Another truth about motherhood (and marriage, I suppose).
Your life is no longer your own.
30 March 2008
The Truth About Motherhood
Her Bad Mother linked to an invitation put forth by PBN and Discovery Health. The task is to tell the truth about motherhood. I'm going with HBM's challenge of doing it in twelve words or less.
You can't ever quit, but color-changing spoons can avert disaster.
19 March 2008
15 March 2008
Sick
He slept fourteen hours last night. Fourteen hours from a child who doesn't ever sleep more than eleven. He took a three hour nap this afternoon, was up for an hour, and has been down for another hour. He doesn't want to play. He doesn't want to drink. He only wants to eat a little. His body temperature has ranged from 101-103.7. Today he's lethargic and cuddly and has been content to just sit on the couch. He makes a few attempts to make me laugh-thinking he's tickling my neck, trying to share his pacifier and his juice-before flopping his head back against my chest and closing his eyes. The eyes open groggily as he tries to fight the tired, and he points to the light or out the window and says "da" or "duck" with no apparent energy. He doesn't protest when I strip off his shirt and lay him in his crib. He doesn't protest when I give him a kiss, then hand him his sock monkey and blanket and leave the room.
14 March 2008
Easter '08, Part 1
This year Easter falls on the day before my kid's birthday, so someone (me) had the brilliant idea that Easter should be held at my house. Like with us hosting. It was definitely a moment of stupidity or brazen ambition, that caused me to suggest hosting. So in about a week we have the following coming over:
my parents
Husband's parents
Husband's grandmother
Auntie Caroline and Matt
Auntie Leighann
my sister
Dick (my cantankerous grandfather)
my uncle
Jen +3
my other sister-in-law and her husband
So counting me, Husband, and our child, we've got seventeen people. I'm not sure my house can even fit seventeen people.
I'm working on the menu right now. I think it's a little ambitious. Luckily my sister is taking care of the cake, and I think my mom will be around to help me a bit. Husband has requested that I make pork tenderloin for the main part of the meal, but three of us can tear through one, so fixing it to serve 14 or 15 (assuming children aren't interested) is slightly daunting. I'm not worried, though. I like to cook, and I've been known to be pretty good at it. And we've got all our information stored on papajohns.com.
my parents
Husband's parents
Husband's grandmother
Auntie Caroline and Matt
Auntie Leighann
my sister
Dick (my cantankerous grandfather)
my uncle
Jen +3
my other sister-in-law and her husband
So counting me, Husband, and our child, we've got seventeen people. I'm not sure my house can even fit seventeen people.
I'm working on the menu right now. I think it's a little ambitious. Luckily my sister is taking care of the cake, and I think my mom will be around to help me a bit. Husband has requested that I make pork tenderloin for the main part of the meal, but three of us can tear through one, so fixing it to serve 14 or 15 (assuming children aren't interested) is slightly daunting. I'm not worried, though. I like to cook, and I've been known to be pretty good at it. And we've got all our information stored on papajohns.com.
Not me
Someone left the refrigerator door open for several hours last night. Because I'm not my mom, I tend to be pretty picky about things going bad, so I knew I'd have to throw away everything except unopened alcohol. I filled four trash bags about half-full and placed them by the door for Husband to take out when he sees fit.
My fridge now contains: the wine cube Husband got me for Christmas, a bottle of champagne my parents left here at some point, and five beers. It's five beers not because I needed sustenance for the task of throwing away corn tortillas, goat cheese, milk, juice, jelly, cream cheese, slimy rotten salad greens, the cous-cous I wasn't able to take for lunch today, the lunchmeat I continue to buy for Husband even though he prefers to get lunch out, several yogurts, horseradish, and several different mustards and salsas. It's five beers because I bought beer for the SuperBowl and decided after about half a beer that I was already drunk and didn't like the beer I'd purchased.
So tomorrow, I have to suck it up and go to Kroger. I've been avoiding it for about six weeks now.
My fridge now contains: the wine cube Husband got me for Christmas, a bottle of champagne my parents left here at some point, and five beers. It's five beers not because I needed sustenance for the task of throwing away corn tortillas, goat cheese, milk, juice, jelly, cream cheese, slimy rotten salad greens, the cous-cous I wasn't able to take for lunch today, the lunchmeat I continue to buy for Husband even though he prefers to get lunch out, several yogurts, horseradish, and several different mustards and salsas. It's five beers because I bought beer for the SuperBowl and decided after about half a beer that I was already drunk and didn't like the beer I'd purchased.
So tomorrow, I have to suck it up and go to Kroger. I've been avoiding it for about six weeks now.
11 March 2008
06 March 2008
Truthiness
As a teacher, I am often in a position where I have to choose my words very carefully. The other day I was teaching about something-fractions, maybe-and one of my students raised their hand and said, "Other Student says Santa Claus doesn't exist."
"Hmmm," I replied mildly. "I think that's Other Student's problem."
"But they said it," the First Student continued. "Mrs. G, is it true?"
In situations like these, I like to do a very teacher type thing and turn the question back on to the student. I put down my dry erase marker and looked at the worried student, who looked as though they'd just been informed that there was not, Virginia, a Santa Claus.
"Do you think it's true?" I asked First Student.
"Well, no," First Student hesitated.
"Then does it matter what Other Student says?"
"Well, no." First Student started to relax a bit. Then Other Student revved their engines.
"Your mom is the one who buys the presents and puts them under the tree and just says they're from Santa," Other Student argued passionately. First Student and several other students appeared to be close to weeping, and I dreaded the flurry of emails that would no doubt come my way that afternoon.
"Uh," I stammered. I scanned my brain for something reassuring to say, something that wouldn't be a lie, but wouldn't crush these children's worldviews. As I searched, I was saved by First Student.
"Anyways," First Student countered, "That's how I know it's not my mom. My brother got an ipod touch for Christmas, and there's NO WAY my mom would let my brother have an ipod touch." I was relieved the conversation was over. And then...
"Mrs. G, do you believe there's a Santa Claus?" Oh, shit. I don't think I can distract my way out of this one. I wondered where the integrity lies in a situation such as this. Eighteen faces staring at me looking for confirmation either way. The ones who know or suspect might have their suspicions confirmed. And the ones who don't know, well, they've lasted this long. They will find out sooner or later.
"Oh, absolutely."
"Hmmm," I replied mildly. "I think that's Other Student's problem."
"But they said it," the First Student continued. "Mrs. G, is it true?"
In situations like these, I like to do a very teacher type thing and turn the question back on to the student. I put down my dry erase marker and looked at the worried student, who looked as though they'd just been informed that there was not, Virginia, a Santa Claus.
"Do you think it's true?" I asked First Student.
"Well, no," First Student hesitated.
"Then does it matter what Other Student says?"
"Well, no." First Student started to relax a bit. Then Other Student revved their engines.
"Your mom is the one who buys the presents and puts them under the tree and just says they're from Santa," Other Student argued passionately. First Student and several other students appeared to be close to weeping, and I dreaded the flurry of emails that would no doubt come my way that afternoon.
"Uh," I stammered. I scanned my brain for something reassuring to say, something that wouldn't be a lie, but wouldn't crush these children's worldviews. As I searched, I was saved by First Student.
"Anyways," First Student countered, "That's how I know it's not my mom. My brother got an ipod touch for Christmas, and there's NO WAY my mom would let my brother have an ipod touch." I was relieved the conversation was over. And then...
"Mrs. G, do you believe there's a Santa Claus?" Oh, shit. I don't think I can distract my way out of this one. I wondered where the integrity lies in a situation such as this. Eighteen faces staring at me looking for confirmation either way. The ones who know or suspect might have their suspicions confirmed. And the ones who don't know, well, they've lasted this long. They will find out sooner or later.
"Oh, absolutely."
Dread...
Things one doesn't want to hear from a second grader's mouth...
1. So, Mrs. G, I'm looking in the dictionary, and I found the word virgin...
2. So, Mrs. G, when you were giving birth...
3. Exactly how do people get new eyes?
4. Do you have to be married to have a baby?
5. Do you have to have your stomach cut open to have a baby? Isn't that what happens?
6. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE TOOTH FAIRY'S YOUR MOM?????
1. So, Mrs. G, I'm looking in the dictionary, and I found the word virgin...
2. So, Mrs. G, when you were giving birth...
3. Exactly how do people get new eyes?
4. Do you have to be married to have a baby?
5. Do you have to have your stomach cut open to have a baby? Isn't that what happens?
6. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE TOOTH FAIRY'S YOUR MOM?????
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