Stay

When I was young, my mom worked. Most of the moms of the kids I knew did not work. Mine did.

I remember wishing fervently that my mom could come to more things at school. Wishing that she could help with the field trip, or come in to help with the craft, or pick me up from school so I didn't have to walk home. And I know she wished she could, too.

I think Emily is starting to have her own wish like that. I think Emily's wish is that I would stay. She wants me to stay with her at her Little Gym classes*, at her sport class, at her swimming lessons...

*The Little Gym classes are done for now. Mom was working there, but found the schedule to be too much, so this is the last week of TLG for the girls.

She said to my mom last week that she was "sad because Mommy leaveded".

Since I began enrolling Emily into classes, I have looked longingly at the "no parent required" classes, looking forward to the day where I could drop her off at a class and sit out in the hall and read a book. Or go get groceries with out a small person's assistance (which we all know is really no assistance at all).

Unfortunately, I think that Emily is not quite ready for me to leave entirely. I think going to preschool might be tapping out her adventurous spirit reserves.

I am hoping that I can stay for a while and help her get over the desire for me to stay. I'll sit outside her Sport class this week and watch from the window as she attempts swimming again without me (last week's class was .... not so good. Many tears were shed, but she said she had a little bit of fun, so we'll see).

If she wants me to stay, I will. There is nothing that I have to do that is more important to me than making sure she feels secure.

PS: Still not dead. Juggling 2 kids, a job, a house and a couple of house projects. And a fairly significant case of inertia.

Unspectacular Things

Hi! I'm not dead. I didn't fall off the edge of the world. We went to Michigan this weekend to see my grandparents one last time before they go back to Florida for the winter. I am slowly getting back on top of the mountain of work that awaits me after trips like that.

I got tagged for a meme an embarrassingly long time ago by the lovely Jill. I thought, since I am out of other things to talk about, I would give it a shot.

The meme has a bunch of rules that I'm not going to copy. It's basic gist is to list 6 unspectacular things about yourself.

So here we go.

1 - I am SO not a girly-girl. I don't wear make-up, I don't do much with my hair, I wear the same kind of shirt and jeans (or shorts) every. single. day. And I like it that way. Though I do fear for my girls. Someone should teach them that stuff. Ain't gonna be me, though.

2 - I do almost everything quickly. I talk quickly, walk quickly, read quickly... This gets me into scrapes more often than I can tell you.

3 - I compose wonderful and eloquent posts in my head. 90% of it doesn't get published. Because by the time I sit down and write it out, I've forgotten all the eloquence. And you guys get stuck with the less-than-eloquent, but easily remembered. And then, days later, I'll remember some point that I wanted to make on some post and be frustrated with myself for not putting it in.

4 - I am a fairly apathetic person. I can't seem to summon much beyond a feebly-backed opinion about pretty much anything. If I voice an opinion about something and you argue with me, I will either concede the point or change the subject. I just don't really care about Issues. Well, maybe that's not true, but I don't care to discuss the Issues.

5 -I am not interested in politics in the least. I find it boring. AND I detest the election-time ads. I have absolutely no idea who I will be voting for this November. None. Mostly because I feel that the two candidates both have good points, but are both somewhat uninspiring. (And that? Right there? Is the last political discussion you hear from me. Ever. I have a fairly firm rule (with myself) to NEVER discuss politics with ANYONE.)

6 - I am incredibly self-conscious. I don't like to dance or sing where anyone might see or hear me. This caused me to stop playing music in school (something I loved and was pretty good at) because I couldn't practice (I didn't like my mom commenting on how the practicing sounded). I am also entirely too self-critical for my own good. I have thrown out entire nearly-completed cross-stitch projects because I've made a mistake (or 20). I wish there was some way to 1) get myself out of that self-conscious/self-critical rut and 2) keep my girls from learning it.

So there you have it. 6 things about me that I think are unspectacular.

PS: Mom, you're not going to like this post. I know. I shouldn't talk about myself like that. I know. YOU think I'm great. You're contractually obligated to do so, being my mom and all. I appreciate it. And I love you. :)

My Pumpkin!

I am so excited at how well it turned out. I was afraid that by choosing red for the pumpkin and green for the stem* I was going to get a green-topped Christmas globe. Not so. It is exactly as I'd hoped - a deep orange-y red.

Emily had another day of preschool today and continues to love it.

We invented a super special* goodbye to ease her concerns about leaving me. I gave her 3 kisses, 2 hugs and 1 nose rub and then she merrily went with Miss Courtney to go to preschool. (This is more for her Wednesday class at the Rec Center where I have to drop her off and dash downstairs to go to Lucy's class - she was more than a little unenthused about me leaving her with Coach Lynda yesterday.)

*Am I the only one who gets annoyed at the prevalence of the word "super" as part of a compound word recently? Especially in magazines, everything is "supereasy" "supersimple" or "supersophisticated". And it drives. me. CRAZY. It probably is just me.

First Day of School!

Today was Emily's first day of Preschool!

She was very excited to go and seemed to really enjoy herself.

Except, of course, that she wouldn't let me do the height/weight measurement sheet with her (they weigh/measure each kid at the beginning and end of preschool to show how much they grew that year) and the name tag necklace? Was a thing of deep evil.

I got her to wear the name tag eventually by telling her she had to wear it if she wanted to play with the scissors. And then I did a little touchdown dance by the play-doh because I outmaneuvered my 3-year-old. I am truly a wizard.

Lucy had Little Gym this morning with Grandma and wasn't interested in posing for pictures. Emily wasn't either, but I managed to get a couple good ones.

It didn't really hit me until I started filling out the height/weight sheet that this is Emily's First Day of School. As in, there will be thousands of pieces of paper coming home with her that bear her name. This is the first day of 14 years of education.

Wow.

It doesn't seem possible that she's old enough to be in any kind of educational class. She's a baby. She's my wee little baby. See?

Oh, wait. I guess that was 3 years ago.

Even still, it is hard to believe she's 3. And starting preschool. Damn these kids and their growing! How dare they?!

PS: My pumpkin arrived. I need to get off my butt and take pictures of it. It is everything I hoped it would be. Tomorrow. Promise.

Pumpkin Blowing

Here are pictures of me blowing my pumpkin. (Boy, are the porn searchers going to be disappointed.)

Please forgive the low quality. Someone forgot her camera and someone's husband took pictures with his cell phone camera.

Dear CMOG worker, I forgot to ask you if you were OK with me posting pictures of you helping me blow my pumpkin on my blog. Hope it's OK. Kthxbai!
I had to do two pumpkins, since at about this point on the first one I blew too hard and it got too big too quick.

I chose to make my pumpkin a dark red and green color. I hope it looks as pretty as the samples did. I'll find out in a few more days. We opted to have the pumpkin shipped to us. Shipping was only $14. It felt very extravagant to have the pumpkin shipped, but we did it anyway.

That is my finished pumpkin, on its way into the annealing oven. It has to cool (anneal) for 24 hours before it can be exposed to room temperature air. If it is not properly annealed, it will shatter. I actually knew that before I went to CMOG, because of the Dick Francis book Shattered.

I will post pictures of the pumpkin when it arrives. They were saying it should be here in 7-10 days. 7 days is this Thursday.

Money, Money, Money

I am not very good with money.

In fact, I used to say that I had a disease called "estrogen induced bankruptcy." (It goes hand-in-hand with another terrible plague, testosterone induced blindness, where a man goes looking for something, maybe even with specific instructions as to the item's location and STILL can't find it.)

Mike helped get me straightened out on the money front. He helped me balance my checkbook and create an accounting system in Microsoft Money. I learned to stop spending money I didn't have and realized that debit cards are the root of all evil. For me, at least.

I feel that understanding how money works is a skill that is critical for my girls to have. I don't want them to have that terrible feeling of getting an envelope from the bank that likely contains an overdraft notice. I want them to have money set aside in a savings account and to learn to give money to the church (which is something that Mike didn't do until he and I were engaged. He said his parents always took care of that. Well, yes, but you aren't living with them any more so now YOU need to do it.).*

I have started talking about money with Emily to a small extent. She has a piggie bank and LOVES to put "pennies" into it (everything is a penny).

Recently, we were at a store and Emily asked for something. I explained that Mommy had a certain amount of money to buy food for the week and the item in question (of course I can't remember now what it was) was not included because I needed to buy other things. The same explanation is used when Emily asks for horsey rides at the mall's carousel. There are times when I have money available to do that, but there are others when I don't.

I have been toying with the idea of beginning to give Emily an allowance. I want her to have money of her own that she can decide what to do with, but I'm concerned about several things.

1) My handy "don't touch things in a store" rule is that she doesn't have any money. Which brings about the "When I have money, I can touch things" response. Yeah...

2) She's 3. I'm thinking of giving her 4 quarters a week. 1 quarter for church, 1 quarter to save and 2 for her. Or something.
2a) what the heck can she buy with 50 cents?
2b) will she really understand or am I jumping the gun?

3) Do I want to tie the allowance to chores or not? There are arguments (in my head - don't you wish you were me? I argue with myself all the time) for and against each. For: she contributes to the household, she learns that money doesn't grow on trees, etc. Against: She's 3. How much help is she going to be? Should she get the money just for being cute and being a part of our family?

Mike and I have discussed the allowance issue as a nebulous down-the-road, when she's 3 kind of thing. Well, she's 3 now and school starts this week. If we're doing an allowance now is the perfect time.

And hopefully, once we plow this path with Emily, it will be slightly less nervewracking for the second one. Fingers crossed!

This set of slightly incoherent rambling is brought to you by a PBN Blog Blast from the Parent Bloggers Network and Capital One's MoneyWise tool (hrm, maybe I should go check that out...) If you have opinions about money and kids, you can post them on your blog and be in the running for one of 3 iPhones. BUT you aren't allowed to do that if you have the super-lucky, win-everything-you-enter gene. Because I want one. So there. Oh, and I'm running a little late, so you have to do the post by the end of today.

#32

That right there? Is a sure sign I'm getting old(er). It's very nice of him to send me birthday wishes, given that I only went to see him once. But still.

The Cheesecake Factory was all I'd hoped for and more. I was Thanksgiving Dinner full, bordering on uncomfortably full when we left. And we have TONS of leftovers. Yay!

I decided to go to The Corning Museum of Glass for the day. AND I signed up to blow my own pumpkin! (Sorry, that just sounds so ... dirty and it makes me giggle every time I say it.)

We're about to head out, once Mike finishes checking his email.

Catch ya later!

Shaken

This has been a morning.

Today, I had to take Emily to a kiddie sports class at the rec center near our house and then at 11:15 I had an appointment for the annual viewing and inspection of my girly bits. (Yes, I scheduled it for the day before my birthday. Yes, it was more or less on purpose.)

However, between the time I scheduled the appointment and today, an issue arose. My mom, who typically provides the majority of my doctor-appointment-child-care-coverage, started working at The Little Gym. She's there from 9-230 on Wednesdays. My dad is back to school, driving the bus and working in the lunch room at the middle school. My mother-in-law is back to work at another school district, making lunches for kids. Mike is working.

So I had no childcare for this appointment. Not a big deal. Lots of women deal with this every day. And more.

Mike offered to come down to the doctor's office and hang out with the girls in the waiting room so I didn't have to deal with the "Mommy, what you doin'?" questions while getting a pelvic.

Perfect. Mike wins husband of the year.

I get to the office at 11 for my 11:15 appointment and speak with the receptionist to sign in.

And she says, Dr.C is running a little behind today.

Ok, I say, how far behind? Figuring 30 minutes, maybe 45.

An hour and 20 minutes, the nurse replies.

SERIOUSLY?!, I answer. Of course, my internal volume control completely disappeared so I could feel the eyes of all the workers behind the desk AND all the happy pregnant ladies in the waiting room boring into me.

I regained my composure and asked to reschedule the appointment. There is no way I was going to try to wait with 2 kids for an hour and a half, much less make my husband sit there with us when he could be working.

I gathered the kids and dragged them back out to the car, frantically trying to get in touch with Mike on my cell phone. I'm sure his coworkers hated me because I was calling his work phone and his cell phone at minute-and-a-half intervals.

He pulled into the parking lot as I was contemplating another try and I told him about the appointment-that-wasn't. We decided to go to Burger King and have lunch before he went back to work.

I fought tears the whole way over there. Usually I don't take things like this so seriously, but some combination of the worry about what to do with the kids for the appointment and then the panic to try to get in touch with Mike and the frustration and anger at the doctor's office (they have my cell phone number, they could have called to tell me Dr.C had an emergency) left me shaken and upset.

I'm still feeling it.

I need to shake it off because tonight we are going to The Cheesecake Factory with my parents for my birthday. YAY! I can't wait. TCF is probably my favorite restaurant (in the top 3, definitely) and I've been looking forward to this for WEEKS.

And then tomorrow? Tomorrow, Mike is taking the day off work and my mom is taking the kids so that he and I can have a birthday date. We're going to do something of my choosing.

So far, I am leaning toward going to the Corning Museum of Glass. They have glass-blowing demonstrations and classes and exhibits. It's really cool. Mike and I went there years ago (probably during our first year together) and it was great.

The other choices are going to an outlet mall near Buffalo or the Walden Galleria. We don't have (much) money to spend, so shopping seems a little pointless to me. The only thing I want/need right now is Pyrex food storage containers and that feels a little lame to be going to get on my Special Birthday Date.

Correspondingly

I have some letters that will never be sent, but DUDE they really should be. Instead, I'm going to post them here. Because I can.

Dear Self,

You're a genius. You knew that the cookie sheet you wanted to move was hot, so you reached around and grabbed the oven mitt that was on the counter. You cleverly tucked it under your left arm for easy access and then YOU GRABBED THE COOKIE SHEET WITH YOUR BARE HAND. Genius.

Get your head out of your butt,

Self
****

Dear Kitchenaid mixer,

I love you. Seriously. I can put a whole bowl of flour into you, turn you on and you mix the wet and dry ingredients into yummy cookies. AND? I am so glad you are white. Instead of being, say, royal blue. Not that there's anything wrong with royal blue. It just wouldn't hide the flour that gets flung all over as well. And I'd have to wipe it down before putting it back in the cupboard.

Mwah!

Erin, the one who usually doesn't wipe you down before putting you away.
*****


Dear Choconut Cake,

Wow. You? Are so yummy, with your dark chocolate cake and your coconut center and the chocolate chip-evaporated milk topping. Yum. Mmf. Get in mah belly!

Which makes me even more sad that I had to throw you away yesterday. Y'see, you were so good and so chocolatey that I couldn't stop cramming you into my cakehole. And, while I'm not dieting, per se, I am trying to shed some of the tummy pudge I've accumulated over the years and you were kind of cutting into the gains I made by giving up soda.

Missing you more than I really should be,

Erin
*******

Dear Cookie Dough,

You and the Choconut cake? Need to have a talk. You are as yummy as the cake. And even more bad for me, what with the RAW EGGS and all.

And I KNOW that I won't be able to quit you. You're an obsession.

Good thing I put you in the oven and made you into cookies,

Erin
*****

Dear Volunteer Fireman From Whom I Am Asking A Favor,

Yeah. I really did just say that. I did. I said that 90% of volunteer firemen are fat and bald. Yep. Please excuse me if my speech is garbled. It's just that it is hard for me to talk with my foot in my mouth this far.

Y'see, I have a faulty mouth-brain filter. And I don't think much of my brother-in-law who IS fat and bald and WAS a volunteer fireman. But I certainly didn't need to paint you all with the same brush AND I also should have kept my big mouth shut.

I am so incredibly sorry. Please forgive me.

Sorrowfully yours,

Erin
*****

Dear Motorcycle Rider Who Drives Down Our Road Every Weekday At 5:45 am,

Hi. I'm the reason you got a big fat ticket. Because? You were going at LEAST 90 mph and dude, that just ain't safe.

I know that you have a hot motorcycle and it's all built for speed and everything, but I really didn't want to hear the inevitable crash when you didn't see Bambi as she and her twins were crossing the road. And I would feel all obligated to get up and drag my butt outside to help scrape you off the road. And I really don't need to see that. And you don't need your last vision as you leave this earthly plane to be me in my flying elephants on roller skates nighty and some random pants that I tossed on to avoid flashing the volunteer fireman from the letter above.

So do us all a favor and SLOW THE HECK DOWN! It's just work. It'll still be there when you get there.

Mwah!

Erin
******

Dear Troll,

Hi! Welcome back! So glad you could make it. I'm sorry that you feel that my peach-pit disposal methods were unsatisfactory. Perhaps you could send me your address and I will retrieve the horked-up and peroxide-covered pit from the field next door and YOU can figure out what to do with it. Because if I throw it away? It's going to a land fill and ANIMALS might get it and eat it and what would we do THEN?!?! Me, I think any animal who eats a peach pit and ISN'T my dog either is going to pass it without me worrying about it OR they will be shortly joining the Darwin Award Hall of Fame for animals. Either way it's NOT MY PROBLEM.

Also, yes, I know that bloat is a very dangerous thing for dogs, however, it is only an issue if the dog in question has eaten a large dinner and then had some postprandial exercise. Since 1) Domino was vomiting AND pooping, I decided to let nature take it's course. 2) Scolding me about my lack of responsiveness in regards to a story that is at LEAST 5 years old? Seems to be a bit of closing-the-gate-after-the-horses-get-out to me.

Please address future correspondence to byteme@byteme.com.

Erin
*****

Dear Saturday,

Please don't rain. Our MOMS Club has worked REALLY hard on our table and I really don't want to get wet.

Please?

Drily yours,

Erin
******

Dear Flies and other flying things,

Go away. You are not wanted here. If I see you, I will kill you. And I know how to aim now so that you won't get away from me as easily.

The war? It is on.

Erin

It's A Race!

Emily and Lucy seem to be having a race. They are racing to see who will come up with the ear infection first.

So far, it is neck and neck.

Lucy started with the cold/allergy thing a day late, so Emily was winning.

Then Lucy caught up with the same hacking cough that Emily has. (I spent Saturday night listening to the Cough Symphony, with three movements)

Emily edged forward with the cough-till-you-honk maneuver that she's perfected. Thankfully, no honkage was involved. Just a couple near-misses.

Lucy edged ahead Sunday afternoon with a 99.4 fever.

Emily caught up almost immediately by feeling warm as I put her to bed for nap. I didn't document a fever, but I'm pretty sure she had a mild one like Lucy.

They're still neck and neck today. Lucy sneaked ahead by a nose with green snot, but then Em edged out again with crankiness and pink eardrums that "don't really hurt". (I can't decide if that means they don't hurt or that they hurt but not too much.)

(Can you tell that there is a racetrack less than 2 miles from my house? Not that I've ever been there, but still...)

Actually, that reminds me: we have a horse farm across the street from us. The farm has a couple of miniature horses and an Appleloosa, plus a bunch of Thoroughbreds.

A couple of weeks ago, we were hanging out at the house. Lucy was asleep, Emily was playing in the living room and I was doin' the ChaCha.

A truck pulled into the driveway and was immediately surrounded by my dog, who thinks that all visitors to my house are here to kill us. And him.

They weren't leaving and as I watched them, they started honking the horn. I went out to see what they wanted.

Turns out the miniature horses? Were out. And had crossed the road.

I ran back to the house, grabbed my phone and shoes and went down the street to try to get the horses.

As I'm walking, I am trying to call information on the phone. But the phone I grabbed? Was the cordless phone. NOT the more useful away-from-the-house cell phone that was sitting RIGHT next to the cordless one. I am NOT good in an emergency. Clearly.

I continued walking and flagged the mail lady down as she drove past. I asked her to go to a neighbor's house, one that I knew would have the phone number of the people who own the barn. (It's a barn and land, but no house. The owners live elsewhere.) She nicely agreed and I continued to wrangle me some horses.

Now, I have been around horses and I have ridden horses but I am by no means a horse woman.

I approached the side of the barn and sure enough, there are the horses and there's a wide open gate to their pasture. I started walking towards them, thinking frantically about how to call horses. They aren't dogs. They don't "come" when called. But that's what I was doing, calling them as though they were Domino. "Here horsies, come here horsies!" Yeah. Like I was saying. Not a horse person.

One of the horses started walking towards me. AND wonder of wonders, he had a bridle on. I grabbed it and led him into the pasture. And HE WENT! I was praying the whole time that he wouldn't bite me or kick me or ... something.

The 2nd horse followed the first, but he wasn't wearing a bridle. So I kind of led him by the back of the neck. He didn't really like that, but he eventually agreed to go into the pasture. I locked the gate behind him and started back to the house.

Where, I was realizing, I had left my children unattended. For ... several minutes.

As I got closer, I saw Emily standing by the front corner of our yard, sobbing hysterically. I shooed her back towards the house and ran to catch up to her. She was scared out of her mind. Because I'd forgotten in my haste to tell her where I was going and how long I'd be gone. Whoops. We had a talk as I carried her back to the house about staying out of the front yard and away from the road and such. I promised that I would tell her where I was going if I had to leave suddenly like that again.

So, that was my exciting time. Aren't you glad you heard about it?

Oh, and later that afternoon, I stopped by when I knew the owners would be there and got their phone number. So that if this (or something else) happens again, I can CALL THEM. All by myself.