The Queen's Rambles

I’m sure you think I’m being an ungracious political winner with that title, but no. This has nothing to do with politics.

I just scored the last spot in a parent’s day out program for two year olds! The program is reasonably priced, not too far away, don’t require potty training and doesn’t have a religious curriculum! This is the only program that fits all my requirements. They just started it three weeks ago.

As much as I love my friend and think she’s a fantastic teacher, this program is more what I’m looking for (one day a week, cheaper). I also worry that my friend plans to have 10 kids plus her 2 kids and no helper. Maybe if she gets it all set up and working, I’ll send Elsa to her in the fall. She is a fantastic teacher, but she is like me–very enthusiastic about her plans without really thinking everything through.

We had our preschool fair last night. I didn’t do all the work (amazing, I know. I have helium hand. It just won’t stay put when someone says “who can do this?”), but I did a fair chunk of it. I am SO GLAD it is over. We had a successful event in terms of getting vendors. We almost doubled the number from last year. Unfortunately we had very low attendance, which is still making me kind of sick to think about. We are planning on moving it to a Sunday afternoon next year, which is possible if we book the date now. Maybe that will help.

Mike was supposed to be out of town, so I signed up as the babysitter. This is the worst possible job for me because I am not fun. I have never enjoyed toddlers (except my own, of course). I ended up with one little boy and he was truly delightful. He was happy the whole time and listened pretty well. My own children? Gah. No. They were both completely melting down, especially Erik. The little boy doesn’t have any siblings or attend any type of children’s programming (except MOMS Club events occasionally). He’s a couple of months younger than Elsa and doesn’t really have anyone to practice certain life skills with. He kept hitting Elsa in the face (very softly) and I finally had to put him in a time out. He had no clue what was happening and just sat there, laughing happily. Before the mom came back Erik had a huge crying fit about this boy and how awful he was because he was “mean to my most favorite sister in the world!” Ahhhhhh. . . didn’t know he cared!

Like I said, the boy was a delight, but his mom left him an extra hour right at dinner time and everyone was getting cranky. I was not pleased. I found out later they kept telling her she could leave, but she hung around and acted like she didn’t have a need to come pick her kid up. I am not pleased.

I couldn’t really cook with him because I had to keep an eye on things. I put some water on to boil and the kid ran into the kitchen and stuck his hand on the stove. I was in shock because that is not something my kids would do. Made cooking very difficult! Thankfully he missed the burner, so wasn’t hurt.

His mom said he was a picky eater and that she had some food for him in his bag. I looked in the bag and pulled out jars of baby food. Again, my jaw hit the floor. He’s Elsa’s age. To each their own, I guess, but I will not sit around and spoon feed a neurotypical 2 1/2 year old jarred baby food. He did end up eating a banana, but even that was funny. I started the peel, then handed it to him. He had no clue what to do. He tried to eat the dangling peel. I ended up slicing it for him, which is something I have to do for Erik as well. Elsa takes care of her own banana needs and throws a little fit if I start the peel for her.

I am used to Elsa being very, very independent. Part of it is because I am trying very hard to raise independent children but part of it is also because she has a big brother. She wants to do everything he does, so she picks things up a lot faster than an oldest/single child. Also, as a second time mom I am much more relaxed and don’t have the time to do every little thing for her. It was exhausting having an extra kid around, especially a kid that I don’t know well.

Ok, now I have to go. I think I was going to write something else, but that was hours ago and I have no idea what it was.

I voted. Of course. You all probably have figured out I’m about as liberal as you can get (unless I was European), so you know who I voted for. I am on pins and needles, just waiting to hear what will happen to our country. Honestly, if Mitt wins it hopefully won’t be the disaster that was the Bush administration. At least Mitt is intelligent, even if he wants to throw women back to the 1950s. Or maybe that is even scarier? I must admit I am still shocked that a Mormon won the approval of the Christian Right. I haven’t been a part of a church for over a decadate so I guess I don’t know the current thoughts about Mormonism. When I was heavily involved in the church, Bible based Christians considered the LDS a cult. I remember one of our professors got in trouble when he said he didn’t think Mormons would automatically go to hell–they might just be able to make it to heaven if they had a good heart. So glad I am no longer a part of any organization that wants to condemn people to eternal burning and torture.

Here’s a moral quandary for you: the local LDS church is having a huge clothing drive for hurricane Sandy victims. I have a huge box of clothes that I want to get to the victims, but everything I’m reading says don’t send clothes. The relief organizations have different priorities and sorting clothes will just slow them down.

So. . . . do I take the easy road and take this giant box to the Mormons and hope they make it to people who won’t have to listen to a sermon to get help? Or do I keep searching for a better way to send these clothes? I am adamantly opposed to all forms of charity that involve the recipients listening to any kind of message. However, in this case I feel like the people are in so much need that I just need to get the clothes to them and forget about my principles.

Back to the election. Maryland had a really hot ballot this year. I was thrilled to be able to vote for gay marriage! I am hoping this one passes by a landslide. We also had to decide if undocumented immigrants who graduate from a Maryland HS can receive in-state college tuition.

The biggest campaign had to do with gambling. Some people want to put in a new casino near DC and have spent millions to try to make it happen. The casino owners in neighboring states have spent millions opposing the bill. Supposedly the casino would help fund schools. We get a gazillion phone calls a day from both sides. I voted no. Fundamentally, I don’t think increasing gambling is a good thing and I don’t believe the schools will see a penny from it. There’s a giant loophole in the law. Schools would get money from the casinos, but the state could take other money out of the education fund and put it elsewhere. It’s not one I really care about either way, but I had to pick a side.

The kids went to the polling place with me. There was a high school bake sale, so my kids got sugared up on a chocolate cupcake while we waited about 20 minutes. At least is kept them quiet. Elsa is pretty content in the stroller and Erik was totally excited to see what the election was all about. He came home from school last week saying we had to go vote for Obama because Romney wanted to take away PBS. I am hoping he heard that from other students, not from the teachers. Surely a teacher would not say something like that. He really, really wanted the election official to walk up to him and say “Hello young man, you look smart so you get to vote too!” He had a whole scenario planned out and went over the script in excruciating detail. If I wouldn’t have had Elsa with us, I would have let him cast the vote for Obama. But if he got to touch the screen, she would have wanted to touch the screen and the whole thing would have become a nightmare.

Speaking of Erik, he is starting to enjoy more imaginative play. I guess you would call it that. He likes to imagine a scenario and tell you exactly what will happen in the scenario, play by play. Last night he had to tell us every little thing he was going to do when he’s on Chopped. I think his retelling took longer than a regular episode. He’ll be making tacos in the first round, oatmeal in the second round, and dessert scrambled eggs in the last round. I’m glad he’s starting to do more pretend play. For so long he was only interested in running that I thought he was going to skip anything that involved imagining.

It will be interesting to hear what his teacher has to say at his conference next week. I know his weak point: he doesn’t like to write. It’s not so much the ideas, it’s the physical act of writing. Plus, the child can not sit still. I have been in his classroom a couple of times and he is by far the most wiggly, jiggly child in the room. I think some of the other kids are comatose. I guess I just got lucky to have a kid with a little “extra” as my friend puts it. Ha! I really do hope we can have a good discussion and I can get some idea about how he is doing in class.

I used to have these fancy visions of my kids going to the portrait studio and getting amazing, Anne Geddes quality photos while my kids behaved like little angels.

That vision should have been destroyed when Erik was a baby. The first portrait session was a nightmare, and nothing has really improved. We usually do end up with a few good shots, so it’s worth it. It wasn’t until Elsa came along and I suddenly had to wrangle two cranky children that I realized my life is not some rom-com family friendly, happy-go-lucky, aren’t-those-the-cutest-kids-hamming-it-up movie.

I’ve been dreading picture day for weeks, but I still insist that we go and get them done. I love the results. LOVE. I want to take beautiful pictures of my children, but I fully admit that I have awful photography skills. Everyone claims department store photo shoots are generic or cheesy or whatever, but I happen to like the pictures even if it is hell to get them.

Usually we can at least get out the door before the problems start, but not today. I wanted the kids to be shiny, so I gave them a bath. Elsa didn’t want to get out of the tub and got aggressive. Have I mentioned how fierce this child is? And strong? She pulled the shower curtain and brought the whole rod down on her head, leaving a big red mark. Thankfully it didn’t bruise.

While I was dealing with her, Erik was in the other bathroom making his hair “look sharp” with a pair of curved nail scissors. It is not a complete disaster, but he was angry because he couldn’t make his hair “sharp” enough and wanted me to try. Apparently “sharp” hair, is hair that is cut straight across the bangs. In my day we called that super-dork-o-rama hair.

Meanwhile, I was trying to comb Elsa’s wet hair, but her latest defense against the evils of grooming is simply standing on her head. Let’s get that hair nice and tangly!

Eventually I gave up and went to prepare an early lunch so the kids wouldn’t be hungry. While I was doing that, Elsa started screaming. Then Erik started screaming. Then they both appeared, and Elsa has a small, prickly round brush completely tangled in her hair. A case of the “Me do it!” struck again.

Eventually I got them both settled, fed, brushed and spritzed. Erik didn’t want to wear the sweater I wanted him to wear, but the other choice was waaaaaay to big and would have been silly. Elsa wanted to wear her princess dress, but I didn’t want her to wear it in the car. I have no idea how little girls are supposed to wear big poofy dresses and still use a car seat.

We arrived at the studio, and of course they were running way behind. Everyone and their dog (literally–a friend of mine was there with her new puppy!) was taking advantage of the no school day to get pictures done.

Somehow the kids held it together and it all worked out. We eventually had our turn and it was not a complete screaming disaster. Elsa didn’t start crying until the very end. Erik sort of listened to directions. It could have been much worse. Elsa is a wily little 2 1/2 year old, though, and would not cooperate at all. She really didn’t understand what she was supposed to be doing, and Erik did not help the situation by trying to overcompensate for her.

Still. No screaming!

And you know the best thing about not getting a load of really great pictures? Much easier to make a small order! Truly, you only need one good pic of each kid and one good group pic. What do you do with a million great pictures? I have memories of years past stored away in envelopes because I don’t have anyone to share them with. I have some of my very favorites displayed, but I could seriously wall paper my whole house in kid pics if I wanted. I think seven pics in the living room is enough.

There were so many good ones of Erik I’m really not sure what to do with them all. Start sending them out to model agencies? I am totally mommy-biased, but I swear he is such a good looking kid he could be on the cover of any magazine. Elsa is beautiful, too, but she does not enjoy having her picture taken. I wish I could get a picture that captures what I see when I look at her. Her expression almost always turns dark when the camera is turned on. Maybe next year she’ll be happier.

I stressed out over finding Elsa the perfect poofy holiday dress. I finally got her a pretty purple thing from Costco (because I’m fancy like that). I tried it on her and it fit, but it looked pretty ridiculous. She is just not a poofy dress kind of girl, at least not right now.

I just booked our portrait session for Monday and now I have to decide. Do I go with the poofy dress that doesn’t feel at all authentic, or a much more mild sweater dress that fits her personality better? I guess I’ll take both, but start with the sweater dress.

Still have to find something for Erik. You’d think it would be simple to find a nice gray sweater, but nope. They all have red or blue accents. I need purple!

I know, I know. There are people who have lost everything, and I’m sitting here complaining about finding just the right sweater. Believe me, if I could pack up all our extra clothes and blankets and drive it up to NJ/NY I would do it right this second. I have lots of friends with family who are out of their homes, will be waiting weeks and weeks for power, and have lost everything. My friends are saying that it is much too dangerous to go up there and deliver any sort of help. The roads need to be kept clear. The people living there need access to what resources they have. They do not need well meaning folks to come up and take away what precious little they have. The only thing we can do is donate to the American Red Cross.

I wasn’t going to respond to this person because she’s ridiculous and no argument will ever convince her that she’s not at the mercy of a cold, cruel world where the poor, poor Catholics are persecuted. I couldn’t stop myself. I really shouldn’t have done it. I like and respect the original poster. She is staying well out of it.

Original Poster: Day 2: I am thankful for being able to practice my religion without fear of persecution.

Poor Persecuted Person: I would be too if I were allowed to wish people a Merry Christmas without being called politically incorrect. But yes. Glad to be Catholic.
23 hours ago · Like · 1
Carrie P:. Being called politically incorrect hardly counts as persecution.
22 hours ago · Like · 1

Poor Persecuted Person You are 100% correct, Carrie. It does not even come close to what people around the world deal with. We do have freedom of speech and religion. I guess I’m just a little tired of those who try to limit how people celebrate their traditions by demanding that we water everything down so we don’t offend anyone.

Random Smart Person: I don’t know too many people who fuss over being wished a ‘Merry Christmas.’
11 hours ago · Unlike · 1
Poor Persecuted Person: Do you live in the Washington DC area? I think it is a regional thing.
9 hours ago · Edited · Like

Carrie P: I live in the Washington DC area. I’ve never heard a person complain about being wished a Merry Christmas. Some retailers have directed their employees to wish people a Happy Holiday to help maximize their income and help everyone in this very diverse area feel included–more inclusion=more money for the retailer. I don’t really understand how wishing a perfect stranger a Merry Christmas is an important part of your celebrations. Surely attending midnight mass, watching your children perform in their Christmas pageant, reading the nativity story with your family, lighting the star on your Christmas tree, singing Christmas carols, and eating a family meal together trump a simple “Merry Christmas” to someone who may or may not celebrate your religion.
7 minutes ago · Like

I was thinking about Mosaic Minds,, our old online e-zine, and wondering if we should do something with it. I don’t have time for any more work. Especially work that doesn’t garner a paycheck. But it is just so sad and lonely, sitting there with no new updates in several years.

Would anyone be up for a group blog? We could have a monthly writing prompt, then whoever wanted could post an entry. No editing, everyone is responsible for their own content. We could give each contributor their own user name. Maybe I should have ran this by Kisha first! Ha!

Any interest? The name Mosaic Minds would fit with something like this–all the different thought processes writing on one prompt.

Also, completely unrelated, I just posted something I shouldn’t have posted on FB. One of my friends is doing that November gratitude thing and posted that she’s glad she lives in a country where she is free to practice her religion without persecution. That truly is a wonderful thing to be thankful for.

One of her friends posted that she is persecuted, because as a Catholic if she wishes someone a merry Christmas she will be called politically incorrect.

I typed and erased several responses, each more caustic than the last. I finally settled for a much tamer “Being called politically incorrect hardly counts as persecution.” Seriously, who the flyin’ frack thinks being called a name, a name that many people wear with pride, is PERSECUTION? Maybe she needs to go live in parts of Northern Ireland and see some real persecution.

I think I’m kicking Halloween to the curb. It is no longer my favorite holiday. Bah humbug.

Elsa, my dear, sweet, baby can no longer really be called dear and sweet. She’s feisty, fierce and down right mean. She doesn’t like to cuddle with me. In fact, last night during trick or treating she didn’t want to have anything to do with me and spent the night holding the hand of my friend. If she had been my first child I would have been devastated. I have to admit it stings, even though I know kids are fickle. I’m trying not to let it get to me, even though it feels like my own daughter doesn’t like me.

So my little Terrible Two year old crashed and burned from all the sugar. It was a horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad day around here. I expected her to forget all about her purple pumpkin full of candy, but I was a fool. She started asking for it as soon as she woke up. I let her have a few pieces of candy this afternoon, which was a huge mistake. It turned a mini-monster into a mega-monster. She even climbed INTO my washing machine (I have a top loader) with no stool or anything. Luckily I was right there. I think I’ve heard of a kid drowning from doing that.

Just last month I was telling my friend that I would probably skip a Threes preschool program and keep her home until Pre-K. I loved having my little girl with me and she was always so happy and content.

Hahahahahahaha.

The switch has flipped.

One of my good friends is starting a home-based preschool in January so I’ll probably sign up for that. My friend is an amazing preschool teacher with lots of experience, so I know it will be a great program. Notice how I am not going to be totally insane and start a pre-school co-op like I did when Erik was this age? Never doing that again!

So basically I was pretty much at the end of my rope, today. At one point I stuck Elsa in her bed to try to make her take a nap, something she hasn’t done in months. She was very confused. I finally calmed her down by putting her in the bathtub. Thankfully Erik had a friend over and was happy to talk boy geek Pokemon Mario whatever and stay out of my hair. He really is a good kid.

Elsa, Mike and I all have colds, which is the icing on the cake. And I have totally blown my diet this week. I can’t stop eating. I need to quit. I’m going to be crying on weigh-in day. I need to re-set my brain. Don’t I want to hit my first big goal? Why must I sabotage myself? How does shoving Snickers down my throat make my day any better? Nothing stops the hours and hours and hours of two year old crying. “Candy! Pumpkin! Candy! Pumpkin! Elsa’s pumpkin now!”

Tomorrow will be a better day, right?

We had a pretty windy night, and I watched the siding on the neighbors house flap around a little. Other than that, we are all good. I expected the power to go off around 5 pm and stay off for at least 5 days, so I was pleasantly surprised that the power was out for a max of one minute.

I’m just sorry for all my NY/NJ/closer to the coast friends. Looks like a horrible mess out there. I hope you all have stayed safe and have a quick recovery.

I didn’t want to sleep in the basement because I’m a picky little princess, so we took a look at the trees and decided the only room that was really in danger was Erik’s room. He was more than happy to sleep in the basement. He was over the top excited yesterday, just waiting for the hurricane to hit. When it was blowing like a banshee out there, he was crying that it wasn’t exciting enough.

There’s no school or work today (roads may be flooded, they are trying to keep everyone off the roads), so it will be another looooooong day. I know some people enjoy being homebodies, but I’m not one of them. We usually do at least three activities a day: trip to the gym, morning or early afternoon MOMS Club play date, then after school park visit/soccer/cooking class/something. Sitting inside all day long drove me crazy yesterday.

I had Halloween candy already purchased and I have been so good about leaving it alone, but I totally broke diet protocol and stress ate my way through half a bag of peanut butter cups. I feel so sick this morning. I really regret it, both from a dieting standpoint, but also from a happy tummy standpoint. Why do I have to sabotage myself like that? I knew I shouldn’t have peanut butter cups in the house, but I saw all the big boxes of kettlecorn, pretzels, fruit snacks and other healthy things and had a rebellion. I don’t want my kids to eat a lot of sugar, but I have such great memories of Halloween being all about candy and fun that I couldn’t be the old scrounge who handed out the equivalent of raisins. Let’s give these kids some decent candy, by golly!

I bought a copy of It’s Not the Stork, the number one recommended (to me, by friends, not on a national level or anything that I know of) book for teaching young children about sex. At the time I couldn’t face telling Erik that the penis went into the vagina, so I set the book aside. I have no idea what happened to the book. It is huge. The biggest book I’ve ever seen! And it is gone. I need it!

Last night we pulled out Erik’s school library books and started reading about the life cycle of a wood frog. He prefers non-fiction and we’ve read several of these life cycle books. None of them have ever mentioned mating, so I was quite surprised by the picture of humping frogs and the explanation that went with it (nothing explicit).

I didn’t think he quite understood what was going on, so I asked him if he knew what it meant that the eggs were being fertilized. Of course he was clueless. “It’s like when you have to put fertilizer on the ground–it makes them grow.” Sort of right, but not really right at all.

We talked about what fertilizing an egg meant, then he asked the dreaded question, “But I still don’t get how the daddy seed gets into the mommy’s belly.”

I suspected this was coming and I’ve thought a lot about what to say, but it was still awkward. I explained the whole deal about the penis and the vagina. His eyes about popped out of his head and he said he would never do something like that. Then he said “so, I have to pee inside [girlfriend]. I don’t want to!” I explained it wasn’t pee, it was sperm and looked different.

People, I was dying inside!

I explained that a man could only make the sperm come out when he was really happy, and he said “I guess it’s a good thing daddy has only been really happy twice!” I could barely stifle the laughter.

He concluded that he was never “going to do that thing” and never have children. It was too weird.

Whew! First big talk over. I’m sure there are many more to come as we have to explain things a little more thoroughly when he starts developing more and becoming interested. Next time I’m referring him to Mike!

I guess there’s a hurricane coming. Maybe you’ve heard about it (hahahaha. . . like no one hasn’t heard of Sandy). I knew it was coming, but didn’t realize what a big deal it was until they preemptively cancelled school for two days and closed Mike’s office. If Mike’s office is closed, you better watch out. Armageddon is on the way.

My biggest concern? What about Halloween? We can’t skip Halloween!

Maybe I should be more concerned about what we’re going to eat when we have no power for several days.

Erik wants to find high powered fans that require no energy so we won’t be hot when the power is out. He’s having flashbacks to our 5 days of no power during 100F days. This time we’ll have no trouble with lack of A/C. We’ll be cuddling in our blankets and hoping for the best, I guess.

I’m down 18 pounds! So amazing! I never thought that would be possible.

So why do I want to celebrate with peanut butter cups and cupcakes? Ha! At least I’ve found an awesome low-cal way to make cupcakes. Just take a cake mix and add a cup of pumpkin and a cup of water, then bake at 350 for about 20 minutes. The vanilla ones are really good, esp if you add pumpkin pie spice. The chocolate ones? To die for! You can’t taste the pumpkin at all in the chocolate ones. They are super fudgey and moist–no need for frosting.

I made two yellow hats for Erik. The first turned out really wonky (you can see a pic on FB, I’m the only C@rri3 B@d0r3k P@lss0n on FB if you want to find me, obviously with real letters instead of symbols). Elsa immediately grabbed it and claimed it for her own. It was too small for his head and not quite right, so I made another one today. I just need to glue the black ribbon on it and it will be good to go. It’s far from perfect, but it looks like a yellow hat. It’s not like he is going to be wearing it on a jungle expedition to kidnap a real monkey.

I think Elsa will be dressed as George and wearing a yellow hat. Silly girl. I’m sure George would like his own yellow hat, so it will be cute.

The other day Elsa slapped me across the face and I said “I don’t remember Erik ever acting this way!” My friend started laughing at me. She remembers.

I wrote in my blog every.single.day back then. I don’t know how I did it, or why I did it, but there are years worth of journal entries detailing the many, many ways Erik used to drive me crazy. I went through and read a bunch of entries from when he was this age, and he was quite a handful. I want to reach through the screen/go back in time and A) shake myself for being so annoyingly oversensitive and worried and B) give myself a big hug and tell myself it gets better.

It was funny to read those entries and see how much my life has changed. In one entry I was contemplating going to Body Pump for the first time, but I was scared. As many of you know, I am addicted to BP, though I rarely get a chance to go anymore.

In another entry I said you couldn’t pay me enough to join MOMS Club because it had ridiculous rules and was full of mean girls.

Let’s have a hearty laugh, now that MOMS Club is one of the main reasons my life is so much better than it was before. I am even a volunteer on a regional level, beyond my own chapter. And those mean girls? Not so mean. Just shy.

I also used to pine for a big LJ commune, where I could live together with all my online friends. I desperately needed the support of physically present people. As much as I love some of you (truly, I consider a couple of you to be my best friends and would ask you to take my kids if Mike and I died, but that might be kind of awkward), a long distance friend can’t babysit, have a playdate, carpool, share info about local events, etc.

Now I have local friends and we have a wonderfully supportive network. Life is so much easier.

Instead of planning my lotto winning commune, I’m planning my lotto winning private school.

If you don’t hear from me for a few days, you’ll know why. Not that I post here daily anymore. I’m lucky to get a chance to post weekly. Even if I do get a chance, I never have much to say. I used to be so mean and sarcastic, but I can’t do that anymore. I’ve learned time and again that it is much to easy to find my journal. What you say on the internet stays here forever. Except for damned Diary-X. That disappeared very effectively.