The good news is I have lost 10 pounds! 10 pounds! I now weigh the same as I did the day I got pregnant with Jack. (15 months after his birth, blurgh). The bad news is that something in fat-free dairy products KILLS my stomach, and I have had 2 bottles of maximum strength Mylanta in the past week. Also had to give up fat-free cheese and all Skinny Cow products (which sucks because I had a 150-calorie grilled cheese sandwich today that was fantastic). Sour stomach is the WORST.
At first, I found it really hard to stay within my allotted calorie budget, and after dinner, I could only have like three 4-inch celery strips and a shot glass of wine. But lately, I've been eating a 270 calorie breakfast, a 225 calorie lunch, and about 300 calories in snacks. Then, I have 180 calories for dinner by ONLY eating a few ounces of grilled chicken or fish, a tossed salad, and steamed veggies. After the kids go to bed, I can have wine, a V8 bloody mary, light beer, or even some chocolate. All for 1200-1500 calories. YUM.
The other not good news? Today. Ugh. Our fabulous and wonderful babysitter had to cancel today (not her fault at all-- just sucky) and Ben had a meeting right before my class and on the other side of town, leaving us with an awkward amount of time where both of us HAD to be at work. Thankfully, I had a library session today for my class with an academic librarian who I called and to whom I explained my potential lateness. Ben got to campus 5 minutes before my class started, and I wasn't late after all. But still-- it was the kind of stress that makes me want to stay home full time. If only I weren't so impatient.
I brought Harry and Jack to the student union for lunch at a cafeteria-- I thought they would like picking out their food. And they did-- although Jack cried from the moment he selected a greasy piece of cheese pizza until he had said pizza in his fat little face, and Harry filled his tray with Cheetos, cupcakes, and a banana. MOTY. Again.
My summer class started today, and I remembered on my way downstairs from my office to the classroom how much I hate the first day of school. It's boring, for one thing. Introductions. Going through the syllabus. Watching their eyes glaze over as I explain the point breakdown, but knowing that if I don't go over it, at least one person is going to ask about it at least once and probably more like 5 people 64 times. Even though I told them over and over again to call me Sarah, I got called Dr. a whole bunch in class and in emails, too. Better than the old "Mrs." I used to get, I guess.
One guy said the class was too much work and walked out mid video (it was a cool video about the history of organized birth control advocacy in Wisconsin, but it started with a mildly off-putting montage of rudimentary birth control devices like fish scale condoms, pebble IUDs and diaphragms fashioned out of lemons. So, I wasn't actually surprised when he left). But the rest of them stayed despite the giant course packet and multiple textbooks and handful of research, writing, and speaking assignments.
And the emails! Since class got out, they've been pouring in, and I've been answering them remembering how nice it was yesterday when all I got was coupon notifications from J Crew and messages that some more porn-bots were following me on Twitter.
Harry and Jack were really excited to see Jamie, who has been on vacation. I was really, really glad to see her and even gladder to hear that she is NOT leaving us and will be here for an entire calendar year. I almost wept with joy, in fact.
But enough about my kids, it is time to obsess about my hair, which I had done on Saturday, and it looked SO AWESOME! My stylist told me to wash it once a week or the red would fade (because red fades the fastest but sticks around the longest). I bought some color-depositing shampoo to use on the front bits when I washed it and vowed to just rinse and condition until next Saturday. Sunday, I didn't even get it wet, and it was still awesome! Sunday night in the shower, I rinsed and conditioned, but this morning, it was nasty and flat and greasy, and I almost cried. Then I washed my hair (gasp!) And now it's orange. Here I am in Harry's t-shirt. Ben and I were folding laundry and Ben was mocking me and saying it was my shirt. I got all offended until I tried it on and it sort of fit.
How could anyone not want another one of these? OMG. After spending 2 mid-July days freaking out about January, I think we're okay. We got a spot (2 spots, actually!) for Harry at the adorable Unitarian church preschool we have wanted him to go to for 2 years but never were high enough on their wait-list to attend. He actually can go there a whole bunch of times a week, which is freaking awesome for him. AND Jack can probably go there next year, too (fall of 2010), which is beyond awesome. Not a huge help in the childcare quest, but we think that might be closer to being worked out, too. Phew.
On a baby #3 note: I am a psycho. One minute, we are touring a daycare center, and I am welling up with tears because I realize that I think Jack is too young for a place like that, and I could never pack up an infant and send him (with a tupperware full of his own clothes, pacis, and blankies) to hang out in a classroom all day with people who aren't me, so I might as well not have any more babies. The next minute, the childcare crisis has been resolved in a very flextime/both parents share the work/ part time SAH kind of way, and I think, "No problem! I can just sling #3 to my body and take him to work again!" One minute, I am at Kohl's buying Harry all manner of licensed character underwear and delighting in the fact that half of my chlidren can toilet themselves**, and thinking how nice it will be to be done with all the baby stuff. The next minute, still at Kohl's, I am loading my cart with Carter's one-piece snap-crotch outfits for Jack because he is still a baby damnit, and I love babies and their sweet little baby clothes and this cannot be the last time I buy somebody clothing measured in months.
** This self toileting thing? Not the dream I thought it would be. Harry literally woke up dry 2 days ago, ripped his night time Pull-Up from his chubby little body, and asked for Spiderman big boy pants. Then he demanded his privacy, sprayed the bathroom with urine, and asked to be helped onto his Diego potty seat to complete his business. And that was it. Bam! Toilet trained. When I picked him up at school, he said "I need to go peepee, but I can do it myself," and he ran into the men's room, peed (I'm not sure where exactly-- walls, floor, toilet base, urinal?) flushed the toilet, hauled a stool to the sink, and came out cheerfully drying his hands. I was totally speechless. We started to walk out of the building, and I noticed that his pants were still pulled down a little bit, and his penis was visible poking out under his shirt tail. Hahahahahaha.
But really, I am still wiping his butt, and there is pee EVERYWHERE all the time (and yes, he aims at Cheerios, the problem is he doesn't want to use a stool to help him reach the toilet-- he just sort of gets really close and lets it rip, but he's really short. Also, he wants his privacy at all times in the bathroom-- I just get to go in when he's done and mop things up).
I am feeling very smug and vindicated about the whole thing though. He's been wearing PullUps for at least 6 months and peeing and occasionally pooping with limited success and lots of prodding. We took it slow and followed his lead and let him decide on his own timeline, and then suddenly, he woke up potty trained. Score one for the lazy parents! I love how much this kid loves cheesecake
Jack, that is. He loves to be pummeled by Harry, is just grateful for the attention.
Ben took Harry to work this morning, and I swear to you, Jack has been lost without him, even though he has free reign over all the toys and can drink his milk without fear of reparations The first thing he did was put on Harry's Spiderman mask and laugh and laugh. Then he pulled the little arm chair that says Harry in front of the TV and plopped down to poop and watch Elmo (judge not! we didn't used to let J watch TV, but then we realized that Harry, who could sing the Elmo's world theme song when he was around Jack's age, had a lot more words. Maybe he got them from the TV? so, yeah. it's educational).
Speaking of preschool on TV, Noggin might be our only babysitter option for the spring if Jamie moves away after she graduates. So, we're freaking the freak out to put it mildly. The problem is that all the "good" places have been full since March. There are a few oddly timed part time preschool options for H (who is already enrolled in preschool, but there have been some really awful staffing changes, and we're not sure if we're staying there) and ONE fulltime spot for J. We're checking that out today. Not only is it twice our mortgage (!), it's 40 hours a week, which we do not want or need. And the place closes a half hour before my class is done, meaning Ben would actually have to work LESS hours even though we'd have MORE childcare. Clearly not ideal. There are a couple of places we could enroll Harry, hoping that his enrollment now would be enough to secure a part time place for Jack in the spring, but that's touchy, too, because our schedule for fall is set and perfect-- these new places for Harry would cause lots of stress August-December and maybe not help us at all in the spring. So, blah. Any suggestions besides praying Jamie stays with us through the end of the school year? (and I cannot quit my job-- the health insurance is a dream).
What else happened to me lately? Oh, I got a flat tire and spent hours at the dealership yesterday with Jack, who only wanted to run up and down the halls pounding on walls and screaming, despite the toy room filled with toys, snacks, womb chairs, and TV, only to learn that the tire could not be repaired, and I get to come back today (with both kids) to get a new one. Also, I totally love the new Highlander.
Mostly, though, I have been cleaning up after these guys. Which? Full time job.
These pictures do not do justice to the AMOUNT of mac n cheese and veggies all over the place, or the amount of baking pans, cutting boards, and tupperware strewn about the downstairs. Harry told me that veggies in mac n cheese made it "ruined" and that he and Jack like it "plain." Except he said "wuined" and "pwain," which took the sting out of the criticism.
Look how doughy they are We have been cooped up inside all week because of yucky weather. I've pulled out all the big guns: tunnel, Caillou, baking crap I can't eat, making smoothies in the blender. Today, I have fingerpaints and butcher paper for after the car dealer. Fun times. And I'll probably have to get out the tunnel again. For Ben.
No, no, no-- I am sooooo not pregnant. That was one of our New Year's resolutions--no making or having babies in 2009. Also, I just got a fabulous job, and I really think if I had ANOTHER kid, my coworkers would be all, "WTF ever, Octomom." And we are seriously out of room in this house. Not to mention, I am on a diet, and I have lost 9 pounds!
But other than that, we might actually maybe someday want to have baby number 3. This is a shocking development in or lives because Ben has been adamantly no-baby for a long time, and when Jack was zitty, colicky, mess, I thought he was probably going to be baby number last. And he still might be. Lest we forget this ridiculousness. But, he might be the neglected middle child someday instead of the adored baby.
The thing is, Jack is an absolute delight. 23 pounds of solid toddling, drooling, smiling, kissing delight with the fattest little foot slabs you've ever seen (so fat that his Keens were 2 sizes too small, something we discovered when they kept pooping off his feet, and we had to make an emergency Des Moines mall stop for some flipper-like Nikes). It's hard to imagine that this will be our last encounter with a toddler, you now? Also, Ben, Harry, and Jack all like rides, and I don't. We need another person for Disney World ride purposes (4 to a car and all), and I can stand there holding everybody's crap and taking pictures.
These are not good reasons for or against, huh?
But babies are so cute! When they drink beer!
When Harry was Jack's age-ish, we conceived Jack because the bay fever! It was eating me up. I NEEDED more baby. This time, I'd LIKE more baby, but I am resisting. It makes me wonder, is this a biological imperative to reproduce or just hegemonic notions of family, motherhood, and the American dream intruding on my consciousness? Intruding is the wrong word. Hegemonic notions ARE my consciousness, right? I mean, that's what makes hegemony so, uh, hegemonic. To separate the biological and the social is impossible because we must speak of the biological, and language robs the body of its, um, I don't know, objectivity? (Whatev. Read Thomas Laqueur's Making Sex-- he explains it better than I do).
All I know is this: I went to the car dealership to get a new tire today and ended up checking out vehicles that can fit 3 car seats.
We went to Des Moines to see my grandparents and my Aunt Leslie and cousin Molly-- my mom came and my brother Ben, too, and I only took pictures of my kids and anyone who happened to be standing close enough to my kids to get in the picture.
Sorry guys-- no photographic evidence of a really fun weekend!
I planned to post these pictures (of me, Ben and our kids-- no one else because we're jerks) sooner, but Michael Jackson! The memorial! The constant talking about the memorial! All the documentaries that are always on MSNBC! I could not look away.
One cool thing I learned from the MJ memorial (please don't roll your eyes at me if this sounds both selfish and naive)-- I have got to stop passing time from one milestone to the next and just realize that this? Is it. My whole life. It's loooong afternoons and rushed mornings and sleepy bedtimes and potty accidents and diaper rash and date nights and loving my first cup of coffee of the day and finally reading some Jodi Picoult novels. I waited and wished and hoped for my dissertation to be done, and my life has not been magically transformed by the experience the way I thought it might be. Same life, less research. I imagine this will be true for other things I've been waiting for, and if I'm not careful, these days will be over, and I'll be older and still have the same life and possibly some regrets.
(so funny/ironic/stupid that I have been typing this sitting at the breakfast table with my back to Harry and Jack who are playing with action figures on the living room rug. Can't enjoy my life when I'm being all meta, you know?)
Jack likes to be held upside down. We get weird looks in pubic, but it changes his little attitude Luckily, he usually has a pretty good attitude-- unless, you know, I have somewhere to go or something to do Harry called this ball a bubble, and he and Leslie washed it in the bathtub, which he thought was hilarious. He spent the whole afternoon at my aunt's house all by himself, and he had so much fun playing with Molly's old toys and eating watermelon. She asked if he would want to come over and play, and I had him and his car seat on her driveway in like 42 seconds. In the movie version, she would still be hanging up the phone when the tires would screech outside, signaling his arrival. Molly, Leslie, her partner Jerry, and his son Nathan took Harry to see Ice Age 3, which he has been wanting to see ever since McDonalds started giving Ice Age toys in their Happy Meals and this MOTY started swinging by the golden arches after soccer practice (oh my lord, could I BE more of a stereotype-- I actually told Ben that I'd like to trade my Camry for a Sienna, and the other day, I tied a white cardigan around my shoulders). Harry is usually a fantastic movie-goer, but he fell asleep as soon as he saw a preview for Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. After the movie, he still had most of his ginormous slushie and bag of of popcorn. When Ben asked him what his favorite part was, Harry looked confused and said "There was no movie, Dada." We had so much fun playing outside-- Ben and I played some ultra competitive badminton, and we played with a bunch of cool toys. Then the Bens took Harry and Jack back to the hotel to swim and go to bed, and I stayed at Bomma and Jacks for some brats and wine-- and look! A picture of the fam!!
Here we are at an amusement park where we spent 5 hours because we were having so much sweaty, gravely fun.
We were so stupid, by the way (shock!) because we thought the kiddie rides said 54 inches and up, but OF COURSE they said 54 inches and shorter. So we took Harry on all the scary grown up rides (well, Ben did-- I am a ride wimp), and he LOVED them-- even the really roigh ones like the hot air balloon tippy swings and the octopus-like casino ride. When we realized our error and put him on the kiddie rides, he was really, really bored by them-- far too sophisticated for fire trucks on a track, that's for sure. He did like this, the kiddie version of those scary rides that usually kill people when their hydraulics fail and everyone plunges to the ground in a wave of soon-to-be-severed legs and blood-curdling screams.
We though this place would be such a fun summer job for high schoolers and college kids (let's play carnie! now with less bearded lady!) but then we looked around and realized it was all retirees. Our economy sucks.)
This place was nasty but really funny in that am-I-in-the-hopsital-- no?-- then-why-am-I-eating-effing-jello- and- mashed-potatoes-sort-of-way.
Ben being strong man. And it's not that the 12 year old girl who went after him hit the bell harder, it's that there are different standards for women and girls, so that's why the "winner! winner! winner!" lights lashed for her and not Ben. That sounds snarky, but really. It's true.
Instead of buying the kids toys, we decided to play all those silly fair games and WIN them some. Because we suck at math. The teacups scared the pee out of Jack, but he was a good sport. Jack LOVED sitting on this ride. And then he tried to climb out, and the ride was OVAH. Harry was bored. Hes so cool.
I'm a brand new PhD and Harry and Jack's mom. Currently, I am pining for my dissertation (weird, I know) and embarking on even more revisions. Also, I am actively trying to keep my toddler from choking on my preschooler's toys.
Email me at harrytimesjackedup@gmail.com
