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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.