The problem with having friends is that they pass on all their various illnesses and diseases, along with all their kids' illnesses and diseases. I'm swimming in friends here. I couldn't have kept these people away if I'd wanted to (I didn't). This is the most friendly place I have ever lived, and it's AWESOME.
Except for the whole getting sick the weekend before Christmas.
Everyone at church got sick in the last couple of weeks. I breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed to have passed us by. And then Emmy woke up from her nap yesterday with a fever. And then last night Jeremy started moaning and being sad and uncomfortable, and I rolled my eyes because I'm the best wife ever. And then he spent the entire night being violently ill. And then when I got up this morning I felt like my throat was stuffed with a giant wad of balled-up socks.
Grace is completely unaffected. As usual.
It's like we all have something different. Which is fun because we could potentially pass around various horriblenesses for weeks. Who knows what could happen? It'll be the best Christmas surprise ever.
Also, we're supposed to leave for Denver tomorrow morning.
I spent all of yesterday cleaning like a crazy person, and then I went to the liquor store (in Utah, this means driving around to seven different locations which may or may not be closed at odd hours and hoping one of them is open and has what you want) and then water aerobics, so I think maybe I'm just overtired. I get sinusy weirdness all the time lately; I think it's the pollution.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself as I alternate between sweating and shivering every five minutes.
The one bright spot in the day is that Upstairs Neighbor brought down the cutest present for us this morning (four adorable mugs, hot cocoa mix, and some tea). Totally made my day. Now I feel like a horrible person for not thinking to get them anything.
Anyway, Merry Christmas, all!
(And please pray that we'll all be better tomorrow. I've been looking forward to this trip since I left there last month.)
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Abs
This will be short and dry. It's something I've been meaning to write about for a while because I'm quite sure there are a few others of you out there who have a similar problem and have either not been told how to fix it or haven't even been told it exists.
I've recently discovered that my persistently weak abs a stubbornly bulgy stomach are a result of an Actual, Real Thing, not just me not trying hard enough. It's called diastasis recti. It happens to most women during pregnancy and usually goes away after birth. Mine is not severe. But it's not going away on its own. Having two gigantic children 16 months apart is one of the best ways to get it. Yay me.
So I've been holding off on the ab exercises because everything I've read says they make it worse. That's just SUPER.
Well, I picked up this video on a whim at the Babysteals Boutique here in Salt Lake (online discount store, with headquarters five minutes from our apartment; yet another reason to love Utah). I was looking for a Christmas gift for my niece. I didn't find one, but this video is a total win. The lady has that weird cheerleader smile and is entirely too perky (and pretty) for my liking, but I can feel my stomach tightening up, ever so slowly. I already have far less back pain after just a couple of weeks, and my belt is getting bigger and bigger on me.
I'm still on the novice level. I have to bow out of some of the exercises because I'm too tired to do them properly. But she tells you exactly how to keep proper form, and how to keep strengthening and using those muscles throughout the day. Anyway, if any of you are having a similar problem, I really suggest trying it. Even if you can't do the full workout, it can get you started on getting those muscles back to where they're actually useful. I've also noticed my posture improving, which is nice; I really don't want to have a hunchbank when I'm 90.
I've recently discovered that my persistently weak abs a stubbornly bulgy stomach are a result of an Actual, Real Thing, not just me not trying hard enough. It's called diastasis recti. It happens to most women during pregnancy and usually goes away after birth. Mine is not severe. But it's not going away on its own. Having two gigantic children 16 months apart is one of the best ways to get it. Yay me.
So I've been holding off on the ab exercises because everything I've read says they make it worse. That's just SUPER.
Well, I picked up this video on a whim at the Babysteals Boutique here in Salt Lake (online discount store, with headquarters five minutes from our apartment; yet another reason to love Utah). I was looking for a Christmas gift for my niece. I didn't find one, but this video is a total win. The lady has that weird cheerleader smile and is entirely too perky (and pretty) for my liking, but I can feel my stomach tightening up, ever so slowly. I already have far less back pain after just a couple of weeks, and my belt is getting bigger and bigger on me.
I'm still on the novice level. I have to bow out of some of the exercises because I'm too tired to do them properly. But she tells you exactly how to keep proper form, and how to keep strengthening and using those muscles throughout the day. Anyway, if any of you are having a similar problem, I really suggest trying it. Even if you can't do the full workout, it can get you started on getting those muscles back to where they're actually useful. I've also noticed my posture improving, which is nice; I really don't want to have a hunchbank when I'm 90.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Pandora: Christmas Edition
After ten years working in a restaurant, I thought I was done with Christmas music forever. From Halloween to December 24th, all we listened to were inane versions of the same five Christmas songs sung over and over and over. "Jingle Bell Rock" doesn't have much charm to begin with, but try listening to it in Spanish, in country twang, in a soft rock revamp and in the original--ALL IN THE SAME HOUR. It's like having your brain sucked out through your ear.
And then. This year. I'd been a bit glum since the cloudier, cooler weather started (this is before I started shoveling in vitamin D like it was candy--10,000 IUI/day is apparently what it takes to make me happy). I got a bizarre hankering for some Christmas music, so I decided to see what Pandora had to offer.
My favorite version ever of any Christmas song ever is sung by--get this--The Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan:
It is utterly perfect in every way. And I don't even like Sarah McLachlan since all the rage about her a decade or so ago (her voice is lovely, but I'm so tired of it).
So this is the song I plugged in to get my Christmas station started. There have been many good songs and many good artists. But then there are the hordes of breathy, overwrought emotional Christmas hymns or rocked-out, overwrought Christmas hymns, and it makes me want to scream.
There are two kinds of classic music that I like.
1. The original version.
2. A fresh, new version that still stays true to the spirit of the original. Please don't tell me that "O Holy Night" needs an electric guitar or breathy arpeggios. Or that "Silent Night" needs to be wailed at the top of your lungs.
So what does Pandora give me?
Breathy, flowered-up or rocked-out versions of old Christmas classics. OVER AND OVER AGAIN, despite me hovering over the computer every chance I get, plugging in thumbs up and thumbs down for every song I have a strong reaction to.
Me: Oh, what a lovely version of "Oh Come Oh Come Immanuel." LIKE.
Pandora: SIIII-III-LENT NII-II-II-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-GHT [where each "I" represents a part of the amazing scale this singer can sing], HO-HO-HOHOHOHOHOLY NII-II-II-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-GHT...
Me: DISLIKE.
Pandora: Personally, I really love this extremely twangy group of musicians who pronounce their Rs like they're trying their darndest to hold them in their mouth with their teeth until the Second Coming. You sure you don't want to give them another shot?
Me: NO.
Pandora: Okay, I'll throw you a bone. How's this for bizarre? Annie Lennox singing the most beautiful, haunting rendition of "Lullay Lullay" that you have ever heard. Enjoy crying into the soup you're cooking for your little tiny babies.
Me: *sniff* LIKE. A LOT. BUT IT'S SO SAD.
Pandora: Fine, how about something cheery like "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer"?
Me: Are you listening at ALL? HATE.
And so on.
If you can sift through the horrible stuff, Pandora does come up with real gems. If you like really strange ladies singing about terrible tragedy.
I dare you not to cry.
And then. This year. I'd been a bit glum since the cloudier, cooler weather started (this is before I started shoveling in vitamin D like it was candy--10,000 IUI/day is apparently what it takes to make me happy). I got a bizarre hankering for some Christmas music, so I decided to see what Pandora had to offer.
My favorite version ever of any Christmas song ever is sung by--get this--The Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan:
It is utterly perfect in every way. And I don't even like Sarah McLachlan since all the rage about her a decade or so ago (her voice is lovely, but I'm so tired of it).
So this is the song I plugged in to get my Christmas station started. There have been many good songs and many good artists. But then there are the hordes of breathy, overwrought emotional Christmas hymns or rocked-out, overwrought Christmas hymns, and it makes me want to scream.
There are two kinds of classic music that I like.
1. The original version.
2. A fresh, new version that still stays true to the spirit of the original. Please don't tell me that "O Holy Night" needs an electric guitar or breathy arpeggios. Or that "Silent Night" needs to be wailed at the top of your lungs.
So what does Pandora give me?
Breathy, flowered-up or rocked-out versions of old Christmas classics. OVER AND OVER AGAIN, despite me hovering over the computer every chance I get, plugging in thumbs up and thumbs down for every song I have a strong reaction to.
Me: Oh, what a lovely version of "Oh Come Oh Come Immanuel." LIKE.
Pandora: SIIII-III-LENT NII-II-II-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-GHT [where each "I" represents a part of the amazing scale this singer can sing], HO-HO-HOHOHOHOHOLY NII-II-II-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-GHT...
Me: DISLIKE.
Pandora: Personally, I really love this extremely twangy group of musicians who pronounce their Rs like they're trying their darndest to hold them in their mouth with their teeth until the Second Coming. You sure you don't want to give them another shot?
Me: NO.
Pandora: Okay, I'll throw you a bone. How's this for bizarre? Annie Lennox singing the most beautiful, haunting rendition of "Lullay Lullay" that you have ever heard. Enjoy crying into the soup you're cooking for your little tiny babies.
Me: *sniff* LIKE. A LOT. BUT IT'S SO SAD.
Pandora: Fine, how about something cheery like "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer"?
Me: Are you listening at ALL? HATE.
And so on.
If you can sift through the horrible stuff, Pandora does come up with real gems. If you like really strange ladies singing about terrible tragedy.
I dare you not to cry.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Too funny to wait until my next entry
On the off chance that any of you ever meet Slimy the Younger, this is how she will look at you all of the time. Really, it's not personal.
I will end you.
(There are several other cute children in this picture, but they're my sister's, and I don't know if posting them here is okay.)
I will end you.
(There are several other cute children in this picture, but they're my sister's, and I don't know if posting them here is okay.)
Friday, November 11, 2011
I still miss Woodman's
I went and got us a Costco membership today. This was a bad idea. Not the Costco part. That was a great idea. It'll pay for itself in a week in fruit alone.
No, the bad idea was Friday morning at 11:00. I don't know why, but everyone in Utah over 60 was there. In my daze and wonderment, it's a miracle I didn't plow any senior citizens over with my gigantic cart full of gigantic children. I've been to stores like this before, but it's a long time since I actually shopped in one for myself. You should see the grapes I got. They're as big as my head and taste like candy. And the tomatoes... I can now support my and 2.0's habit guilt-free.
I wrote down prices as I went through--stuff we buy regularly but don't need now--, and now that I look at it, I do think this thing will pay for itself in just a couple of trips. We used to have a Sam's membership when we first got married. I think we bought toilet paper once in our first three years together. The produce was cruddy, the quantities were enormous for just the two of us, and it was clear across town. Not worth it.
I don't know what Sam's is like now, but I really like Costco's produce, meat and deli. And with two kids I can even use up a refrigerator-size package of turkey slices before it expires.
The kids were angelic in the store today. It's always a gamble with them. They're never particularly bad; they seem to be wired not to throw tantrums in stores (something I know can happen even with good parents and well-disciplined children), but they get whiny and annoying, and I'm incapable of shopping while trying to tune out whining. It's like playing the piano while a friend jams a knife in your ear.
(They did have one moment in the cheese aisle (and I don't blame them--all that cheese makes me hangry, too), in which 2.0 got a flick on the cheek and The Child got a stern lecture--so effective with a three-year-old--, and when I was done, she looked at me and said, "Snuggle?" and we hugged a bit. And while that was happening, 2.0 leaned in too, and said something that sounded like "Straaangle?")
But back to Costco. It's an airplane hangar full of economy-sized crap you think you need, and half the time it took to get through was talking myself out of buying jars of pickles the size of my torso. And not running over sweet old people. I did get suckered into buying a fancy package of dried figs, but I justify that because: 1) they're good for you 2) I hate them 3) the kids love them. It's the perfect kid snack food. They eat something healthy, and I don't devour it while they're napping.
After 45 minutes of slogging through the AARP and my own greedy brain, we finally arrived at checkout. Where we waited. And waited. And waited. See, I have a superpower. It is the ability to find the one lane with the brand new trainee. If you ever see me in the store, do not get in line behind me. Especially if you have a similar ability. Our powers will combine, and we will be stuck in that checkout until our teeth fall out.
So we waited there. And then we waited at the membership counter behind a couple who must have been buying a car or ordering a custom-made glacier. Half an hour. I wish I were kidding. My poor starving children held it together very well, but I almost went back and bought myself an economy-size missile launcher. The thing I hate about waiting in line is that I know it's no one's fault. And having no one to direct my anger and impatience at makes me even angrier and more impatient.
I'm a wonderful person. Brimming with goodness and benevolence.
The people in front of us did finish up (I'm actually not writing this while I wait in line), I got my photo taken (my worst photo EVER, by the way, but it's okay because it's so awful it's comical instead of just embarrassing), and we cleared out of there. Then poor Emmy erupted into screams--but only until we got to the car. Good baby.
No, the bad idea was Friday morning at 11:00. I don't know why, but everyone in Utah over 60 was there. In my daze and wonderment, it's a miracle I didn't plow any senior citizens over with my gigantic cart full of gigantic children. I've been to stores like this before, but it's a long time since I actually shopped in one for myself. You should see the grapes I got. They're as big as my head and taste like candy. And the tomatoes... I can now support my and 2.0's habit guilt-free.
I wrote down prices as I went through--stuff we buy regularly but don't need now--, and now that I look at it, I do think this thing will pay for itself in just a couple of trips. We used to have a Sam's membership when we first got married. I think we bought toilet paper once in our first three years together. The produce was cruddy, the quantities were enormous for just the two of us, and it was clear across town. Not worth it.
I don't know what Sam's is like now, but I really like Costco's produce, meat and deli. And with two kids I can even use up a refrigerator-size package of turkey slices before it expires.
The kids were angelic in the store today. It's always a gamble with them. They're never particularly bad; they seem to be wired not to throw tantrums in stores (something I know can happen even with good parents and well-disciplined children), but they get whiny and annoying, and I'm incapable of shopping while trying to tune out whining. It's like playing the piano while a friend jams a knife in your ear.
(They did have one moment in the cheese aisle (and I don't blame them--all that cheese makes me hangry, too), in which 2.0 got a flick on the cheek and The Child got a stern lecture--so effective with a three-year-old--, and when I was done, she looked at me and said, "Snuggle?" and we hugged a bit. And while that was happening, 2.0 leaned in too, and said something that sounded like "Straaangle?")
But back to Costco. It's an airplane hangar full of economy-sized crap you think you need, and half the time it took to get through was talking myself out of buying jars of pickles the size of my torso. And not running over sweet old people. I did get suckered into buying a fancy package of dried figs, but I justify that because: 1) they're good for you 2) I hate them 3) the kids love them. It's the perfect kid snack food. They eat something healthy, and I don't devour it while they're napping.
After 45 minutes of slogging through the AARP and my own greedy brain, we finally arrived at checkout. Where we waited. And waited. And waited. See, I have a superpower. It is the ability to find the one lane with the brand new trainee. If you ever see me in the store, do not get in line behind me. Especially if you have a similar ability. Our powers will combine, and we will be stuck in that checkout until our teeth fall out.
So we waited there. And then we waited at the membership counter behind a couple who must have been buying a car or ordering a custom-made glacier. Half an hour. I wish I were kidding. My poor starving children held it together very well, but I almost went back and bought myself an economy-size missile launcher. The thing I hate about waiting in line is that I know it's no one's fault. And having no one to direct my anger and impatience at makes me even angrier and more impatient.
I'm a wonderful person. Brimming with goodness and benevolence.
The people in front of us did finish up (I'm actually not writing this while I wait in line), I got my photo taken (my worst photo EVER, by the way, but it's okay because it's so awful it's comical instead of just embarrassing), and we cleared out of there. Then poor Emmy erupted into screams--but only until we got to the car. Good baby.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
An unexpectedly happy day
Poor sad, sick Grace. Yesterday morning we spent at least half an hour dancing vigorously in the living room throughout the morning. Yesterday afternoon, her eye turned red, and her nose started running. Today it's a fever, nasty cough, and pinkeye.
I ran out of Ambien. I called my prescription in as soon as I could yesterday, but they still didn't get it in time to fill it yesterday. I spent almost all of last night (between Sick Child's screams) twitching in bed, praying for at least three hours of sleep. I think I got exactly that, which is nice. It's that zone right between the angry exhaustion and complete mental failure where I get hit with a weird euphoria every couple of hours. It's that or dozing on the floor next to The Child while 2.0 whacks me in the head with various paper-containing objects, shouting, "Bead! Book! Bead me... book!"
WELCOME HOME.
So I finally break down and make a doctor's appointment, and Grace perks up and starts bounding around the living room like a slimy gazelle ten minutes before naptime.
I can't tell if she was playing it up for all the TV and loving attention she got, or if she really did start feeling awesome right at that moment. I don't really care. Something about sick babies makes me weirdly happy and nostalgic for my own childhood, when my dad would give me all the Sprite and V8 and soup and Disney movies my little heart could desire. I memorized most of The Lion King on a sick day.
So, anyway. It's been kind of a cruddy day, but not without its good times. Emmy has been a darling for a change. She keeps running up to Grace with Kleenex and the Vaseline yelling, "Bless you!" (Emmyland word for Vaseline) There is nothing more comforting than an a little sister aggressively waving Kleenex in your face and loudly grunting while attempting to open the Vaseline container to sooth your poor raw nose. I know that I would want her for a nurse someday. Can you imagine how generous she'd be with the painkillers?
I should nap, but of course I'm wide awake now. They need to invent daytime Ambien. That would be the best day of my life.
Also, my children at Halloween. Emmy is a bat. This is fitting. She had that exact expression on her face pretty much the entire night. Grace is... I don't know. We think a cat or lion, maybe. It was the costume in my sister's costume box that fit her. Whatever it is, she was adorable, even if you can't tell in this picture.
Emmy: You are dead to me.
I ran out of Ambien. I called my prescription in as soon as I could yesterday, but they still didn't get it in time to fill it yesterday. I spent almost all of last night (between Sick Child's screams) twitching in bed, praying for at least three hours of sleep. I think I got exactly that, which is nice. It's that zone right between the angry exhaustion and complete mental failure where I get hit with a weird euphoria every couple of hours. It's that or dozing on the floor next to The Child while 2.0 whacks me in the head with various paper-containing objects, shouting, "Bead! Book! Bead me... book!"
WELCOME HOME.
So I finally break down and make a doctor's appointment, and Grace perks up and starts bounding around the living room like a slimy gazelle ten minutes before naptime.
I can't tell if she was playing it up for all the TV and loving attention she got, or if she really did start feeling awesome right at that moment. I don't really care. Something about sick babies makes me weirdly happy and nostalgic for my own childhood, when my dad would give me all the Sprite and V8 and soup and Disney movies my little heart could desire. I memorized most of The Lion King on a sick day.
So, anyway. It's been kind of a cruddy day, but not without its good times. Emmy has been a darling for a change. She keeps running up to Grace with Kleenex and the Vaseline yelling, "Bless you!" (Emmyland word for Vaseline) There is nothing more comforting than an a little sister aggressively waving Kleenex in your face and loudly grunting while attempting to open the Vaseline container to sooth your poor raw nose. I know that I would want her for a nurse someday. Can you imagine how generous she'd be with the painkillers?
I should nap, but of course I'm wide awake now. They need to invent daytime Ambien. That would be the best day of my life.
Also, my children at Halloween. Emmy is a bat. This is fitting. She had that exact expression on her face pretty much the entire night. Grace is... I don't know. We think a cat or lion, maybe. It was the costume in my sister's costume box that fit her. Whatever it is, she was adorable, even if you can't tell in this picture.
Emmy: You are dead to me.
Monday, November 7, 2011
I want to live in Denver
6 kids
3 adults
1 gigantic dog
1 average-sized house
Things I have learned:
1. Dog hair is well worth it if you have smallish children who suck at feeding themselves. Or if you fling gobs of food on the floor every time you make a meal.
2. TV is magical.
3. I wish we lived in Denver.
Jeremy went to the Philippines for almost two weeks, and my sister called up and asked if I wanted to come stay instead of sitting at home. Yes. Oh, yes please.
The drive out was almost perfect. I don't know if it was the DVD player a friend lent us, if it was better carseats, older children, having a van with tinted windows, or that they could entertain each other, but it was amazingly scream-free. Their little brains imploded about 45 minutes from my sister's, but it was a short-lived crisis.
I handled it maturely and gracefully by yelling a lot of dire threats. Outstanding parenting. Give me a medal.
And then... insanity. There's no way to have that many people under one roof and not have insanity. It was hard, but I kind of liked it. Working hard most of the day is a near-cure for stupid anxieties and pointless navel-gazing. I'm sure I can't sustain that level of activity without someone forcing me, but it did bring me a boatload of perspective. The more selfish I am with myself and my time, the more unhappy I am. And two kids is nothing. Well, okay, not nothing. But it'll be a while before I really start whining again.
Today is my first day home, back in the old routine, and I'm climbing the walls. I really need to get over my aversion to the cold, or it's going to be a long winter.
Or have twins. Either of those would work.
The drive back was less pleasant. I got to drive into the sun for six hours after a good snow. The kids loved that. Nothing like getting strapped down for eight hours and being forced to stare into the sun for six of it. There was significantly more screaming on the way back.
But! I did not threaten or yell. I gripped the steering wheel and dreamed of booze.
So, I'm back. It was a good visit. We are all safe and alive, etc.
3 adults
1 gigantic dog
1 average-sized house
Things I have learned:
1. Dog hair is well worth it if you have smallish children who suck at feeding themselves. Or if you fling gobs of food on the floor every time you make a meal.
2. TV is magical.
3. I wish we lived in Denver.
Jeremy went to the Philippines for almost two weeks, and my sister called up and asked if I wanted to come stay instead of sitting at home. Yes. Oh, yes please.
The drive out was almost perfect. I don't know if it was the DVD player a friend lent us, if it was better carseats, older children, having a van with tinted windows, or that they could entertain each other, but it was amazingly scream-free. Their little brains imploded about 45 minutes from my sister's, but it was a short-lived crisis.
I handled it maturely and gracefully by yelling a lot of dire threats. Outstanding parenting. Give me a medal.
And then... insanity. There's no way to have that many people under one roof and not have insanity. It was hard, but I kind of liked it. Working hard most of the day is a near-cure for stupid anxieties and pointless navel-gazing. I'm sure I can't sustain that level of activity without someone forcing me, but it did bring me a boatload of perspective. The more selfish I am with myself and my time, the more unhappy I am. And two kids is nothing. Well, okay, not nothing. But it'll be a while before I really start whining again.
Today is my first day home, back in the old routine, and I'm climbing the walls. I really need to get over my aversion to the cold, or it's going to be a long winter.
Or have twins. Either of those would work.
The drive back was less pleasant. I got to drive into the sun for six hours after a good snow. The kids loved that. Nothing like getting strapped down for eight hours and being forced to stare into the sun for six of it. There was significantly more screaming on the way back.
But! I did not threaten or yell. I gripped the steering wheel and dreamed of booze.
So, I'm back. It was a good visit. We are all safe and alive, etc.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)