I’ve Been Reading Books

Instead of blogs.

I know, I know. I blame the vacation. And the nice weather, which has made sitting on the porch reading much more appealing than being on the computer. (Er, yes, I do have a laptop and wireless internet. But I have a secret fear of dropping a laptop if I treat it like a cell phone. Clearly my age is showing. Besides, it’s hard to hold a laptop up like a book. Anyhow.. . )

Mostly I’ve been reading mysteries. I’ve always liked them, but it became an obsession after Ironflower started teething and I started watching Noggin with her. Nothing else banishes the syrup of Dora like a really good murder. But on occasion I try other genres. This time it was the literary chick story, The Lace Makers of Glenmara by Heather Barbieri. This is not shallow chick lit by any stretch. If anything, it reminded me of a thinner version of Maeve Binchy (who I love, despite the fact that there are very few murders in her books).

The story centers on a very small town in the west of Ireland and the unhappy American woman who accidentally winds up healing there. I liked the characters immediately and enormously so naturally I enjoyed reading the book. I was happy while reading it in a way that doesn’t happen with my usual fare. But I still had to know what happened, if only because I had grown attached to the characters.

The ending was satisfying if not completely unpredictable. The only problem, really, was that I wanted more. I feel like the book should have been 100 (or so) pages longer so that I could have learned even more about the secondary characters. And I want to know what happens to the main characters next. (This may be a symptom of all the mystery series I read. And the problem when authors write such good characters).

I also liked the message of the book about the importance of doing something for yourself and that even little things do make a big difference. It was definitely a great choice for Mother Talk readers and I’m so glad I got to be one of the lucky ones.

Not Dead. And It’s My Birthday!

So we are now back from two weeks at a lake, surrounded by family and supervising Ironflower and Lovebug in their flower girl/ring bearer debut. I meant to actually post while I was there, but each day was filled with family activities, too much wine and chasing my now-mobile baby around an un-baby-proofed house.

To write about the whole ordeal vacation thing would require more patience than I have and more posts than anyone is likely to read, so I thought I’d just share a few random observations.

1. It is a shame that we don’t live closer to my cousin’s kids, who are the ideal playmates for my own.
2. Three year old boys don’t really make good ring-bearers. At least not when they’re thirsty, haven’t napped and have no parent in the wedding party.
3. A vacation without a nanny is not really a vacation for everyone involved.
4. Rushing through a hike, however short the hike, kinda misses the whole point.
5. Ballroom dance lessons do not a fun reception make.
6. Four year old girls with princess complexes do make good flower girls. Except when they forget that the wedding is supposed to be about the bride.
7. My dad’s side of the family can drink an awful lot of wine. And still dance well.
8. Oh my god, how in the hell can I be THIRTY-EIGHT? Shouldn’t I be mature by now?
9. I want to live on a lake.
10. And own a boat.
11. Every restaurant should have a playground.
12. Some people should learn the difference between small talk and conversation.
13. Sometimes playing Lexulous is more fun than writing.
14. Some Republicans are really, really nice.
15. My husband looks very good in a suit.
16. Ironflower has good instincts about people.
17. ChunkyMonkey LOVES chocolate cake. Already.
18. Never leave the TV on all night in your three year old’s bedroom.
19. Babies sleep better in rooms with no windows.
20. It’s probably a bad sign when a gown makes you think of Cruella De Vil.

What have you learned while I’ve been gone?

We Have A Winner

Thank you to Random.org for allowing me to find the winner of the breast pump give away:

Twinsies Mom!

Congratulations!

On The Road, part 1

*With apologies to Jack Kerouac for an attempt to mimic his style. And apologies to readers loathing Jack Kerouac, an outline of the experience follows.

January 22nd,

We’re driving and it’s fine to drive with a four year old, an almost three year old and a two month and no DVD player but two Leapsters so this is going to be no problem and I can totally handle whatever happens.. . .

I am hearing a strange noise as we pull into this massive traffic jam on the inside loop of the capital beltway and I am annoyed because Garmin girl has dragged us into this mess even though she had us use the loop around Wilmington Delaware which was dumb but Hot Guy listens to her and it sounds like someone is dumping out their juice and why they hell would one of my kids do that they are better behaved than that, especially in traffic jams. The stress is emanating from Hot Guy as we come to basically a full stop and I turn around to yell at whoever is dumping out their juice. At first I just see a flash of brown hitting the floor in front of Ironflower’s seat and I realize she has not dumped out her juice. . . .she is FREAKING THROWING UP all over herself, her Leapster and her carseat and I am in a fresh circle of hell as I yell this to Hot Guy and we discover that we are nowhere near a FUCKING exit and the traffic has STOPPED and how can I help my little girl and we never should have let her eat chocolate munchkins again.

Gas stations are not good places to buy extra cleaning supplies and Hot Guy better stop bitching about all the extra bags I have in the car otherwise we’d have to dig out more stuff to get the poor kid a new outfit and she’s going to freeze without her winter coat and oh my god I hope there’s a washing machine at the hotel tonight and THIS IS DISGUSTING and all is stained and now we are a whole hour behind.

I can’t believe the traffic just keeps going and going and I hate Garmin Girl this is her job and we’re in Richmond and there’s still a traffic jam and please god Lovebug stop screaming I want out of my seat too oh for the love of god ChunkyMonkey you need to stop screaming too we’re almost there and it’s so dark.

What do you mean there’s no playground here anymore that and the cheap price are the only reason we’re staying here of course your washing machine’s not working AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH please stop jumping off the bed kids there’s not enough room and I’m terrified that you’ll be hurt and the trip will get worse

it’s one am and everyone is sleeping but me. . . .
now it’s three am and everyone is awake except the baby. . .

I can’t believe everyone woke me up except him and why is it so cold after we’ve driven so far south but today has got to be a better day north carolina is warmer and it’s easy to find the lunch place we wanted to try I can’t believe they just asked us if we wanted smoking or non and wow, I’m one of the skinniest people here I kind of like this state though I think it’s funny that a Mexican family is clearly running this southern buffet .

Oh my there are a lot of cops how can we make up time if the entire police population is on I-95 in North Carolina.

Wow, I don’t think there are any cops in South Carolina.

To be continued. . . .

Great Moments in Domestic Divahood

It has already been asserted that I don’t really cook. And I’m not a stickler about dust. Or clutter. But, I always told myself, at least I’m good about the laundry. I do it on Mondays and Fridays and I always get things folded and put away that night. It’s my thing.

But last night poor Ironflower had a poop too big for the diaper, which caused her much distress when she woke up and tried to roll over. The poop, of course, got everywhere – sheets, comforter, Hubby’s clothes. So, even though it’s a Tuesday, I am currently doing laundry.

And that’s my only excuse for how I managed to put the bottle of stain remover into the washing machine. Because I don’t do laundry on Tuesdays. How else would I have managed to miss putting a huge plastic bottle into my washing machine? I hadn’t even realized it was there until I opened the washer to take the comforter out.

I guess it’s time to scratch “Domestic” from my Diva title entirely.

On another note, stain remover spray bottles can survive warm washes completely undamaged. Just in case you ever need to know that.

Crone Thoughts

If I was an old curmudgeonly crone, I would complain about these things today. I would bitch and bitch until the nurses brought me a Valium. Unfortunately, while I am edging closer to crone status, no one is bringing me any Valium. So instead I blog.

Things That Tick Me Off:

1. The “Right To Dry” movement: This a movement for people who are ticked off because their communities’ bylaws won’t allow them to put up clotheslines. Yes, in an age where we are at war, where people are starving to death every day, where for every cured diseases there are three new ones, these people are fighting for. . . .clotheslines. Ever heard of moving? Using the basement? Using the bathroom? I mean, do we really need a movement for this?

2. Chocolate Altoids: I LOVE chocolate. I like Altoids. But this combination is just wrong. It’s not that I don’t like minty chocolate, but there are levels. Altoids are too strong. I mean, I also like french fries, but that doesn’t mean they need to be coated in chocolate. Sometimes you want chocolate, sometimes you want fried goodness and sometimes you want a breath mint that will cure garlic. It doesn’t mean all the good stuff has to go together.

3. Starbucks in My Grocery Store: If you live in any region but the northeast, trust me when I say that your grocery store can handle a Starbucks. Mine can’t. Here in Bergen County, land is scarce. Stores are small. You are lucky if you can get two carts across an aisle. With the stores already overcrowded, why are we taking up precious space with a Starbucks? There are already FOUR places to get morning coffee in our town of less than 7,000. Besides, who really wants to spend more time at the grocery store? Are you really going to meet a friend for coffee. . .at the grocery store?

4. Missy, SuperClassParent: Yesterday was Ironflower’s preschool’s fundraiser at Barnes and Noble. Basically, the more money you spent at the store, the more money the school got. The teachers all had wish lists, yadda, yadda. I overheard the event organizer talking about big spenders this morning. Missy spent $500 yesterday. On the teachers, not even on Christmas gifts. Who spends that? Okay, I would love to. But that is so not gonna happen.

So, please tell me I’m not the only one. What dumb stuff is ticking you off today? (children and husbands not included, because that goes without saying)

So What Do You Think?

Since it seemed that some of my blogrolls were causing peoples’ computers to crash and that even I had no idea what was at the bottom of my page, I decided to revamp the whole blog. Not being gifted at things like code, this was not an easy task. But I think I’m pretty pleased with the results.

But I really want to know what you think, faithful (or unfaithful, I’m not picky in Blogland) readers. Do you like it? Did I accidentally leave you off of my blogroll? Do you miss my countdown to the end of Bush’s presidency? Let me know – in comments or at thejerseygirl89 at yahoo.com. Thanks.

Martha Stewart Is Perfectly Safe From Me

I’m making dinner right now.

You’re probably so impressed that I can blog and cook, right?

Unless you’ve been here before and remembered that I cannot, in fact, actually cook. So I am only making skinless, light hot dogs. And tater tots. And microwaved peas. So it’s not so much cooking as waiting for things to be done.

But still, I too was feeling reasonably impressed with myself. The children were playing with each other nicely. Dinner (with a vegetable!) was cooking. I felt like such a domestic goddess.

Then I noticed that the hot dog water was still not boiling (you don’t think I grill, do you?). I went to the stove. The burner was on. I looked in the pot. The hot dogs were already in it.

I put the hot dogs in the unboiling water. Possibly even before I turned the burner on.

Who does that?

Not domestic goddesses, that’s who.

I Can’t Fit Into The Jeans I Wore When I Was Four Months Pregnant

I’m on a diet.

I am on a diet.

I have been on a diet for over six hours now.

I have not been on a diet since 1996. Until I had children, I would just increase the amount of time I exercised, or eat 100 calories lunches for a while, to lose weight. I think diets are always about restricting (no carbs!) or proscribing (grapefruit at every meal) things that are impossible to maintain for life. Or maybe I just have control issues.

Anyway, after giving up dieting, I lost some weight and learned to accept my size 10 self. Unfortunately, I am no longer a size 10. Pregnancy caused me to forget what portions are. I no longer have time to exercise for an hour and a half a day. Jeans that I wore when I was four months pregnant with Ironflower no longer fit me.

So I have given myself a calorie limit for each day. And that’s it.

No fancy calculations or food combinations or whatever. Just me and my math skills.

Just writing this makes me want a glass of wine (or four) and a huge slice of cheesecake. And I don’t even like cheesecake.

(BTW, this is not going to become a diet blog or anything. But if anyone wants to check up on my habits in a couple of weeks, I’d appreciate it.)

Guilt Makes You A Better Parent

Do you remember that time you ate Brie before you knew you were pregnant? Or that time you let your husband throw away “The Best Odds” pregnancy diet because it was making you cry (this actually happened to my cousin)? Or how about that glass of wine you had while you were nursing?

If you are a good mother, you bet your ass you do. Now SOME PEOPLE would have you believe that guilt is detrimental to maternal health. But we all know that good mothers feel guilt as soon as that double line shows up in the pregnancy test window. Especially if conception occurred after a few too many glasses of wine. Or if you’re not at your ideal weight. Or if your version of breakfast is a double shot of espresso. Or if you watch too much TV.

But pregnancy guilt, which prevents you from doing wild and crazy things like eating too much fish and/or having that Diet Pepsi that you REALLY need, has nothing on mother guilt. Because while most pregnancy issues are suffered by the mother alone (okay, yeah Dads, I know you suffer too, but it’s just not the same) as soon as that baby is pushed out through hours of labor or through a surgery where they have to rearrange the middle part of your body (oh yeah, can’t forget labor guilt, can we?), everyone has a visual reminder of your transgressions.

If the baby cries a lot, it’s because you’re nursing/not nursing/not nursing enough/co-sleeping/not co-sleeping/swaddling/not swaddling/using a swing/not using a swing/using a pacifier/not using a pacifier/using the wrong kind of pacifier and so on. And knowing that the baby’s happiness is entirely your responsibility inspires you to read all the books, hang out in the mommy forums and try everything to make sure that your baby is happy.

Then, of course, your baby’s mental capacity is entirely dependent on . . .you. Are you talking to her enough, playing in a stimulating way, getting him the right toys, banning television or propping the baby up for Baby Einstein videos, providing social interaction and unique experiences? Obviously, if you make the wrong decisions here, your child will become the next Paris Hilton – except without the large inheritance.

As your child grows so does your guilt. When your child throws a tantrum in the check-out aisle, everyone in Wal-Mart knows it is your fault. If you were the perfect mother, this would not have happened. If only you had gone back to work/not gone back to work then your child would always be happy. If only you had had time for Mommy and Me yoga then your child would be calm and serene.If only you’d had the money to buy all the brain stimulating toys recommended by Parents magazine then your child would never kick and scream obscenities in public.

It is because of the crushing guilt that we must feel all the time that we strive to be better parents. Sure, it may strain relationships with other mothers when you consistently judge them but that’s a small price to pay for your child’s perfection. And sure, it may be hard to have any self-esteem when all you do is feel guilty, but your feelings don’t matter anymore. Guilt is now your natural state. Embrace it.

This blog inspired by The Blog Exchange. My worthy adversary for this month’s debate is Niki at ImpostorMom. She and I struggled with what to debate and since we’re both so sweet and non-judgmental, we decided to go to extremes.