motherhood, politics, faith & whatnot

Must. not. run. out. of. black. pepper.

Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

Is there an item that, when you are at the grocery store, you will buy, even if it’s not on your list because you think you might be low and you certainly wouldn’t want to run out because to run out of said item would be a crisis?

Apparently, that item, for me, is pepper. We like pepper, yes we do, but it’s not like we couldn’t live without pepper for the few minutes that it would take to drive to the store, or heaven forbid, the few interminably long hours, if we couldn’t go immediately and had to wait until the next day.

Looks like we won’t have to either for the next, oh, ten years. I mean, we even have bulk peppercorns. I think we might wear our pepper grinder out before we even finish the jar.
Note to self: go mark pepper off the grocery list.

So, what do you have multiple items of in your pantry?

Today was a bit better. Except for the couple of hours that I was babysitting a three year old and a very mobile ten month old, along with my two. And except for the fight that J and I had this morning because when I came downstairs, Daniel hadn’t had breakfast yet and started bugging me for food before I’d had my coffee or any food myself and the baby was not confined, but was rolling around on the carpet with his foot stuck in one of his toys and was seconds away from melting down and I was very, very hungry and worried that today would be like yesterday and also about babysitting and really needed to have a couple more minutes to myself to get ready for the day, and couldn’t deal and started crying and went upstairs to talk to J and he wasn’t feeling very empathetic at that moment and so I got mad. One of those kind of fights.

Andrew took both a morning and an afternoon nap. And I got a nap in with him this afternoon. Sleep=good.

We played outside this afternoon. Andrew was in his exersaucer and Daniel just puttered around. Our next door neighbor came home with his daughter who’s 8 and she entertained Daniel with wagon rides and such and played with the baby as well.

Because we were outside, we could not successfully avoid being approached by a couple of people selling magazines. You know the ones that say that your purchase is helping poor, unfortunate kids by giving them opportunities? What opportunities? Opportunities to be good door-to-door salesmen? I’m such a sucker and I thought the guy who did the talking was pretty good, so I got a subscription for J to MacAddict (Happy early b-day, honey!) *must go account for it in September’s budget*

I made a couple of steps towards finding myself a job. We’ve determined that a job is definitely what I need. Part-time. Our church is looking for a business administrator, so I called about that. And I scanned the want ads. A couple of things look interesting.

And it really made my day that Jana gave me a shout-out on her blog!

Oh, and have you seen the new Wig*gles episodes? Seriously, they are from 2005. Their hair is grayer, they have fancier stuff and Jeff has clearly taken pre-school teacher lessons and is more animated.

Seriously.

He slept for a total of about one hour today. And he’s still fighting sleep at 8:15 p.m. I can’t deal.

There’s too much in flux right now, too much change. I don’t do well with change.

On the positive side, Daniel started preschool yesterday. I think he had a great time. He’s been singing songs and clapping since yesterday morning. I think he’s doing the things they did in preschool. I’m soooo glad that he really seems to like it. He needs more than his crabby mom.

The baby is still waking up two times a night at least to nurse. He screams bloody murder if he’s not allowed to nurse. He’s huge. He doesn’t need to nurse for sustenance at night. And we need our sleep. I’m not a happy mommy without my sleep and with him not napping, I’m not getting caught up during the day.

I’ve been using a teenage babysitter for about a couple of months. I found her on Craig’s list. She’s lives in our neighborhood. She has CPR certification, etc. and has babysitting experience, although I foolishly did not check references. She’s 15 and will not be in school. She said that she was going to homeschool, but then I saw recently that she’s starting a tech school in the winter. She doesn’t have a car. She has a cell phone. She has a boyfriend. She checked her e-mail on my laptop computer (and I never told her that she was free to use my computer and it’s not like the kids were asleep either). I try to make conversation with her to get a better handle on who she is, but she doesn’t say much. I was a quiet teenager, too, but when a mom was trying to talk to me, I would talk back. She turns the TV the whole time I’m gone. I don’t like this because if I’m paying her $8.00/hour, I want something more than TV-watching.

And here’s the latest thing, although it may not have anything whatsoever to do with her. J had an antique pocket watch of his great-grandfather’s that he kept in the study in our house. It’s missing. We can’t find it anywhere. Now, about a month or so ago, our next door neighbor was broken into and all they took was a portable DVD player and some watches, but they did ransack his bedroom in the process of looking for these small, portable items. If somebody did break into our house, it wasn’t apparent at all and nothing else that we can tell was taken. I have a bunch of silver in a chest in the living room and it doesn’t seem to have been touched.

I don’t know that it was her either. But, we are kind of freaked out about the whole thing.

And I’m just kind of freaked out in general, or burned out might be a better characterization. The little souls that I’ve been entrusted with raising need a happier mommy than they have at the moment. Ack.

and I’m trying to figure out the codic intricacies of posting more than one Flickr pic in a single blog entry.

Well, we did go to the pool this morning.

I got the little hair removal problem taken care of. That was the least of my problems.

It was a disaster. I’m not sure I can even explain why it was so bad. Something about a two year-old whining every.single.second while you are trying to decide all these stupid little logistical details. And if you don’t pay attention to him, then he goes and starts messing with the baby. And then you have to intervene, and then if you are like me, you lose track of what you were in the middle of doing and have to run around the house for a few minutes trying to figure out what still needs to be done, hoping that you are going to figure it out before your deficiently slow recall thought process is pierced by more whining or the cries of a baby, mad that he’s not being rocked to sleep at that very moment.

Daniel’s favorite phrase right now is, “I want . . . ” said in an emphatic, whiny, loud voice that you know that you are going get a tantruming toddler when you say “no” to whatever request is being made, which is inevitably almost always the answer right now to every. single. thing he asks for.

Oh yeah, what was I saying. . . something about running around like a chicken with its head cut off (there’s a colorful Southern phrase for you — isn’t it funny the things we say without even really thinking about what they really mean).

So, after gating Daniel into the playroom for a few minutes so that he’d leave the baby alone and so that the whining would be farther away from, I was able to decide whether sunscreen should go on them now or later, who was likely to poop between the time I dressed them and we got to the pool, therefore impacting whether their swim diapers should be donned now or when we get to the pool, when snacks should be eaten, whether we need to take extra clothes, and the most important of all, which bathing suit to where.

It’s hard enough deciding all this stuff when I’m not worried about what my fat a*# is going to look like, but that adds a whole ‘nother layer of worry. Plus, those layers of worry about such things as, I don’t know CPR, will Daniel fall into the pool when noone’s watching, will Andrew squirm out of his float before someone can catch him, is he going to get burned to a crisp even though he’s wearing sunscreen, and oh yeah, I hope we don’t need to use CPR, because I don’t know CPR, I wonder if anybody else can do CPR. Did I mention that already?

If you must know, I decided on the skirted little number, and was actually quite please about how it looked. With the mammaries in full production right now, the top was filled out a bit better than before.

So, I finally get all our shit together, noting all the while that it is getting increasingly cloudy outside. I strap the kids into their seats and check on Andrew’s float which we inflated last night. I’m beginning to wonder how I’m going to get all the crap from the parking area to the pool once we get there. Which stroller should we use? Which one will Andrew be more comfortable in if he has to chill in it? Probably the one that we haven’t used in a while that’s been in the garage that has all the cobwebs on it. Oh well, we’ll worry about our resident spider friends later.

I put this stroller into the back of the minivan and touch the float which is already back there, but it has clearly lost lots of air overnight. Like — there’s a big hole somewhere — lots of air.

Screw it. We’re not going. That’s it. But we are going somewhere. I don’t know where, but we. are. going. there.

I run upstairs and put my clothes back on because we definitely aren’t going somewhere where I need my bathing suit.

I get in the minivan and start driving. I knew that Andrew really needed a good nap, so I decided that we would actually drive over to where the playgroup was happening and check in and say “hi.” Besides, maybe it would be starting to rain or something and they’d want to play inside.

As we got closer, I realized that nothing else we might do would tire them out as much as going to the pool, and I really wanted to see some other adults to talk to and who would understand my plight. At least Daniel could get into the pool, if not Andrew, too.

So, we went. It was OK. Daniel had fun playing. Somebody lent us a float for Andrew who had a ball splashing in the water. Others helped watch them while I monitored those running around outside of the pool. I still got wet, but that was OK. Considered actually just going in with my clothes on. Andrew got tired and started fussing. Had to break the news to Daniel that we need to leave. He, of course, pitched a fit.

Daniel didn’t fall into the pool (but I was keeping him on a pretty short leash). Andrew didn’t fall out of his float. Nobody needed CPR.

We all survived. I think I’ve left my sanity behind somewhere along the way over the past couple of weeks, but we survived.

Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

This is the evidence: a banana, left on the kitchen floor, with bites taken out of it, bites taken through the peeling. . .

so what does this tell us about this creature?

Well, it has teeth, sharp teeth and it knows how to take bites now.

So, tomorrow’s playgroup is at the pool. I have to admit that we haven’t been to the pool this summer. Yes, I know. That’s sad. Sad for my toddler who loves water. But he doesn’t know what he’s missing. He’s happy with his plastic pool in the bathtub and hey, he takes his baths in a jumbo whirlpool tub. He’s far from deprived.

But, I think we should go. I have some hesitations though. What are they? you ask. Well, I’ll tell you.

I have to blow up the float for the baby. And the swimmies for Daniel. OK, well, J did that for me tonight, so that’s not an issue anymore.

And then, we are out of swim diapers. OK, well I do have two size medium ones. They’ll work.

I have to pack all the crap. What crap? Towels. Sunscreen. Snacks, water. Oh, and food and sippie cup for Daniel, too. Change of clothes for everyone. Diapers. Hats. Floats. Taser for hyper toddler to keep him from catapulting himself into the water. Valium.

And the baby is fair-skinned, so I have to make sure he’s slathered up with sunscreen. Do we even have a bathing suit for him?

But, the real problem is this:

I don’t want to put a bathing suit on. . .

I don’t really like wearing bathing suits at the moment. I have one that I wore last summer when I was pregnant. It has a little skirt. Yes, a skirt, like old ladies wear. I figured that since I was pregnant, I could get away with it.

I bought another one this summer. It’s black — supposed to be slimming, right? Maybe it is except for where my thighs ooze out of it.

Ack.

And I haven’t had a wax of um, that area, in a while. Shave, wax, depilatory = lots of red bumps. (Aren’t you glad I feel that I can speak so freely on my new blog?)

Do you think Daniel will understand if I tell him that we can’t go to the pool because Mommy’s butt looks too big in a bathing suit and she feels self-conscious? He’s got to get used to hearing that from women sometime, right?

Or maybe I’ll just wear the bathing suit with the skirt on it.

Now you know why we haven’t been to the pool yet this summer.

Up the street from us, there’s a house where they have a couple of huge, shiny vehicles — one is a humongo white pick-up truck, I think. Not sure what the other is — an SUV, I think, white. They always seem to be moving them around from the garage to the driveway to the street to the driveway back to the street.

And they must wash these things all the damn time.

I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve washed the mini-van, oh, once in the two years we’ve had it. Whenever we take it in for service, it gets washed, so we figured that’s good enough, plus, it rains on it sometimes. Our other car is a beater that survived five years of street parking and snow plows and salted roads in Boston. It would scoff at being washed. It lives outside the garage. I don’t remember the last time we washed it. Have we ever washed it? I don’t know.

So, we are definitely not people who care a whole lot about what our vehicles look like as long as they are running OK, we can see through the windshield, and at least one of the rearview windows is intact.

I just don’t get this obsessive car-washing. Don’t people have anything better to do than polishing their SUVs. Makes we want to sneak up and stick one of these on their vehicles: my new favorite bumper sticker.

Found here

Or maybe one of these.

I don’t know how long this link will stay active, but it links to an article entitled “The Christian Paradox” written by Bill McKibben (not sure who he is, but some smart guy:)) for Harper’s Magazine. You can read on the Sojourners site w/out paying for it although it may require (free) registriation. (Follow the link below.)

SojoNet: Faith, Politics, and Culture

The author makes the point that the US is the nation that most proclaims itself to be Christian, but that it’s practices (giving to the poor, etc.) don’t match up with the rest of the wealthy, developped nations.

One interesting fact that he notes is that something like 75% of Americans think that the saying: “God helps those who help themselves” is from the Bible. It’s actually antithetical to Biblical teaching to aid those in need around us (whatever kind of form that need may be in) and is a quote from Benjamin Franklin.

The author goes on to talk about the fallacies in the theological underpinnings of what the religious right espouses. Why do so many follow along? Perhaps it’s this: “The power of the Christian right rests largely in the fact that they boldly claim religious authority, and by their very boldness convince the rest of us that they must know what they are talking about. They’re like the guy who gives you directions with such loud confidence that you drive on even though the road appears to be turning into a faint, rutted track.”

We are planning on having a garage sale in a couple of weeks. We have a lot of houseware-type stuff, a bike, some books & CDs, a bunch of women’s clothes (stuff I’ll never get into again, even when I am in better shape), some shoes, some baby gear, and tons of baby clothes.

I’ve been sorting tiny little onesies and sleepers and socks, etc. for what feels like all weekend and putting prices on them. I have no idea how to price this stuff. I don’t know if I’m supposed to price higher than I think they’re worth so that there’s room to dicker over the price, but I never dicker over price at garage sales. If the price is too high, I just leave it. But I’m not a hard-core garage sale-goer, so maybe people do dicker more than I think. At the same time, I don’t want to give the stuff away (at least not actually at the garage sale. (I may have to give the stuff we didn’t sell away later). I tend to price things as to what I think it’s worth or what I’d pay for it. The goal is to make money, but it’s also to get rid of the stuff, right?

I’ve also been warned about the people who come really early to look over your stuff. Do they try to scam you or what? It probably won’t be that bad, but I got a little scared when these early shoppers were referred to as “vultures.”

In other news, as I mentioned above the kids have been sick. I’m so ready for them to be all better. And I’m a little nervous about Daniel starting preschool — I hope he likes it and that he adjusts OK. It’s going to be more structure than he’s used to and he doesn’t do very well with structure. It’s not that he pitches a fit or anything, but while everyone’s sitting at the table playing with Play-Doh, he’s the one that is over continuing to play with the fire trucks or other wheeled toys. He likes what he likes. Anyway, stay tuned.

And it’s been like 50-billion degrees here this weekend. Of course, it is this weekend that I pick for us to clean out the garage, which is what we did yesterday. We picked out the things that we want to try to sell at the garage sale, organized all the rest, and sucked up the giant spiders and cobwebs with our new shop-vac.

What did you do?