Productivty, Pro-Duc-Tiv-Ity*

Yesterday, I found myself getting a little batshit crazy squirrely again, so I decided that what I needed to do were things that were productive but had a very visible result. That way I could really SEE what I had done and could feel good about it and less squirrely. I know! I’m like the Dr. Phil of blogging, right?! Anyhow, so let me share what I did… because that’s what blogging is all about. I share the inane details of my life, you read, comment if you like and then I read the inane details of your life and comment.

First of all, I went to Sprouts and got fruits and veggies to make a metric ass-load of baby food for Sam. I’ve been making his food for about seven months now and I’m honestly getting pretty tired of it. We were doing great until I spent a week in the hospital and Gerald used up all the food I had stashed in the freezer and I’ve never gotten a surplus again. So I feel like I’m making his food all the frickin’ time. Anyhow, I made peaches, pears, butternut squash, zucchini, brown rice and tri-colored pasta (regular, spinach and tomato). I still need to make some chicken, but otherwise we’ve got a fairly good stash now. And lots of little bags of food cubes in the freezer to visually gauge productivity.

I also made Sam some teething biscuits. Not out of some fear that the ones in the store are loaded with chemicals and crap, but because it was cheaper to make them. All I needed that I didn’t already have was wheat germ. I got some and made the biscuits and homemade granola bars with it. Here’s the recipe for the teethers if you’re interested. (I can tell you that Sam gobbled up the one he had, but Maddie and I don’t really like them. They’re bland, but you don’t want to be putting loads of sugar in something for wee ones, right?  Maddie had a good time rolling them into “sneaky snakes,” too, so bonus points for a fun kid activity.)

Wholesome Wheat Cookies

Ingredients:

2/3 cup milk
4 Tbsp butter, melted and cooled
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1 cup plain, untoasted wheat germ
1 cup whole wheat flour, approx.

Directions:
Beat together the milk, butter and sugar. Stir in the wheat germ and enough flour to make a dough.
Knead until smooth and satiny, about 8 to 10 minutes.
Pinch off balls of dough and roll them into sticks about 1/2 in. thick and 4 in. long
Bake on a greased cookie sheet at 350°F for about 45 minutes or until browned and hard.
Makes about 20 depending on the size you make them.

Since we were baking, Maddie and I also made homemade vanilla wafers. I can’t tell you how they turned out because the dough is in my freezer right now. (We’re going to bake them after nap.) But, I can tell you that the dough passed the official Beater Licking Test as administered by my daughter.

I also did two loads of laundry, swept the kitchen and vacuumed the house. I feel really good about it. I’m pleased that Gerald will have a clean(ish) house, fed children, a good dinner and cookies when he gets home from work. I know if I was still working in an office I would like those things waiting for me when I got home.

I also took the time to type up a few short emails to friends I hadn’t chatted with in a while. To let them know I was thinking of them and missing them. I was rewarded with a nice chatty call from Donna, whom I adore. So, I’m also feeling loved by a friend. All in all, I think I’ve combated the squirrelies today. I’m hoping the victory will be enough to help me get over the next case of the squirrelies. Because we all know that there will be a next time.

*sung to the tune of Electricity from School House Rock

Gushing

Oh you guys, I have to gush. I mean really, really gush and it’s going to be embarrassing for all involved so if you want to skip this post and come back when I’m depressed and maudlin again, I’ll understand.

I had not one, but TWO “date nights” this weekend. First, on Saturday, I had dinner with Jennie, Julie and Kristie. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears repeating: These women are phenomenal. They are funny, caring, understanding, encouraging, witty, clever and a million other adjectives. We haven’t been friends long, but it feels like I’ve always known them.

They were so supportive and kind to me and my tender self-esteem this weekend. They reminded me that I do have dear friends and it’s time to stop wallowing in self-pity. (Jennie even offered to punch the sender of The Email. Now, if that’s not true friendship, I don’t know what is.) We had a scrumptious meal, some alcohol and fantastic conversation. It was truly rejuvenating for me.

Then on Sunday we had our monthly book club meeting. I got to see Jennie, Julie and Kristie again as well as some other wonderful ladies. I ate the best sandwich in the world, talked about a book that I hated too much to finish, (I’m lookin’ at you, The Book Thief.) talked about getting pregnant, tumors with teeth and hair, got free pastries because I’m cute, (I have no idea if that’s why, but that’s what I’m telling myself.) and had a blast.

Please, if you ever get a chance to meet someone you only know from the internet, be brave enough to do it. I can’t promise you’ll end up with such great women in your lives, but it’s worth the chance. I’m so lucky to have met these ladies and somehow tricked them into being my friend.

Dare to Compare

I really ought to shoot myself in the head instead of posting this, but I’ve never been the sharpest tool in the shed. So, let me lay it on the line: I’m feeling crushed by the ever-present Mommy Guilt. What about?

Well, I just read a blog post that was a letter to a little boy who was born two weeks before Sam was. It was very sweet and outlined the little boy’s achievements, likes, dislikes, personality, etc. The same thing I do for my kids. Only, this one caused me a fair bit of angst because her son? LEAPS AND BOUNDS ahead of Sam. He’s been crawling for a month and a half. He says like 10 words. He mimics his parents. Sam? Not so much.

Gerald and I have talked about Sam’s lack of interest in doing, well, anything and we’d basically come to the conclusion that he’s just the world’s laziest baby laid back. I was sure that he might be less ambitious than Maddie because he’s a boy, he’s second-born and he’s a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON. I try not to compare Sam and Maddie, but it’s impossible. The only experience I have raising a child is what I’ve gained with Maddie. It’s logical and reasonable for me to compare raising her with raising Sam. Maddie is an ambitious, independent, intelligent leader. She’s bossy, opinionated and never still. Sam is laid back, relaxed, happy and carefree. He’s pretty mellow for a wee baby and content to just go along with whatever’s happening.

The problem is now I’m comparing him with this little boy. Sam is nowhere near doing these things. And I’m worried. I’ve pretty much convinced myself that the reason Maddie was so far ahead of where Sam is at the same age is because I was able to devote almost all my time to her. Sam has to deal with getting way less attention and now his development is suffering for it.

To make matters worse, I feel like shit every time I have to tell Maddie I can’t play right now because I’m taking care of Sam. I can’t give either one of them my full attention so now they’re both suffering because of it.

Gerald and I are both only children so I have no idea how it’s supposed to work with more than one kid. Is this normal? That your kids are so! different! from each other? That you always feel like you’re short-changing one or the other? Will they both hate me when they’re older? Maddie, because I took away my undivided attention. Sam, because he got the shaft from the minute he was born. Have I ruined my kids’ lives by having two of them?

Well, THAT was random

That was a heck of a week, wasn’t it? Holy moly, I didn’t see that one coming.

For those of you who don’t follow me on twitter, here’s a brief recap:

Wednesday – I woke up feeling bad and had some pain in my lower right abdomen. The pain increased as the day progressed and I ended up in our local ER. The doctor on call thought it was appendicitis. After eight hours and countless tests later, I was told it was an ovarian cyst with a small amount of torsion and to follow up with my OB/Gyn as soon as possible.

Thursday – I called my OB’s office and explained the situation and they got me in that afternoon. After an exam, my OB thought the ER was full of crap and that I had appendicitis. So, he sent me over to the ER at Big City Hospital where his office is located. First of all, let me just tell you that was terrifying all by itself. There were some shady characters in that waiting room, let me tell you. I ended up in tears because I was all alone and scared and I’m pretty sure I saw a hooker, FTLOG.

Anyhow, the Big City Hospital ER repeated all the same tests that I had the night before and found the same results. Except that my liver enzymes were 10 times what they were supposed to be. That bought me a ticket to a room upstairs. I had quite a few tests and about a million vials of blood drawn and they still couldn’t figure out WTF was going on.

Monday – I had an EGD and my pouch and stoma were all in working order. No ulcers, no adhesions, nada. So, whatever was going on was in my lower GI tract/abdomen.

Wednesday – My OB and a bariatric surgeon did a laparoscopy to see what was going on. Apparently, I had a plethora of nastiness going on in there. They took my appendix out. (To quote my OB, it didn’t look horrible, but it didn’t look great.) I had some scar tissue that had attached my right ovary to some other part of my body. (I’m a little fuzzy on those details.) I also had two hernias from my gastric bypass that the bariatric surgeon corrected. My liver enzymes came back down over the week, so that was good. We’re keeping an eye on them.

I got to come home on Thursday afternoon. I spent the rest of the weekend in a drug-induced stupor. I finally emerged today and did some grocery shopping. I had to take a 2.5 hour nap afterward, but that’s still progress, right?

Gerald was an absolute gem. He took charge of everything; kids, house, me, everything. Our wonderful family helped by watching the kids and coming to visit me. And all of you were so fantastic keeping me entertained on twitter and calling with sweet offers to sneak me in contraband food. A girl couldn’t ask for better friends!

Things I just don’t get.

1. Straight celebrities who say they’re engaged but won’t get married until everyone has the right to get married. First of all, why get engaged at all then? That makes no sense. Secondly, gay people do not care whether or not you get married. What they care about is whether or not they can get married. Straight marriages don’t figure into the equation at all. What are you thinking will happen? Some right-wing, homophobic senator who’s been in the seat for 60 years is going to say “Wait a minute. You mean to say that straight men and women are living in sin because we won’t allow these homosexuals to get married? Well, that ain’t right. We need to fix this and now.” No. No one cares that straight people aren’t getting married. Except maybe their mothers.

2. The hypocrisy of London’s Fashion Week has reached epic proportions. First, we have designers paying lip service to the anti-anorexia propaganda and using models who look like cancer patients. Then there’s the 15 year old model who was below the age allowed. Finally, we have designers using men as models for their women’s collections. So we’re basically being told that we have three ways to achieve that ideal figure: 1. Be anorexic. 2. Be a child barely through puberty. 3. Be a man. Well, easy peasy. I’ll get right on that.

3. Jennifer Lopez and her incessant boo hooing on American Idol. Like she gives a rat’s ass about these people.

4. Charlie Sheen.

5. Why my kitten cranks it up to 11 right at bed time every night. She’s a menace.

Detox

I’m detoxing. But not like you’re thinking; which is probably scary-Hollywood-celebrity-type detoxing. I’m detoxing in the middle-class-suburban-housewife-type way.

I volunteered to run up to the drug store last night to pick up my husband’s prescription for the sole purpose of buying, and then gorging on, candy. I fondled different delicious treats in the candy aisle and then left, empty-handed. I felt like some sort of candy-fondling pervert as I slunk out the door. I was proud of myself but knew I’d be pissed later that night when I still had NO CANDY in the house. Turns out that if you simply go to bed at 7:30 pm, you don’t really think about candy all that much.

This morning I woke up and decided I’d had enough. I don’t have anything against candy. As a matter of fact, I sort of love it. What I don’t love is feeling out of control. After almost a full week of being snowed-in together and a raging case of PMS I was a slave to emotional eating. I wasn’t making the conscious choice to enjoy a dessert or a sweet treat. I was eating to make my mind shut up.

For three days I’ve given myself two protein shakes a day, unlimited fruits and vegetables and dinner each night. I’m not going crazy. I want to break the mindless eating habit and addiction to refined carbs, not starve to death. So far today I’ve been strong. I’ve had my two shakes, a pear, some carrots and a tangerine. I’m hungry, but I feel righteous and smug which helps immensely. There’s no feeling like defeating your own worst enemy, is there? Especially when that enemy is always yourself. Every time my stomach growls I tell myself that’s a good thing. It means I needed to do this. I need to feel hungry. I need to remember what that feels like instead of keeping my pie hole filled all the time and never giving myself a chance to feel hungry. The fact that I walk into the pantry and stare longingly at the Wheat Thins means I have a problem. For me, there’s a reason the word CRACK is in CRACKERS. I would grind them up and snort them if I could. TFS.

And that is why I will always, always be a fat girl on the inside. Regardless of my outside.

Well, that was random.

* I went grocery shopping on Thursday night last week. (I went to WalMart about 8:00 or so. I don’t typically shop then, but I needed things for Maddie’s birthday party on Saturday.) Imagine my surprise when I discovered the store was virtually empty. Score, right? WRONG. It seems that 8:00 in my small town is the middle of the night as far as shopping goes. I cannot tell you how many women I saw shopping IN THEIR PAJAMAS. And slippers! Seriously. There is no hyperbole here, folks. The only time it’s acceptable to shop in your pajamas is if it is truly the middle of the night and you’re at the store to get something for a sick child/spouse. And even then you can take some time to put some damn shoes on. WTF is with people?

* I’m sure you’ve noticed that Maddie’s holding a blanket/sucking her thumb in 85% of the pictures I take of her. She’s a hardcore thumb sucker. She’s developed a wicked case of eczema around her mouth from the constant dampness of her blanket and her bottom teeth are starting to lean into her mouth. Gerald and I decided that when she turned four she was only going to be allowed to have her blanket at nap and bed times. We prepared her for this by talking about all the awesome stuff four year olds get to do and throwing in there that since she’s going to be a Big Kid that her blanket has to live in her bed now. Big Kids do not carry around blankets and suck their thumbs. Amazingly, we got absolutely no push-back on this. She’s been remarkably cool with it. I expected she’d suck her thumb without the blanket but so far she hasn’t done it once. She’s asked to bring her blanket into a living room a few times, but accepts that she can’t when she’s told no. She was miserable after her pediatrician’s appointment yesterday (FOUR SHOTS and one dose of Flu Mist!) so I made her a nest on the couch and let her have her blanket for a little while. She didn’t even try to take advantage of my intense guilt over having to hold her down for her shots.

* We’re going to register Maddie for the Spring season of local soccer. They have a First Kicks program for three and four year olds that teaches them the basics of the game and they play scrimmages against each other at each weekly practice. It lasts six weeks and a parent’s participation is mandatory. Maddie’s going to LOVE it. She’s been asking to play soccer for two years. (We live very close to the town’s soccer fields and she sees the kids playing all the time.) She also wants to go to Ballerina School, so we’re going to look at sending her in the fall. It’s so neat to be able to do this kind of stuff with her now that she’s a KID and not a baby.

* I got a variety pack of k-cups from Amazon that came via FedEx today. I’m overwhelmed by all my choices! I’m making notes on likes and dislikes so that I know what to order in the future.

* I’ve been thinking a lot lately about getting another cat. Here are my notes, thus far:
Pros – I love cats.
I miss a warm, purring cat sharing my pillow at night.
If we get a kitten, he/she will grow up with our kids and likely not be afraid of / hate them with the fire of a thousand suns like our old cat did.
Um, I really, really love cats.

Cons – Litterbox.
Fur everywhere.
Stepping on cold cat barf in the dark when getting up to feed the baby.
In general, cats are Very Unhealthy Animals and will indubitably cost me an arm and a leg in vet bills over the long-term. (Our last two cats had kidney problems, diabetes, and thyroid issues.)

Nevermind. I just talked myself right out of it with that list. Whew.

* I STILL haven’t heard back from my previous Workplace about coming in for another interview. Last I heard, I was still in the running, but they got behind over the holidays. Well, it’s been a month since the holidays and they still haven’t gotten their act together. Do I really want to work for someone who takes this damn long to decide on an interview? Not a final candidate, just an INTERVIEW.

Crossroads (A.K.A. self-centered navel-gazing.)

I feel like I’m at a crossroads. Like there’s some sort of Big Decision that needs to be made. Or that I’m preparing for Big Changes. The problem is, I have no idea what it is.

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something. I don’t know if it’s good or bad, and it’s scaring the hell out of me.

Does this mean that I’ve identified that I need to make a change? Is it time to stop talking about getting healthier and actually, you know, do something about it? Am I ready to stop being a stay-at-home-mom and jump back into my career? Am I ready to try something new, instead? WHAT IS IT?

It’s sort of like I’ve been half drowning, dog paddling for all I’m worth just to keep my head above water, and suddenly I realize that I’m swimming. Hey! Look at me! I’m SWIMMING! But where the hell am I going?

Let’s start with the things I know it’s not:
1. My family. We’re complete. Doors and windows closed and locked up tight. No more babies for us. I am 100% sure of this fact.
2.

Well, turns out that was a much shorter list than I had expected. Shit. That didn’t help at all, did it?

All right. Things it can be:
1. My weight/eating habits. The guilt is driving me batshit crazy.
2. My job/lack of job.
3. My current location.
4. My burgeoning cooking hobby.
5. My lack of brick and mortar friends.

It could be any one of these things. Or some of them. Or even all of them. Shit Shit Shit. This didn’t help either. What the hell good is all this navel-gazing if it doesn’t clarify anything. I’m going to go back to stuffing down my feelings and trying to ignore them until they go away. At least that method doesn’t subject us to awful blog posts, right? RIGHT.

Death

How do you talk to a four year old about death in a way that makes it real, but not scary? Maddie knows about death, but only in the abstract. She knows my mom is dead and dinosaurs are dead and that sort of thing, but still thinks you can wake up anyone who’s dead with Magic Kisses. (Which is totally my doing, although not intentional.)

Our much-beloved cat is nearing 17 and her hyperthyroidism has become unmanageable. She only weighs four pounds now, she’s stopped grooming herself and is covered in mats and just seems done. Gerald and I have made the very difficult decision to have her euthanized and I’m taking her to the vet this evening. How in the world do we talk to Maddie about this? I’m afraid telling her that Puss is old and sick will make her afraid that someone getting sick means they’re going to die.

Do you have an experience in talking to your kids about the death of a pet? Can you offer any words of wisdom?

Seriously the most obvious complaint you’ve ever heard

You know what I’m pissed about? Being an adult is so damn hard. This is not how it was supposed to be. When I was a kid being an adult was all about being the boss, staying up late, eating whatever you wanted, having money and and choosing what to watch on TV. I call shenanigans on this not being as advertised.