The Queen's Rambles

I hope you are all enjoying the last moments of 2010/first moments of 2011. I’m listening to Erik harass my dad on the phone. They’re about the same mental age. Erik may be a wee bit more mature, actually. Alcohol will pickle your brain, you know. Anyway, one of Erik’s greatest joys in life is to call up his Pee-paw and say all the horrible things he’s normally never allowed to say. My dad is not anywhere near politically correct, so we use him as Erik’s “learn to take it and dish it out” tutor. It gives his life meaning. Ha.

We have a bottle of champagne in the fridge and are trying to stay up late enough to see in the new year. Hopefully the kids will miss the fun because they’ll be fast asleep. We shall see what Miss Elsa decides to do.

I only have one goal/resolution for the new year: keep on top of my pictures! I am going through our 2011 calendar and writing “take care of pictures” on the first Sunday of each month. If I can do that, my life will be a lot easier later on. If it’s scheduled in maybe I can do it. I think it’s easier to reach a goal if you have a specific schedule/plan so here’s hoping next year’s photo book is easy-peasy because I do it in stages instead of one huge nightmarish week in December.

We hosted a little MOMS Club New Years party today, which was pretty fun. Erik is quite the host. As soon as he found out we were having a party (I didn’t tell him about it sooner in case it didn’t pan out) he started planning what we would serve, how we would serve it, what we would use for a center piece and what games we would play. (Fruit snacks, clementines, and broccoli served on blue plates with a pumpkin center piece that he made for Thanksgiving. We were supposed to limbo, but ended up dancing to his favorite Swedish 80s tunes).

Who is this child? Where did he come from? When I was five I wouldn’t have had a clue that you were supposed to plan a menu and a center piece and games and all that for a party. Of course, when I was five the only parties I’d ever been to were McDonald’s birthday parties. Do you remember those? A dollar a kid and you got a sundae and free entertainment in the form of an old lady worker (looking back, the old lady worker was probably a 16 year old kid).

My mom rarely socialized with anyone, so we never went to potlucks, parties or playdates. Erik is having a very different childhood. I don’t know if that’s why he knows and is excited to plan a party or if it is part of his innate social acumen. Probably a combination of both. It cracks me up when he asks the guests if they enjoyed themselves and tells them he hopes they will come again.

I saw Grain Damaged do this little thing and really liked it:

One of the first pictures and last pictures of 2010 (obviously Elsa’s is from April, not January).

What happened to my chubby-cheeked little boy? He looks so grown up and mature these days.

(Five days old)

She became a little person!

I am still thrilled about my new laptop. Mike bought the accident insurance, so even if my darling children manage to destroy it I’ll still be good to go.

I’m supposed to be hosting a children’s New Year’s Eve PJ party tomorrow morning. I am so not motivated. My friend and her kids are coming, then we have a bunch of maybes. I hate the maybes. I understand the need for the maybes. I’m a maybe at times. But it makes planning almost impossible.

I bought some noise makers at Giant and that has been the extent of my planning. I might put out some construction paper and call it good. I want to make some kind of treat, but I fear I’m going to stick to fresh fruit and veggies for the kids. My friend’s son has recently been diagnosed with a whole slew of allergies and as much as I would love to make him something special I am completely stymied. No nuts, eggs, dairy or soy. Possibly gluten, but he has not officially been diagnosed with a gluten intolerance. Honestly if my kid had that many allergies I probably wouldn’t let him eat anything that someone else prepared no matter how well-meaning that person was. Those ingredients are so pervasive in our foods that it is almost impossible to get rid of them entirely.

Since it’s a PJ party, I can just throw on a movie and say it’s a movie party, right? No? I didn’t think so. Oh well. I don’t care if they just run around. My friend that I know is coming for sure doesn’t care. Who knows what the maybes expect.

Erik has been in PJ for several days straight with the exception of yesterday’s field trip. He hates wearing them, but I guess they’re better than real clothes. We’re finally too the point where I do not allow him to run around naked, nor do I change clothes in front of him. I wondered how parent’s knew when their kids were too old for that kind of thing. Now I get it. You just know. When they start asking to see your naked body it’s time to cover up. Plus, his little body is no longer toddler cute. I feel like a pervert when he runs around naked. Problem: he has no modesty about his penis. He just doesn’t want people to see his belly button. I have no idea why.

I was sure I had something interesting to talk about, but now I have no idea what that might have been. My life is currently revolved around Lego Harry Potter. It’s a pretty fun game, but it is so danged dark you can hardly see what’s going on. Thankfully some British fellow has done a big series of video tutorials and tips so we are able to get through most of the levels. Cheating, I know, but who cares? Not me! I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned about patience, perseverance, and becoming a good, upstanding citizen. Frankly, I don’t really care. How’s that for a bad attitude.

Elsa continues to be a delight. She has three teeth now, all on the bottom. She’s still not eating much real food, but I fear I’m going to have to wean her soon. She’s a biter and I’m not a fan of biters. I can’t imagine buying formula so I know I’ll keep nursing until her birthday, but I don’t know how far beyond that we’ll go. It’s my only weight loss technique so I don’t know about this weaning plan.

She’s finally crawling on her hands and knees instead of dragging herself along on her belly, but only if I take her shirt off. I guess carpet burn is a strong motivator to get that belly off the floor. I may hook up some kind of mop system to her belly, dip her in soapy water and put her to work. She almost makes me want to have another baby, she’s so sweet. Almost. But the thought of an actual newborn? Not so tender and dear.

She’s also getting a tad bit cuddly and I love the feeling of her little body snuggling up with mine. Erik was always a big time snuggler, even when he was screaming, so I’ve been missing that this time. If I had to pick snuggler or non-screamer, I’d pick non-screamer every time. A little baby snuggle now and then is super sweet, so I’m enjoying every one she is willing to give me.

Ok, the dear boy needs some food or attention or something. Guess I better stop enjoying my laptop.

You might be seeing more of me here. I got a laptop for Christmas! How many times have I mentioned that? Maybe just on FB. Erik is pretty sad because he wanted to by me a laptop, but his budget wouldn’t allow it. He doesn’t understand that he should just be happy I got what I wanted.

Mike is taking this week off work and we’ve been total slouches. Or I have been a slouch. Mike has been a cleaning maniac. He’s cleaned so well that I can’t find anything. He also didn’t realize that my jar openers were very important items and he did something with them. I threatened to withhold sex if he didn’t find them. He was not impressed. He couldn’t figure out why I would need them to have sex and thought it sounded too kinky. I don’t think he understands the whole “haggish, naggish wife withholds sex when she’s angry” thing. Probably because that’s not how our relationship works.

Way too much information.

Just saying. Those jar openers are like some kind of miracle. They’re just the standard weird plastic square things that you get as promotions from various places, but they really work. I will be irked if they are truly gone.

Anyway, I saw a friend post pictures of her trip to the Maryland Science Center and decided we should stop being slouchy/cleany and go do something. I wasn’t sure what was best, but a FB poll revealed that The Maryland Science Center is great, so off we went. Mike got a GPS for Christmas so that made our trip even more enjoyable. Usually when we go into the big city (Baltimore in this case) I can’t enjoy it because I feel like we are on the verge of being lost forever and will surely perish while driving in circles, unable to find the way home.

Our FB friends were right–Erik loved the Science Center even though he had declared he wasn’t going and he was going to hate it. We were there five hours and still could go back for another five hours and not be done exploring. I missed most of it because I found a little infant room with a comfy chair and a boppy. After letting Elsa play around on a waterbed thingee (she looked like she was in an aquarium. If you know my love of fish, you know how much I loved this. If you don’t know about my love of fish I have two words for you: severe phobia) I nursed her and she fell asleep.

I had the camera with me so we didn’t get many pictures, so picture me making a sad face. I’m already planning to go back, possibly in April when my mom is here. It looks like there are all sorts of cool things around the Inner Harbor so it would be nice to explore on a day when it isn’t freezing cold.

If you ever do decide to go to the Science Center, which I heartily recommend, I do have one word of advice. Take your own lunch! The prices weren’t too bad and the food wasn’t awful, but the cafeteria set up was insane. I don’t know how such a sleek, well thought out facility could have such a horribly planned cafeteria. We were in line for over 30 minutes waiting to place our order. They cook every thing to order, which is nice in terms of taste, but they don’t have a really good system for getting things done. I almost brought our lunches today, but we have a major need to grocery shop so didn’t really have anything. I thought about going to a restaurant before entering the center, but the only one in easy walking distance was Hooters. I’ve never been in a Hooters. Despite the claim that they have really good hot wings, I think I’d like to continue abstaining. Especially when I have my five year old boy with me. He’d enjoy it too much. You know what his favorite part of the Harry Potter Lego game is? Watching the little videos that explain the action and staring at Hermione’s lipstick.

As much as it pains me to admit it, I’ve never been a big fan of the Harry Potter movies. Rabid book fan, yes. Movie fan? Just luke warm. The first movie was a thrill for the special effects, but I found the plotting and casting to be almost too painful to watch.

The movies have definitely improved over time, though I think number 3 must be my favorite. You can tell I wasn’t too fussed over the whole thing, though, because I didn’t see HP1a until yesterday.

We finally gave up on the idea of getting a sitter and Mike and I are taking turns (he’s at the theater now).

Our local theater is only running it late at night, so we found a theater down in the middle of bigger city, plugged in our new nav system (whoo-hoo!) and away I went.

Apparently everyone else wanted to see it at noon, too. The place was packed out and I ended up sitting in front of a set of grandparents with three little kids. Little as in probably 4-6. Way too young for this type of movie.

I tried to concentrate on the film, even though it was very true to the book and felt like it was mainly boo-hooing out in middle of the woods. I was bored. The kids behind me were bored. The grandparents behind me didn’t have a clue what was going on. I don’t think any one in the family had ever had exposure to HP before. They would not shut up, then they were scared, then they were bored and still. Would. Not. Shut. Up.

So overall not the most pleasant movie experience in the world. I should have waited for the DVD. Should you wait for the DVD? I don’t know. How big a fan are you? Make sure you sit far, far away from little children. What’s the point of having a time out on the town without your little kid if you have to listen to someone else’s little kid whine the whole time?

On the bright side, the acting has improved tremendously. Even dopey ol’ Rupert did a fine job.

Erik is totally hooked on HP now that he has the Lego Wii game. He spent all morning watching the little Lego movies and asking me ten million questions about the story line. It’s very satisfying for him since I can actually answer his questions (unlike when he quizzes me about the Star Wars story line), but he does get frustrated because I can’t really explain the characters’ actions and motivations in a way that makes sense to him. The whole idea of Harry’s parents dying and then him being raised by the horrible Dursley’s defies 5 yr old comprehension.

How about some family gossip?

My sister got a job! Thank fred! She’s working at the same place she’s worked before. She always leaves when she has a baby, so let’s hope that trend doesn’t continue. She’s a dental assistant at a low-income clinic. She always does a lot better when she’s working. There’s not as much boredom in her life and she is around more educated people, which is always good for her. She’s very influenced by the people around her.

I was reading an article about boredom the other day and it stated that the scariest people on earth are the people who can’t deal with boredom. They are the addicts, psychos, and so forth. So so so so so so so so so true. A truer sentiment has never been written. I have always known that my sister’s problem is that she can’t stand to be bored, but I never thought of it in broader terms. So how do you teach someone to deal with boredom? Is it an innate quality or something learned? I want to make sure my kids can deal with boredom. Maybe I should lock them in their rooms and see what they do (just joking).

And now I have a boy demanding lunch so I guess I better go and be a good mommy and feed him. If you’re looking at the time stamp I swear I am not negligent. He didn’t get out of bed until almost 10 am, which puts the rest of the day off schedule.

I’m not British, so I don’t exactly know what a Boxing Day is. Punching each other after being on best behavior for Christmas?

All I know is I finally get to go see Harry Potter! Elsa won’t eat real food and she cries if anyone holds her other than me so I am very, very hesitant to leave her with a sitter (more for the sitter’s sake than her own). Mike and I would have loved to go together, but sometimes things just don’t work out. This morning Mike and I invented a dice game to see who would get to go to the movie today and who gets to go tomorrow. I won! Why didn’t we just flip a coin? Because we had a dice handy, I guess.

Only problem is the movie doesn’t start until 6:30. I won’t be home until super late, but I guess that’s ok. We’ll see what I say tomorrow when it’s Mike’s turn to be out that late.

We had a pretty fun Christmas, though I threatened to take away all of Erik’s Christmas gifts yesterday. He got the two things he asked for the most (caster scooter and Wii Lego Harry Potter) but he wasn’t happy. He wanted some Lego Road Trip thing (first I ever heard of it. I don’t even know what it is) so was sad. So damn frustrating.

After Christmas dinner we always play a really fun present stealing game with lots of little tiny gifts. One of the gifts was a fancy brownie mix that came with a short little wooden spoon. At the end of the game it was mine and Erik asked me for the spoon. He’s been hauling that spoon around every where, thanking me for it and telling me it is the best Christmas present he received. Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with that kid’s brain.

Here’s a few pictures. Click through if you really want to see millions of pictures of my kids. Ha! Actually, I am trying to be more selective. I even did the unthinkable and deleted pictures if they were blurry or less than complimentary or duplicates that just were a smidgen less desirable than the other duplicate. After years of parenting I think I have figured out that we don’t need 100 pictures of the same moment. I just need a few pictures for a great photo book and it will be easier if I edit down as I go instead of trying to figure it out a year from now. I found some old fashioned printed photo albums from when Erik was a baby the other day and realized that it was insane to have so many pictures of the exact same thing. I also realized that children age you fast. Mike and I looked so young! And it was only six years ago. Is it already time for a face-lift?

The phone rang when Elsa was asleep. I always answer when she’s sleeping even if I don’t know the number.

I’m so glad I did!

Some of you probably remember my crazy Swedish friend, Annica. She was my only friend when I lived in Sweden and, in true cliche form, she was nuttier than a fruit cake. I really liked her, but boy oh boy was she crazy. I think she tainted my whole view of Swedes, though she was much warmer and more fun than any other Swede I ever met.

I was surprised to hear that she was still with her husband. Back in the day she was always convinced that he was having an affair and she was always wanting to have an affair, preferably with a woman. I couldn’t help but think that she wanted to have an affair with me since she talked about it all the time, but I studiously ignored those comments. I don’t understand lesbian sex. I don’t want to understand lesbian sex. No offense against lesbians. Go off and have fun together, but leave me out of it. Much like you would like to be left out of straight sex, I would assume.

At that time she had two little girls and didn’t think she would ever have any more. She went through all kinds of fertility treatments to get her two children and didn’t have the stamina to go through another round of therapy. This was almost ten years ago.

She called today to tell me she had a big surprise.

Yup. Pregnant. She has a 13 year old and a 10 year old. She and her husband are in total shock. It’s a happy shock, but still. Quite the news to get when you assume you are infertile.

I just had to post about it for all my long time readers who remember the stories of crazy Annica. Remember the Christmas I wanted to buy blue fabric for my Christmas curtains (a Swedish must during the holiday season) and she refused to help me make them unless I bought a more traditional color. Can’t go against tradition! Or the time she was so embarrassed she wanted to die because we were taking a walk and I took my coat off. You’d think I was naked underneath.

Silly, silly woman.

For those who remember, her oldest daughter was born at 24 weeks and never learned how to eat. At the time I was there she had a feeding tube in her stomach. Despite all kinds of tests there was no physical reason that she couldn’t eat. She just refused. The doctors told her mom that she would start eating when she entered school. I guess doctors don’t know everything. Despite being 13 and having plenty of peer pressure, she still refuses to eat. She drinks formula so doesn’t need a feeding tube, but won’t eat solids. Definitely makes my problems seem insignificant.

Speaking of my problems, Mike and I both have colds. It is going to be an interesting Christmas. We are supposed to get together with friends, but I’ve already warned them that we may not be up to seeing them so they could make a plan for their meal.

I thought Elsa was a lot better last night. She was in bed and asleep by 11:30, which was a huge improvement. Then she started coughing at 11:33. Then she vomitted all over me, herself and the bed at 11:34. I’ve never seen so much vomit in my life. Motherhood=glamorous. It’s a good thing Mike has decamped to Erik’s room for the past few days. I changed clothes, threw a towel over the worst of it and switched sides. Gross, but oh well. Motherhood is pretty gross sometimes.

And now that Mike’s home, maybe I can go do some Christmas prep. We were going to finish our Christmas cut-out cookies today, but then Erik discovered American Ninja Warrior. Why would anyone want to bake stupid cookies when you can watch buff men run an impossible obstacle course? He’s already determined he’s going to win as soon as he turns 18. I don’t know how any of those guys made it past the second qualifier. You have to be in amazing shape to get past those obstacles.

The last several nights have been rough. I don’t know how Heather does the no sleep thing for nights on end. Except she has to because she’s a mom and that’s what moms do when their kids don’t sleep.

Elsa hasn’t been sleeping. She’s been very sick (not sick enough for a doctor, but sick enough to be up all night). I am trying to reign in the grouchy, but it’s difficult.

I felt so bad for the wee might last night. We finally went to bed around 2 am (she had a long evening nap and woke up around 10 pm), but suddenly her little body took over practicing a new skill and even though she was droopy eyed and obviously wanting to sleep her body wouldn’t let her. Over and over and over again she had to push up from her belly into a sitting position. I don’t even think she was awake for half of it.

Then, of course, there’s the coughing, the fever, the projectile vomit. Lovely!

Thanks to suggestions on FB I changed the flavor of her pain med/fever reducer and that helped a little. She hasn’t projectile vomited up the meds since then, which is nice. I wanted to get her a suppository instead but have been unable to locate such a beast.

I feel bad that the last few entries have featured Erik naughtiness. Honestly, he is not that naughty of a child. He is bright, engaged, curious, sweet and very helpful around the house. He is five, though, and five year olds don’t always have the best judgment. I only seem to write about him when he does something that drives me crazy, mainly because I have to get it out of my system. And how exciting would it be to read “he got dressed by himself! Again! Like he’s been doing for the past several months!” and so on.

His language development cracks me up. I guess I do speak in a more formal way than I realize since his speech is just a reflection of what he hears. My mom makes fun of him because he speaks like a little grown-up, but there’s nothing wrong with a polite, well-spoken child is there? The other day I let him lick the peppermint mousse bowl clean and he said “Thank you so much, mother, for the mousse. I really enjoyed it.” Doesn’t sound like much written down, but hearing it in his little five year old voice is a crack-up. His two biggest descriptors are things I say all the time “Isn’t that interesting? I find that quite curious!”

Of course, he sometimes hears things I wish I wouldn’t say. Yesterday he was watching a semi-scary movie (rated PG so not like Nightmare on Elm Street or anything) and I kept reminding him that it wasn’t real. He practically rolled his eyes at me “I know mom, it’s just a bunch of crap.”

Ok, so we’ll be hitting the word “fiction” pretty hard over the next few weeks.

He had his Christmas program yesterday and was so, so sad because Elsa wasn’t there. I wanted to dress him up, but he insisted on wearing his “Big Brother” t-shirt. He wanted Elsa to see him sing, but what with the projectile vomiting and all Mike came home and stayed with her while I went to the program. You have never seen a boy wish such a broken heart. I’m so thrilled he loves being a big brother and loves his little sister, but so sad that his day was ruined because she wasn’t there. He wouldn’t even sit on Santa’s lap because it wouldn’t have been fair for his sister to miss it.

I love that boy so much, yet he knows how to push every button I own and several that I’m just borrowing.

I fear I have created something of a monster with him. I look at him and think he’s the most handsome boy I’ve ever seen, so I often tell him he’s handsome. I have to stop. Seriously. He has an inflated head and even though he is handsome (says the biased mommy), he shouldn’t be telling everyone about it.

I remember reading that you shouldn’t comment on your child’s looks to your child because it could cause them to think looks are important, but I ignored that advice. I don’t ever remember my parents or anyone else telling me I was a pretty little girl. Doesn’t mean it never happened. I have very few memories of my early childhood. I just remember my mom trying to put me on diets on the time and telling me I had such a pretty face, if only I wasn’t so fat. I’ve been convinced I was the ugliest person alive since. . . oh. . . forever. I don’t want that for my kids, but perhaps I went overboard.

I guess I better go bathe this stinky baby and try not to stress about Christmas. There is just so! much! to! do! I guess it is mostly done, but when the hell am I going to organize the gifts and get them all wrapped? I am thinking Mike is going to have to take Erik away for several hours on Christmas Eve, but even then I’ll have Elsa to deal with. Oh woe, woe is me. The problems of a first world, middle class parent are endless, are they not?

I hate having a poor, sick baby. It is so heart breaking to see her feeling so ill and yet be powerless to do anything to help her. I hold her, comfort her, try to give her ibuprofen (which she always pukes all over me and everything else, projectile style). But really? She is sick and it sucks and I want to fix her.

Ok, so that was written several hours ago. The day has not gotten any better. After going to bed at 2 am (yes, you read that right, she was quite a happy, sick baby in middle of the night) and having her cry hysterically every hour on the hour, she’s progressed from coughing and feverish to coughing, feverish, and clearly having stomach distress.

I thought she was just puking up her Tylenol because she didn’t like it, but now she’s just randomly puking. I was supposed to go to a holiday party tonight, but I don’t think anyone is going to welcome someone with eu de puke as their perfume of choice. I made a huge, lovely peppermint fudge cake, but I don’t feel comfortable serving anything out of my home knowing that stomach bugs are lurking.

Will the rest of us get sick just in time for Christmas? Or will we be safe since we have older, more mature immune systems? I’ve read that kids who eat their boogers have better immune systems, so Erik must have an immune system made of steel. Maybe we’ll all be ok. Cross your fingers!

In better news, today was a great mail day! We received more Christmas cards today than we had total bringing us up to a decent 16 cards. We even got a beautiful hand drawn picture of Erik from quiet contrary! Thank you! Erik was very inspired. He’s never seen art quite like that before, so now he wants to be an artist. He drew a picture of himself that he’s very proud of, though it just looks like squiggles to me. I’m all for anything that inspires the boy to sit down and do some art.

We also received school pictures of my niece and nephew. Erik decided he didn’t like them because the background was ugly (he wasn’t kidding. I don’t think the background could have been any uglier if the company had tried) so he crushed them up and ripped them.

Guess who was not a calm and graceful mother in that moment?

This was all exacerbated by lack of food for both me and Erik. Me, because I hadn’t had time to eat anything today between caring for cranky baby and changing pukey clothes and Erik because he flat out refused. He said he would only eat peppermint mousse, so I guess it wasn’t a total refusal, but despite my love of sweets I don’t find peppermint mousse to be an appropriate meal for a growing boy. Or anyone, really. Maybe a true Christmas elf, if the movie Elf is to be believed.

What else?

I had a pretty good day yesterday. My friend and I took a couple of hours and went to lunch and did a little shopping in a retail area. It was very nice to leave Mike in charge of the kids and have a couple of hours where I didn’t have to wipe any butts, listen to constant jabber and be expected to have a response, or do any math problems. This is all I hear all day long: What’s 65 + 54? How many zeros does 1000 have? How many quarters are in 51 dollars? Are you a million days old?

We had lunch at a fairly decent Mexican place (very rare in this area) and spent way too much money at Barnes and Noble. I need to take back some of the things I bought. I swear I have become my grandmother. She used to go shopping all the time just to have some company, then she’d return everything. I’ve just been returning things recently because it’s my new money saving technique. I don’t really like it. It’s a major pain in the ass. But? It does save money. I am a terrible impulse shopper, so lately I’ve been putting all my receipts on my bulletin board then if something doesn’t live up to all my impromptu hopes and dreams I take it back. This may train me out of impulse shopping because I hate standing in line to take things back. Customers at the service desks seem to be universally stupid, insane, or entitled.

And now it’s time to go cook dinner. Mike is home early. Yay!!!!!

I have been trying so, so hard to be a calm, dignified, graceful mother. Laugh if you must. I am. I am hot tempered, irritable and gruff. It takes every ounce of effort to repeat to myself “you are graceful and dignified. There is no need to yell” at the end of the day when Erik has pushed every single button about one hundred million times. The child is a button pusher, let there be no doubt.

So last night Erik was having a crying fit about going to eat dinner instead of sitting and watching TV. I was dignified and graceful.

He was having a crying fit about going to bed. I was dignified and graceful.

He was having a crying fit about who knows what. I was dignified and graceful.

Elsa crawled over my majorly painful ingrown toenail and I yipped in pain. Erik laughed, then came over and pinched my toe as hard as he could (according to him it was only “as medium hard” as he could.)

The dignity and grace flew right out the window. I chased that boy down, yelled at him and pinched his toe.

Then I felt like a completely shitty mother when he started crying all over the place and wanted Mike to put him to bed.

These kids sure don’t make it easy to be calm and patient.

Poor Elsa is completely sick. She was up a lot last night with a croupy cough. She did a lot of crying, so I think she also has a sore throat.

I went out to the van to get something from the trunk and discovered the danged thing was dead as a doornail. I suddenly flashed to the day before when I turned on the overhead light so Erik could see to fasten his seat belt. AAA came this morning so it wasn’t a huge problem, but it did mean things were delayed and I never got a shower.

Mike and Erik just went down to a place called Glen Echo park to watch a live-action Rudolph play. I hope they have fun. I bought the tickets in July at a deep discount so it was a little nutty with the timing. Erik was supposed to go to karate graduation today but he’s been a bit sick and the van was dead so no karate for him. His teacher was going to be testing for his second degree black belt, which would have been fun to see, but also kind of boring.

Hopefully Elsa will start feeling a little better, I’ll get a shower, the van will be fine, the boys will get home and I can take off and get some Christmas stuff done! I have a lot of low-radar stress about finishing up Christmas stuff (stockings/menu/stuff for a party I’m going to tomorrow). I feel like I “should” go shopping during the week when Erik’s at school, but the reality is that Elsa sleeps during that time so it would be irresponsible of me to go at that time and interrupt her nap. I was planning on going Thursday b/c he had an extra hour of school, but with the snow and his cough we ended up not going to school. I just hate having things hanging over my head that need to be done and feeling paralyzed and unable to do them. I’ve done the vast majority of my Christmas shopping online this year, but there are just some things you need to pick up at the store, you know?

Ok. Elsa’s happy. Maybe I can stick her in her crib and grab a shower. Now that I’ve used this space as my therapy I’m feeling a lot lighter of spirit and able to handle the day. I really miss writing here daily. I need this therapy.

Will I get to post or will Elsa get crabby and need me even though she hasn’t needed me for quite some time?

Of course she’ll need me.

I’ve become a wimp when it comes to the cold, but a big part of the problem is lack of cold winter gear. It has been dreadfully cold the last week or so and I don’t know what to do with Elsa. I kept thinking “I wish I had some socks that would stay on. . . like maybe be connected to each other somehow so they couldn’t just be pulled off and it would be nice if they were really warm. . . ”

Yeah, I’m an idiot. I totally forgot about the existence of tights. I’m such a ground breaker. I could have sewn some of my special sock inventions and I would have been rich!

Not that I ever sew anything anymore. With my bad back, sewing is the last thing I want to do, even if I had the time. I need to make my cousin’s new daughter (adopted from Korea and finally home!) a quilt, but that doesn’t seem to be happening either.

I went to Kohl’s to get some tights and there were exactly four pairs of baby tights in the whole freakin’ store. Not four styles or sizes. Four pairs.

I now own them all, even though not a single one of them matches anything in her wardrobe. I ordered a few more off amazon so I hope they get here soon.

It snowed a few inches yesterday so I called a snow day. I had Erik bundled up and ready to go, but he was coughing up a lung and there were two cars spun out. I took that as a sign. If things were that bad going, how bad would they be when I had to go pick him up? He woke up with a fever this morning so no school again. In a way it is kind of nice since our whole day hasn’t been planned around pick up and drop off. He’s still in his pajamas, playing a video game. That would be the downside.

We did spend some very educational time watching Cash Cab. I like the general knowledge questions; he likes watching the score add up. He’s looking quite pink cheeked and glassy eyed, so I guess I’m not the most horrible mother in the world to just let him lay around and play games.

He wanted to play in the snow yesterday and I couldn’t really figure out what to do with Elsa, so I made a giant tactical error and took her out in her carrier. I used my baby wearing coat, which was totally cool even if it is uglier than sin and the most unfashionable thing I own (and I own a lot of unfashionable things). She was nice and snug, though I think she freaked a few people out with just her head popping out of a hole in my coat. I shoveled the walk in my Shape-Up shoes and managed to totally screw up my knee.

Status:
Back, still hurts. Not sure the chiro really did much for me.
Knee, killing me. Have learned to walk up and down stairs without bending it.
Toe, ingrown nail.

Aren’t I just the picture of rosy health?

On the plus side, my complete lack of exercise and my obsession with chocolate sodas has led to me moving down to another size tub of jeans. Yes, down. It’s actually the nursing, I assume. I must say, I learned my lesson about all that weight lifting. I LOVED it. I loved feeling strong. I loved the rhythm of the Body Pump class. I did not love bulking up. I’m too manly. Instead of toning up and slimming down, my muscles popped every which-a-way and I had to buy bigger clothes. Massive goal failure.

I forgot to tell you the results of my huge anti-protester rant. The day of Elsa’s appointment was freezing and windy. I think the wind chill factor was something like 6F. COLD! Not a single protester could be found–the first time I’ve ever been happy about such bitterly cold winds. I am a very big advocate of free speech, but I don’t understand how people can put such disgusting signs on display like that.

Elsa weighed 24 pounds and got a few shots. That was that, I suppose.

I have so much to do, but I’m stuck at home not doing any of it! It is so frustrating to feel the need to get things done pressing so heavily on me, but not being able to actually do any of them (mostly buying things that I don’t want Erik to see).

And now Miss Elsa does need me so I guess my time is done.