Monday, January 30, 2012

Snobby Monday: {In and} Out on the town.

Spending time with my nieces and nephews is one of my favorite ways to pass my days off. You might think that after days of working with my kids at work that the last thing I would want to do on my days off is be around other children, but that’s not the case at all.

In fact, I wouldn’t even mind the company of my work kids on my days off if it wasn’t for the fact that they are so used to me meeting their needs when I am with them that I wouldn’t be able to relax. But hanging out with my family is completely different.

For instance, this morning when I woke up on my sister’s couch to my four year old nephew asking for a drink of water I didn’t curse out loud or even in my head. I got up and got him a drink of water and then I talked to him and he made me smile.

Part of the problem is that I’ve lived with so many of my family’s kids and now I miss them all the time, but part of is just that I don’t have to do things for them but they still want me to and hat makes me happy.

We hung out at Brianne’s house all morning and I barely moved from the couch until 11 o’clock. When we did get into gear it was to have lunch with my mom and then shop a bit.

I haven’t been in a Target in forever, not because there aren’t any in New York but because there aren’t any in New York that are in the vicinity of places I like to go on my days off. One of my biggest complaints about the greater New York area is that it takes SO LONG to from store to store unless they are adjacent inside on large complex. So I stick to my favorites and whatever happens to be next door to them.

But I got to Target today and spent less than ten dollars (go me!) and I also got a peek at the Stroud Mall, the mall I grew up avoiding.

It has undergone several years of renovation since my childhood. I remember a day probably 11 or 12 years back when some genius thought carpeting would be a good idea, They put actual carpet down in the big open wing of the mall and then let the public walk on it for ten plus years.

Gross, right?

It’s gone now and so is the movie theater that plagued Stroud Township and the surrounding Burroughs. I don’t know when exactly it opened up, although a small Google search can probably answer that question, but I know by the time I was a teenager it was layered in everlasting stickiness and the chairs were all broken. There were no cup holders and the screens were not equipped for all the mega-tech stuff they can do in movies now.

My friends and I used to drive 40 minutes outside of town to see anything.

In place of the old theater, a shiny, giant new cinema now occupies an entire wing of the mall.

Talk about not being able to go home again.

I have remarked to my family members before that every time I go back there something is different. Buildings burned down, stores close, stores move, new places open up and flop and vanish again. Today I found out that the train depot that was a restaurant for years and burnt down a while back has been hefted up, lifted across the tracks and now sits there, still near its home along the train track, rotting.

Times. Have. Changed.

To make myself feel even older I have been thinking a lot about actual serious things lately.

Act One of getting my life together was acquiring this job. I am now six months in and almost finished with Act Two: getting out of debt. By my one year anniversary at this job I will be debt free and dancing in the streets.

But right after that dance celebration I have to start thinking about the actual real future. MY actual real future, And while T is living under the delusion that my future is forever entwined in hers, I have some other opinions on the matter.

I’m so excited by how God has changed my life in one half year. I can’t wait to see what’s next and I am already struggling with my old desire to get on with it and see what’s next. I’m itching.

To scratch my itch I am focusing on the good times I am having now, in NYC and at home.

I spent this evening spoiling myself with my favorite dinner companion and we stuffed ourselves at THE best restaurant I’ve been to since…well, Thanksgiving. I can’t ever complain for lack of fine dining, but I will say that the food tonight would rival ANYTHING found in New York and it was right here (well, back there -- I am on the bus steadily getting further from home) in the Poconos, tucked away in the Delaware Water Gap.

It was amazing and this trip was a monstrous success.

And now we play the running from station to station game to see if I can get home by midnight.

Ready…GO!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Buses and trains and cabs; oh my!

Well, I’m typing on the bus, something not as easy as it looks when you watch the guy across the aisle doing it.

I’m extremely happy right now for several reasons.

The main one being that even though T couldn’t work it out so I could go to church and to lunch afterward, she did surprise me halfway through the day by telling me that I wasn’t needed tonight and so if I wanted to go the Poconos tonight instead of tomorrow she would help me do so.

I rewarded her by bathing and feeding the kids while she was at dinner and then E drove me to the train.

The second reason I am so happy is that I made it to the bus, without rushing, without talking to any crazy people and without having to buy a train ticket. I had forgotten that I have two Long Island Railroad tickets leftover from New Year’s Eve when the conductors didn’t have the faintest hope of getting through the train to punch tickets. Thanks to Taryn not actually living in Great Neck and giving me her unused ticket, I will be traveling home free as well.

The third reason I am happy is that I just had the pleasure of chatting with a stranger while waiting for the bus. She was probably my mom’s age, an age I have a very easy time befriending. I don’t know if it’s because I hung out with my mom so much as a kid or if it is because I myself am a much older person trapped in a timeless 23 year old body (I AM 23) but it is highly enjoyable. This woman was from Atlanta originally and she’s been living in East Burg for a year, very close to where my sister and mom live now and where I am headed tonight. We talked about kids, school and traveling for forty minutes until it was time to board, at which time I thanked her for the conversation and she said, “Thanks to you too! Have a wonderful life!” She reminded me of my sister’s mother-in-law; funny and nice and bubbly in a subtle way.

My fourth reason for being happy? I’m wearing another size smaller jeans!!! Granted they are sucking the life out of me but hey, I can get into them! Two months ago I couldn’t. I would just bounce around my room trying for ten minutes and then cry while I ate celery.

Just kidding.

About the crying, not the bouncing. That happened.

I’ve actually been really bad lately. I’ve fallen off the restricted-diet wagon and I have had heartburn several times in the past week. I had a dairy relapse and I’ve been eating sour cream on EVERYTHING. This is not good.

In spite of that, I went to buy clothes in the next size down and Kmart in Penn Station obligingly had 50% off sales storewide so I was able to get a bunch of shirts that will unravel in 6 to 8 weeks, but only cost $3. So, I win.

So tonight I am happily riding the bus into Pennsylvania and hoping to have some quality time with Mom, my sister Brianne and my favorite friend to have dinner with.

Earlier this evening I told the kids I was headed out tonight and that I would be back late tomorrow and would see them Tuesday morning. R wanted to know who she is supposed to play with all day tomorrow and I had to remind her that she has school and Hebrew school to keep her occupied. She was ok with it after that, but she groaned anyway and as she walked away she said, “Always going away…to Africa.”

I had to explain that I was only going to Pennsylvania and then we had to rehash everything on the globe again.

J didn’t seem to care much, but as I was leaving tonight Monkey came into the kitchen and said, “Timmy, I jacket.” I guess he is so used to being stuck home with me and only going out when I do that he was confused as to why I was leaving him behind. I saw him waving from the dining room window as we pulled out of the garage. It was so sad.

But not sad enough to go back.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Mud pies.

This morning was a groggy, stumbling blur.

Somehow we all got fed and dressed and the kids headed out for a birthday party while the baby and I mopped the floor and then sat for a while.

The sitting didn't last nearly long enough before he decided to gag and puke his lunch again.

Before you go feeling all bad for him, let me fill you on the gag reflex that is running through this family.

I've always thought my gag reflex was pretty terrible. I can barely brush my teeth without wanting to barf a little. I have trouble drinking things too fast, or with certain smells, but I don't typically yack.

But the streak of throat discomfort in this gene pool is serious.

T can barely swallow a pill. Any pill. It's horrifying to watch.

And so the two boys have inherited this inability to swallow things, sometimes even things they like. Monkey really likes the rice dish that he upchucked on my leg last week. And today it was a lentil soup that he is quite fond of. He ate nearly the entire bowl but then that last bite just caught him the wrong way, he coughed, he gagged, he soiled his chair.

And of course the chair is a woven wicker number, nothing easy to clean or salvageable. It is currently against the wall, soaking in every cleanser I could think of, awaiting judgement day.

Both grandmas made appearances today, albeit short ones. I was too busy trying to stay awake to even care when Mom E fed Monkey a banana and blueberries even though he's already had two servings of fruit today. Whatever happens in his diaper happens. There is only so much I can do.

The kids kept me busy until dinner time with requests for library books. I read all twelve of the ones we have out now, ending with their new favorite character, Pig Pig. Pig Pig is a mentally deficient pig whose mother suffers from eighties hair syndrome. In our newest story he wants to make and sell mud pies.

So naturally I told the kids that we were having mud pies for dinner and that set off a screaming session to rival all other loud noises.

But the kids did so well with their actual dinners I just had to brag about it a little bit here. I've mentioned how much progress we've made with meal times. Tonight they all came when called, began to eat and then when E made an appearance, hesitantly entering the kitchen and testing the waters before joining us at the table, THEY ALL KEPT EATING and no one pulled any shenanigans.

I don't know if this will be a repeated behavior in the near future because I believe a lot of non-dinner related factors were at play here, but still, it was amazing to not have to chase E and T out of the room because the kids only eat when they are not visible.

Monkey gobbled up his food, gagged on some zucchini, which he loves, drank some water and ran upstairs to play with Mommy.

The other two finished in a timely manner and didn't even argue when I said we were not having dessert tonight because they had enough junk at the birthday party.

An all around successful day!

I was asked to stop spoiling the dog though. It's funny how I'm not a dog person at all and yet he can talk me into anything. He just sits on the floor at my feet and looks up at me with eyes that say, "I see no reason why I shouldn't have another carrot. I mean, they're good for me. They're good for my vision." And he's right, they are. And no one else eats the carrots anyway, so I don't see the harm in letting him have one or six.

T gives him a lot of carrots too.

Really what E is worried about is the amount of times I've been letting Willie out every day. He's used to one potty run in the morning, one in the afternoon and one at night. But on those cold days last week we could barely get him out the door once, let alone twice. Since the weather has been friendlier this week I've been letting him out every time we pass by a door and he's soaking it up.

E doesn't want him to grow accustomed to a life of luxury only to have a blizzard come destroy everything. Especially not with all the new rugs he's been bringing home.

So.

I guess I'll just go back to reminding the kids how much they want a cat.

Friday, January 27, 2012

My puh puh puh poker face.

The last few days have been riddled with dancing and music. Ever since I received my new fancy phone and T learned how to use hers there has been music throughout the house almost all the time. We have an iHome in the kitchen and there is an ancient stereo system built into the playroom (part of the 'estate') and T keeps iHomes in the bedrooms too so we can drown out our loud parties at night.

Or something.

I'm introducing the kids to quality music like Reba McEntire from the nineties and John Michael Montgomery and They Might Be Giants.

Unfortunately, they have already been poisoned by today's garbage and they request things like "I'm sexy and I know it" by the stupidest person on Earth and Rihanna, the runner up. Yesterday J followed me around asking if I could put on Lady Gaga.

I cringed inwardly.

And then outwardly.

I have been listening to (and I am pretty ashamed of this) a lot of Pink lately. Or is it P!nk? You know, I have no respect for people who have punctuation in their names.

But she has one or two songs that I don't find disturbing or nasty and they are catchy and she does have a good voice, so I sought her out on the iPod upstairs today while I was organizing closets.

I was singing and working when Monkey dropped his toys and stood next to the desk where the iHome is that he can't reach and started yelling, "turn it off! turn it off!" He apparently hates Pink (P!nk).

I would admire that, except what he wanted me to put on was worse.

He really likes LMFAO. Acronym bands are only a step up from punctuated names, but the music of this particular group I liken to actual garbage. Stinking, rotten, leaking, strange, brownish green colored juices garbage.

Don't worry, I'm not holding anything back.

We compromised in that I turned on a song he liked for thirty seconds until he was distracted with a book and then I turned on whatever I wanted again.

I spent this morning and yesterday morning reorganizing all the clothes that I organized when I first moved here. The bags and bags of off-season and other sized clothes for the kids have gotten jumbled around every time a kid grows an inch or somebody gives T another donation.

Plus, I had to prepare all the baby stuff and get it moved to the top because I AM READY.

AND IT BETTER BE A GIRL because I found so many adorable dresses up there. I'm really hoping for a girl with J's temperament and my sense of humor.

Wait.

Yesterday was a normal Thursday all day, until the evening when T had made fake dinner plans to get E to his surprise birthday party. The party was going to be an adult affair and it was late, not scheduled to start until 9, so T and I had our work cut out for us. She knew he would never believe his sister would make a 9 o'clock dinner plan so they told him eight. We were counting on T's perpetual tardiness to save us.

I did my part by not doing anything. T and I agreed beforehand to make it a bath night and then just to slow things down even more we'd suggest that they shower the kids so that it would be "faster." Showering them actually takes ten times as long, but he doesn't know that.

They have to shower in the master bathroom because theirs has no curtain.

So first, there's the ordeal of getting them in there, remembering you need their soaps and shampoos, getting them back in there, remembering you need towels and washcloths, you see where I'm going with this?

The best part was that after they were showered, T and I just checked out.

She sat down, had a drink, struck up a conversation, didn't know what to wear.

I put away some laundry and then disappeared. I never do that. Even on the nights when I am not technically working, it's easier on me to help get the kids ready for bed than to deal with them coming downstairs to talk to me while I am watching TV.

But E didn't notice either one of us slacking off.

The kids asked him to read to them and he obliged. Whatever the vibe we were sending out, it worked and after four or five failed attempts to get T to hurry up he just gave up and began taking his sweet time too.

It was nearly nine when they left and I think when he realized it had gotten late, he was annoyed. But he didn't say anything.

This morning we were halfway through the breakfast routine when T said something about last night and I said, "Oh yeah, how was last night?"

To which he replied in a mocking voice, "Oh yeah, how was last night?" Then, "YOU knew? Did everyone know?"

I guess he was piecing together how the whole world had been against him the evening before.


Today, both T and E had to go into the city and whenever that happens the chances of them making it back by dinner time go from slim to absolutely none.

And it's Shabbat.

So after the kids were all ready to go and I fed them first dinner, we sat down to watch youtube videos until Mommy and Daddy got home. We were just getting bored when T's sister called to say she was going to pick us up to go to her mom's for dinner and E and T would meet us there.

We ran to let the dog out, get our coats and get out the door. While the two bigger kids ran out to the waiting van, I held the 150 ton baby in one arm, the diaper bag in the other and tried to set the alarm.

It didn't beep reassuringly and so I had to do it twice and then when I was all set I found the dumb dog in the garage. REALLY WILLIE?

We made it to dinner though, and I fed the rascals right away so that I could enjoy my weekly half a pound of guacamole. T's mom makes the BEST guacamole I have ever tasted. T's sister's husband was asleep on the couch in the room where the kids usually play so we had to entertain them elsewhere until he got up.

E and T made it and after dinner, during the late night scramble to get the kids into pajamas and washed up before heading out, I had the pleasure of watching my kids listen obediently to me, T and E, while their cousins ran around like little monsters.

I was beside myself with joy when I finally stepped in, barked orders, and the unruly little terrors listened right away.

When Kimmy speaks, children listen.

T's been telling me lately how unfair it is. Last night she put Monkey to bed and he stood up five minutes later and began chanting, "I don't want to bed, I don't want to bed." When she went in to his room to lay him down, where she would normally take him out and hold him and try to make him feel better she instead said, "Do you want me to go get Kimmy?" And he threw himself onto his pillow and didn't say anything for the rest of the night.

You know why children fear me?

They can't read my poker face, my puh puh puh poker face.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uy3DumbiL54&feature=share

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Dance, dance party.

I took the baby to the library yesterday for a play group that never materialized. One of T's friends made the plan and then neglected to tell anyone it was changed. But, no matter, I needed to get there anyway. We had five overdue movies and I wanted to be sure that my massive, scary book could be renewed because it is stamped all over "28 day book" and I am not even halfway through it.

It's just too scary.

T dropped us off and we went inside, he ran around for an hour before I admitted to myself that the rain was not going to stop and I needed to just suck it up and walk us home.

But first we paid our fine and hit the movie section.

We now have five of the seven Harry Potter movies in stock, but still not the first two. Great Neck baffles me sometimes. They finally had a copy of Beauty and the Beast, R has been waiting and waiting to see it. And then another new addition caught my eye.

Tangled!

The greatest movie ever made.

We took it home and watched it immediately. R has seen it before, with me, on my Netflix. And I have watched it on Netflix countless times.

But it's just not the same thing.

This morning after everyone was gone, I put it in and turned the volume all the way up. The baby and I spent the morning cleaning from room to room while Mandy Moore sang for us. We danced around and around until he was so tired he could barely stand.

This afternoon J brought his cousin home from school with him and they asked if they could watch Maximus the horse. OF COURSE!

We put it on and had another dance party.

T's mom came at 3 o'clock and I had my first Persian cuisine cooking lesson. I made raisin rice, which is the best thing to ever happen to rice.

Rice and I have a long, violent history full of bitter hatred and blatant disgust. Growing up I think my mom made rice six out of seven nights a week. It was a staple at our house, with tacos, with chicken, with beef, with EVERYTHING. Plain, white rice.

Several of my nieces and nephews prefer it to almost any other food in the world. Even the kids I care for now will eat three bowls of white rice before even trying one bite of any given vegetable.

But not me.

I hate the stuff. To me, it's like eating empty calories that taste like nothing, only worse, because this nothing has a grainy aftertaste. I used to douse it in salt and try to choke it down but most often I would wrap it into my napkin and throw it away, or dig a hole in the trash can an bury it way, way down hoping it never saw the light of day again. It was awful.

Since I have been rapidly nearing adulthood (almost there!) I have discovered that several of the foods I detested as a child are somewhat tolerable. Onions and olives made it from my black list onto my list of favorites. But rice hasn't had much of a chance to go anywhere. Not on its own.

But since getting in touch with my middle Eastern side I learned something about rice.

The expensive kind doesn't taste like the pan it was cooked in.

It tastes like long grain heaven.

And the way they mix it up with various spices and lentils and vegetables just makes me want to cry for joy. I don't now how to pronounce correctly, much less spell the names of half of these dishes, but tonight I learned how to cook my favorite one.

T's mom is so nice and she is a very funny teacher. She doesn't measure, as most cultures who pass down recipes from mother to daughter (or in our case mother to nanny) don't, and so we ended up with a double batch of the whole thing. After the rice was done, we hung out with the kids and showed her our dance moves.

We're pretty good booty shakers if I may say so myself.

And I do.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Hot chocolate hour.

We finally got our snow!!!

The kids and I have been keeping an eye out for it for weeks, months even. When everyone else got a huge storm at Halloween and all we got was stuck inside because none of the trains were running, we were furious. Ever since then the question has been "Where's our snow?" And I asked them all the time. Every day that it was cold but not worth it I would interrogate R about where she was hiding our snow.

And then it came.

Not a lot, and not good enough to make a snowman or the igloo I have been dreaming of for two years now (why is winter so lame anymore?!) but still enough to have fun. Enough to make it worth layering three shirts and two pairs of pants and four pairs of socks on myself and each child and heading outside.

Yesterday morning T came out with us and we put the baby in a girl's snowsuit and giant mittens and dragged him out too. He wanted to be out there but he spent the entire time yelling "OPEN!" because he wanted his mittens off.

It was so bitter cold that after a few snow angels and a snow pile we had to go inside. The kids handled it pretty well with the promise of hot chocolate. I had to pull T's boots off because her belly suddenly popped out this week and she can't bend and pull at the same time. It's one or the other.

While I was pulling and she was holding onto the chair to avoid being dragged out of it and we were both laughing she said, "Wait til E finds out I shoveled everything! You're gonna be in trouble!" She shoveled everything before anyone else got outside, not that I would have done it anyway. But it was a light and fluffy snow so she hadn't actually exerted herself. And if E was so concerned, he should have gotten out of bed.

But it was his birthday, so he didn't until nearly noon.

We spent the day drinking hot chocolate and coffee and eating fruit and homemade things like home fries and eggs and stuffed crust pizza and soup. It was Carb Day in this house and J had a muffin and rice for lunch. Poor Willie Nelson got so sick of his only table scraps being bread and Cheerios that he avoided us all for the rest of the day.

He had really made out on Friday when we hosted Shabbat and E's sister kept sneaking him food. She has such a soft spot for him and kept asking me what she could give him. As a result he followed her around then entire night, eating carrots (his favorite) and tortilla chips. When she tried to give him chocolate cake I had to lay down the law.

But that cake was amazing. Just so you know.

By Saturday evening the kids were tuckered. They hardly slept Friday night, since our company didn't leave until 11. E and T went out for dinner and I tossed all the tots into bed early. As I was tucking J in he asked me why I didn't sleep with him anymore and I said it was because he's been eating so well and now he's a big boy. He smiled so big and said, "Kimmy, I love you" and then rolled right over and went to sleep.

This morning was more of the same, but since it's my Sabbath I didn't even clean up the kitchen. E and T had to run out for an open house this morning so I fed the kids and we headed back outside.

In his little girl's suit and his long hair Monkey looks just like a girl. The girl version of Randy, from A Christmas Story, to be exact. He can move his arms, but just barely and he can't pick anything up with his big, clumsy mittens. He just walks behind everyone else, falling repeatedly and getting all covered in snow. Yesterday he face-planted and when he stood up he looked like he might kill someone. Today he was a little more careful to keep his head up when falling, but still, when I pulled out the camera and told him to say cheese he shot daggers at me with his eyes, gritted his teeth and grumbled, "Cheese" just once before turning his back on me.

I almost died laughing.

R got a sand shovel and cleared a few places in the vicinity of Willie's favorite dumping ground. We let him come out and he did his business, not in the designated area and then ran back inside. Willie hates the snow. He hates the cold and he hates when we tell him to go on the grass, like we usually do, but now he can't find it.

He also hates how EVERY time we let him out we forget about him.

But he's learning to knock on the door and wait like everyone else.

Yesterday after E finally got out of bed he and T took J and went for a scenic drive.

I was hanging out with R while the baby napped when Willie needed to go out. I actually didn't forget him that time and was all proud of myself because I wouldn't have to get up twice, when the doorbell rang.

I flew to it, cursing whoever was at it and hissing at the dog to shut up before the noise woke the baby. At the door stood a Latino man, blowing cigarette smoke into my face and the house and asking me if he could shovel our property.

I told him no as nicely as I could manage through my irritation, which wasn't his fault since my "don't ring the bell" sign hasn't been posted for a few months now. Willie calmed himself back down and went to sleep in some far corner of the house again, which is where is his now as I write.

I am hanging out with J in the basement while R is at a dance class and the baby is asleep. After our foray into the snow this morning we came in to discover we are out of milk for real hot chocolate. I made them some instant and disguised lunch as a snack, sneaking leftovers onto the table while they talked and played and consumed.

When everyone was satisfactorily full we had a massive dance party while R got dressed for dance. She was under the impression that she was attending a party, since she adamantly refuses to join any kind of class, ever, at all. We were playing a hug trick on her, to get in tights and a skirt, to get her in shoes good for dancing. But it worked and she went and I haven't had any phone calls from her aunt who picked her up that she is freaking out about the truth of her destination.

That punk is probably enjoying herself.

And I am enjoying myself, snuggled into three sweatshirts in this chilly basement while J drives every toy car he owns around on the rug and we await the arrival of his friend for a play date.

I think I'll have another cup of hot chocolate coffee.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Horse fence.

Today I put my phone down for twenty whole minutes!

I finally synced my iTunes to my new baby and so all day long while I am working I carry it around with me and sing Reba McEntire songs at the top of my lungs while the baby trails me, dancing.

He really likes "I'd rather ride around with you" and he yells "Again! Again!" each time it ends.

I cleaned everything today because we are hosting Shabbat tomorrow as Saturday is E's birthday. I found out that he is 18 years older than me so someone can do the math on that and get back to me. T just turned a mid-thirties number but a lady never tells her age to I won't go and spoil it for her. And just so you know, I am only 19.

Well, in this blog anyway.

It occurred to me today that I haven't shared just exactly what a normal day around here looks like in a while. Things change gradually and then one day it just dawns on us that it's different.

For instance, Monkey no longer allows himself to be closely watched. He's very sneaky, very naughty and he thinks this is all very funny. Every now and then you can find him perched on the glass coffee table, snickering. Or standing on the closed toilet lid, holding his breath in anticipation of getting caught.

It really keeps us all on our toes.

But a normal day now consists of a much later nap for him, which means a much later nap for me. The kids come back from school at different times and so I have alone time with R each day. On Mondays and Thursdays while she is in Hebrew school I have some quiet time with J and of course, Monkey hogs me all morning, every morning.

It's been really cool to see each child growing in the last six months. This is the first time I have lived with a family and been an intimate part of the family's development.

I now call the kids to dinner and on most nights they come to the table and sit down and eat. We tell stories and talk while we eat and now that E's office is local and T is reaching the LARGE stages of pregnancy, they are often home for dinner and the six of us crowd in around the tiny, stupid kitchen table.

Bed time is no longer a fight.

The kids clean up their toys when asked, although I rarely ask because it is just so much easier to do it myself while they are not home.

R dresses without screaming fits. Again, most days. Of course we have bad days too but you may recall that when I started here every day was a bad day. (This blog was born out of a need to survive or to at least tell my story if Long Island killed me)

Tonight I made pesto and chicken, a dish the kids had never tasted or seen and they ate it, even J, the picky eater. He said he didn't like it once, I told him that was not allowed and he climbed up into his chair and ate every bite. He even finished first.

I'm not tooting my own horn, just marveling at how far we've come.

In 6 months.

This afternoon's normalcy was interrupted by a fencer.

E and T put a deposit on a fence LAST YEAR when they moved into the house. They received a call back YESTERDAY and were informed that a team would be arriving at the house at noon today.

At 11:45 the doorbell rang, while I was in the middle of feeding the baby lunch.

T had planned on being home for this, but she wasn't yet because he was early and she was running late (not an uncommon occurrence although she admits it and plans for it) so it was up to me to go show the man the property line that the fence would follow.

The trouble was I had no idea where it was and I was wearing slippers.

Still, I grabbed a coat and went outside and with T on the phone I tried to follow her directions. It felt like a treasure hunt.

"Stand on that piece of slate." (Which reminded me of my sister -- 'You know that green thing in the back yard?' <3) "Follow it all the way to the left, to the tree line. There's a stake in the ground under an evergreen tree."

There was not stake.

But under the corner of the retaining wall was the grill cover.

As I hacked my way through evergreens and birches and what I am sure was poison ivy (thankfully my slippers are boots) I searched for the nonexistent stake. All I found was mud.

"This isn't in my job description."

She laughed and told me to give up. The fencing company had been given instructions to build 11 feet out from the wall. She decided to just work with that.

I put the cover back on the grill and headed inside.

The fence went up, and then back down when T got home and found the stake. It wasn't 11 feet out. It was more like 6. The poor guy had to fill in his holes and move them but then he got the fence back up.

He put up exactly enough lengths to fulfill the deposit amount they had made the year before. It's a beautiful raw wood horse fence and I can't wait to take pictures of the kids along it. All fifteen feet of it, because apparently that's what their deposit was worth. It stops randomly in the center of the yard along the retaining wall.

But the man was incredibly nice and he did a good job, cleaned up, took down a rotted fence on the other side of the yard, had a glass of water and headed on his way, leaving us with a more distinguished property line.

Well, in that one corner of the back yard anyway.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I'm addicted to everything.

The last two days have been largely the same.

We got through our morning routines, although therein lies the biggest differences between today and yesterday. The night before last dinner wasn't ready until almost 7(T cooked) and so the kids went to bed super late.

Yesterday morning was a screaming, fighting, yelling, threatening match and then the kids finally were off to school.

Today R was singing her compliance to everything.

I spent both days working in between app downloads on my new phone. I knew it would be bad, but this is ridiculous. I can hardly put it down. The only good to come out of it is that I found an app that gives you free access to the complete bible, in several different versions and so I have actually read it without dragging my feet about going to the basement for it.

We're on our second round of colds in this house this winter. The first round hit everyone else first and I held out until the bitter end. It hit T second to last but she had it the longest because all her remedies had to be natural while the rest of us flaunted our DayQuil and NyQuil and unlimited supply of cough drops.

She's just getting over it in the last week and this next bout hit all the rest of us at the same time. All three kids have runny noses and I have been blessed with a sore throat as well.

You know what they say, the family that eats together, coughs together. Or maybe they don't say that but they should.

Sometime between Saturday night and Tuesday morning the cover blew off of the grill and vanished. Why is the grill still outside you ask? I asked the same and found out E is "one of those." I've witnessed this before. Men so dedicated to barbecued meat that they are willing to bundle into a parka and brave the elements to run outside every ten minutes and turn something. We've all searched the yard now and there is no sign of that cover. And so, of course, it rained yesterday.


But I didn't really care because I was playing with my phone.

In addition to technology I have recently re-developed a coffee addiction. I have been off coffee for several years now, ever since caffeine tried to kill me in late 2006. We weren't even on speaking terms for a few years and I switched entirely to recreational decaf.

When I changed my diet to cut out the causes of my indigestion I let go of the decaf and became an official once-in-awhile coffee drinker.

This week and last I was barely functional without it. I would muscle my way through the mornings and then around lunch time I would cave and down two cups. It was like magic. And the best part was that after the caffeine worked its way through my system, I crashed hard and slept wonderfully.

This morning I didn't hear anything until my alarm. Do you know how longs it's been since that happened?

A long time.

But I am weening myself off the joe again anyway because it is bringing heartburn back with it and that is not acceptable.

I'm off now to see how my phone is doing. It probably needs me. It's been a while.

Monday, January 16, 2012

This is the height of my stupidity. I hope.

Let me just tell you how dumb I am.

I had yesterday off, two Sundays in a row!! How about it?!

I met up with Nanny K for church, who is taking much less drawing out than I expected. I think my initial impression of her being so quiet and introverted was wrong. I think she was just feeling completely displaced and all she needed was a nudge toward a new niche and now she's out there and it's comfortable for her. From what I've seen in one week she's a zillion times happier than she was and she seems to be quite at home at Franklin Square.

I am so excited for her!

After church we grabbed a quick lunch and I stopped through town to pick up my brand new iPhone! (OH YEAH!) I fell in love with it immediately and I don't even care what my bill looks like, I never have to talk to T-mobile again and that is the happiest news any girl could ask for. I have service, I can actually call people whenever I want and HEAR WHAT THEY ARE SAYING.

And I can monitor Facebook 24/7 to more thoroughly stalk, well, everyone.

After all that I had plans to go visit a friend who just set up shop in New Jersey.

Ridgefield Park, to be exact.

She's right over the George Washington bridge, which puts her about 50 minutes from me. I missed the 3:50 train and spent an hour on the platform playing with my new phone. I caught the 4:50 and spent the 35 minutes on the LIRR playing with my new phone.

I played with my new phone as I walked through Penn Station but then I had to go outside to get to Port Authority so I put the phone away, wrapped a scarf around my face and cried like a little girl about how cold it was the whole way.

I didn't lose much time on my walk to Port Authority, I went to the NJ Transit line, got a ticket for a bus leaving in ten minutes, asked for a gate number and ran to it. I had NO idea which of the five doors at the gate number to go through so I pretended it was a game show and as I stood there working out the odds of getting a decent consolation prize behind door number three another girl came into the vestibule and I asked her which way to the bus going to Ridgefield Park.

She said to follow her, so I did, handed my ticket to the driver who tossed it into a pile without looking, and I boarded the bus. I thought maybe I should ask the driver exactly where the bus was going but he wasn't on the bus yet and he seemed busy. I wondered why exactly the NJT doesn't see fit to label their buses with a route number, but I knew that if my bus was numbered anything between 160 and 168 I would be ok and I was relatively certain it was.

It was.

But that ceased to matter.

I spent the entire trip playing with my new phone. When I looked up because someone sat down next to me I realized that I had no idea where I was. I asked him and he said we were in Ridgefield Park.

I asked him if he knew my stop and he said yes, it was coming.

I went back to playing with my phone.

A minute later he shrugged and smiled and said he didn't actually know.

I laughed out loud because that is TOTALLY something I would do. I thanked him and went to ask the driver, who barely spoke English and seemed more confused than I was.

"Ridgefield Park? You're on the wrong bus."

But I wasn't. Ok, I sort of was. Any of those 160-numbered buses go through Ridgefield Park. But the bus I was on didn't stop at the exact intersection that I was expecting. Still, I wasn't far from my destination so he gave me a transfer ticket and I got off and called my friend.

Now, let me take you back for a minute here.

When I left my house that morning I had a string of errands to run. I gathered the cash that T pays me in, and my cash Christmas present for my phone, and left the house to ride around on public transportation all day.

At the point when I got off the bus, after dark (I believe it was around or after 6), alone, lost in New Jersey, I had $700 in cash in my purse. I had a new phone that I was completely distracted by and I was wandering around looking for coffee.

And this isn't even the worst thing I would do that day.

Just wait.

I told Sam where I was, found coffee, called her again to tell her where I was since I walked a few blocks to get coffee, stood outside talking to my mom while a group of five men stared at me from the corner and finally met up with Sam.

We had a fun night, talking and eating and drinking and not paying any attention to the time until all of a sudden it was 11:30.

And I still had a bus ride, a walk, a train ride and a cab ride home.

And work in the morning.

Still, this is not my untelligence (it's a thing) acme.

Sam got me to the next bus, at 11:47, and I made it back into the city.

I bypassed a cab after swearing to myself I would not do that, and walked back to Penn Station, after midnight, with $700 in my purse.

I got into Penn right AFTER a train left. I had to wait for an hour.

Here's where it starts to really get bad.

My judgment and patience completely slipped away from me. The drunk, rowdy teens waiting at the big board for track announcements was getting under my skin. I was playing with phone, trying to find someone to text who was still up at that hour and cursing the day they invented delicious, delicious Chinese food when a man approached me for a dollar.

He was clearly not homeless, I believe he was looking for cash for a phone call or something, and normally I would not be so stingy, especially after my past experiences in Penn Station. But there was no way I was opening my wallet stuffed full of hundreds in front of anybody.

I told him I was sorry I couldn't help him and he continued on his way.

The teenagers got louder and I began to shoot them filthy, dirty looks.

A drunk couple stumbled within my personal bubble, the woman sinking to the floor as she inhaled a slice of pizza. A cluster of policemen wandered by, laughing at the drunks.

The man who needed a dollar asked me again. I nearly exploded.

I began downloading free apps at the speed of light, watching the clock on the big board, willing 1:09 to come so they would announce my track for the 1:19 train and I could get away from the stupid drunks and the man who can't seem to score a dollar.

I was considering going to the restroom to fish out a dollar to give him on his next round when FINALLY my track was announced.

I got a seat and played with my phone the whole way back.

I flew off the train at my stop and ran up the stairs to try to catch one of the cabs that are always waiting when trains come in.

The cold air and my overwhelming exhaustion stole what was left of my sanity and reason.

There was one cab, two passengers already inside it, leaving room for two more. Two men approached it as I did, going the same place. I hollered my destination first and the driver was considering me but I relented and told the two men to take it. I asked the driver to call me another car and then as they left me there in the single digit cold I wanted to slap myself for being an idiot.

Had I just given up my rightful position in the ONLY cab at the station in the middle of the night while I had loads of cash on my person and I was freezing my toes off?! I HAD!!!

Surely I could get no stupider.

Surely.

You would think.

AND YOU WOULD BE WRONG.

I woke up this morning surprised that it had been real, surprised that I was not dead in a gutter somewhere, and I hoped, I really, really prayed hard that God grant me the sense to NEVER do anything like that again.

I waited five minutes and when no second cab turned up I tried to call the company. I still don't know exactly what their hours are because sometimes they answer after midnight, sometimes they answer at 4 am, and sometimes they don't answer at all.

They didn't answer at all and I called several times.

On the verge of a decision to walk the 2 miles home, I saw a car approaching and slowing.

The cabs in Great Neck are black or silver, all the same car model. This car was black, but not the right model and not marked as a taxi anywhere. All of these things registered in my brain and I ignored them.

Honestly, this car was too nice to be a taxi but I didn't even look to see what it was. I was so cold and so tired. I went to the window, which rolled down hesitantly.

The male driver didn't say anything.

I told him my destination, heard the doors unlock, and got in the car.

That's right, I got in an unmarked car with a stranger.

Do you want to hit me right now? Because I do. Mom, if you're reading this, I am totally prepared for the lecture. I will take notes. I will. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT MYSELF.

There was nothing on the inside of the car to suggest he was a cab driver either. Nothing. Just a regular car, with a regular blank dashboard.

Then he told me the fare was $7. It's $5.

Was he just some guy who felt bad that I was standing in the cold at the station and thought he could make a few dollars off it? I guess so. Because he didn't murder me.

I started to tell myself that maybe it was a new taxi and he was charging a bogus late night fare, which some of the real cabbies do. I almost had myself convinced and then he asked me for directions.

He had no idea where I was going.

I gave him directions the whole way and when he turned the car into the driveway I was positive that if he was a taxi driver at all this was his first night, because no drivers have ever pulled into the drive here before. They are usually gone before I even walk up the driveway.

I didn't spend much time berating myself last night.

I was pretty close to crying and I really didn't want to so I took a quick shower and got into bed and played with my phone and then laid there and thanked God repeatedly for a good forty minutes that he had protected me while I did the dumbest, most irresponsible things I have ever done.

I debated sharing this whole episode but I believe I am prepared and in desperate need of the scoldings and warnings and speeches of utmost disapproval that are going to result from spilling every single bean I have in this entry.

So there. It's out there. I AM STUPID.

But I'm reformed, I think. And I don't know that I'll be doing any late night traveling for a while. And I'm definitely not going to EVER get in a taxi that I'm not SURE is a taxi again.

Ever.

I promise, Mom.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Hindsight and foresight.

Every now and then something in the course of my day will spark a memory of something in my past.

I'm incredibly nostalgic anyway so most of the time it's a welcome thought; something from the Atown era, or a moment from living with any of several of my siblings. Most often, in my line of work, it's a flashback to my own childhood.

Today I made play dough for the kiddies. They loved it. I let them choose a portion of each of their blobs to dye the colors of their choice. They were occupied for hours. T was home and she joined us and took pictures of them in their aprons and chef hats, standing on chairs at the counter pretending to make pizza.

She and I spent a lot of time gabbing today in between feeding the small ones and her own work on her home computer. I did a load of laundry and discovered that one of my two dryers is broken. The dial no longer moves while it's running; it ran for a few hours before I realized that there was no way those clothes weren't dry.

Holy electric bill Batman.

Several other appliances are warning us that they loathe and despise their existence.

The oven worked for a little bit this afternoon, long enough to burn granola, finish off R's Shrinky Dinks and then crap out again.

The freezer in the basement has been roaring on and off. The dishwasher that was SUPPOSED to be replaced but never has been, is only half-heartedly cleaning anything anymore.

And just so we're all up to speed on my vacuum situation, my new shiny cordless beauty DIED unexpectedly a few weeks ago and has been replaced by a not-as-shiny but also cordless new number, with a hand vac built right in. It's quiet, too quiet, but it seems to be getting the job done.

On the plus side, we have a new juicer which we use surprisingly often. I might have mentioned it once before.

Several faucets have sprung strange, unpredictable leaks.

The refrigerator door has ceased to latch when pushed closed. Also, it now has to be pushed close. It used to just fall shut so nicely...

Our wonderful electrician hasn't been here in a while but a couple of weeks ago he installed a motion light outside the garage so that I can see more clearly when I am coming in late after a night out and slinking along between the back of the car and the garage door and getting stuck to everything.

Only, it doesn't sense motion. It just does whatever it wants.

It also seems to be sharing a circuit with the inside garage light, so both cannot be on at the same time. It took us a while to figure that out.

Now, don't think I am complaining here, because I mean quite the opposite.

I am not very attached to any of these gadgets. And when they break down my nostalgia only increases.

I flashback to Africa and blackouts all throughout my childhood. When nothing is working properly in the afternoon and we just set up camp in the middle of the playroom with sweaters and hot chocolate all I can think about is the time my brothers and sisters and I camped in a tent in our front yard and brought out hot chocolate in tall, plastic Tupperware cups and fought over which color cup we wanted.

I relive stuff like that all the time.

And the best part is, the kids here thrive on hearing stories about whatever I am thinking about.

We had to get a globe just so I could show R on the map exactly where Africa, Pennsylvania and whatever other states my stories took place in are.

And my hope in all this, my most constant prayer, is that all these stories and all the moments spent with these kids and with T, the whole family, will be the gospel witness that I can't verbalize here.

I received my Christmas bonus, which T had wanted so badly to give me in the form of a gift but we couldn't find a time to get us both to the Verizon store, but her card was so nice and this family does love me as much as I love them.

I have been here for six months, as of January 2.

According to our verbal contract at the time of hire, I have 6-18 more. According to T in the course of any given day, it's more like 4-7 years.

We'll see.

Friday, January 13, 2012

That's it? Today is over?

My morning was spent in a near-death state of lady pain.

Monkey agreeably played with his toys on the floor while I cried and moaned on the playroom bed. The TV wouldn't even work. Around lunch time I made a giant pot of coffee and drank it. All of it.

Then I swallowed every pain killer I could locate (two -- for now) and got R from the bus.

That's right. I didn't do anything in between those two things except try to nap but I couldn't because (prepare for run-on sentence) first I was lying in the playroom and it was too cold in there so I went into the living room to the comfy leather couch and the dog was there on a pillow he is not allowed to be on but I just curled up next to him thinking this would be all cute and snuggly and then AND THEN he started licking himself and for thirty minutes all I heard was him licking and no matter how many times I told him to stop he didn't and it was SO GROSS and I just don't get dog people.

I don't. I never will.

Anyway, tonight was Shabbat. The kids were surprisingly well-behaved so I spent the night bouncing between my book (I'm almost done with the first one Brianne) and the stack of National Geographics in the corner of T's mom's den.

I love National Geographic.

I love the pictures and the articles about things all over the world and all through history and even now.

But I also hate them because, like public schools and the Museum of Natural History, they pretend the evolution theory is a fact, when in fact, it is a theory. And I find this maddening.

All religion aside, science is about proof, right? The evolution theories, all of them, all several hundred of them with their thousands of variations, are so full of holes that it is just plain wrong to publish them as fact.

And this has become a deep-rooted source of anger for me.

So I have never purchased an NG or even thought about subscribing. But I will read them for free when I get a chance and at Grandma's house there are several chances.

The point:

I found an article about a park OVER Manhattan called the High Line. It was a railroad, built high over the city and in the 60s part of it was torn down. The rest was saved and turned into a concrete park. Gardens, scenic overlooks over the Lower West side of the city. There's even some vendors up there now and they are going to expand the park in the next few years.

And I never knew about this.

But I am SO excited.

When I began job hunting in this neck of the woods, part of my reasoning was that I am familiar with the general New York area and I knew I would enjoy being able to go into the city and wander, which I have done a lot of. I have revisited several tourist attractions that I had seen in my childhood and I have gone to a few new places as well. I know it will take me a quite a while to cover everything I want to cover, but this one gets bumped up to the top of the list for sure.

IT'S JUST SO COOL.

It's like another layer of city right on top of the city.

SO COOL!

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Well, that's not gonna help.

I am in stage three of insomnia induced deterioration.

Stage one is feeling like you're in a fog all day.

Stage two is body aches and an overwhelming desire to hurt things.

Stage three is a combination of hallucination and despair.

The kids have been relatively well-behaved today. I made a few productive phone calls, cleaned something or something like that. I might have changed a load a laundry; I really don't know.

The worst part of my day was when I tried to nap this afternoon and it just didn't happen. Not even close.

The best part of my day was right now when I made a huge mug of double hot cocoa and drank it with no concern for the sugar, calorie or caffeine content. It was blissful.

In between, I received some fan mail.

HOW 'BOUT IT?!

This would have been my number one moment of the day if I had gotten any decent sleep recently.

Someone, a stranger, asked me about the comment I made yesterday (or something, my timeline is a little screwed up here) about making myself feel better by mixing it up with the kids. She thought that was sweet (haha -- me, sweet) wanted to know what my secret was.

I had a conversation with one of my sisters once not that long ago about enjoying your kids, or any kids really. I get that there are people who are just not kid people, but I am hoping against hope that none of them are parents.

But if you are a parent or a caregiver, the secret to enjoying your kids is to just enjoy them. I don't do it all the time. I have had plenty of PMS days where instead of enjoying the kids or trying to play with them to lift my mood I just yell at them to go away and hide behind my book and a five pound block of fudge.

But more often than not, I just acknowledge consciously that if I want to feel better at all, about anything, whether it be an actual problem or PMS related, I need to keep the kids happy. Keeping them happy will keep me happy.

And then the added bonus is that kid giggles are just the best sound ever.

So that's the big secret.

My other big secret is that I have been sneaking R and J's Hershey kisses brought home from a birthday party.

DON'T TELL THEM.

And my other OTHER big secret is that I have been buying regular Cheerios and putting honey and almond milk on them. It's delicious.

Ok, that's not a real secret, but I'm not very secretive. Hopefully, you have figured that out by now.

Now, it's time to go stalk three or four of my possible future husbands on Facebook and then figure out a way to fall asleep.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Is this the Arctic or a sauna?

It's a constant battle in this house between hot and cold.

Upstairs, the heat only works in select rooms and T has installed electric heaters in the others. My basement is incredibly perfect.

And then there's the main floor, where first thing in the morning it's like a tropical rain forest. We have tea going and boiling eggs, sometimes scrambled eggs, too, and then there's the toaster.

After everyone leaves and I've lost my morning three pounds, I shut everything off and vacate the kitchen for a while. Usually by nap time it's chilly in here again. Chilly enough for me to layer the baby in a few shirts and go heat him up some lunch.

Today I took a nap and let me just tell you, I was FREEZING.

The drastic temperature drop is unreal! By dinner time it's usually in the low hundreds again, but tonight that didn't happen and I couldn't figure out why.

I can tell you why it's always so hot; the stove.

The ancient hunk of junk in my kitchen is gas operated and it's always too hot to touch, even when it's not on. The pilot must be the strongest pilot ever lit, because it radiates from the kitchen to the rest of the house and is the number one reason not having heat all through the entire upstairs isn't killing us.

So, naturally because I needed to use the oven tonight the pilot seemed to have gone out and it was snowing in the kitchen.

I put together a macaroni and cheese, which came out completely awful, by the way, and when I opened the top oven to put it in, the oven wasn't running. I tried the bottom, the faithful, dependable bottom oven. It refused to turn on. I fought with the upper unit for awhile long and then stuffed the stupid dinner inside. I was so cold.

And angry. Don't forget angry.

To cheer myself up, one of my favorite games is to stretch out on the daybed and let the kids jump around me. The onslaught of giggles makes me feel much better. And their body heat didn't hurt either.

At bedtime I was actually comfortable and I think the kiddies were, too.

I left them with T and retired to he playroom which doubles as my sitting room after eight o'clock. I was shivering when T descended the stairs. She laughed and turned the heat up and as I write this, my ears are on fire and the dog has moved out into the unheated hallway to sprawl on the tile floor.

I think I might join him.

Wait, are my eyes open?

In spite of staying up way too late reading and discussing the most terrifying book known to man, my dreams carried me to a far away place where I could hardly hear the chaos going on two floors above me.

Depending on which room they are in, I either can't hear anything or can hear everything echoing down through the ventilation system. I've learned, thanks to my selective hearing, to tune out the regular morning noises: Monkey waking up two hours before anyone else and yelling until someone gets him, J or R or both getting up an hour after the baby and antagonizing him or each other, E finally being disturbed enough to yell something unintelligible which all three kids then ignore.

But what happened up there today wasn't normal.

Monkey decided he was going to wake up *extra* early today. He yelled and screamed until in her delirium, T thought it might be best to let him out of his crib. She put him in her room and closed the door, thinking this would keep him contained.

Not so, my friends, not so.

Little J got up and got into bed with Mommy and Daddy. Monkey promptly crawled on top of him and called his name until he was ready to play. They escaped the bedroom and went to rouse their sister. By six am all three kids had exhausted their energy stores.

Breakfast was an absolute nightmare.

Since I am no better than the kids and also got little sleep, I was no match for them. Daddy seemed incredibly cranky and T didn't even make it down to breakfast. Still, the kids won no battles. But I'm not sure the adults did either. It was like a endless stalemate and then finally it was time for school.

In order to keep myself from falling asleep I mopped everything around my family while they were still here this morning.

Now we're cleaned up for the day, I'm all caught up on laundry since yesterday, and since I am working tomorrow I feel like I've gained an extra day this week and that has left me with exactly zero motivation for the rest of today.

My intentions are to hang out with this whining, crying, runny-nosed baby who thinks I control the TV and am intentionally not letting him watch a show that is not on right now, until a time late enough to justify putting him to bed.

At that point, I shall crash; crash hard.

I can't wait.

It should be another fifteen to twenty minutes.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The greatest dollar store on Earth; it haunts me.

What a marvelous Sabbath!!

I made it to both services, with Nanny K. I had time to chat with Taryn. I had a wonderful lunch. I found mold in my dessert.

Ok, that last one wasn't so wonderful. But I didn't die and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to. Well, from that anyway. I know I will die at some point.

I'm not crazy.

I did go to the dollar store. You can just put a dollar store that close to somewhere I have to be and expect me to not go in there. Sigh.

I need help.

It might be time for meetings.

But I'm not sure. I have to watch the Shopaholic movie again to see if I've hit rock bottom yet.

I don't have a lot to say today other than that. Most of my day was conversations that are none of your business and wonderful worship accompanied with wonderful sermon messages.

And I just met up with T in the kitchen and heard that they had a pretty fantastic day here as well.

Sometimes I love my life so much it's hard to believe.

And I have a secret prayer pal at church who I also love so much because of this:



Somebody knows I like sparkles and snowflakes!

Now, early to bed so I can be healthy, wealthy and full of wisdom.

Or at the very least, so I can get up on time so poor E doesn't have to feed the kids alone again.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Who's your nanny?

Today I saved my Monkey from certain death.

Ok, it wasn't that dramatic but it was nice to see after I don't how many years of babysitting and CPR certifications and First Aid classes that I do in fact now how to employ proper technique.

We had a leisurely morning, and by "we" I mean T and I. We both slept in while E took care of breakfast. He had to rush out of here for work this morning but did that get us out of bed? Nope.

My excuse is that I worked late last night, and E knew that. He said he thought about sending R down to wake me but he didn't think that was fair.

T's excuse is that she is STILL sick and still pregnant and still can't take anything to make herself feel amazing like those of us that guzzled DayQuil for a week.

So he left her alone, too.

After he had gone we spent two hours getting the kids ready to go to the library. At first J didn't want to stay with us, but once we got there he didn't want to leave. He was in a diaper today because we are all tired of his poop.

Strangely enough, he had no accidents today.

We got to the library just after story time had ended but none of my kids care anyway. They played and picked out books and did their thing and everything was good except for the baby running out of the children's room every ten minutes so he could go push the button to open the automatic door.

He's. So. Bad.

We ate our lunch in the snack bar in the downstairs of the library, picked out some movies and went outside to play in the yard behind the building, overlooking a small river.

We met a photographer and chatted with him for a bit. The kids sat on the big stone overlook and watched birds and ducks while they ate their snacks, and then when their sugar stores and energy levels were replenished they performed their customary run around in circles on the lawn ritual.

I called T after R told me she had to go potty. It was well after Monkey's nap time and a trek back up to the building meant going home, not trekking back. They began shoving the rest of the snacks into their mouths and the baby stuffed in a few pieces of orange.

He's usually pretty good with oranges but I guess something went wrong because I heard him start choking.

I've only ever heard it being enacted on poorly funded instructional videos but I think any idiot knows what choking sounds like. I skipped the steps advised for strangers in public settings like asking, "Are you choking?" or "Can I help you?" and I just stuck my finger in his mouth and pulled the oranges out of his throat.

He took a breath and then promptly threw up on my hand, (which was still in front of him in case I needed to go back in) his coat and the stroller. R started yelling her disgust and J happily kept eating his granola bar. I gagged a little, made sure Monkey was breathing and started swiping at the puke with the paper towels I had prudently brought along.

All that came out was oranges, but still, it was a gag-worthy barf.

We got back up into the building and when I took the baby out of the stroller the whole thing toppled over but I had puke and a little girl who needed to pee to deal with. With left it there and went into the bathroom.

When we came back with empty bladders and vomit-free, a mom was picking up our things and her little girl was smiling and waving at R. The woman put all my stuff away and was SO nice I couldn't even believe it. We chatted very briefly and then I herded the troops out to meet T.

We went home and did nothing for the rest of the day. The kids and I built a gingerbread house that we've been meaning to make since Thanksgiving. J serenaded us all with his favorite U2 song of the week; Where the Streets Have No Name. He knows all the words and sometimes he picks up his guitar or sits at his little drums and "plays" while he sings it.

It's freaking cute.

Except for the part where I've been forced to have Bono stuck in my head for three days. That's not so cute.

Ah...my job is so hard.

Friday, January 6, 2012

MONSTER BABY!

Just to clarify, you have to read the title with a roaring voice, like a monster, because that's how I'm thinking it.

And what I've been calling Monkey all day.

I didn't know until a few hours ago that he woke in the dead of last night and wanted to play. They listened to him talking and playing for well over an hour. So I guess that's what his problem was.

He was screechy and whiny and annoying all today.

And then it was time for Shabbat.

We were hosting tonight, but T's mom was doing most of the cooking. T had a roasting chicken oven-ready and all I had to do was put it in the oven and then, if she didn't get home in time, take it out. That was all.

Her mom showed up this afternoon with several rice and veggie dishes. She set everything on our stove to heat and finish cooking and asked me about the chicken. On our screwy, ancient oven you sort of have to guess what temperature you're really cooking on but I was pretty sure it was on 350 and that the chicken would need about 3 hours.

While she was getting things ready Monkey woke up from his nap and I went to get him. Normally he's very happy to see R and he's ALWAYS happy to see Grandma whenever she's here.

Not today.

I brought him down and he yelled, "NOOOOOO!" the whole way and then when I tried to pass him off to Grandma he got even louder about it. I fed him, if only to keep him quiet for a while.

He "played" with his siblings for a bit and by that I mean that every time one of them was happily entertained with a toy he went over to them and grabbed it and beat them either with it or his fists.

When we got tired of that, I fed him again. It was the only way he was both occupied and quiet.

Later, T did the same thing. We're turning him into an emotional eater.

Anyway, this continued pretty much through the rest of prep time. I took the other two kids upstairs to bathe and get ready for dinner. Monkey had a bath last night so I ditched him with Grandma. I was just getting the other two all finished up when E and T got home. I left them with all three kids and went to play all my turns in Scrabble, a very important part of my day.

T's sister arrived shortly after, right in the middle of another of Monkey's tantrums. The diversion was enough to keep everything calm for another few minutes but you may have heard how obnoxious the cousins are.

Their J quickly tore apart out playroom and between all six kids the entire floor was soon covered in smashed tortilla chips. I brought food for my kids one at a time and R ate SO nicely I wanted to just kiss her.

Instead I sniffed her and tickled her a bit. She's been playing with gingerbread play dough at school a lot lately and even after her bath she smelled delicious.

J ate next and he sat down and ate every bite. He had no accidents all day and I was so happy with him. Then.

I had to chase Monkey to catch him for dinner. He wouldn't sit anywhere and he kept screaming for me to put Diego on. I looked in the list of free OnDemand junk and guess what? NO DIEGO.

I ended up having to hold him and bribe him to eat every bite. T's sister was trying to feed her kids and she asked me if mine were always this bad at dinner. I think she was looking for validation but I said no, because they're not. Fridays are wild though, and half the time we're not home. We eat an hour to two hours later than they are used to, most often serving dinner right when they should be in bed. I've learned to feed them their real dinner around 5 anyway, and then anything they eat at Shabbat dinner is a bonus.

She had no luck with her kids, who continued to fly around the house and ignore her.

I got Monkey force fed, let him go and went to see what the big kids were doing.

Well. That's not exactly what happened. I let him go, collapsed into a chair only to have R and her cousin S run into the room to tell me J, our J, was bothering them. "Boddering."

I went upstairs and retrieved him. He had been warned earlier that if he bugged the girls who would be confined to the playroom. I took him downstairs and was JUST about to let him down after his talking-to when I smelled what had just gone on in his pants.

On our way upstairs I told T and she said to put him to bed. It was 6:30, he had eaten, and if we gave him a timeout he would fall asleep anyway. To bed was the punishment.

He screamed like his was dying the entire time I washed him off. I got him pj'ed and washed and brushed and took him into his room where Daddy was waiting. He told J they were going to make a deal so he didn't have to go to bed right away, but J wouldn't stop crying to hear it.

I took him by both hands, a technique I HIGHLY recommend all parents and sitters use with screaming children, and got down in his face to tell him I had to tell him something but he had to stop crying first.

"I don't want to go to bed!" Was all he had to say.

"Well, crying means you're tired, so if you're not tired and you want to see what Daddy's deal is stop crying and talk with Daddy."

He smiled and wiped his face and said, "Ok Kimmy" and then I left the room.

The deal was that he could come down for the prayer and the blessing of the bread and the wine, but then he had to go to bed. No more playing, since playing is what makes him forget to potty. And also, because he was being punished.

T's mom and E's mom protested right away. I heard concerned, accented moans of sorrow but I left to watch the other kids play in the basement, and by that I mean read my book while they warded off the mean baby.

We stayed down there through dinner. The kids didn't stir from playing until they heard the scrape of chairs above us that signaled dessert time. Then they raced up the stairs, the baby in last place chanting, "coooooookie cooooooookie cooooooookie."

I went into the kitchen because that's where the wine was and started to put dinner things away. T came in to help and her sister followed. They were discussing just how upset the grandmas were. Both had voiced their disapproval of T's methods, her mother-in-law even went so far as to call her abusive. When T defended herself, and then E defended her as well, Mom E went into another room to cry.

T's sister thought T's discipline to be perfect, but couldn't believe how disrespectful she was. I thought it hilariously funny. I don't think T is disrespectful; I think she puts up with a lot of broken boundaries and that this one was one too many. We were whispering about it off and on in the kitchen for the rest of the night. The grandmothers came in to say goodnight and Mom E wouldn't say anything to her son.

They left all upset and then we were able to speak freely in the kitchen. I also had time to tell T that I am still astonished every time I see what those kids can do to a playroom in five minutes.

She is as blown away as I am, and then we stood around wondering why people like her sister see how undisciplined their own children are, and how other people's techniques work and still, the don't try them or anything different.

I'm seeing more and more why there are so many bratty kids in this country.

I did find out that K, the other nanny, is a little bit under the weather but she is looking forward to our plan to go to church together on Sunday. Pray for her if you think of it! I'm so excited!

And this time, I won't forget to call her!

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Glowing.

It seems all the kids grew out of their clothes and shoes at exactly the same time. Thanks to T's friends and relatives we have bags of the next size up for everyone stashed all over the house. I hunted down new sneaks for the baby, who I am henceforth referring to as Monkey, since that is what he answers to, and T had to suck it up and buy pants for J since he seems to be between sizes and the 3ts aren't staying up, even with a belt, and the 2s just squash his poor little gut. She found some wonderful adjustable pants at The Children's Place for anyone who's looking for something of the like.

Monkey is now just twenty months and he's BARELY squeezing into 2t. Everything fits him comfortably all over, even lengthwise, except around his massive thunder thighs. Zipping him into a sleeper is risky business but s far we've managed. I have some 3s on standby just in case we don't make it through the winter.

T did have to buy a few pairs of fleece lined jeans for R, since she refuses to wear any other kind and we didn't think it wise to continue sending her to school in Capri leggings.

And R is learning the word "wise" this week. Not at school, I don't know what (if anything) they teach at that place. But I tell the kids stories over dinner and we always talk about the new words in them that they don't know or may have heard but don't know for sure what they mean. Wise was one of them, and the other, our main focus the last few days, was poor.

We've talked about Aladdin, the man who met the magic fish who gave him his wish, and Jack and the Beanstalk. The great thing about telling these two stories (two because Monkey tunes out, devours his dinner and then runs laps around the kitchen screaming) is that they eat them up. J's eyes get wide at all the right parts, he even gasps if you draw him into the story well enough. R listens with undivided attention and I have to pause to remind her to eat. Tonight when we were talking about Peter Pan she actually jerked backward in fear when I said Captain Hook snuck up behind Peter Pan in the cliffs and nearly caught him with his hook hand.

It's amazing.

And they always smile at the happy ending and look all relieved at each other.

So, today.

T picked up R for Hebrew school and then retrieved J from school. She took him to work with her, something she does most Thursdays just so I have some down time while the baby is asleep. J used the opportunity to poop in his pants again and all I heard when they came in was her ordering him up the stairs to clean him up.

He's had several accidents in the last few days and he was warned that one more casual dump would lose him his toys. After he was bathed and in pajamas (at 3:30pm) T walked him through this house to confiscate toys and he led the way with a big smile on his face. He also smiled when he soils himself, when he tells you about it and whenever he gets yelled at for it.

When she was through, she put the basket with his toys away and gave him a seriously long timeout. He grinned at me from the corner.

I fed him an early dinner because he started telling me he was tired and in the past, when J says he's tired you have an hour, tops, to get food inside him before he either melts down and screams or gives in and nods off. While we were eating, T came home and dropped R off, who joined us for dinner. J finished his food and then hung out to hear the end of Peter Pan and then Hook and then Return to Neverland. I've never even seen that last one so I had to make it all up to keep R going.

When dinner was complete, I scooped J up to take him upstairs and got a huge whiff of stank.

Yup.

He did it again.

An incredible pooh right in his Mr. Incredible underpants.

I began yelling right away; "it was so organic, it just flowed through me." This is not where I was glowing, this was more like a fiery rage.

He smiled the whole way upstairs until I told him I was not about to scrape dung off Mr. Incredible. He's lost Buzz Lightyear and Diego already this week. We're quickly running out of characters that he likes. We're down to Handy Manny (or Panty Manny as he's known around here) and Spongebob, who they are not allowed to watch anymore since Nanny Kim came along.

I got him all ready for bed and tucked him in and while he was still mourning Mr. Incredible, R came to the bottom of the stairs to ask me if I was spanking J. I laughed and told her no, babysitters NEVER spank. J then wanted to know if I was going to tell Mommy to spank him and gave me a wonderful idea for future discipline. Maybe I don't spank, and to be honest, Mommy really doesn't either except on special occasions, but hey, if J is under the impression that I can order future spankings, this could really help at dinner time when stories aren't working.

I waited until he was calmed down, said goodnight and returned to the Monkey and his keeper in the playroom downstairs. R was dancing around singing about her new shoes. I told her they were beautiful and asked her to bring down her old pair for the donation bag and she said they were already gone.

The store collects old shoes and donates them from there, so her shoes had been added to that donation and she was just as excited about that as she was about her new pair. I asked her if she knew what donate meant.

She didn't.

I told her it was when we gave things we don't fit in anymore, like perfectly good sneakers or clothes, to people who are poor. Right away her face lit up. She knows what poor means: no food, no clothes, no toys. Sometimes, no house. She has already shown interest in hearing about the kids in Africa. She loves her things and really has a heart for people in need because of that.

She reminds me of me.

She asked if her shoes would go to Africa and when I said that they were probably for a child here in America she seemed happy, but then she shined even brighter as an idea came to her.

"Kimmy, next time you go to Africa, can you tell me before you go and I'll give you these shoes if they're old and if they're not I'll give you some other shoes to take to the children in Africa?!"

I almost cried.

Instead, I explained how that was a wonderful idea, and that I wouldn't be going for a while, but that when I do go she will know and we will pack lots of things for the children who need them. She was so excited she resumed dancing and singing around the kitchen.

And I was so happy I did, too.

We glowed.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Snobby Wednesday in the basement.

I cleaned my room!

Really cleaned it. Folded every piece of laundry. Actually folded, not just balled up and stuffed into drawers. I filled a bag for donation and organized all my hair accessories.

I even vacuumed.

I told T since I was staying home all morning that I could meet R's bus as long as T got home before I needed to leave.

I got so much accomplished and was so happy I even went upstairs and cleaned up the breakfast dishes that T normally cleans up right before dinner if I'm not here.

I spent so much time in the basement today that Willie Nelson started to cry. He only comes down here for very small amounts of time and it takes a lot of coaxing to get him down the stairs. I still don't know if he's sensing a dark presence (Voldemort, if you are in here, I can help you. I know of an excellent plastic surgeon right up the street.) or if it's just the bugs and cold that creep him out.

I turned on the new space heater that E brought home and I have yet to use to see if that would appease the weirdo dog. He came down long enough to sniff every corner of the basement and then ran back upstairs.

Whatever.

I left the heater on while R was playing but shut it off when I left. I don't run it at night when I am down here because I absolutely despise sleeping in artificial heat. I'm not too fond of sleeping in natural heat in the summer time either, but heater heat just makes me cringe. Something about hot air being blown in my direction just doesn't sit well with me. If I am desperate down here I have a wonderful electric blanket that was a gift from my sister when I lived in her basement. It's amazing.

And I haven't used it yet this year either. I'm still waiting on the unbearable cold that hits mid January with our blizzard. I am really looking forward to a blizzard.

I told R she could come hang out with me since I wasn't technically working. She was excited to think we were just friends for the day and not babysitter/babysittee. She asked about seven thousand questions before I pleaded with her to stop.

She did and I turned on some Disney music for me -- I mean, her, and she played and sang while I cleaned and sang.

I guess she got bored or something because then she spent forty minutes touching everything I told her not to touch. My head nearly exploded.

She helped me decide not to do my hair or put on make up. She's good like that. Her take on life is all or nothing.

Since she couldn't talk me into wearing a purple evening dress and heels to a Young Adult meeting at church she didn't see why I should waste valuable resources on my face or hair.

I quickly saw the wisdom in her young logic and returned to cleaning my room. I even had time to call my mom before it was time to go.

T got home 15 minutes before I needed to go, an unprecedented occurrence. I called a cab and went into town to run my errands and sit at the coffee shop for a bit. When I had nearly lulled myself to sleep in the warmth of a corner booth I knew it was time to brave the bitter outdoors again.

I walked to the bus station even though it was forty minutes early. As I neared my stop I saw a bus pulling in and decided to catch it. I sprinted up to the line and scoffed at how each person ahead of me seemed to be climbing in on top of the person ahead of them. It was like no one had any regard for personal space anymore. As the line shortened and I found myself standing between the bus and a tree I discovered why. The wind was being channeled right through that spot and my nose was nearly frostbitten in a matter of seconds. I jumped onto the last step of the bus and leaned as far forward as possible, hoping against all hope that the man in front of me didn't have gas.

It wasn't until I was seated on the bus for about ten minutes that I remembered K, the other nanny.

T's sister's nanny has been working for that family for over a year now, almost two. She is from South Carolina and has never lived this far from her family before. She is a few years older than me and also single. Her father passed away shortly after she moved here. She went home for the services but then came right back to work. I think she stays in pretty good communication with her family, but we all know that's not the same thing.

And I know I have it good, because I have already visited all my family members, some several times, and I have only been here for six months. She sees her family only on holidays.

On top of that, K does not possess my...uh, gift, of extroversion.

Whereas I moved here and was connected with a church and talked to everyone there and at the library and at the park and anywhere I could possibly speak to another being, K is very quiet and reserved. She focuses only on her kids and on her days off she stays home. She has taken the train into the city and walked around alone, but that is the closest she has come to getting to know her new state.

I have had a handful of meetings with her at various family gatherings and we exchanged phone numbers by my demand a few months ago but I have not been consistent in my efforts to draw her out of her shell.

Last week we talked and I told her I would call her about coming out on Wednesday night.

And then I went and forgot her.

I called her then, from the bus, to see if she could catch the next bus and meet me at the church, but she was too afraid of riding the bus to a strange place at night alone. I totally understand. I have been riding the bus here for six months and I still hate going to a new destination the first time. How could I expect her to just jump on one and hope for the best when she is a thousand times more careful than I?

I made plans with her on Sunday, when I am off again.

Then I cursed myself for being such a jerk as to forget her.

The meeting at church was a blast and the discussion was amazing. Since I got to the area early I took the liberty of wandering down the street a bit before going into the church.

I found THE best dollar store known to man. I spent $16 for a huge bag of stuff and the cashier even threw in some free gifts -- scented pencils. The nieces and nephews will enjoy them.

After the Young Adults meeting the Bestest Taryn drove me home and I promptly returned to my room to finish what I had started this morning. I incorporated my new purchases and wondered how I had ever lived without them.

Then I contemplated the temperature and wondered if maybe I should break out the electric blanket. That sounded a lot like work, so I am in bed, hoping for the best.

I'll let you know tomorrow if I develop hypothermia in the night.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Too close, too close.

Last night to celebrate the end of the kids' vacation all the grown ups stayed up until midnight watching TV movies. I was stuck on Lifetime, which I haven't indulged in since I worked at the hotel at the beginning of last year. T suddenly remembered that we have an Oreo ice cream cake in the basement freezer, in honor of her birthday.

So, naturally we gorged ourselves and went to bed.

On the way to the kitchen after all our movies ended E asked me what I was doing up so late when I had work in the morning. He promised to send the kids right to me first thing.

"Oh, didn't T tell you? I'm off tomorrow."

She and I had just gone over the month and discussed my days off. She knew perfectly well that I was working today, but I guess because of the hour and the sugar her mind blanked because she ran to the calender in panic.

I laughed at her and told them I'd be here and not to worry. I also told them I am going to start writing whatever I want on the calender.

This morning we took one look at each other and laughed. We all looked like we had been at a frat party gone wrong. Or right, depending on how you look at it. E left for work and T and I quickly consented to chocolate sandwiches for breakfast, something we have done a lot over break and that we are really regretting these days.

But hey, it was our vacation too.

Now that it's over, of course I am wondering where it went. Once the house was quiet I got some serious cleaning done. My beautiful cordless vacuum, the one I just got, my new shining joy, stopped working properly and is dead to me. T used her power of returning things at Bed, Bath & Beyond (according to their policy you can return any product at any time, it's their problem, not mine) to secure us a new cordless vac after several interim weeks of not cleaning the floors.

The new one is ok I guess but it's just not the same thing...

Isn't that sad?

Here's another sad thing. R's little potty issue has spread to J, the good one.

I threatened her with potty training and time outs and she magically recovered from her forgetfulness and has been using the potty faithfully. J stopped having trouble over night and has been 100% diaper free for well over a month.

The other day he pooped in his pants (I believe you know about that) and in the last few days he has had several pee accidents, after which he smiles broadly and informs us that his pants are wet.

Last night I put him in a diaper and his mom took all his underwear. He didn't seem to mind.

This morning his diaper was dry and he was fine all day at school. I asked him if he had to potty as soon as he walked in the door after school and he said no. Here we are less than two hours later and he has had an accident.

Well, I don't know how accidental it is.

I put him in a diaper again and he is in time out for the next few minutes. Not 3 for his age, because if I gave him a 3 minute time out he wouldn't even notice, but enough minutes for him to get bored. Ugh. Supernanny.

Tonight has a lot of promise.

It is leftover night since T and E are gone for dinner. T had several appointments in the city today and even though E's office is local now I think he is in the city today as well.

Usually the days when they are gone all day long go pretty smoothly because the kids don't have multiple people to swindle into doing their bidding. And since the last two times I had them all day were so completely disastrous, I figure tonight either has to be better...or it can't get much worse.

Either way, they'll be in bed by 8 o'clock.

Now, I need to go back to policing the playroom for children standing directly in front of the TV. It's one of my favorite past times.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Vacation is OVER!

Willie Nelson has been acting weird lately.

I know this is not unusual for the musician, but for our dog it's a little worrisome. Only a little though, not enough to think to actually do something.

He's been moping a lot the last few days and all I can think is that he is as sick of the kids being home for three meals a day as I am.

I slept until 9 this morning and when I got into the kitchen he was waiting eagerly for me even though he had already been let out. E greeted me with "good afternoon!" and then we all dove right into the day.

T is feeling marginally better, but if you ask E she is in full recovery and it's all because she ate soup (which she despises) and fresh orange juice. She still sounds awful and when he insisted that she was feeling better and then tried to get me to take his side in the argument I got scared.

"You never tell a pregnant lady how she feels. She will KILL you."

T nodded in confirmation.

Fourth pregnancy and he hasn't learned that yet? How is he still alive?

The kids worked on breakfast and I fed the baby in the playroom. The garbage company thought it would be funny to show up even though it's a holiday so there was a scramble to get that out, which I took no part in.

E took one for the team and packed up all three kids and went to his mother's for three hours. T worked from her home computer and I folded laundry and watched TV.

Not a lot of stressers in this house today.

We even made a plan for dinner BEFORE 3 o'clock, which almost never happens. I am going to start planning weekly meals. I've held off this long in order to get into the swing of how things work around here but we've hit 6 months and I think I get it. It's like this: T doesn't think about dinner until dinner time. And I am more strict about schedules for the kids so she is totally cool with feeding them at 6 while I like to feed them at 5 so that they are absolutely in bed by 8.

Nanny don't mess around.

So, I've decided that a the ruler of the kitchen I am going to start planning our dinners ahead of time and adding those needs to the grocery list, which I am also in charge of. And with this decision came the one to start couponing.

I've avoided it for this long, not because I don't like saving money. Indeed, I love money. My heart races a little at the very sight of it. But when the couponing trend started up I got scared. Real scared. It quickly escalated into something of a cult, taking along four or five of the most sane people I know.

And then I was terrified.

And then I joined Groupon. You know, just to see what it was all about.

And I guess now I'm one of them.

So I might as well own it and get a notebook and a highlighter and an accordion folder and start using my morning downtime to read feverishly through all the coupon books the blasted mailman keeps shoving through the hole in our front door.

I folded laundry while E and T force fed lunch. After lunch T decided to go pick up the few things we need for dinner tonight since I have not implemented my wonderful plan yet. She told J when he asked that he could go with her and then told him to get his jacket.

He was soooooooo sloooooooow about doing it that she ran up behind him going, "Get your stupid jacket!" muttering the word 'stupid' under her breath of course. Her impatience made us all laugh because it is VERY out of character for her and because she seemed more annoyed with the jacket than with J.

"Vacation is over!" I announced, immediately lapsing into a daydream of the kids leaving for school tomorrow morning.

And so it is.