The Queen's Rambles

Erik has finally gotten into nursery rhymes, possibly because my mom refused to read library books and just told him rhymes and made up stories while she was here. She’s not anti-reading, but she needs new glasses.

Crumpets seem to be a recurring theme and Erik’s been asking what they are. I had no clue, but thanks to the magic of the internet I promised we’d look them up and make some. I should be more careful with my promises. What if they’d turned out to be something with fermented herring?

I found a recipe and just saw “sugar, yeast” and “fry on a griddle” and was not too happy. Donuts? I don’t like sweet yeasty breads. I don’t understand donuts.

I mentioned this on FB and Bethany and Marie assured me they are not sweet. They are more like English muffins, sorta.

Supplied with a recipe from Marie, we made crumpets this morning. We didn’t have crumpet rings, so used Christmas cookie cutters instead. I would recommend ornament shaped cutters–it was too hard to grease the stars, even with Pam spray.

I’d say our little experiment was a success. I don’t know if they tasted like they are supposed to taste, but I enjoyed them with a slather of butter and some raspberry jam. Erik wants to take them to all his friends, so I guess he liked them.

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. We had a good time at our friends’ house. I thought I was going to have a problem when my friend threatened to spank Erik (along with her son) but I bit my tongue and let the situation play out. She was really frustrated, which I can understand after a long day of cooking. She didn’t make a move to actually spank him, so I guess it’s all ok. I was so proud of Erik. He said, very calmly “Ummmm. You’re not my mommy. You’re not allowed to touch me.” Good boy. Only I can whip him within an inch of his life (not that I’ve spanked him in a very long time).

I don’t think I ever posted a picture of Elsa’s Halloween costume, so here you go. It’s on backwards, which is just weird. The Princess Leia buns look less “bun” and more “pile of dog dung”–quite unfortunate.

Mike is a great-uncle times two, though we have heard very little about the babies. We only know about the second baby because of a FB post. I don’t understand, but I’m used to it by now. I can’t get over the name of the little girl–Elvira. I understand it doesn’t have quite the same connotations (or even pronunciation) as it does over here, but it still gives me pause.

We’ve re-arranged our house so our TV is now down in the basement with our computer. Will that mean more computer time or less computer time for Mommy? It will mean more family together time. I can’t do much computer time anyway because of my back. Hopefully the chiro can do something magical next week. Either that, or Santa better bring me a new back.

My mom kept harping on me because all my jeans were saggy and baggy. I wanted to buy some new ones, but we are on a much stricter budget these days and I hate jeans shopping. It’s the worst kind of shopping, short of swimsuit shopping.

This morning when I was shoving some stuff into the closet I noticed my box of too small jeans. Could they really fit? When was the last time I went through them? Post-Elsa birth, I think.

Score!

I am shocked. I feel so fat and schlubby and gross, but the jeans! They fit! I just found myself a whole new free, smaller wardrobe! It does wonders for the self-confidence.

Also, we found out that our insurance will cover a chiropractor so I’m going to make an appointment on Monday. I suppose I could try calling today and see what happens, but with Thanksgiving tomorrow I doubt I’ll get in before next week.

Today I’m wearing one of my militant boulder-holder bras. It’s not nursing friendly, but I hope it will help my back a little. As a bonus, it makes everything look a lot better so I”m not feeling so schlubby.

I’m really wishing my gym had a swimming pool. The nice gym with a pool is three times the price of my current gym, making it unobtainable on our current budget restrictions.

Plus, Elsa is a mama’s girl and I haven’t been able to exercise for longer than 20 minutes at the gym without getting called to childcare so I suppose that point is moot.

Wouldn’t it be divine to do an hour’s worth of swimming, then relax in the hot tub? Not that I could swim for a non-stop hour right now. It would probably take a good month to work up to 60 minutes.

And now I need to go off and try to find some fleece pants for Ms. Elsa. All the old ladies are on my case about putting mittens on her (it was 60F yesterday!), but I’m much more concerned about her little legs. She currently has a bevy of little knit pants that are perfect for diapers since they have stretch. They don’t seem like they will be perfect for keeping her warm when the temperature drops. There was frost on the car a few days ago so I suppose the temperature may drop soon.

I don’t know if I’m depressed or sleep deprived. The most depressing thing is my body. It will not function the way I want it to function. I think I have a pinched nerve in my back, which is making life all kinds of fun. If I stand or sit on anything hard, my back starts burning like no tomorrow. It’s not a muscle ache. Of course, this is complicated by the 23 pound lump of pure fighting muscle I have to carry around everywhere. The worst chair in the house by far? The computer chair? So I can’t even enjoy catching up on blogs or writing or doing anything enjoyable without incredible pain.

Thus, I am depressed.

Why did my children have to destroy my laptop?

I am just about ready to go buy an iPhone blackberry droid doohickey.

On the plus side, I am feeling a bit organized this holiday season. I’ve already started planning out my advent calendar. As you know, I am not the most crafty person so when I saw directions to make a big, fancy advent calendar last year I said “that is SO COOL” and then promptly decided I couldn’t do it. Luckily it was easily modified into a form that a non-creative person can quickly create.

So easy! I just hung up squares with garland and little tiny binder clips. I made a whole PDF hand out about how to do this (with ideas for projects and other tips) for my MOMS Club newsletter and was planning on sharing it with you, but I can’t seem to access my FTP, which means I have no idea how to upload it. I would be worried about that, but my back hurts too much so I can’t obsess.

What else?

Erik is way too smart for his own good and I’m likely to die of embarrassment. They are working on an economics unit in preschool and are supposed to come up with a product they can sell. They have to have something from nature and turn it into a product with some tools. Erik’s product is a direct result of his country music indoctrination.

Item from nature: corn.
Product: whiskey.
Tool: Mommy’s computer to find the recipe and Daddy’s wine bottles to put the whiskey in.

I don’t know how much of this he shared with the teacher and how much he just shared with me. I fear we need to go back to listening to the Wiggles 24/7. A nice fruit salad would make a good product, wouldn’t it? Yummy, yummy.

Elsa is starting to thin out from all her crawling, thank goodness! Heather, I kept meaning to send you those clothes, but now they fit. I’m sorry! I feel bad, but I have to admit I’m glad she can wear them longer than a week.

She has gone from being a happy all the time baby, to being very, very frustrated in short bursts. Oh woe is me (not). She’s been happily commando crawling for a few weeks, but now she’s figured out she can get up on her knees. She just can’t figure out how to go, so she sits there and wails and cries until I save her. Poor little thing. Erik’s been trying very hard to teach her how to crawl, but she just won’t listen (much to his annoyance).

We all seem to have yet another cold. Will we ever be healthy again? I think that’s what I’m most depressed about. I don’t remember feeling good and healthy since my 35th birthday almost 2 years ago. I can’t imagine how depressed actual chronically ill people must be.

And now I have a crying baby, a burning back and an impatient boy. Guess that does it for this installment of All Whining, All the Time.

I’ve been sleepy for the past 24 hours. I was so sleepy that I fell asleep while putting Erik to bed, which never happens. Usually I’m wired up, ready to run out of the room at the first possible chance to go do really important things like stare at the TV or eat ice cream. Or stare at the TV while eating ice cream.

Have I mentioned I’m addicted to ice cream sodas? Vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and a bit of club soda in a coffee cup. I haven’t been to Dairy Queen in months. Who needs DQ when I can be my own barista? Only I suppose the word would be soda jerk, but who wants to be called a jerk?

My mom left yesterday so we’re all recovering–Erik is sad, Mike is energetic and I’m . . . sleepy. It was so nice having her here. She was the perfect buffer between me and Erik, plus she did most of the laundry and a lot of the cleaning. I could go places without worrying about dragging the baby along, or I could send her on errands. I’ve been watching Sister Wives so I decided I needed a sister wife or two (one to earn money, one to help around the house), but I wouldn’t want to share Mike. I guess that’s why normal people have nannies. But how do I get a nanny that will work outside the home and give me all her money? There must be a word other than slavery.

At least we had a very nice distraction today. Brenda is back in town to help Bethany prepare for her soon-to-arrive baby girl so we went down to have some fun. You get three kids together and you often have a pouting mess, but thankfully all the kids played well together most of the time. When they didn’t we told them to cheer up and be good and that was about all the intervention they needed. Bethany took some great photos HERE (updated link that should work). I didn’t even take my camera in because I knew I could count on Brenda and Bethany to take a ton of pictures and they would turn out better than any that I would take. Photography is definitely not my game.

Brenda and I lamented the loss of my grandmother. She was such a great character. Sure, she was a bitter old woman, but the stories wrote themselves. I need more blog fodder like that (and obviously I loved my grandma for more than just blog fodder). I have a few people in my life that I could turn into characters and you’d all be begging for more ridiculous stories, but I’ve learned my lesson. No more writing less than flattering things about friends and acquaintances unless I lock the posts. Being a conscientious friend has taken a major toll on my blogging. Remember all the stories of my Swedish friend, Annica? She probably would have killed me dead if she ever read the things I wrote about her. I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

I guess I could write about my family, but I get tired of them. They have gone from wacky into “someone call the police.” Since there are children involved it is no fun at all. My mom wants custody of those kids so badly and she needs custody, but it’s not as easy as all that. I’d like to share a wise piece of advice with all you ladies out there. I hope to Fred none of my readers need this advice, but here goes: if you have an emergency bag packed for your children and you’ve told your children where to hide/what to do if your spouse goes crazy and starts hurting you or the kids GET A DIVORCE! RUN! ESCAPE! That’s not normal. Normal people don’t have an escape plan. A fire escape plan? Yes. Spouse escape plan? That’s just crazy. If you need one you are in a bad relationship and it’s not going to get any better. I’ve been a kid with an escape bag. Don’t do that to your kids. Go to the crisis center. Call the police. Call your mom. Whatever. Leave and never go back.

I just wish I could tell my sister the same thing and have her understand and follow through. I fear her children and her husband need an escape plan to get away from her as much as she needs an escape plan to get away from him.

I need to go to bed and stop dwelling. Thinking of those kids makes my heart hurt.

As you’ve probably guessed, my sister is back with her husband and everything is hunky-dory. She never even filed the restraining order paperwork, though she did get out a gun from my dad’s house (and then put it back again). She’d ready to kill him one minute, and be his wifey the next. So it goes, so it goes. It’s so damned frustrating.

I really hate to visit home because I’m always scared her husband is going to crack and kill the whole family while we’re there. My mom laughs it off and says he’s not like that, but honestly? How do I know he’s “not like that”? I don’t feel safe there and no one understand why.

In the mean time my mom is always telling me that I need to move back to my hometown to get away from the dangers of Muslim extremists who are just waiting to bomb me.

Do I doubt that there are Muslim extremists or other baddies out here in the DC area? No. Absolutely not. I simply can’t dwell on it. Where else are we supposed to live? Even is Mike could magically get a job in my hometown, I wouldn’t move there. I would be hard pressed to intentionally move my children to a depressed cesspool of drug and alcohol abuse.

I think my mom thinks all that is normal behavior because she watches all those stupid judge shows and trashy talk shows. The people are almost always nasty, low-income liars who constantly yell at each other and everyone else. I can’t stand listening to all that yelling. I don’t see why people subject themselves to it in real life, much less invite it into their homes as television entertainment. It really skews her view of how life is lived. She doesn’t understand our life at all.

I don’t think she tries to stir up trouble, but she keeps saying “oh no, Mike is so mad at you” when he is nothing of the sort. She can’t seem to understand that when he and I have a discussion that’s just what it is–a discussion. We don’t always have to agree or say the same things. We hash things out without yelling. We think about what the other person says. We talk about the pros and cons of a situation. Mike thinks some more and we finally act on what needs to be done (or we don’t act).

I’ve decided I want to move the TV to the basement because we’ll have a lot more room down there and our family won’t be fragmented (our only working computer is down here). Mike is not keen on the idea of moving everything just because it’s a lot of work, but he understands that the walls are closing in on me upstairs and I desperately need a change. We can’t just pick up the TV and carry it down here, though. We need a plan. Where is the cable? Where will we put things? How will this work? My mom thinks we are having some horrible fight over it because we haven’t done it yet. She has no idea that normal people talk things over and don’t act out of spite.

I am going to miss her so much when she leaves, but it has definitely put into focus my very real need to stay far, far away from family drama. She must thrive on it. She’s always on the phone, getting the latest scoop. I prefer to avoid all knowledge of what’s going on back there.

In completely unrelated news, several of you asked about the Santa hands in the Elsa portrait. Those were provided by the studio and worn by me. My vision came about because I saw sample pictures in the JCPenny’s portfolio, so I knew they had what I wanted if they were just willing to pull them out for me. I am DYING for a picture of a newborn cradled in Santa hands. I am not dying for an actual Christmas newborn, though. Or an actual newborn of any season. There’s no way a baby could ever be as sweet and easy-going as Elsa and it’s hard enough to deal with her and Erik.

Did I mention how unhappy I was with our last portrait session? It wasn’t that I was unhappy, so much as I was disappointed. We went on a no school day, which was a huge mistake. Everything was rushed and we didn’t get the quality or service that I have become accustomed to. Yes, I know I just go to Penny’s, but usually I go at off times and get great service.

So I did what any reasonable human being would do and went back a second time.

Mike thought I was crazy, but I had a vision. A vision! I was determined I would get something similar to what my vision was showing me.

I made an appointment online and received a confirmation e-mail, but when I showed up they had no record of my appointment. I was about to hyperventilate, but then the girl said she could take me anyway.

We were the only people there. She worked with us for 40 minutes and I am so, so very happy. The above picture is a fulfillment of my vision. I was bossy direct and insisted on things being done a certain way.

I also got some of my moles removed today! Happy, happy! I am now missing two big moles off the back of my neck and a giant, nasty mole off the front of my face. I’m like a whole new person.

Funny how the little things make such a difference.

Now, if I could just lose about 100 pounds I might really be a happy person.

Oh wait.

I am not supposed to tie my happiness to my weight.

I try. Really I try. I have given up on losing weight, but some days I feel so heavy. Heavy in terms of pounds. Heavy in terms of spirit. Just. . . heavy.

I’m finally going back to the gym, so if I can keep that up maybe I’ll start to feel lighter, at least in spirit.

Or maybe I just need some liposuction.

But now I have to go back to being happy. My mom is using the sun and her watch to make a light spot on the wall and Erik is chasing it like a kitten. He thinks it’s Santa Claus (ummmm. . yeah. . I might have told him that).

Dang! He just figured out it was the watch. I was quite entertained by my kitten boy.

Oh, the drama! I don’t even know what to say about the drama. I don’t know if I even want to say anything about the drama.

You know my mom can’t have a nice, normal trip to my place without having tons of stress about her life back in Oregon. My sister simply won’t allow it. My sister can’t pull her head out of her ass for five minutes and take care of her children. If I could, I would find her, grab her by the hair and slam her face into concrete until it was a bloody pulp. Not because I care about her, but because she and her husband are putting their children through hell and they don’t even give a shit.

So my sister has this ex-stripper friend with five kids and a common-law husband who’s been working in Idaho for several months. Apparently she also smokes crank. Is that how you do crank?

My dad has an alcoholic friend who loves to chase skinny tail.

My sister doesn’t want her friend to move to Idaho.

The alcoholic friend wants tail.

The alcoholic friend, the ex-stripper and my sister decided to use my invalid alcoholic non-functioning dad as a babysitter for nine kids ages 1-7 while they “partied.”

My sister’s husband is friend’s with the ex-stripper’s common law husband and became enraged when he walked in on the whore-house scenario.

Apparently he destroyed my mom’s house, destroyed all my grandma’s old furniture and cut up all my sister’s clothes.

The police have been around several times but nothing ever happens. My dad is taking a restraining order out against my BIL. My sister is no innocent flower in all this. She took a sledge hammer and knocked out all the windows of his vehicle (that he’s not even allowed to drive).

My sister is talking about it all on Facebook. My mom is beside herself with worry over the kids, but thankfully we have now been told by a good source that they are with my BIL’s 22 year old son and his girlfriend (as crazy as that sounds, that is actually a really, really good thing). My mom is freaking out that my BIL will take the kids and disappear. He’s a sociopath and he’s insane when he’s doing drugs and alcohol.

My sister isn’t much better, but at least tomorrow she is planning on going to the crises center first thing and filing a restraining order and something to do with a custody thing. Not that a restraining order can stop a hell-bent husband, but it might be something.

My mom keeps saying “if your sister would just get a good man who works, pays the bills and doesn’t drink her life could turn around.” And you know what? It could.

But she finds good men to be incredibly boring. She was with a functioning (meaning he worked and paid the bills and took care of his own children) alcoholic for a couple of years and she couldn’t stand it because he wouldn’t go out carousing and he didn’t like to fight with her.

And seriously? What good, hard working man would want a violent drug addict with three little kids?

AND WHY WON’T THE POLICE TAKE THEM AWAY?????

I hope this was the final straw and my mom is finally awarded custody. They need a stable life. My dumbass sister and her husband are too lazy to get up and get them ready for school most days. And that’s one of their lesser offenses. They don’t beat the kids and the kids have food in the house, so they aren’t “neglected” under the legal definition, but they sure are having a hellish childhood. Why would anyone do that to their kids? I don’t understand. If I think about it too hard I cry and make myself totally sick. Those poor lost souls who just need love and a little guidance. . .

So there. Now you can all be angry with me. I don’t understand how this guy isn’t in jail after all the things he’s done. He’s currently on probation so why didn’t they haul him in right away?

It is ridiculous that my mom can’t enjoy a vacation with my family, her rarely seen grandkids, because my sister and her drug addled husband can’t keep their acts together and take care of their children.

Anyway. . something good. Something good. Cleansing breaths. . .

I am taking Elsa back to the portrait studio tomorrow. I have a very specific picture in my head and I am determined it is going to happen. I want a picture of her against a white background in her Christmas dress with the Santa gloved hands reaching for her. We are members, so don’t pay sitting fees. I’ll buy very, very few prints and it won’t be that bad (yes, I have coupons). I just hope my dreams aren’t dashed, but I have to at least try.

*We have new neighbors! I was really worried about what kind of tenants might move in right across the gap from us (we are an end unit townhouse that faces to the side, so basically there is a small patch of dirt/trees between us). The last people were nice and I can’t complain, but they were total rednecks who drank and smoked all the time. It could have been a lot worse, which was my fear. I am beyond thrilled to see a young, professional couple move in! They have nice cars and dress well. They are the type of people you want as neighbors. Hopefully Erik won’t annoy them too much.

*Speaking of Erik, I forgot to mention the “sink into the earth” move he made at the portrait studio. He did not want to wear the outfit I had picked out. As in, I could have skinned him alive and he wouldn’t have cared. Not. Gonna. Happen.

As all you parents know, parenting is about who can lie and manipulate the best. My mom and I started telling him how handsome the shirt made him and really playing it up. The boy has a vain streak a mile wide. He can barely focus on karate because he stands in front of the mirror and stares at himself all class. I guess it’s common? Maybe? At any rate, let’s just say he has a healthy sense of self.

At the studio he was walking up to people and telling them he was handsome. Then he walked up to two boys and told them “I’m more handsome than you!” I wanted to die on the spot. The mother glared at me and I grabbed him and told him that the boys were very handsome, but they had their handsome clothes on under their coats.

We’ve been having lots of discussions about bragging the last couple of days. I’m glad he loves himself, but he needs to tone it down in public.

*My mom. Oh my dear mom. I don’t know about her. She is such an enabler with my sister, my BIL and my father. She claims she hates what they do and just wants out of it, but then they call her and she gives them money/her social security number (I about died)/use of her vehicle/whatever they ask for. She says she is stuck in a bad situation, but I don’t see it. It is a bad situation, but she’s been “stuck” in it for the past 36 years. In all that time she hasn’t been able to come up with a solution?

I just finished reading Backseat Saints by Joshilyn Jackson which gave me a lot of food for thought. I didn’t necessarily like the book. It was about an abused wife who finally has enough and leaves her husband. I don’t like books about people who allow themselves to be victims. It was interesting, though, because it was obvious that the main character was getting something out of the abuse. It thrilled her. I suppose my mother must be getting something out of being the savior and door mat for the other people in my family. I can’t wrap my head around it because I don’t have that–whatever that is–in my personality. I won’t allow myself to be used and abused. Why would that be fun?

I used to worry about my mom so much (and I still do in some ways), but a very wise person (julival, I’m looking at you) told me to stop trying to solve her problems and stop feeling so sorry for her because she has choices. After digesting that and really looking around I know it’s true. She DOES have choices and she constantly chooses to be an enabler.

I do feel really, really bad for my niece and nephews. I wish I could rescue them but I don’t know how. But the rest of them? My mom needs to step back and let my sister figure it out or else initiate proceedings to get custody of the kids. My sister is 33 years old! My BIL is 45! They should be able to function without my mommy buying them vehicles and paying all the bills.

Ok, rant over. I have to do something about a very sleepy baby.

Click through the picture for a complete set of adorable portraits.

Does everyone go through hell on portrait day or is that just my family? I knew we would have trouble because Erik has always had trouble at the portrait place and Elsa won’t smile for the camera. I didn’t realize the whole place would be INSANE with people. I usually go in the beginning of October, which makes me miss the holiday rush. I learned never to do that again!

I know I should be happy. We did get some really cute shots and if I didn’t already have something very specific in mind I would have been happy. Me and my danged mind.

Erik was wiggly and squirmy and kept grabbing his crotch (no, he didn’t need to go potty). He also kept trying to help us make Elsa smile, which was nice of him but didn’t really work b/c he needed to hold still.

Elsa. . . dear, sweet Elsa. She just is so befuddled by cameras. It was like pulling teeth to get a smile out of her. I ended up laying on the floor under the white backdrop, tickling her belly.

I’m really disappointed that we didn’t get any pictures of just her in her holiday dress. I am going to go back next week and do a shoot with just her. I’ll go on a school day so hopefully it isn’t so crazy. I want Santa hands reaching for her! I want ornaments! I was a crisp, white background! I’m a crazy momma! I should have what I want.

We ended up with an inexperienced photographer (she didn’t tell me I was standing in front of the flash so half the pictures didn’t take at all) who was insanely busy and didn’t want to bother pulling out all the props.

I also had a vision of Erik holding Elsa up by the hands while she was standing. We practiced at home but they both freaked out there and it didn’t work.

Deep breaths. . . deep breaths. . .

So how was your Halloween?

Ours was fine. I took my car to the shop Sunday evening so asked Mike to have Elsa in her costume by the time we got home. Poor man had her in the costume, but I’m a harsh taskmistress and he can never do anything right. The costume was on backwards. She was mad about the whole thing. I nursed her to calm her down, but it calmed her down a little too much. She fell asleep on my lap, so we both missed trick or treating.

Erik, the little turkey, decided he would be Indiana Jones after all. He wouldn’t even try on the Jedi costume I made for him.

In other news, Elsa is growing at an amazing rate. Last weekend she fit into her 12 month clothes perfectly. This weekend they are capris and belly shirts. She was in them literally less than two weeks. Anyone need some practically new baby girl clothes?

If she keeps up with her growth curve (the doc pointed out it isn’t a curve, it’s a vertical line), she’ll be wearing 5T by her first birthday. I don’t think that’s possible. Is it? I think my niece was wearing 3T at her first birthday and they seem to be on the same trajectory.

My mom says I should just wrap her in an old t-shirt and a towel until her growth evens out.

Speaking of my mom. . . it has been so great to have her here! I am going to be lost when she leaves. I’ve hardly done any laundry or cleaning since she’s been here and she’s painted Elsa’s room twice! The first time the paint totally sucked and looked terrible, so the second time we got cheap Home Depot paint and it looked a lot better. Wish I would have known that from the start and not bought the super high quality piece of shit Benjamin Moore paint.

If the room ever gets settled I’ll take pictures. We are owed about a million dollars in Amazon gift cards from our credit card so Mike says I have to order everything from them, but when we order the cards they only send one at a time instead of a bunch like we request so I am just waiting to order the crib skirt, sheet and curtains.