The Queen's Rambles

I’ve been avoiding all thoughts of my birthday. As they say, having a birthday is better than the alternative. Doesn’t mean I really want to face another year when I am starting to fall apart. I am having an extra special acne break out as well, possibly brought on by the anti-aging make-up I tried a few days ago. It was something called “smart shade.” I thought it sounded weird, but basically it started out as kind of a whitish-greyish-blueish goop and when I spread it around it matched my skin tone. It matched my red blotches as well, so that was not desirable.

Mike is always trying to get me a surprise gift and I am always guessing, but he won the battle this year. I had been so busy not thinking about my birthday that I didn’t have time to sleuth around. I ended up with a Kindle, a Kindle case and a big gift card to Amazon. I am looking forward to using it! I used to be a die-hard anti-e-reader kind of gal, but that was back in the days before they really had decent e-readers. I’m not sure what all the Kindle can do, but I’ve already ordered one book and am looking forward to figuring out if our library system does any sort of Kindle-friendly loans.

Our friends just moved into their brand new house out in the country. I am utterly green with jealously. Utterly. It is HUGE. I thought I was going to start crying when we pulled in. I want space! I want rooms! I want I want I want!

But I don’t want that house. It has some pretty serious problems so they are going to be dropping a lot of money into it. Plus, it has a lot of cosmetic issues that would drive me insane. All that space is amazing, but I am telling myself that the flaws of the house makes my little tiny townhouse look just fine. Plus, we love our neighborhood. They are out in the country with very few neighbors, but their closest neighbor has teenagers. They were out all day riding four-wheelers directly across the street. The sounds was starting to drive me a little batty.

Gotta get this green-eyed monster in check.

Completely unrelated, my mom wants me to help her buy a digital camera.

I think she would do just fine taking pictures with a digital camera. Who doesn’t do just fine?

But then what? How the heck am I going to get her to understand how to download them on to the computer, then upload them onto a website, then order them? And maybe even crop them a little? Just the thought of trying to explain any of that to her makes me want to hide in a deep, dark hole.

I know you can just take your card to Wal-Mart and use the Fuji machine to print off pics of everything on your card. I guess she could do that. It’s just not very smart or desirable. I bought her a digital frame a couple of years ago. I guess if I get her a giant memory card maybe she could just use the digital frame and forget about printing off pictures. I don’t know. They need an easy button. Actually, one of my cameras had an easy button but it still wasn’t as easy as dropping off your film and coming back in a few days to collect your pictures.

Speaking of pictures, Elsa is having her one year portraits done on Monday! I went on a shopping spree, looking specifically for a purple dress. You’d think that’d be easy to find, but not so much. I am not one of those anti-pink people. I quite enjoy a pink dressed baby girl. However, I do try to work with my children’s natural coloring and pink is not Elsa’s friend. I guess it’s the reddish hair? I don’t know, but she looks a lot better in lavender.

I haven’t done a whole lot of baby clothes shopping because I know I could blow my budget very easily and I’ve had a ton of hand me downs, but I went a little crazy this week. It was too much fun! I never had this much fun when shopping for Erik.

To try to keep myself in check, I made a rule that I couldn’t buy anything pink, orange, red or yellow. I ended up with several cute teal, apple green and purple outfits. I’ve been trying them on her one by one to see which really pops with her looks, but it has been difficult since she hates having her clothes changed. I can’t really dress her in the springy clothes when we are going somewhere because winter has risen from the grave and we’re supposed to get snow tonight. It’s down right nippy when we leave the house.

I suppose I need to plan some sort of a birthday party for her. I am so not a party planner, but Erik is dying to have a party for her. Do Catholics have a big to-do on Palm Sunday? I wanted to have it that Saturday, but now I have a baby shower to attend that I don’t want to miss. I have a very short guest list (mainly because I feel dumb and don’t want people to think I’m just asking for presents), but half of them are practicing Catholics. Will they be able to attend an afternoon (say 3 pm) birthday party on Palm Sunday? In my church Palm Sunday was special, but time wise it wasn’t anything beyond regular church hours.

Erik’s first birthday was celebrated in Oklahoma. We threw a paper tablecloth on the floor, gave him a mini-cake and a balloon and called it good.

Erik as vampire. He wanted to know what vampires do, so I told him “suck your blood.” Three minutes later, he had marker blood all over his face. I’m so glad they make washable markers these days.

As you may or may not know, Erik hates bathing. He hates water. He hates warmth. He no longer takes a bath, preferring a quick shower. I hate this b/c he wants barely luke-warm water and it freezes me as I’m helping wash him.

Today is picture day so he absolutely had to have a bath last night. He’s usually pretty grimy and gross and dressed in an oversized t-shirt advertising various kinds of cartoon violence. Not the vision I had of my sweet, precious pumpkin when he was younger and had no opinions about his looks.

I was trying to chivvy him up the stairs and made the comment “Let’s get this party started!”

Whoo-boy. WRONG thing to say. “Mommy, it is not a party. A party is fun. There is nothing fun about taking a bath or going to bed. IT IS NOT A PARTY!!!!!!!!”

Ok, so it’s not a party.

When we finally get up the stairs he tells me that instead of taking a bath, we’re going to take pictures of his penis and mail them to his aunt (my sister).

What the bleepity-bleeping what?

I guess it’s a good thing for my sister that she lives a country away and her only contact with him is through me. I know he made it up out of his own little deranged mind and she didn’t request nakky pics of my kid. My sister has a lot of flaws and has made a lot of questionable life choice, but child pornographer isn’t one of them.

I kind of laughed it off when it happened, but then I was up in middle of the night with my mind churning (as usual, since I don’t take sleeping pills any more). Where did he get the idea? I am sure he could have came up with it himself. He has a healthy appreciation of his boy parts and he likes taking pictures for various family members. But what if one of his friends was telling him about doing that for an aunt or uncle? I think I’ll question him today. It was probably nothing, but I am slightly disturbed.

Oh, speaking of things that are slightly disturbing?

Remember when I posted that checklist about sensory seeking children and Erik could check off almost all the items? I didn’t feel there was a problem, but I don’t want to be the type to stick my head in the sand and ignore something that might need help so I’ve been doing a ton of research. Turns out that checklist was more like a secondary checklist. He doesn’t have anything marked off on the main checklist. I wasn’t worried or even concerned but it’s just good to know I don’t even have to think about it. One of the main things OT would address is an inherent clumsiness since the body parts aren’t talking to each other. Erik is about the least clumsy child I know. He is my golden boy–beautiful, athletic, confident. Clumsy doesn’t even enter the picture.

We went to a birthday party with relay races this weekend and I felt sorry for the girl who was paired up with Erik. She was a little older than him and pretty overweight. I was sure she would be eating his dust because that boy is FAST. I’ve rarely seen anyone beat him in a race.

Holy cow, was I ever wrong. That girl could MOVE. She made Erik look like he was standing still. I was impressed.

Ok, my time is done. Erik is finally out of bed and demanding food.

*The disturbing thing being that maybe Erik had a sensory disorder, not that the girl was fast. I re-read it and it sounded weird and abrupt. Probably because I lost my train of thought.

I always have these great posts (or not so great, but at least rambly) written in my head, but when do I have the time to sit at the computer and write them? Elsa’s very favorite thing in the world is to come over and turn off my laptop. I guess she likes the light and likes knowing that her actions have an effect.

We had a hell of a night last night. Elsa has had a little cold and hasn’t been sleeping well. Last night was probably the worst night we’ve ever had with her. She was just screaming and screaming and screaming in pain. I couldn’t get her to nurse or eat anything. Getting medicine down her was impossible. Getting her to sleep was impossible. She would sort of be quiet while watching her baby crack (Baby Einstein; they may not be educational, but they work wonders at making babies happy), but it was too exciting to put her to sleep. Finally at 2 in the freaking morning I put on some pants and slippers and loaded her into the car. I didn’t even put a bra on, so I was really hoping I wouldn’t get in an accident. I drove and drove and she finally fell asleep. I drove some more just to make it stick, but the minute I pulled into our spot and stopped the motor she was wide awake and even more crazy since she’d had a 10 minute respite.

I had to pull out the big guns and get Mike to help. He was sleeping with Erik since he has work today and really wanted a good night’s sleep. He did his magic, but even that didn’t help much. He got her down after awhile and we all breathed a sigh of relief. The breathing was enough to wake her up again, but this time she saw her daddy. Daddy! Yay!!!! PLAY TIME!!!!!

I’ve never seen her in overdrive. It was a common occurrence with Erik since he was so anti-sleep. When babies get over tired, they get a second wind and basically go batshit crazy with the fun playing. It was 3 in the morning and we were so, so tired, but we couldn’t help laughing at a baby that was acting like she’d just taken a double overdose of speed.

Finally, finally, finally Mike worked his magic again and she was down for the count.

Then it all came crashing down at 8 am when Erik came in the room, turned on the light and told me he wanted to look at my face.

Ahhhhh, how sweet. The child wants to look at his beautiful mother that he loves.

Ha!

“Ok, mommy. Look here. You have wrinkles, redness and fine lines. You need to go watch the commercial I’m watching and order the stuff to make wrinkles go away.”

Gee, thanks kid.

In general Elsa is such a lovely, easy baby. Even when she’s up late at night we can’t get too frustrated. With Erik you knew you were in trouble when he opened his mouth and the wails started. He could keep that up for hours. With Elsa you know you are in trouble if she opens her eyes and smiles. Once she smiles she’s awake and awake for good.

What else?

They had a new karate teacher on Thursday and I kept thinking about a combination of Barney the dinosaur and Brad, the gay boyfriend from The Middle. He acted like Barney. He looked like the gay boyfriend.

I wanted to like him. The kids LOVED him. He knew how to motivate them and make everything seem like FUN FUN FUN FUN!!! WHOO-HOOOO!

But. . .

Ugh. He was just so smarmy. Maybe I’m jaded?

The kids were in line to do a kick and he skipped about four kids (including Erik). Erik tried to tell him, but he totally cut him off and wouldn’t listen. Usually the karate teachers listen and they would not have skipped any kids.

He didn’t bother to learn a single name.

Usually the first thing the teachers do is ask all the kids their names and then make every effort to learn them and use them.

The other teachers may not have that preschool methodology know-how, but at least I feel like they care about the kids. No one really explained why this new guy was there. The old teacher was also there, observing. I am hoping he was just training the old teacher on teaching methods, otherwise I may have to have a chat with the owner. It is not ok to skip kids in any activity. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it happen in the six months we’ve been there.

I just keep picturing this guy going to the back alley after class and lighting up a big cig while hiring a whore.

I had a burst of cleaning urges yesterday, something so rare it must be acted on immediately lest the desire slip away. I totally cleaned our worst bathroom, and even went over everything with the steamer. I went through a lot of my clothes, I went through all of Elsa’s clothes, I vacuumed. It was sort of amazing.

Can I just say, people are crazy? I freecycled a bunch of Elsa’s old clothes. I had so many that they wouldn’t fit into one bag, so I divided it up into two bags, by size. I offered them up with a detailed description and an explanation that you only get one bag.

I had people asking me to send pictures, asking for a list of brands included, asking me to just pull out certain styles for them, saying they wanted both bags, asking me to call them back so they could discuss it.

What the hell, freecycle? That’s not how freecycle works. You see something you want, you read the conditions, you e-mail with any information the giver wants, you pick the stuff up and hope you like it. If not, you freecycle it or throw it away (if it is something disgusting that people shouldn’t be freecyling).

I only had two people follow my instructions (tell me an approx time, date and what bag they wanted, so not exactly rocket science) so luckily those two people wanted different bags. The other people missed the boat because all the clothes were stain free, modern and cute. Some were practically brand new.

Ok, I gotta go suck out Elsa’s snot. Isn’t that a lovely image? She was terrified of the battery operated snot sucker, but now she brings it to me and holds up her head so I can reach her nose. I guess she figured out it makes her feel better.

If only I can sneak some medicine into her. . .

Sorry for leaving you all in the lurch with my negative post. Thank you all so much for the kind words, especially Tora. I needed to hear them. I also needed something else that only Mike can provide. Or half the human population, but I prefer only Mike provide it. Well. I suppose the whole human population COULD provide it, but I only swing one way.

Anyway, after my pity party I ended up having a good Sunday and have been super, super busy this week. Elsa is suddenly cutting her naps way short, which means my computing time is even less than it was before.

I couldn’t sleep last night because I was worried about how I would deliver big sums of money to all my LJ friends and blog readers when we win the 130 million dollar (just an estimate) jackpot next week. I wouldn’t want you to know where the money came from, but just sending you an anonymous cashier’s check wouldn’t really be that safe because you’d assume it was some sort of scam and throw it away. I wouldn’t send it through paypal because I wouldn’t want to pay a big fee on all that money. Yes, I’m a millionaire, but I don’t have to line the pockets of paypal when I can send a free cashier’s check. Maybe I could hire someone to go around and hand deliver all the money.

This, of course, is dependent on several things. First, I’d have to buy a lottery ticket. Then I’d have to win.

Maybe I need to start back on the sleeping pills.

Speaking of sleep, as Kisha suggested, I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to mold. The worst times are the times the mold blooms (3-6 am). Mike cleaned out our humidifier and that solved most of my problem. Thank goodness!

Here, have a little random Elsa. There are some new pics on Flickr. I found a few on an old camera. I never thought the kids looked alike, but if I didn’t know they were Elsa I would just as easily assume they were Erik.

I read The Help this weekend. I’d been resisting because I don’t like to read sad things and most serious literature is sad. True, there are a lot of sad and disgusting things in the book (it’s about black maids in Mississippi in 1964), but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, the end was kind of abrupt and unrealistic. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to the main characters, but the end didn’t really feel very authentic. Still, excellent book. I couldn’t put it down. I am disgusted that people ever acted like the whites did back then, but then I see people still acting like that today. The target has changed (mainly other brown people like Hispanics and Asians).

Speaking of brown people.

I wanted to disappear through a hole in the center of the earth the other day. We were on our daily walk around the lake. We had just come up to a black family and there was a big group of middle school kids of all colors behind us. Erik suddenly pipes up “Hey! Did you know one of Lucy’s mommies is black? I’ve never seen a black person! How did she get black?”

I’m wanting to die, of course, but also going “wtf?” because Lucy has two mommies? And he’s never seen a black person???

So with at least ten sets of black eyeballs on me, I say, “What are you talking about? You know Lucy and David and Miss Nina and Jayquon and Julian and [insert names of at least ten other people].”

“Uhhh. Mommy. None of those people are black. They’re all brown.”

I’ve read many times that white people have no idea how to talk about race with their children. I try, but I don’t have any idea. I don’t know what words to use or how to phrase it or anything. We live in a very diverse area with people from all over the world in our neighborhood, schools, MOMS Club and so forth. I think he knows that all people are people, but I guess I better work on how to define people. I don’t know how to do that without being offensive, but he needs to know that a black person is a black person. I don’t know any black people who don’t want to be known as black. It’s a part of who they are, obviously.

For something all together different, I do have to brag on him a little. He is such a good boy most of the time, but I tend to forget it because he’s a five year old boy, not a perfect 36 year old mom like myself.

He always works really hard in karate class and pays extra special attention. At the end of every class the teacher hands out a blue stripe. This stripe is supposed to go to the person who does the best in the class (most focused, loudest, pays attention, so forth). In reality, the stripe goes to whoever hasn’t gotten the stripe in a while. It is a huge motivator for the kids and the teachers make sure all the kids get a turn. It makes the kids feel about 10 feet tall and makes them want to come back. Problem? Usually Erik or this other boy are the only ones who really deserve it. Erik gets really frustrated when he sees a kid who has been lolly-gagging around all class get the stripe when he knows he was focused and doing what he was supposed to do. The teacher usually rubs Erik’s head and tells him that he wishes he could give him the blue stripe every week. This week the teacher did something I’ve never seen before. He gave Erik a special Attitude stripe and told him it’s because he always deserves a blue stripe and is doing the best in the class all the time.

I was so happy! Erik was beyond happy! Even the mom sitting behind me was happy (she says Erik has gusto).

Ok, I need to go take care of this baby. Do you want another picture? No? Too bad.

Yes, I realize this is where I should put in a pic of Erik looking fierce in his karate outfit, but he doesn’t like having his picture taken at the moment. And he’s cute, but he doesn’t have baby-cute going for him.

I am such a cold stone bitch. I feel like an automaton or something. I should strive to make Mike’s weekends fun and entertaining, but all I do is sit around and mope and say I’m not human. Maybe I need a therapist.

Having kids is hard. I love them. I love them so so so so so so much and never regret having them. But it is still hard. Where did I go? Most of the time I don’t mind wiping butts, wiping faces, getting everyone ready, nagging Erik until I’m blue in the face, keeping track, feeding, on and on and on. But it does get wearing when I feel like that’s all I do and I’m not even a person any more, just a robot child raiser with no hopes, desires, or worth outside all of that.

I guess I just want to be noticed or appreciated as a human instead of as a mother.

Do you know how damn hard I worked to get Erik to be a goat in his stupid preschool play? I put in EFFORT. That sounds so silly. That all this time and energy went into something so meaningless. He did a great job (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptz477xdFyU if you need proof) and you’d never know he was reluctant. I don’t regret the energy I spent on it. It just feels so futile that I spend SO MUCH time worrying about him saying a few lines in a play when there are so many other things going on in the world.

I guess it is the little things that make a life, not the big things. Right?

And you know how I said I was being a calm and loving mother? Ha! That worked until we were at the park today and he wrapped his arms around the tree and told me he wasn’t leaving. I had already done my standard warning, talking, yadda yadda yadda. I was just done. DONE with this attitude. Done with hearing a child tell me a defiant no. D-O-N-E.

I grabbed his arm and drug him down the sidewalk, him screaming the whole way. When he dug in his heels and wouldn’t budge I picked him up and carried him. Mike had already taken Elsa to the van because it was cold outside.

I felt like a shitty mother, but I also felt like it needed to be done. He needed to know that he doesn’t get to just say “no” and have everything be all hunky dory. But I needed to calm down. Ugh. How do you balance having a polite kid and having a happy, carefree kid who enjoys his childhood? I don’t know. I think I need therapy. Who has time for therapy?

Here’s where I get to make my semi-annual “oh yeah, Erik is having a six month/year birthday in a few weeks so he’s in a state of disequilibrium. Doh!” I thought at five he would be beyond that, but apparently not. He is totally spastic with the tantrums, frustrations, and just general disequilibrium type things. Knowing that there’s something developmental going on makes it much easier for me to deal with. Instead of feeling like he’s openly defying me and trying to be a little turd, I can feel like he has a growth problem and it is my job to mother him through it. I have been showing him a lot of extra love today and it definitely had a positive impact. It was really hard not to react negatively to his screaming, but instead I put my arms around him and told him I knew life was hard and we would work together to make things better. We were both able to calm down a lot faster. If only I could be such a thoughtful, calm parent every day.

In other news, Elsa continues to be a 10 month old menace. Is there any other kind of 10 month old? She grabbed an open jar of basil off the counter and dumped it into her eye before I could react. I flailed about for a few minutes and end up with her in the shower. I was ripping her clothes off as I was screaming at Mike to come help me get the water going. I ripped her clothes off and discovered she had a fresh poop. I ended up with a heavily soiled outfit. We couldn’t get all the basil out of her eye, so I ripped my clothes off and jumped in the shower with her. I had to hold her down while Mike worked the water. Erik was banging on the wall, trying to “shake the basil off.”

We have adventures in this family.

Thank the lords of Kobol it wasn’t the cayenne pepper.

Let’s talk about something calming.

This is not a perfect toddler quilt by any means, but I am quite pleased with it. I feel all creative and fancy. Look at those bright colors! Look at that non-traditional pattern that I sort of made up all by myself! Thinking outside the box and using bright colors are not my strong suits.

I really can’t sit in my sewing chair so needed something fast, but also wanted something thoughtful. I actually sewed this whole thing standing up. I think I’ll also be able to do the quilting standing up. I ordered the batting so hopefully it will be here before the weekend. I think I am going to do freestyle vertical lines to keep up the modern feel. Plus, I’ll be able to save my back from leaning over and marking.

One of these days I’m not going to be old and decripit, right? Maybe once Elsa is walking a lot better and/or when spring finally arrives and I can do regular excercise walks. I miss the gym so much. My gut is getting bigger and bigger and I feel out of control and helpless. I eat more sweets than I should because I feel like I can’t do what I want so why not stuff my gullet with chocolate? It makes no logical sense, but it’s a really ugly negative feedback loop that I need to break, but thus far I don’t have the right motivation to break it. The days I am able to get out and walk are the days I don’t eat all the chocolate.

I guess I should just cancel my gym membership. I keep holding out hope, but we go three days a month, baby gets sick or just screams a lot, we don’t go. Ugh. Also, the week that I went several times I noticed my knee started hurting again. I had pretty much given up hope that my knee would ever feel normal, but it has been mostly fine since I’ve given up the gym. I really need to call and cancel that membership, don’t I?

But. . . but. . nooooooo! The gym is supposed to be my sanity! I was there EVERY SINGLE DAY when Erik was a baby. It was the only time I got any peace. And my gut thanked me.

Ok, I have to go finish up this goat puppet. The teacher wants the kids to do it all themselves but she wants them to be creative and beautiful. I want to respect the “kids doing it themselves” idea, but Erik had already colored it and the creative and beautiful ship has sailed. She wanted them to incorporate fabrics and yarn and textures and blah blah blah. Erik refused. At the rate he’s going, I think she’s pretty lucky he knows his lines and was willing to put any color on the goat at all. This is not the week for demanding perfection from my discombobulated boy.

Oh, and if you cloth diaper I would feel remiss if I didn’t point you to this amazing sale HERE. I have a couple of these diapers that I got on sale a few months ago and I thought I hated them. They feel weird and they look odd. They have droopy wings. It looks like they would wick a lot because of the way they are sewn. But guess what? These bad boys DO NOT LEAK. I always hesitate to put Elsa in them b/c I feel like they will leak, but I have never had a problem. Today I accidentally had Elsa in one for over 7 hours (she fell asleep when I wasn’t expecting it). I didn’t even have an extra insert in it and she DID NOT LEAK. Of course, leaking or not can often depend on your baby’s shape, but they are having a great sale on these right now so if you want to give them a try now would be the time. I think these may become our new nighttime diaper.

I tried out a Happy Heiney, hoping it would be our new night diaper, but it turns out Elsa was allergic to it. Since I’ve taken that diaper out of rotation Elsa’s diaper rash has totally cleared up. I am gearing up major Craigslist sale of diapers and baby carrying devices. I don’t know why I hesitate so much. Selling diapers on Craigslist has turned out to be pretty painless once I figured out people were willing to pay. It is much, much, much, much better than trying to sell in various online cloth diapering communities. I’m sure there must be normal people buying and selling but I haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with them.

We got some much needed sleep last night. Much needed. That’s the worst thing about having a baby for me–the lack of sleep. I have always needed a lot of sleep. I was the girl in the dorms taking sleeping pills at 10 pm, wearing ear plugs, hating on my roommate for wanting to party all night long. And by party, I mean invite a bunch of girls over to gorge on Doritos. It was a Christian college, after all. I know there were hard partiers, but not amongst my crowd.

Elsa is doing a lot better, so now let’s all cross our fingers and hope she stays well for awhile. I was so smug about Breast is Best! My kid never gets sick! When Erik was a baby. He just wasn’t exposed to many germs. We went out with my moms group, but we mainly walked and he was confined to a stroller. The whole “kid being exposed to germs” thing really isn’t working out for me.

But she’ll be a healthy preschooler, yes? Build up that immune system. Even on her sickest day she is still a little doll and a joy to be around, unlike her brother, Mr. Colic. I loved that my baby boy so, so much, but there were whole minutes when I didn’t like him very well.

I feel like I am becoming a broken record on the Elsa and Her Food issue, but I am so conflicted. Is it normal for an almost 11 month old to gag on almost everything and spit it out? She has had two solid turds, ever, that I know of. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to call our county Infant and Toddlers Program and ask them to evaluate her.

I have a friend with two autistic kids who is all about the autism awareness education. She’s arranged a guest speaker to come to our next MOMS Club meeting and talk about autism stuff. She wanted questions, so I asked if the speaker would be able to talk about sensory processing disorder and explained a little about Elsa’s eating. My friend immediately sent me a link to a SPD blog, I e-mailed the blogger for a little more info and was put in touch with some other people. They all suggested that I run, not walk, to the phone and get a call in to the early intervention team. So maybe I am not crazy? I guess my fear isn’t that she’ll have a problem, but that the people will think I’m a stupid helicopter parent. Maybe some kids just take time to eat solids?

So I’m going to call. I really am. Tomorrow. I hate talking on the telephone and I hate making calls when I don’t have a script for them and I don’t know what’s going to happen. Two of my local friends have assured me that the early intervention people are fabulous and won’t think I’m stupid. The best advice I’ve heard: if you had a friend in a similar situation, what would you tell them?

I’d say “make the call! What can it hurt?”

I’m good at dispensing advice or thinking people are making mistakes.

I’m not so good at taking action for myself.

I did make a call to Erik’s future school and get him on the list for kindergarten. That means I’ll be getting a mega-packet in a few weeks and we’ll get a time assigned for kindergarten orientation. I’m really glad that I’m happy with the public school system in the county. Sure, I would love to get him in a private school that would cater to his high energy needs. There’s a distinct lack of financing for this hypothetical perfect school so it’s a relief that I can send him to our public school with minimal angst. I have many, many, many friends who are trying to decide between public school and Catholic school and it is eating them up since they are Catholic and they feel they should make sure their kids go to Catholic school. Since I’m not Catholic I don’t have to feel any pressure in that regards.

In other Erik news, his teacher asked me if I’ve been letting him main line sugar the last couple of days (no!) because he’s “a ball of energy” and had to have “a few time outs” since he wouldn’t quit talking and won’t listen to directions. I don’t know what’s going on with the kid because that’s the first time he’s had problems like that at school since the first week. Even though I certainly don’t want to hear that my kid is having behavior issues at school, I’m glad to know I’m not going crazy. He really is being an extra handful this week.

Actually, reading all the Sensory Processing Disorder stuff has made me think that Erik has a classic case of “sensory seeking.” I don’t know that he needs therapy or intervention, but the check-list sounds like it is tailor made for him.

Spinning–yes
Climbing too high–yes
Climbing everything–yes
Crashing into things (people, furniture, walls)–yes
Mouthing/licking inedible things (furniture, toys, body)–yes
Chewing inedible things (clothing)–YES
Eating excessively–No
Constantly wrestling with siblings–more like parents
Touching everything–yes
Playing with food–yes
Messy eater–yes
Overstuffing their mouth–haven’t noticed
Eating spicy/hot foods–when he was a baby. Not now. He’ll only eat cold food
Under-responsive to pain (‘shakes it off’ quickly)–yes
Dumping out toy bins just to look at everything–is that why he does that?
Excessive sensory play (mud, water, soap, etc.)–maybe?
Jumping–yes
Pushing–he would if I would let him
Loves running barefoot–yes
Chewing on their toothbrush–yes
Can’t sit still in their desk–yes
Falls out of their chair for no apparent reason–all the GD time
Loves loud noises (turns up TV, battery toys against ears, vacuum.)–Dear god yes
Can’t monitor their own volume (you constantly say, “Stop yelling!”)–You have no idea
Smells everything, even bad smells–no

I read another check-list somewhere that had “in your face/in your space” and that one right there is the big BINGO for me.

I have no idea how much of that stuff is “just being a boy” and how much might be a problem, but he sure does fit the check list. Unless a teacher tells me there’s a problem I don’t think I would be interested in pursuing the idea further. He is able to function at school just fine (except for today, apparently).

And now I have to go help him with his goat puppet. He finally allowed me to tell him Billy Goat Gruff and loved it. He has his part totally memorized and is not excited, but not in a state of hatred either. Thanks everyone for all the ideas, links, pictures, goat newsletters, videos. . . It all helped! And we never did go get goat ice cream (can’t say I’m too sad about that).

When Erik was a baby I was all over different baby sites. I knew all the pitfalls of babydom. I knew the diseases inside and out. If he was sick I could diagnosis him in three seconds flat. Doctor? Pshaw. Who needs a stinkin’ doctor.

I don’t know what happened. I don’t know anything this time around. I haven’t logged into my Babycenter birth board since the day before Elsa was born. I don’t read anything about developmental milestones or anything else. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just. . . well. . . I don’t know. What will happen will happen, right? Nothing I can do to control any of it, except maybe make sure she’s not eating ant poison from behind the couch or licking all our goose poop-y shoes.

So she had a high fever for a few days. Fever broke, suddenly she was covered in a rash.

As a first time mom I would have immediately known “Roseola! Nothing we can do but wait. No need to see a doctor. Poor, poor baby. Panic panic panic my sweets is in pain.”

As a second time mom with almost five years between the kids it never even occurred to me to look up her illness online. I barely connected the rash to the fever. It’s covering her head, mainly, so I thought she developed a sudden allergy to her shampoo. Mike was convinced she was allergic to the sweater he was wearing. I checked the label and it was 100% cotton, so not very likely.

Off we trotted to the doctor, only to be told there was nothing we could do. No way to comfort her. Poor baby has a common virus.

If I was a first time mother I would be beating myself up for not knowing. As a second time mother and one who has seen roseola before? Eh. I can’t be too fussed about beating myself up. I’m more concerned about beating myself up for being mean to my son.

Mike and I got no sleep last night. No sleep. None. Elsa was screaming and scratching herself all night. We tried various creams and potions but they did nothing but make her scream more. I don’t have much patience today.

Erik is still obsessed with his jewels and his crystals. After listening to him talk non-stop about them for at least 2 hours, constantly being asked “Do you like jewels, mommy? Are jewels your favorite thing in the whole world? Why not? Which jewel is your favorite jewel in the whole world? Do you like that I have jewels in my backyard? I’m the only boy in the world with jewels in his backyard. I love jewels. Do you love jewels? Do you love jewels? I love jewels? Jewels are shiny. Do you love my shiny jewels? Am I rich? Do you love my jewels? I love jewels. Look at my jewels! Hey, random stranger in the grocery store, look at my jewels! My mommy loves jewels. My mommy loves me because I have jewels in my backyard. . . ” You can just imagine how drained I am about this conversation about jewels.

I went with him into the backyard and discovered the little step area in front of our storage shed that had been carefully balanced with stepping stones and little shiny rocks is a completely sunk in mess, almost totally devoid of little shiny rocks.

I try to be patient. I really, really try. Sometimes my nerves get a wee bit shot.

This evening I finally went over to see my neighbor’s new baby. Her older son is 3, but looks like he’s 5. He speaks very limited English. He is more than a handful and Erik had no idea that A) he is only 3 and B) He doesn’t speak English. It turned into a nightmare with Erik hitting the kid, screaming at the kid and basically being the most embarrassing child I’ve ever had the horror of taking with me. I thought I was going to start crying right then and there. Of course I disciplined him, but I was feeling very ineffective with the mom saying “it’s ok, it’s ok” and the other boy screaming and I was holding the six week old baby. When we got home it took every single effort of self-control not to just start whaling on the child, I was so embarrassed. That is NOT how he acts and I don’t know why he thought it was ok. Just thinking about it is making me angry all over again. Sometimes I think he wants me to string him up by his ears. I don’t want to string him up by his ears. I just want him to act like a normal human being.

And now I’m going to go take a hot bath or something. Except I hate our bath tub so that doesn’t sound very appealing. Taking a nap would be best, but maybe I can wait a couple of hours for a proper bedtime. The real doctor and Dr. Google both say that her rash could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days. Here’s hoping it disappears sooner rather than later and we can get some sleep tonight.

Holy Moses, is it ever raining out. We went to Toys R Us for some special Erik/Mommy time and I felt like I gained 30 pounds just from the water that got soaked into my jacket.

Like a fool, I bought Erik a rock tumbler. I always wanted one when I was a kid but somehow Santa never saw fit to put one under the tree. Maybe Santa knew something I didn’t.

Erik has been driving me nuts about the “crystals” in our backyard and how rich we are and how we have crystals and oh yeah, did I mention there are crystals? In our backyard? Crystals!

I think if I hear the word crystals one more time I may cut my ears off.

I thought a rock tumbler would focus his attention in a way that didn’t have his tongue wagging in my ear, but the silly thing takes time. It says you put the rocks in, then tumble them for four days, then clean them, then tumble them for four days and on and on for days and days. This does not sound very exciting for a five year old.

Also, apparently it is really loud so you are supposed to put it somewhere that it won’t disturb people. Once you start you can’t turn it off or it will turn into cement.

This all sounds so lovely.

Instead, I have Erik downstairs watching some show about a talking dog. I hope the dog doesn’t die at the end. I was trying to find him animal movies on Netflix, but I couldn’t remember which ones ended badly and which were ok. If I were a super good mommy I would probably look that up on Google, but I just thought of it so it’s too late now.

In other news, thank you all so much for the advice about Elsa. I have tried just about everything that you guys and my FB friends have suggested. I thought for sure chocolate syrup would be the key to the meds going down the hatch (it’s just over-the-counter ibprofin so I can’t get it flavored. We’ve tried every flavor available), but no. In the end yogurt worked! She doesn’t like baby yogurt, but she loves to try to eat my yogurt (probably has way too much sugar in it), so we mixed some up and it seemed to soothe her throat. I’m pretty sure she has a sore throat.

I have given her tepid baths and that seems to help a little, even though I keep picturing Laura giving Almanzo an ice bath in that hotel bathtub (weren’t they in the city for that episode?). I also tried a cool rag on her forehead but she HATED that.

I just hope the yogurt trick keeps working and we can give her some comfort. My complaints about running out of milk are moot at this point. She is not drinking (I’m somewhat worried about dehydration), so it feels like I’m carrying around two bags of boulders. Erik came and sat on my lap and was smashing one of my boobs. When he got up I thought he had peed on me, but it was just milk every where. Isn’t that a lovely image?

I almost have a quilt top made! I think I’m out of batting so I’ll have to put in an order and then maybe I can finish it up next weekend. I even have enough fabric left to make my friend a quilt in a similar style. Would that be weird? We didn’t really hang out pre-Elsa so she never got Elsa anything (she’s in my MOMS Club and we don’t generally get people baby gifts or we’d all be broke), but now we’ve been hanging out a lot and I want to do something nice for her and her baby. She’s an artistic person who has a very successful shop on Etsy so I know she would appreciate a handmade gift. Weird or no?

And with that, I guess I better go and actually work on that quilt and make sure I know what the batting situation is. I found fusible bamboo quilt batting online and am rather intrigued. I only use fusible batting, by the way. I refuse to pin.

Poor Elsa just can’t seem to catch a break. Once again she has a high fever and is feeling like crap. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with her, but it seems to have stomach type origins. Just when I got her rash cleared up.

Problem: girl refuses her meds. I thought I knew what a kid who hated meds was like, but I had No. Freakin. Clue.

She makes herself puke it up so there’s just no point. I’ve looked everywhere for suppositories, but am not having luck. I found them online but the reviews said it looked like the sellers made their own and put them in an old box and they wouldn’t use them on a baby. Sounded pretty sketchy to me.

She was so hot last night. So so hot. I couldn’t sleep because she was on me and I kept thinking about all those old school books like Little Women and Anne of Green Gables and Daddy Long Legs where kids die or go blind or become mentally disabled because of high fevers. Then I would think “Of course that won’t happen now. We have modern medicine.” Then I would think “but if she won’t TAKE the modern medicine, what’s going to stop a febrile seizure that ends in death????” Worry, worry, worry. Try to give meds. Get puked on. Worry worry worry. Fever. Meds. Puke. Around we go.

She’s a lot cooler today, but still feverish and cranky. I think a walk in the sunshine would have gone a long way to improving my mood, but that didn’t happen. So I’m cranky.

In other news, Mike and I need to work on our communication skills.

It’s no secret that I think most Swedish people are pretty crazy so I wasn’t shocked when we was explaining about his dad’s annual birthday party. He said all the family goes over early in the morning for breakfast, then they have a vasaloppet (a Swedish race that I’ve heard of) then they all have lunch.

The way he explained it, even after I asked questions, I thought that his family was actually running a race through the woods and they got to eat lunch when they finished. I was very grateful that I’ve never actually been there for the race because there’s no way I’m running and there’s no way I’m going in the woods, so basically there’s no way I’m celebrating his dad’s birthday with the rest of the family.

At dinner I asked him if his sister-in-law just snuck home during the race and the pretended to complete the race when everyone else got back. She does not strike me as the running type. The others? They like to do orienteering (running through the woods with a compass), which is why this whole thing made some kind of weird, Swedish sense.

Turns out the Swedes are not as crazy as I thought. They don’t actually run in a race. They watch a big national cross-country ski race on TV.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh, says the dumb American. That makes so much more sense.

We also had a good dinner conversation about crazy Americans and their fundamentalist ways. I was quoting some 80s hair band lyrics and referred to it as “devil’s music.” Mike was pretty shocked to learn that I had been to good ol’ Christian bonfires were we burned tapes of Poison, White Snake, Ozzy, etc. I never had any tapes to contribute, but I did throw in my whole Garbage Pail Kids collection.

My family was not into church at all and I don’t know if my mom realized this was the kind of thing that was going on. I spent years and years being wracked with guilt over the simplest of things. One guest speaker told us how our toothpaste was evil because the company logo had a moon in it and clearly that was a sign of the devil. You didn’t even want to get this guy started on the Care Bears.

Now I am an atheist and my drug addled sister spends all her Facebook time trying to show the world she is holy (except when she’s drunk and tells the world who she’s sleeping with [hint: not her husband]).

Thank you all so much for the goat ideas for Erik. Mainly he is upset that he doesn’t get to be a dog. Each child is assigned a barnyard animal. They have to make a paper bag puppet and recite several facts about their animal, then sing a little song. He has really been enjoying videos of fainting goats, giggling goats and headbutting goats. He refuses to listen to the Billy Goat Gruff story. When I try to tell it to him he puts his hands over his ears and starts shouting “NO THANK YOU NO THANK YOU NO THANK YOU NO THANK YOU” really loudly. At least he knows polite words, I guess.

They sell goat’s milk ice cream at Whole Foods. I might make a trek down there, but I’m not sure it is worth the money. I don’t think I can bring myself to eat it, even though I do enjoy goat cheese. Would it be wasted on him? He knows all his goat facts. I’m just afraid he is going to refuse to perform on the big day. And I care why, precisely? It’s a preschool play. But I do care. Am I turning into a stage mother? Horrors!