The Queen's Rambles

I’m so sleepy. I shouldn’t be. Elsa didn’t keep me up all night. Maybe I’m sleepy because I slept more like a normal person? I don’t know. You don’t care. Is there an entry in all this? Not really.

I had a lovely, relaxing day. Erik only had school one day this week thanks to snow days, which means my nerves have been on edge for daaaaaays. Thursday was the worst since there was no break at all Wednesday; just stress stress stress as I waited for Mike to get home. I don’t know how much of this was covered nationally, but the roads were the biggest mess ever. Mike left work at 4:30 pm and got home at 1 am. He ended up going back to work, hanging out at the office, then trying to get home again at midnight. The storm started with freezing hail, so there was a slick layer of ice, then the snow was coming down so fast there was no way for plows to get to it. People started abandoning their cars right in middle of the road (where did the people go???? I don’t understand!) so even if you weren’t afraid of driving, it was difficult to get through. At one point Mike thought he was going to have to get out and walk. I was not pleased with that idea. What if someone slid into him and killed him? He didn’t even have boots on! Luckily that didn’t happen and he survived, but I was a pretty cranky mommy the next day.

It was so nice to have the day almost all to myself! Erik’s little friend, Irish Lad, has a birthday tomorrow and wanted to hang out with Erik at the Maryland Science Center in lieu of a party. Irish Lad is much more like me–he doesn’t want a big party and doesn’t really understand the point of having a bunch of people around. So Erik, Irish Lad and the dads went off and left the moms and girl babies at home. I was going to go hang out with the mom, but then Elsa slept way longer than usual so I was late to the after-party (pizza and cake when they got home).

Instead of answering a million math questions, trying to explain evolution, doing laundry, assuring Erik that his artwork is wonderful, keeping track of gloves, fending off cupcake requests, doing laundry, offering healthy snacks, trying to guess the word Erik is spelling, telling Erik how to spell dinosaur names that I don’t even know, doing laundry, wondering why no one seems to notice Dino Dan is mentally ill, sweeping up the floor and doing laundry Elsa and I had a girls’ day out. I packed up some frozen peas and a placemat, stuck Elsa in the car and went to a restaurant. She is such a delight. I never would have done that with Erik because listening to a screaming baby is the opposite of delightful. Elsa is quiet as a little mouse as long as you keep something interesting on her plate. I gave the guys a great big tip because every single pea ended up on the floor, but it was well worth it to go out and feel human.

We even went to Target. And I kept to my “buy nothing in January” goal, except for a few essentials. Baby proofing stuff had to be bought, but what can you do about that? Not like it was an impulse purchase. Only one impulse purchase made it to the cart (a squirrel proof bird feeder) but I abandoned somewhere in the lamp aisle. I know, I know. Evil. Before I had kids I would never abandon things in a random place. I would dutifully return everything to it’s proper home. If you would have seen my sleepy, sleepy baby that just needed to get the heck out of the store you would have forgiven me. I think. Hope.

We got home and that poor sleepy baby slept on top of me for three hours, just long enough for me to watch one of the worst movies I’ve seen in years: 2012. Did it even have a plot? I kept waiting for something to happen. A movie about the end of the world should be somewhat exciting. A movie with John Cusack should be somewhat exciting. But no. It was blah. Boring and blah.

Elsa nursed almost the entire movie. She has upper teeth now and nursing is painful. I am almost certain I’m not going to nurse her as long as I nursed Erik. I’m already ready to quit, but I’ll hold on until she’s a year. My mom keeps asking when I’m going to quit, but I see no reason at all to switch her to formula. I’m cheap! I have a plentiful supply of free milk. Why in the bleepity-bleep would I switch her to something I have to pay for? My nipples might thank me, though.

You know why I nursed Erik until he was almost three? Because every time my mom would ask when I was going to quit nursing him, I dug my heels in and said “never!” I purposely waited to wean him until after a trip out to see her just to irritate her.

I can be contrary.

Seriously, though. She started dissing the whole nursing thing before he was even born, then kept harping on about it from day 1. I took great joy in nursing in front of her because I could see the steam coming out of her ears.

She’s been a lot calmer with Elsa, which means I’ve been a lot calmer. And Elsa is a lot calmer. There’s a lot less stress in general. This time I’m not going to keep nursing my child just to piss off my mother. If the girl doesn’t learn to keep her top teeth off my nipple she’s going to be in for a sad surprise on April 14th.

Ok, so I’m just kidding about that, mostly. I wouldn’t know how to wean a baby cold turkey. Do you give them cows milk? Or what? Erik would never take cows milk (still won’t), so the whole weaning thing confuses me. I know it’s a few months away but I can’t even imagine her being ready to get most of her nutrition from something other than milk.

Poor Elsa woke up screaming at 2 am. Or more accurately, she woke me up with her screaming. She screamed and screamed for hours (or maybe it was only fifteen minutes) and she never woke up. I could tell her tummy was bothering her because of the way she was drawing up her legs, but I just assumed it was gas and tried to help her the best I could.

I never turned on a light because, hello, 2 am. No lights necessary.

When she woke up this morning (much too early thanks to a brother who refuses to understand the request to be quiet and thinks it is a game to see how quiet he can be and still wake up the baby) her left eye was almost swollen shut and that whole side of her face was blotchy.

It was also a snow day, which meant I wasn’t quite up to driving all over town unless it was a true emergency.

The most worrisome thing?

Her night diaper was totally dry. Bone dry. Completely dry.

Usually she has all three soakers soaked and a little wetness on her jammies.

She nursed and nursed and nursed and by noon her eye and face was back to normal.

So no more apricots for now. I hope that solves the problem. To be honest, though, it could have been anything. My dear, sweet first child was not “allowed” to eat off the floor and was often rescued from crumbs and the like.

I do rescue Elsa from crumbs, but with a five year old in the house it is just impossible to keep up any standard of cleanliness at all. I know she’s ok with chocolate chips, pecans, stink bugs, candy wrappers, leaves, dirt clods and potato chips.

Poor, poor second child.

By the time she woke up from her nap, the snow was melted, Erik was bouncing off the walls and I was ready to get the heck out of dodge.

I should have checked the weather forecast first.

We went to the mall and had a big moon bounce party place to ourselves. I was surprised since the roads were clear and there was no school.

Then we went back outside.

I didn’t know there was a second part of the storm coming and we walked right into it. Erik started freaking out from the hail “We have to escape! It’s raining icicles! What are we going to do? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!”

By the time we got home I was sliding all over the road, but I was more worried about the other cars sliding all over the road. Mama needs to learn to check the weather forecast.

I think it is snowed about five inches in three hours, but maybe I’m exaggerating. I just hope we aren’t in for another snowed in week like we had last year. I also hope Mike gets home soon!

Since it was obvious we were snowed in and Erik jonsing for something to do, I finally let him make red velvet cupcakes. As I suspected, they turned out bland and boring. Also, I am not keen on any of us eating that much food coloring.

Remember when I was laughing at my friend, Annica, because she didn’t understand why I would want to put food coloring in my frosting and I thought she was so boring because who WOULDN’T want blue frosting?

Yeah.

Now I have kids and I am not freaked out by food coloring in a way that makes me crazy, but I don’t think we need to add food coloring when it is not necessary. To have a cake flavor that is basically a food coloring? Ewwww.

So I was helping him with his cupcakes and they were very red. I suddenly realized I should go check the mail before the weather was any worse, so I ran out there and bumped into my new neighbor that I’ve talked to once or twice.

She couldn’t quit staring at me, so I tried to make small talk but her face looked horrified. I was a little put out because I know I’m not a beauty queen and I have a big pimple, but sheesh! People don’t usually run screaming from me.

When I came in the house I looked in the mirror.

I looked like a living, breathing murder victim. I somehow had gotten the bright red batter all over my neck and it looked like someone had slit my throat.

Poor, poor neighbor. She’s going to think she moved into a doozy of a neighborhood.

I assume we aren’t going to have school tomorrow. What are we going to do?

I went to Chuck E. Cheese for the first time ever. Erik was so excited that he was running in the parking lot, yelling “YAHOOOOOO!!!!”. He had fun, but not as much fun as he imagined. He wasn’t very good at getting tickets or playing the games. It was not nearly as gross and dirty as I imagined. I always hear people talk about how disgusting it is, but I thought it was quite clean and well kept. They must have a good manager.

I would even consider doing a birthday party there, except the big rodent in a costume FREAKED Erik out. Nothing ever scares him, but he was sitting on my lap, whimpering, when the mouse was out. I think he’s more interested in a more active party anyway.

I just found out that I sort of went to college and sort of know, but only by name, a New York Times bestselling author. Aren’t you impressed? Mike wasn’t. “So. . . did you ever even talk to this person?” Ummm. No. But I recognize the name! Isn’t that enough?

The book is called Heaven is for Real if you’re interested in that type of book. Basically this guy’s four year old son died on the operating table. When they brought the boy back to life he had a big story to tell about going to heaven. Being the skeptical atheist that I am, I’m not particularly interested even if I am willing to tell you that I sort-of-but-not-really-at-all know a bestselling author. I only know about the book because I know the little boy’s aunt and she is posting about it on Facebook a lot. Heck, I’d be posting about it too if I was related to a New York Times bestseller. Can I say that enough? Why do I like those words? Because I wish I was a New York Times bestseller? Maybe I will be one day. I think that requires me to actually write something, though, so the dream is probably dead.

My newest crazy project? I think I am going to do what I said I would never, ever, ever do and sew a diaper. I bought all this PUL for a project and now that project is dead so I need to do something useful with it. I just have to wait until Feb so I can buy some microfleece and elastic. I’ve been looking at patterns and reading directions and it doesn’t sound as hard as I thought it would be.

I had someone desperate to buy these crappy GoodMama One diapers that I posted about and guess what? She dropped off the face of the earth without a simple “never mind.” Grrrr. I have two other people interested, which I’ve communicated to her, but still she refuses to pick up the keyboard and say “no thanks.” I hate to be a rude biddy, but I finally sent her a message with a deadline. I need to get these diapers out of here. I was worried that maybe she didn’t have access to her computer or something, but then I realized her profile on FB is public and she is just not responding to me so I don’t feel nearly as bitchy about giving her the deadline.

Is it time for my nap yet? I had a sneezing fit in middle of our 4 am nursing session and it woke Elsa up. Bah. Then I finally got her back to sleep, only to realize she had a poopy diaper at 6 in the freakin’ morning. Why, baby? Why you do that to mommy? Mike offered to let me sleep in late, but I had so much to do that I couldn’t even take him up on the offer.

Does someone want to come here and start an afternoon summer camp no more than ten minutes from my house? I’m starting to get a little depressed thinking about this summer. I love Erik. Love, love, love him. He’s funny, smart, charming and all around 94% perfect. But he’s social. He needs activities. Activities that I am not in charge of. But having him somewhere, often somewhere way far away that involves rush hour traffic, at 9 am? Why would we put ourselves through that? He is often not even out of bed until 9:30. I know this will all come to a crashing halt in late August when he starts kindergarten, but why borrow trouble before then? If it was just him, I could get a move on a little earlier, but Elsa is also a late riser and the thought of having both of them and myself ready to be out the door by 8:45 (or earlier depending on the camp we choose) makes me want to claw my eyes out.

I must do some more searching around, I guess. So far I’ve just looked at camps put on by our county rec department. There are some generic ones pretty close by, but all the cool themed camps are so far away that they aren’t really in the realm of possibility. It would be good to save money anyway, right? It’s not like I would be sending him to camp every single week. Last year he just went for four weeks. He said it was the most fun he’d ever had in his life, which is one reason I want to send him again. I want him to have fun. Non-Mom provided fun.

Oh well. We need to pinch our pennies so we can go to Vancouver this summer.

What else?

TV! I watch a lot of TV while Elsa is nursing. Outsourced is probably my favorite comedy right now, though I didn’t care for the movie it is based on. My favorite new show of the season, Terriers, was already canceled. I just started watching Detroit 1-8-7 and the last episode was so good it gave me shivers. Then I found out they are likely canceling it and probably won’t even be airing the conclusion to the last episode. Bah. This is why I stick with shows I don’t care about: Top Chef and so forth. Anyone watch America’s Next Top Baker or whatever it was called? The one with Buddy the cake boss? I watched Top Chef: Just Desserts this summer so was expecting work on par with that. The poor bakers they got for this show? Oh my. They are sad. So, so sad.

I really wanted to like Hawaii Five-Oh but it puts me to sleep. I tried watching the US version of Being Human and don’t understand what they did to it. Did they try to make it with US characters but make it exactly like the British version? It even seems to be set in Britain. What’s the point? It was so terrible I couldn’t make it past the 30 minute mark.

At least Fringe is back! But they moved it to Fridays, which is the kiss of death I’m told. Booo! And White Collar is back! My DVR messed it up, but I found it OnDemand so I could be happy.

Have I really resorted to listing all my shows? I’m sad. I should be taking pictures of my kids and posting them. I think Elsa may have strawberry-blonde hair. Or maybe it is all the pink reflecting off her clothes.

Speaking of clothes, I think I may try to get together a lot to take to the Tot Swap. Basically you register and tag your clothes with prices you set, then drop them off at a big weekend event. I’ve never done it before, but I have so many barely worn things that are just dying for a new home that maybe it would be worth it. I no longer use our consignment shop b/c they are a total rip-off and I don’t like the people running it.

Update 1: Erik is not moldy. I know I kind of left that hanging, but then I forgot all about it. I seriously thought he had some kind of fungal growth, but it washed right off in the shower. I think it was droplets of honey with shirt lint ground in. He was wearing a blue-gray shirt that day, so it makes sense. I’m very glad he doesn’t have some sort of skin disorder.

Update 2: Low-cholesterol cooking still sucks. Mike picked out a few things in the cookbook (I am in dire need of a new cookbook) and I couldn’t even eat the last thing I cooked–a tomato-potato-tarragon-orange soup. I am not a great potato cook and I think they were over-boiled, thus creating a nasty, pasty texture in my mouth. What potatoes are good for soups?

Update 3: I wouldn’t say I had a lot of angst about Elsa’s swallowing, but it was on my mind. And now? She swallows. No more worries! Except she now has the stomach flu and it would have been much, much better for the clean-up if she wasn’t eating anything solid. My tummy is feeling a bit wobbly today, too. I am hoping the weekend isn’t spent praying to the porcelain gods. Erik is supposed to go to his first ever Chuck E. Cheese party tomorrow and I don’t want him to miss it even though I don’t want him to go. I realize that doesn’t make sense. I know he is going to have an insane amount of fun, but I don’t want him to know that such fun places exist because he will harass me endlessly.

Update 4: After going to all the trouble (a one minute phone call) to set up a haircut appointment, I walked in and discovered I’d been booked with the wrong stylist. Everyone was very apologetic and they all offered to rebook me with my stylist, but I took the risk and went with the gal I was booked with.

Why?

WHY?

Why do I do stupid things?

I haven’t had a haircut this bad in years. YEARS.

And I’ve had some pretty bad haircuts.

I shouldn’t make any judgments since Aunt Flo is visiting and that bitch makes me hate myself, but really? I don’t understand what she did to me.

Also, spending that much time looking in the mirror was depressing. My face has fallen. How do I lift it up? I want to go to my derm’s office and tell them to fix me but I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Good things! Let’s think about good things!

I opened the mailbox yesterday and saw a fat package. I quickly did a run down in my head, but KNEW I hadn’t ordered anything. Of course, the last time I knew that I opened up a package and found sweater socks. Neat idea, but did not work at all as promised.

Anyway, Jenn recently cleaned out her sewing room and had sent me two fabrics that I LOVE! They scream my name (those who know me can guess the color. I don’t even have to say it, do I?). That was such a nice pick me up.

It’s amazing how few packages we get when I am not constantly tempted by the deal-a-day websites. All those great deals break my bank.

Ok, I see a whiny baby who really needs some meds to bring down her fever. I don’t want to be puked on. Poor, poor baby.

*My son takes after his father. He looooves me. Loves loves loves me. So much he must leeeeeaaaaan on me. Constantly, constantly lean on me. Mike generally does this when he is bored out of his gourd in a store. Erik just does it. I’m glad he loves me. I hope he continues to love me. Does he really have to be in constant physical contact?

I should put a positive spin on it. In the past year I have taught him two things that are absolutes. He can’t blow in my face and he can’t touch my head. He hasn’t blown in my face in a very long time. Progress!

*There is no school today because the roads are an icy mess. Normally I kind of laugh at the crazy over-reaction people in this area have to snow, but today’s closures were warranted. It wasn’t snow. It was a mix of rain, freezing rain, snow, and freezing fog. All that means a total mess on the roads. Mike even went in to work late.

Certain neighbors started pick-axing the road around 5 am. I’m exhausted. The pick-axing has continued all the live-long-day and my head is about to explode. If I take any more Advil I’ll probably give Elsa that disease babies get if they have too much Advil. Is that even a thing? Or am I misremembering my soap opera ailments? I think Kendall, Erika Cain’s daughter, had it when she was a little kid. I probably shouldn’t base any sort of medical decision based on a soap opera that I saw when I was a kid.

*We decided to get out of the house yesterday and were all sniping at each other in the car when we realized. Duh! We’re all grouchy because we forgot lunch. We were headed to a specific retail location that didn’t have much in the way of eateries so ended up at a Chinese restaurant. I have never been a huge Chinese fan, though the two times I’ve had good Chinese food I’ve loved it. I’ve had Chinese from several area take-out restaurants and it has all been disgusting. Basically all they do is fry up tiny pieces of chicken, then coat it in overly sweet sauce and call it good. Greasy, grody, not even recognizable as food.

This place had promise because it looked a lot fresher, so we gave it a shot.

Guess what!

It was good! And cheap!

Mike and I both enjoyed our meal enough to add it to the “we’ll be coming back” list, which is amazing considering my dislike of the genre.

Is it a genre if it’s food?

They also serve sushi and some guy tried to give Elsa a piece because she needed to acclimate her palette early. Ummmm. NO! You are not going to give my baby a piece of raw fish! You don’t know me. You don’t know my baby. Just no!

*Speaking of her eating, she’s doing it now! She even swallowed some non-puree stuff! She had real turds. Not that exciting, actually, but I learned that diaper liners really are as awesome as people say. The turd gets caught in the liner so you just flip it into the toilet and call it done.

Now, I know a lot of people who use disposables just turned up there nose, but you know what? Even if you use disposables you’re supposed to be flushing the poop down the toilet. It says so on the diaper package. I know, I know. “But no one really does that!”

Guess what? I really did that. Really, really. I didn’t even know that I was supposed to be doing that, but I knew that there was no way I was keeping turds around in my house (even in a garbage bag) when I could flush them down the toilet.

*Speaking of diapers, and the sewing of them. Ugh. I was dumb. I thought it would be great to make Elsa a naked mat to air out her little butt, so I bought some PUL (a type of waterproof fabric) and had great plans for a pretty pink fairy doll mat. It never got made. She is on the verge of walking. It would be useless to make her something like that now. So now what? I guess either sell the fabric on e-bay or try to make some diapers for her. Maybe I should hang on to it and try to make training pants in a couple of years?

*My mother is crazy. She called yesterday, so excited I thought she was going to enter orbit. She found a job for Mike in my hometown! Whoo-hoo! The job, as expected, is nothing he could do or that he knows anything about. He just knows enough to know there is no way he could do it. But she doesn’t care! It sounds smart and fancy so he should apply for it! Then we’d all move to Klamath Falls, I’d start teaching again and she’d babysit our kids all day and we’d all hold hands and sniff tulips and sing Kumbayah.

This is never going to happen. Never never never. It will be dire straights indeed if we ever find ourselves moving to Klamath Falls. I would love to be closer to family, but that’s way too close. My mom currently worries about us being murdered in our beds by terrorists or other unsavories. If we lived in KF I would be worried about being murdered, robbed or assaulted by my brother-in-law, my sister, or some of my sister’s hoodlum friends. They think Mike and I are rich so we clearly have money to spare and are mean because we won’t supply them with everything their hearts desire. We are absolutely not rich, but Mike goes to work every day whether he wants to or not. Our needs are met. We are comfortable. We won’t be comfortable if we give all our money to people who feel like they are so super-special that they don’t need to work.

Though Maryland is not a place I ever thought I would end up, it is actually a really great place to raise kids. There’s lots of money for educations, lots of services and activities, all kinds of great parks and programs, and lots of diversity. Of course things could go wrong, but there’s no need to borrow trouble. There’s nothing in Klamath Falls but over-crowded, impoverished public schools. The one private school is pretty nice if you don’t mind your kid going to a very Christian school and I do very much mind that. Imagine, if you would, that your only two choices were an impoverished public school or a private school that espoused a belief system that you didn’t believe in any way, shape or form. There’s always home schooling, but have you met Erik? He is not a kid who should be home schooled if there are other options.

Here, he will be slightly above the pack, but find school challenging. There? He would be way, way beyond anything the teachers could handle. He comes from a home with two educated parents who take an interest in his learning. I am always shocked, SHOCKED, when I go back and my niece and nephew can’t do some of the simple things that Erik has been doing for years. And they are both intelligent and at the top of their class. If they lived with parents who gave two flying figs they would be able to do just as much as Erik can do.

All that to say. . . no. We wont’ be moving back to KF. I would be more than willing to move to Oregon, say Eugene or Portland or . . well. . .lots of places. But not KF. Too much baggage. Being raised with a grandma right down the road would be awesome, but in this case I don’t think the advantages would outweigh the disadvantages. Now that Erik is old enough to understand things I really don’t want him exposed to the lifestyle my family chooses to lead.

*Last bullet: olive oil! I’ve been cooking out of a low-fat, low-cholesterol book. Thanks to some of your guidance, I’ve discovered I don’t have to give up olive oil! This makes all the difference. I won’t have to totally ditch all my dishes and will be able to adapt recipes we know and love into something Mike can eat. Five meals of low-fat and I was ready to cry. There was no flavor. Even though the recipes often called for a medley of spices, they still didn’t taste like anything. Why bother to cook if you aren’t even going to enjoy the fruits of your labor? If anyone has any other ideas I’m all ears. As Bethany mentioned, I could use a backseat cook. That’s one area where I’m open for any and all advice you’re willing to give me.

Other good things: cocoa meringue cookies! Very low-fat, and very tasty.

I’ve been so excited about my Gymbucks shopping extravaganza! I thought it was just like Kohl’s cash and that I would have an almost embarrassing amount of free money to spend at my leisure.

Uhhhhh.

I guess I didn’t read the fine print.

It is not free money. It is in no way like Kohl’s Cash. It is basically a very limited 50% off coupon. I about cried when I found out. I was in line, all happy because I had used my calculator and had it planned down to the penny. Then the lady told me how it worked and I was gobsmacked. I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it didn’t fit with my plans and I was not prepared to have my plans totally blown in such a public and demoralizing way.

(Side bar: There was a little girl of about 2 running all over the store. Her name was Elsa. I looked up the stats for the name and it is not on the move upwards (way down in the 600s), but I seem to keep finding them anyway.)

Did I turn everything back in and tell them to go sock it to some other fool?

No. I dropped a chunk of change, just as they knew I would. I wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t. I love their clothes. It’s not the designs, though they are cute. I love the quality. She currently have four Gymboree shirts and they are just about the only thing I dress her in anymore. Everything else is fairly new, but it all looks like it’s been washed a million times or has stains up the wazoo. One of her white Gymboree shirts was literally covered in carrot puree. I soaked it in oxyclean and you can’t even tell. Looks brand new.

Thus my Gymboree love.

I am totally over my Hanna Anderson love, btw. The pajamas are still awesome, but overpriced. The other stuff? Not so much. For the price, I expect them to stay nice for a long time, but one of Erik’s shirts sprung a hole, another is stained up and Elsa’s little jacket has a broken zipper. For the price I paid, that’s just not acceptable. And it’s not like I bought a whole boatload of clothes there. I think I’ve bought four things, other than pajamas.

Anyway, Elsa has a good start on her spring wardrobe. I am not going to be tempted to buy a bunch of junky stuff at Kohl’s just because it is super cheap.

I didn’t get a haircut today either. I decided to be smart about it and make an appointment with the person I really wanted to cut my hair instead of taking my chances. I’m 36 years old. You’d think I would do this every single time, but no. I am a digital person and when I want my hair cut I want it cut NOW! But I’m going to be a good girl and wait until Thursday. I am not going to touch my bangs with the scissors. I’m not. I’m not. If I say it enough times maybe it will be true.

Someone asked about the chiro. I stopped going because he declared me healed, though I don’t feel healed. The massages felt good and I think the adjustments were good for me, but it was not the miracle cure I was looking for.

Someone else asked what low cholesterol food Erik really enjoyed that took me forever to prep. Spinach-Cheese Strudel. Ugh. So gross. I’m shocked Erik liked it.

My first problem was that I had no idea I was supposed to take the phyllo dough out of the freezer two hours prior to use. I read the directions about two minutes before I wanted to start cooking. I let it sit out a bit, then tried unrolling it and made a gigantic mess.

Then I was supposed to do a light egg white wash on every other layer, which was fine, I guess, except Erik helped me and it was not exactly “light.” The over use of egg white gave the whole thing a really disgusting texture that I couldn’t really get past.

It sounded good, in theory. Wilted spinach and sauteed green onions, with a bit of feta cheese and a drizzle of honey, rolled up in the phyllo. I was not a fan, but I don’t really like cooked spinach. Erik said it was one of the best things he ever ate.

Last but not least, Elsa is standing on her own! She can do it for about five seconds so she has a ways to go, but it’s progress. She’ll probably be walking before her first birthday. With a new skill, comes a great lack of sleep. She was up every single hour last night. Every single hour. I’m not even exaggerating. Went to bed at 11, was up at 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7. She finally woke up for good at 8 and Mike let me get a couple hours of sleep. I hope she doesn’t do that again. At least Mike has tomorrow off.

I haven’t left the house today. I feel so slug like. Mainly I’m just tired after a night of being kicked in the ribs by Giant Baby. Ugh. Why are we co-sleeping? I need to get over my fear of the crib and start sticking her in it. She’s fine when I use it as a corral during the day, but I can’t mentally make the leap to teaching her to fall asleep in it because I know there will be screaming and I am an anti-screaming mother. Not that I care of your baby screams or that I think you are being cruel if you let your baby scream. It just hurts my ears and my heart and I’m lazy enough that I don’t want to deal with it.

And guess what?

It doesn’t matter. Five years from now and most of these complex parenting decisions will not have made a wit of different. Cry it out! Breastfeed! Sling or stroller! I’m so glad I’m on my second kid and I know from experience that kids grow up and grow out and become who they are going to be and most things don’t matter that much as long as the kid has the basics (parents that are kind, consistent and loving).

But yeah. Gotta get over my fear of the crib and the screaming or just get used to another few months without sleep. I don’t remember Erik being so kicky. Mainly he was just awake and screaming all night so it didn’t matter where or how we slept.

Please don’t take this as an invitation to give me advice. I know what I need to do. I just need to man up and do it. Advice just makes me cranky, especially when I’m PMSing. I hate it when people have a problem and the solution is staring them in the face and they just won’t do it, yet in this situation I am that person and telling me about it won’t do a lot of good.

In other news, I don’t know what to do about a friendship. I have been waffling on this friendship for awhile, but at this point it is just getting. . . to THAT point, you know? There are some lovely things about this friend, but more and more I feel like saying horrible things behind her back as soon as I’ve communicated with her, which is not how I want to feel about my friends. Mainly she is just very self-absorbed. She has no idea how her attitudes and opinions affect other people, nor does she care. She’s right, you’re wrong. If you disagree you must be stupid. And if you don’t want to do her bidding? Well, hells bells, you must be OUT. TO. GET. HER.

If she didn’t have a kid it probably wouldn’t bother me so much, but when I see her doing things that I feel are bad for the kid (not in a “call CPS!” way, but in a way that makes me sad for the kid) it gives me such negative feelings for the person that it’s hard to get past that and makes everything she does feel negative.

I’m weary. The more I get to know her, the more I’m ready to call it quits. It’s hard to break up with a friend, though. I hate confrontation. I am making less and less contact so maybe the friendship will die a natural death and I won’t have to actually *gasp* talk to someone about something negative and potentially turn red and cry out of frustration.

I just need to calm down and get a hair cut. A hair cut will help. Right? Ugh. My hair is out of control right now and that always makes me grouchy, mainly because the bangs pick up oils and chemicals from my face and deposit them in my eyes and then I hurt all day.

Tomorrow: hair cut and Gymboree to spend the Gymbucks that are burning a hole in my pocket! No one can stop me!

Except maybe Erik. He has a case of the trots and I’m hoping it is from his new wheat germ obsession and not from any nasty bugs that he might spread to me. He says it’s because he watched too much Cash Cab last night, but I’m thinking the pain must have started while Cash Cab is on. His conviction that Cash Cab is the culprit is quite strong and he is ready to find the host and poop on his head.

Sorry for putting that image in your head. I live with a five year old boy. Poop is often the topic of conversation.

Speaking of which, Mike finally installed our diaper sprayer and that thing is awesome! Liners work most of the time, but when they don’t? No fear! I can’t imagine doing cloth diapers the old school way and doing the toilet dunk.

Guess I better go see what the family is up to. Or maybe pop some pimples. Did I mention the PMS? Gah! I hate being so wound up and cranky.

What a crazy day this has been.

Elsa totally busted my laptop, so there goes that dream of unfettered internet access anywhere in the house. Mike bought the accident insurance so I’m sure they’ll fix the screen, but I don’t know the time line. Not like I have time to actually call and get it all worked out. I’ll get on that tomorrow.

We had preschool cooking class here today.

I knew it was going to be a challenge and I set myself up for success, but it was still a very draining afternoon. Fun, but draining.

Erik has been begging to be enrolled in cooking school but there just isn’t one in the area that fits our needs (cheap, age appropriate, in the late afternoons). I thought he’d love having a cooking class right here at home but I should have known better. Historically he always responds poorly to having events hosted in his own home. I don’t know what the deal is, but he starts pouting and goes upstairs and hides or is just a menace.

I told him about the cooking class and was shocked (though I guess I shouldn’t have been) when he said he wasn’t going to be a student. He was going to tell everyone to go away. He didn’t want to look at any people. Yadda yadda yadda.

Once people were actually here he hid up in his room for 15 minutes. I told him he either had to stay in his room the whole time or participate the whole time. He finally came down and was lovely. Silly kid.

Prior to everyone arriving I set up stations for each kid with all the tools and ingredients that they would need. I thought it was a fairly simple recipe (instant vanilla pudding, crushed nilla wafers, whole nilla wafers, sliced bananas all in a clear cup) but I guess severely overestimated most of the children’s skill levels. Erik can make just about anything if I premeasure the ingredients. He is a champ when it comes to crushing cookies or crackers in a baggie with a rolling pin. He can slice fruit (not pretty, but he can do it).

The other kids?

Not so much.

It seemed some of them had never tried to cook anything before, so it really was a cooking from scratch sort of lesson. The other moms were really helpful and everyone took a part in cleaning up or managing the children so I don’t have any complaints, but it was just a very tiring two hours (it didn’t take that long to cook–we played for an hour in the basement. My basement was not really meant to contain 6 four/five/six year olds, 3 two year olds, 1 baby and 5 moms.

I will say, I think most of the kids could beat the pants off most of the contestants on “America’s Worst Cooks.” Have you seen this show? It’s like Top Chef, only with totally terrible home cooks. The idea is that two professional chefs will teach them to cook and the one who makes the most progress will win a bunch of money.

Hoo boy. What a disaster! I love cooking competition shows, but usually I’m curious about the techniques and have no idea what they are doing.

(Side note: I didn’t know how to use a broiler because I never saw Jamie Oliver use a broiler. I learned everything I know about cooking from The Naked Chef.)

I feel guilty watching them flail so badly, but I figure they put themselves into the contest. They had to know how bad they are. I’m scared I’m going to give myself even worse wrinkle lines around my eyes because I spend most of the episode with my face scrunched up in a puzzled expression, trying to figure out just what the hey-tang the cooks are thinking. Sadly, I think my mother would fit right in on the show. Don’t tell her I said that.

Ok, Elsa is crying so I guess I better go parent. I thought I was going to have an early night. Erik must be sick because he went to sleep three full hours before his bedtime. Mike was in bed by 9:30. Elsa was asleep a half hour ago, but then she woke up, raring to go. Poor sleepy baby doesn’t know she’s sleepy.

What an exhausting evening. I spent more time in the kitchen cooking two little items than I’ve ever spent cooking a meal, excluding an authentic Mexican fiesta or a holiday dinner. And the result? Was barely edible. Erik, though, loved it. He has loved all our low cholesteral meals, mainly because they are utterly devoid of flavor.

Now I need to clean my house because we are having a cooking class with six children and five moms over here tomorrow. What the hey-tang was I thinking? We’re going to make banana pudding, which will be easy and fun, but where are we going to do it? My kitchen table is covered with junk. Yet here I sit, typing this entry.

Elsa had her 9 month check-up today. I was glad to see the office park has planted tall, huge trees in a pattern that makes it much more difficult to see the graphic anti-abortion signs. Thankfully it was so cold that the protestors weren’t out so we were spared. I have several friends who live near there and they say you really can’t drive past on the weekend if you have kids in the car. Even those who are pro-life and pro-free speech are disgusted and want the people stopped.

Anyway, Elsa is doing well in most respects. She is 28″ and 24 lbs, so she is still off the charts big but less off the charts than she was at six months.

I chatted with the doctor about her eating and she was slightly concerned but said she doesn’t have very many teeth for a baby her age and may just be immature. However, if she is still gagging on food on her 10 month birthday I should call in and they’ll give me a referral to have her evaluated for occupational therapy.

I was pleased with the result of the discussion. Nothing hysterical from the doctor. We have a reasonable plan. I can table my worry for a month, no problem. Obviously we don’t have any concerns about her nutrition in-take.

She said I could start giving her meats and cheeses and other finger foods, which makes me laugh so hard. How is she going to handle a piece of meat or cheese when she gags on oatmeal that’s too thick? I have tried finger foods and she loves to put them in her mouth, but she gags on them. It’s really messy to feed a baby, but it is ten times messier to feed a baby that gags on everything and spits it out.

Speaking of messy. . .

I may have been negligent on bathing my son. He’s growing mold on his chest. Seriously, I don’t know what’s going on but when I was putting his karate outfit on him today I noticed he had these blue-gray spots that looked exactly like mold. I tried to pry them off, thinking they were spilled food or something, but they didn’t seem pry-able. I’ll bathe him tonight and see what happens. I hope he’s not growing some weird sort of fungus. My nephew has some weird fungus thing on his belly and apparently it is quite normal in boys. His is white, though, not moldy.

Can someone please explain the appeal of red velvet cupcakes? Other than the name sounds pretty and intriguing? On Cupcake Wars they are always thinking they are so original and fancy and whip out their red velvet cupcakes and they are rarely praised for them. Erik wants to make some but I find them so gross that I refuse. I thought I would like them. I’ve TRIED to like them. But I can’t get over the taste of food coloring. Why would I want to ruin a perfectly good chocolate cake by making it taste of artificial food coloring? I realize that red velvet cupcakes developed a long time ago because a certain type of cocoa powder reacted with vinegar and turned a reddish brown color, but these days all the recipes I see include a full ounce of red food coloring. So so so so nasty.

I am trying to regain something of myself and do an actual quilting project. I was very naughty and bought some fabric so I could play along with the big Harry Potter paper piecing project that Ofenjen is putting together. I have my first block half done. Hopefully I’ll find time to complete it by next Tuesday. It’s the first sewing I’ve done since moving my sewing room into my bedroom. It is a pretty horrible set-up and makes me feel very uncrafty, but you gotta do what you gotta do when you have kids.

And now I gotta go do laundry and bathe my moldy child. Whoo-hoo!

I really should read my posts before I post them. Kisha was asking about Elsa’s amazing walking accomplishment and I was scratching my head because of course she can’t walk. Then I read my post. I said she could walk.

But she can’t.

Of course she’s a wonderful prodigy super special snowflake beauty genius, but she’s not walking at 8 months. I meant to say that she slimmed down considerably when she started crawling. Not that I would ever accuse her of being a tiny little mite, but at least she has not outgrown her 18 month clothes just yet. She can even fit in some of her 12 month stuff, though they are at the breaking point.

She is cruising all around the furniture, so walking might happen in a month or two. Erik started walking a day shy of his 10 month birthday and she seems to be doing most physical things around the same time he did them, though she sat up a lot sooner than he did. He could crawl before he could sit so he never had any motivation to sit. That would mean holding still and why would he want to do that?

She just cut two top teeth, so she’s been cranky. By cranky I mean she cried for three whole minutes yesterday. How did I win the baby lottery? Seriously, best little baby ever. Except she likes to bite and pull hair.

In the “what the hell?” news, I got quite a phone call today. Remember the plumbing company that threatened me and didn’t even fix our plumbing problem? I got a call from them today. I answered because I thought they might have something important to say like “We’re sorry we employed such a jack-hole, but he’s been fired!”

Nope, they called to tell me that my husband wanted me to schedule an attic inspection and “let’s get this set up right away!”

Uhhhh.

Jaw dropping.

What?

My husband was in very important meetings today at an undisclosed location. Suffice it to say there were more important things on his mind than attic inspections. Our home warranty place is AHS; this place is ARS. He thought the home warranty place wanted to schedule an inspection so told them to call me.

Poor girl got an ear full. I didn’t yell or anything. It’s not the girl’s fault they employ slimeballs and teach them to use slimeballish techniques (my husband wanted me to schedule an inspection? Did she think I wouldn’t TALK to my husband at some point?) It was made very clear that the only time a person from their company would be setting foot on my property was during the zombie apocalypse and only because law enforcement would be too busy to haul them away. Even if they were the only company providing zombie apocalypse house proofing I wouldn’t employ their services. I’d put my faith in duct tape, garbage bags and rock salt before dealing with them.

Why the rock salt? I have no idea. I just have a big bag of it and salted my sidewalk in preparation for Oh-emm-gee! Blizzard! So far we have about a two inch accumulation and it seems to be done. I hope we have school tomorrow.

Anyway, Erik, my dear boy, is growing up so fast. What happened to my little baby? Today he pulled out a cookbook and found a cake recipe to bake. He can’t exactly read, not well enough to follow a recipe, but he is gaining skills every day. I suppose it helps that his preschool teacher used to teach second grade and didn’t change her curriculum at all when she moved to pre-K.

I agreed to help him bake a cake, but was not very invested in the outcome since I am trying not to eat high calorie things. We discovered a built in video camera on my computer and now I hate myself and never want to look at myself and need immediate weight loss surgery coupled with serious face work. Erik? He thinks he is beautiful and is planning on making a naked video of himself to send his grandma. Please dear computer gods don’t let him figure out how to post to YouTube. He is not allowed to be naked in my house anymore, but that doesn’t stop him from sneaking his clothes off at every opportunity. He could have a naked video posted with three simple clicks (except he would probably be prompted to sign in or create an account, so maybe I am safe from jail time and having my children taken away).

So the cake. It was glorious. I just set out the pre-measured ingredients, gave him a bowl, showed him how to use the beater (he is scared to turn it up past 2) and let him go to town. I even let him crack the eggs. Five year olds are fun! I love his independence.

At the end I explained about alternating the flour and the milk into the batter and my life changed. Angels were singing. Clocks were chiming. I was free. FREE!

Instead of doing it in three or four batches like an experienced baker, he did it a teaspoon at a time. With 1 3/4 cup of milk and 2 1/2 cups of flour to blend in, do you have any idea how long that took? Almost an hour! And hour of glorious time when he wasn’t on top of me, in my face, begging me to “fight! fight! wrestle! fight! wrestle!” He was totally into it and having a good time. Mike had the baby. It was a beautiful evening.

Sadly, it ended with him burning his chin on the pan when he was blowing on it to cool it off. He is finally asleep, but was in quite a bit of pain. I gave him children’s Advil as soon as I found out what happened and slathered him up in aloe vera gel, but it was hurting him for a long time. Mike said he didn’t seem hurt at the time it happened, so I don’t know if he was just playing me to try to get to stay up later or if he was really hurting. It was red and starting to form a blister so who knows.