good mood for a holiday. We eat lunch. The boys paint and I read them a story. They want to dress up for thanksgiving dinner. No, not my version of dress up, which includes nice clothes. They want to be a Indian chief and a Pilgrim. Mac puts on his bathrobe. This is one of those times when I need another parent to either back me up when I say no or help the kids come up with costumes. “I can be an army man if I change my pants and my socks,” Sailor suggests. “It’s not Halloween, boys.” “Or I can wear black pants and a blue shirt and be Darth Vader.” I am so ready to lose it. I send my boys down to get silver to polish from Nana. “We have bad news and good news,” they tell me. “The bad news is that GrandDad already polished the silver. The good news is I told Aunt you won’t let me be an Indian chief and she said she will make me a headdress.” I call downstairs and my father answers. “Please let my sister know that when one of my children says ‘Mommy says no,’ it does not mean Aunt should say yes. This is a total undermining of my parenting.” My father is calm. My sister would have hung up on me or huffed something about me being a bitch or just given me the cold shoulder for at least the first hour of dinner. I hang up and explain to my boys that there is no other adult who they can go to for another answer if I say no and that no amount of begging will make me say yes. They sit down on Mac’s bedroom floor and make Indian gear. I am fine with this, but they will wear their new sweaters, dammit. It’s 3pm. Is it too early to have a glass of wine? Happy Thanksgiving!


Friday, November 28, 2008
Today we were set to put up our little Christmas tree. But I am afraid our abyss of a basement has swallowed up the box containing all of our holiday décor. We’ll have to go look tomorrow, as today we worked hard to burn off the turkey-less meal we consumed yesterday by helping my friend Anna move. Hauling boxes, bags, totes and a large CHAIR down one steep set of stairs and up or down inside the new house makes for one sore mama. My boys were amazing tho, carrying boxes and less heavy items, packing the car and the truck and distributing items into the new rooms. Everyone was impressed, including Mama!

Saturday
Sailor is undressing for the shower. Quietly he suggests, “Uh, Mom, I’m almost ready. Perhaps you want to turn the water on now.”
Perhaps I might!