20 months ago today, the twins were born after a long hard pregnancy. And so, of course, today on Thanksgiving-eve, I am thankful for a whole boatload of stuff - my family and friends most of all.
But, today, 20 months to the day of their glorious and splendid birth, I am very thankful for the fact after many many attempts over the last several months and a heated session this evening in the garage, J and I finally figured out how to fit the twin stroller AND Lulo's stroller in the trunk of the minivan.
If that is not a marker of success in a marriage and in parenthood, then I don't know what is. Happy Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part IV: Jane Doe
Before Herpes nanny, we had Jane Doe nanny. And the reason I call her this is not because she died without identification but because I cannot remember her name. She was young, bright eyed, and bushy tailed. She came to an interview all dressed up and just so. Her cousin brought her and she was also one of her references because Jane had been taking care of her kids.
Anyhow, she came on a Sunday night with all her stuff. She loved scrapbooking and took copious notes (like 4 pages worth) on my one page to do list. This should have been a sign. What can you annotate next to "Do Laundry." She had squiggly big letters that reminded me of this girl in high school who used wide ruled paper, took up the ENTIRE line, and dotted her i's with hearts.
Jane came on a Monday, on Tuesday night she locked herself out of the house when she went outside for a walk at midnight, on Wednesday she came into my office crying that she missed her family in New Mexico and was giving her notice...for Friday! She then asked me to help her buy her plane ticket with her paycheck that she had yet to earn on my computer with my credit card.
This story is funny in and of itself but the punch line was when Herpes nanny spent the night in Jane's room the first time. She came up to me and told me that she found a roach in the room.
To which I responded, "HOLY SHIT a roach. Now we have ROACHES. I hate Roaches. Ew, roaches. There is never just one roach. Ew, ROACHES. I hate roaches. We better get an exterminator in here."
To which Herpes Nanny generally responded in the following fashion, "No, Dear Tina from Orange County, not that kind of roach." This kind.
Oh, Jane Doe, let's just call you Pot Smoking Nanny.
Anyhow, she came on a Sunday night with all her stuff. She loved scrapbooking and took copious notes (like 4 pages worth) on my one page to do list. This should have been a sign. What can you annotate next to "Do Laundry." She had squiggly big letters that reminded me of this girl in high school who used wide ruled paper, took up the ENTIRE line, and dotted her i's with hearts.
Jane came on a Monday, on Tuesday night she locked herself out of the house when she went outside for a walk at midnight, on Wednesday she came into my office crying that she missed her family in New Mexico and was giving her notice...for Friday! She then asked me to help her buy her plane ticket with her paycheck that she had yet to earn on my computer with my credit card.
This story is funny in and of itself but the punch line was when Herpes nanny spent the night in Jane's room the first time. She came up to me and told me that she found a roach in the room.
To which I responded, "HOLY SHIT a roach. Now we have ROACHES. I hate Roaches. Ew, roaches. There is never just one roach. Ew, ROACHES. I hate roaches. We better get an exterminator in here."
To which Herpes Nanny generally responded in the following fashion, "No, Dear Tina from Orange County, not that kind of roach." This kind.
Oh, Jane Doe, let's just call you Pot Smoking Nanny.
The Cutest Nose, Evah.
School pictures are a funny thing. My mother, of course, kept all of mine. It is a wonderful little catalog that highlights why I got a nose job and why the 1980's bangs that my Mom called "rooster" bangs were not flattering with my Winnebago nose (aptly termed by the very cruel Joey Termini in 5th grade.) Anyhow, moving along.
My Lulo got back his first school pictures. I picked them up from the front office this morning and everyone was all "Lulo looks SOO cute." Yes, he does, my little bubbs. Kill me now with his cuteness, I want to bite his little head off and kiss him forever. Seriously, I went and sat in my minivan and flipped through the different poses and started balling. He is growing up. He was just in utero and now I have a school picture. And in a few years, he'll have missing teeth, then acne, and hopefully his father's nose and I will be wondering where the time went.
Most of the time, I am really glad they are all getting older. I look forward to mobility and ease and leaving the house without me or one of them having a nervous breakdown. I think that is probably going to happen in the next decade. But, today, in my minivan littered with animal crackers and sippy cups with Baby Einstein music fighting the thoughts in my head, the time felt like it went really fast and I can't believe my oldest has a school picture.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part 3: Thanksgiving that She is Gone
My e-mail to Jade today:
Dear Jade:
I know you are busy but I have had your clothes sitting in a bag here for a while. So, by law, I have to give you 30 days notice to come pick up your stuff. Today is November 20, 2009, if you do not pick up your stuff by December 20, 2009, I will be taking it to Goodwill.
Please let me know when you plan on coming by so I can leave it outside.
***
Jade, the gift that keeps on giving.
Dear Jade:
I know you are busy but I have had your clothes sitting in a bag here for a while. So, by law, I have to give you 30 days notice to come pick up your stuff. Today is November 20, 2009, if you do not pick up your stuff by December 20, 2009, I will be taking it to Goodwill.
Please let me know when you plan on coming by so I can leave it outside.
***
Jade, the gift that keeps on giving.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Taking Me Out of the Equation
Yesterday, J and I had a formal event to go to at night. So, I missed dinner time, bath time, bed time, reading time. With the exception of dinner, I like the nighttime routine. But, I am feeling sort of distressed about something. Maybe you have some thoughts on this, maybe not. But, I just want to say, this is not like a poor me, I am on the border of suicide type thing. It's more like, here it is and I am frustrated and sad thing.
Here is the deal. OK. Sigh.
Last night (when I wasn't around), dinner was a breeze (so I hear). Easy peasy. Lunch was a breeze. The only time any one cried is when I was there. In the mornings when I am here before work from about 7-9, there is always 1 or 2 children crying. They all want me, they all can't have me because I have yet to split into 3 whole versions of myself. So, I go to one, the others cry. I have 2, the third one cries. It is such a rare occurrence that they are all silent and pleased.
Same thing at dinner or any meal I am present for. Other than the general chaos that I believe has been discussed in some detail here on this blog. Seriously, Lulo wants me and I usually have 1 or 2 people to help with the twins (J and MIL/Nanny and J/Nanny A and Nanny B). So, I go to Lulo and then Jojo loses it. Won't eat, throws sippy cup at me to get my attention. I go to Jojo when I have a chance, Lulo stops eating and throws a fit. Lulo wants to sit on my lap. Then, Lulo will only eat on my lap. I don't like creating bad habits of him eating on my lap so I refuse, then he melts down on the floor and cries and screams. This disturbs the other 2. At this point, Juju notices that he's not with me and is like, hmm, I will throw a sippy cup at her.
Here is the thing. I like being here. Chaos and all. These are my kids. I want to be with them when I can be with them. But, honestly, they are so much happier when I am not here. They eat, there are no tears. The things that need accomplishing are accomplished. What am I DOING HERE? I feel like my presence is an invitation for melt downs and unhappiness which makes me want to remove myself entirely. But then, they don't have me and I don't have them. And we are all alone. I mean, it's good they want me but it's good when they eat and play and don't cry.
Feels like a lose-lose instead of win-win and really I just need wine wine but all that is truly happening is whine whine. Here are the kids, it's dinner time! Wish me luck!
Here is the deal. OK. Sigh.
Last night (when I wasn't around), dinner was a breeze (so I hear). Easy peasy. Lunch was a breeze. The only time any one cried is when I was there. In the mornings when I am here before work from about 7-9, there is always 1 or 2 children crying. They all want me, they all can't have me because I have yet to split into 3 whole versions of myself. So, I go to one, the others cry. I have 2, the third one cries. It is such a rare occurrence that they are all silent and pleased.
Same thing at dinner or any meal I am present for. Other than the general chaos that I believe has been discussed in some detail here on this blog. Seriously, Lulo wants me and I usually have 1 or 2 people to help with the twins (J and MIL/Nanny and J/Nanny A and Nanny B). So, I go to Lulo and then Jojo loses it. Won't eat, throws sippy cup at me to get my attention. I go to Jojo when I have a chance, Lulo stops eating and throws a fit. Lulo wants to sit on my lap. Then, Lulo will only eat on my lap. I don't like creating bad habits of him eating on my lap so I refuse, then he melts down on the floor and cries and screams. This disturbs the other 2. At this point, Juju notices that he's not with me and is like, hmm, I will throw a sippy cup at her.
Here is the thing. I like being here. Chaos and all. These are my kids. I want to be with them when I can be with them. But, honestly, they are so much happier when I am not here. They eat, there are no tears. The things that need accomplishing are accomplished. What am I DOING HERE? I feel like my presence is an invitation for melt downs and unhappiness which makes me want to remove myself entirely. But then, they don't have me and I don't have them. And we are all alone. I mean, it's good they want me but it's good when they eat and play and don't cry.
Feels like a lose-lose instead of win-win and really I just need wine wine but all that is truly happening is whine whine. Here are the kids, it's dinner time! Wish me luck!
Monday, November 16, 2009
What Should I Feed the Natives?
I cook big people food and they don't eat it. (Disregard my last post, I can cook pretty decent now...it's been six years after all.)
I make kid friendly stuff - pasta without sauce, pasta with sauce, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, french fries, potatoes. They don't eat it.
I buy total crap - McDonalds? Cheeseburgers, Nuggets, Fries, etc. They don't eat it.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY WANT ANY MORE!
Seriously. I don't know what to feed them. Breakfast is the only meal that is even bearable anymore. They'll eat pancakes, waffles, french toast, cereal. OK. Easy.
Lunch, I struggle to think up something that they will eat. Don't tell me to roll up lunch meat in something. THEY DON'T EAT IT! I think and think for the whole morning. I try to vary it up...but THEY DON'T EAT ANYTHING.
Dinner is more of the same. They eat a few bites of this and that. Then start spitting, throwing, Jojo wants to get out of his chair. Juju sees Jojo act up and then he starts acting up.
I totally don't know what to do or make or give them anymore. And so help me God, if one more kid throws something at me, I am moving out.
I am incredibly frustrated with them. I have sort of given up on Lulo, if he doesn't eat what I put in front of him. He doesn't eat. I am not going to make 12 things so that his Highness will have something to eat. With that said, the twins are little. What am I supposed to do? Sort of losing it. They are smiling and cute and hydrated. And their weight is fine. I REFUSE TO BE A SHORT ORDER COOK. I CANNOT MAKE one thing and two backups and something different for Lulo and then Jojo and then Juju. What do I do? Seriously? Am I being shitty? Am I supposed to do that? One meal for each of them, and then backups, and then something for Julio and I. That's like 7 meals. I can barely make 1.
I suck at this. Seriously. Suck. At. This. Losing my mind, not my lap.
I make kid friendly stuff - pasta without sauce, pasta with sauce, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, french fries, potatoes. They don't eat it.
I buy total crap - McDonalds? Cheeseburgers, Nuggets, Fries, etc. They don't eat it.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY WANT ANY MORE!
Seriously. I don't know what to feed them. Breakfast is the only meal that is even bearable anymore. They'll eat pancakes, waffles, french toast, cereal. OK. Easy.
Lunch, I struggle to think up something that they will eat. Don't tell me to roll up lunch meat in something. THEY DON'T EAT IT! I think and think for the whole morning. I try to vary it up...but THEY DON'T EAT ANYTHING.
Dinner is more of the same. They eat a few bites of this and that. Then start spitting, throwing, Jojo wants to get out of his chair. Juju sees Jojo act up and then he starts acting up.
I totally don't know what to do or make or give them anymore. And so help me God, if one more kid throws something at me, I am moving out.
I am incredibly frustrated with them. I have sort of given up on Lulo, if he doesn't eat what I put in front of him. He doesn't eat. I am not going to make 12 things so that his Highness will have something to eat. With that said, the twins are little. What am I supposed to do? Sort of losing it. They are smiling and cute and hydrated. And their weight is fine. I REFUSE TO BE A SHORT ORDER COOK. I CANNOT MAKE one thing and two backups and something different for Lulo and then Jojo and then Juju. What do I do? Seriously? Am I being shitty? Am I supposed to do that? One meal for each of them, and then backups, and then something for Julio and I. That's like 7 meals. I can barely make 1.
I suck at this. Seriously. Suck. At. This. Losing my mind, not my lap.
Coming a Long Way
When I got married I didn't know how to cook. My mother is an amazing cook so I never felt the need to actually make anything. I could make a box of Pasta Roni, I could order in, I could whip up a mean batch of cereal...and Pop Tarts. That's it.
J does not eat cereal, or Pop Tarts. He was made fully aware of my inability to cook prior to offering me his hand in marriage. But, alas, love is blind. I think he thought that my genetics would kick in. However, there comes a time when Pasta Roni does not cut it anymore and I had to make real food.
I got back from our honeymoon, in love, and ready for a challenge. After a long day at the office, J was not home yet, I decided to make chicken. I went into the freezer. Called my mother crying because I did not know how to defrost it. She talked me through it and I panicked when it partially cooked in the microwave. Then, I tried to cook it. I honestly don't remember the details but when J got home that night, the entire kitchen was covered in salmonella, paper towels, and my tears. It was a really special scene.
I literally burst into tears when he got home. I then went to my car and cried while he finished making dinner. It was pretty sad. J could totally cook. He "fixed" dinner, no one acquired dysentery, we are still married, and now I can make chicken.
The only reason I am thinking of that debacle is because tonight I wanted to surprise J with some wontons. He loves them, his Mom rocks at making them, I had all the stuff. He has been working harder than he usually works lately...which means 20 hours a day, 7 days a week, at least. I had all the stuff. Well, right now as I write, I just finished cleaning my kitchen that was covered in oil. I have little third degree burns due to splattering oil all over my hands. It took me like 30 minutes to clean the oil from ALL OVER my stove, and tea kettle, and cookbook stand, and floor. I think the floor is still a bit slick. I will have to clean it again before one of the children fall.
Julio ate it though. And he was really happy. His Mom's is WAAAY better. Sigh. I try, I fail. I hope it is the thought that really counts because I did not think they were very good. I didn't cry though, that's good, right? I've come a short way, baby.
J does not eat cereal, or Pop Tarts. He was made fully aware of my inability to cook prior to offering me his hand in marriage. But, alas, love is blind. I think he thought that my genetics would kick in. However, there comes a time when Pasta Roni does not cut it anymore and I had to make real food.
I got back from our honeymoon, in love, and ready for a challenge. After a long day at the office, J was not home yet, I decided to make chicken. I went into the freezer. Called my mother crying because I did not know how to defrost it. She talked me through it and I panicked when it partially cooked in the microwave. Then, I tried to cook it. I honestly don't remember the details but when J got home that night, the entire kitchen was covered in salmonella, paper towels, and my tears. It was a really special scene.
I literally burst into tears when he got home. I then went to my car and cried while he finished making dinner. It was pretty sad. J could totally cook. He "fixed" dinner, no one acquired dysentery, we are still married, and now I can make chicken.
The only reason I am thinking of that debacle is because tonight I wanted to surprise J with some wontons. He loves them, his Mom rocks at making them, I had all the stuff. He has been working harder than he usually works lately...which means 20 hours a day, 7 days a week, at least. I had all the stuff. Well, right now as I write, I just finished cleaning my kitchen that was covered in oil. I have little third degree burns due to splattering oil all over my hands. It took me like 30 minutes to clean the oil from ALL OVER my stove, and tea kettle, and cookbook stand, and floor. I think the floor is still a bit slick. I will have to clean it again before one of the children fall.
Julio ate it though. And he was really happy. His Mom's is WAAAY better. Sigh. I try, I fail. I hope it is the thought that really counts because I did not think they were very good. I didn't cry though, that's good, right? I've come a short way, baby.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
A Breeding Ground for Subdural Hematomas
Meals are a real unique experience these days. The twins are 19 months and are starting to test me. They are also copying each other and think they are extremely clever and cute. Well, the cute is not going to save them from having a mother who wanders around the house mumbling incoherently because she got walloped on the head by a flying sippy cup and does not have the time for a proper CT scan.
It's not just hard plastic objects at the table. It is also food. There was a time when I thought a nugget lost its ability to fly when it was (presumably) scooped out of the grain fed, hormone free organic chicken ;), shaped into a dinosaur, breaded, and baked. But nope, they fly here. They are free here. Naughty chickens reincarnate into nuggets and fly in my house without wings.
That little Jojo, he winds up, he looks you in the eye, he gives you a smile and twinkle, and catapults his object of choice. And then, there is Juju, sweet Juju, innocent mellow happy Juju, who really just wants to eat. He is fat and hungry. But, as he owes his in utero donor twin his life, he decides, "well I will take one for the team", and so he flings his nugget/corn/bean/bread etc. into the void.
Why do they DO this? What goes through their mind? If I react, they think I am hilarious. They think THEY are hilarious. Well, they aren't. This is especially true on the 2 days a month when the maid has come and made my floors gleam for a short lived hour. If I don't react, they don't eat or they do it again and again. Then, I look at the clock, thank the Lord for the schedule that I enforce, and countdown the minutes until I can be on my hands and knees locating unconsumed morsels of food on the floor wondering why I am seeing double and have a headache.
This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
Patience is a virtue.
Patience is a virtue.
Patience is a virtue.
Clean floors are not possible.
Clean floors are not possible.
Clean floors are not possible.
It's not just hard plastic objects at the table. It is also food. There was a time when I thought a nugget lost its ability to fly when it was (presumably) scooped out of the grain fed, hormone free organic chicken ;), shaped into a dinosaur, breaded, and baked. But nope, they fly here. They are free here. Naughty chickens reincarnate into nuggets and fly in my house without wings.
That little Jojo, he winds up, he looks you in the eye, he gives you a smile and twinkle, and catapults his object of choice. And then, there is Juju, sweet Juju, innocent mellow happy Juju, who really just wants to eat. He is fat and hungry. But, as he owes his in utero donor twin his life, he decides, "well I will take one for the team", and so he flings his nugget/corn/bean/bread etc. into the void.
Why do they DO this? What goes through their mind? If I react, they think I am hilarious. They think THEY are hilarious. Well, they aren't. This is especially true on the 2 days a month when the maid has come and made my floors gleam for a short lived hour. If I don't react, they don't eat or they do it again and again. Then, I look at the clock, thank the Lord for the schedule that I enforce, and countdown the minutes until I can be on my hands and knees locating unconsumed morsels of food on the floor wondering why I am seeing double and have a headache.
This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
Patience is a virtue.
Patience is a virtue.
Patience is a virtue.
Clean floors are not possible.
Clean floors are not possible.
Clean floors are not possible.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Happy Despite Appearance to the Contrary
Lulo has taken to asking me 20 times a day (usually at dinner when I am at my most irritable because no one is eating and the twins are throwing things) whether I am happy.
"Are you happy, Mama? Mama, are you happy?"
Is he confirming that I am happy or is he questioning whether I am happy?
If there is a difference between the two, I hope it is the former that he is after.
Let me confirm: I am happy, Lulo.
"Are you happy, Mama? Mama, are you happy?"
Is he confirming that I am happy or is he questioning whether I am happy?
If there is a difference between the two, I hope it is the former that he is after.
Let me confirm: I am happy, Lulo.
Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part II: Jaded
I fired Jade 10 days ago. Best decision I ever made. Her leaving has relieved a great burden upon my heart. She was here for 12 days and I have a complaint about her for every single day she was here. But for now, let me tell you why her specter is still rattling chains in my attic.
On Saturday I went down to the nanny's room and opened the drawers to get some towels. In each and every drawer remained her clothes. Hoochie clothes of every variety. Things she should not have traipsed around in in my house. Things she should not have traipsed around in anywhere but a brothel. No, I am not a Republican. I fully support hoochie clothes because there is a time and a place for everything. But, ass crack and boobage is not usually necessary while caring for toddlers.
Back to my point, I go to the room for the towels and I kid you not every single drawer had some item of Jade's in it. Did she not notice that HALF her wardrobe was not with her anymore? Did she cavort so much that she did not know where she left her clothes? It is not like I fired her with a gun to her head. She had the room to herself for as long as she needed. No one was watching her pack. Who just leaves all their clothes in the drawers?
I, of course, felt like a dillhole of the highest order for not checking the drawers before the new nanny got here. To my credit, the new nanny was here 2 hours after Jade left. I only had time to wash the sheets and vacuum the floor. First time I had seen the floor in 12 days. I leave a hotel room I am in for 1 or 2 days and check every drawer just to make sure...I don't get it.
Anyhow, the trash bag full of her clothes is next to my front door. She was supposed to pick it up 4 hours ago. Am I surprised? No.
On Saturday I went down to the nanny's room and opened the drawers to get some towels. In each and every drawer remained her clothes. Hoochie clothes of every variety. Things she should not have traipsed around in in my house. Things she should not have traipsed around in anywhere but a brothel. No, I am not a Republican. I fully support hoochie clothes because there is a time and a place for everything. But, ass crack and boobage is not usually necessary while caring for toddlers.
Back to my point, I go to the room for the towels and I kid you not every single drawer had some item of Jade's in it. Did she not notice that HALF her wardrobe was not with her anymore? Did she cavort so much that she did not know where she left her clothes? It is not like I fired her with a gun to her head. She had the room to herself for as long as she needed. No one was watching her pack. Who just leaves all their clothes in the drawers?
I, of course, felt like a dillhole of the highest order for not checking the drawers before the new nanny got here. To my credit, the new nanny was here 2 hours after Jade left. I only had time to wash the sheets and vacuum the floor. First time I had seen the floor in 12 days. I leave a hotel room I am in for 1 or 2 days and check every drawer just to make sure...I don't get it.
Anyhow, the trash bag full of her clothes is next to my front door. She was supposed to pick it up 4 hours ago. Am I surprised? No.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Ponona
Hi Lulo.
Hi.
What's your name?
Lulo.
How old are you?
Free.
Where do you live?
Peru.
No, where do you live Lulo?
Ponona.
***
We honestly might as well live in Peru or any number of third world countries because this place is sort of reminiscent of the mediocre neighborhoods in most third world countries I have visited.
Everyday I sort of wish I could pick up my house by it's base and MOVE IT to another city. I hate this place. J and I had an agreement (not in writing but generally understood) that this move to Ponona was temporary. Maybe 5 years. It has been 3 and there is no end in sight...maybe another 5 years. Maybe until one of us gets shot and it's just too sad to live here because of the memories.
I have gone to our local Smart & Final several times as of late because it's the closest place with food. It is vile. Obesity and bad smells are everywhere. The lines are long. The bums and cholos loitering outside abound. At least they admit it and tell me that Jesus is helping them with their crack addiction if I buy their candy. They also commended my choice of pumpkin as I gripped my minivan key fob alarm button.
Also, this morning I went to the Ponona Courthouse North to deal with my speeding ticket because the City was too lame-o to send me a courtesy notice. There was a guy ahead of me who provided his Costco card as ID. He also argued that it was his constitutional right to get an extension on his driving ticket.
Mind you, at Planned Parenthood down the street in Ponona, a woman cannot walk in without getting mobbed by anti-abortion protesters so she can get an abortion for a fetus in her own body. What you do with your own body is barely a right that can be exercised. But, getting an extension on a traffic ticket in Ponona is apparently constitutional...that and bearing arms.
I hate this place. How can I move a house?
Hi.
What's your name?
Lulo.
How old are you?
Free.
Where do you live?
Peru.
No, where do you live Lulo?
Ponona.
***
We honestly might as well live in Peru or any number of third world countries because this place is sort of reminiscent of the mediocre neighborhoods in most third world countries I have visited.
Everyday I sort of wish I could pick up my house by it's base and MOVE IT to another city. I hate this place. J and I had an agreement (not in writing but generally understood) that this move to Ponona was temporary. Maybe 5 years. It has been 3 and there is no end in sight...maybe another 5 years. Maybe until one of us gets shot and it's just too sad to live here because of the memories.
I have gone to our local Smart & Final several times as of late because it's the closest place with food. It is vile. Obesity and bad smells are everywhere. The lines are long. The bums and cholos loitering outside abound. At least they admit it and tell me that Jesus is helping them with their crack addiction if I buy their candy. They also commended my choice of pumpkin as I gripped my minivan key fob alarm button.
Also, this morning I went to the Ponona Courthouse North to deal with my speeding ticket because the City was too lame-o to send me a courtesy notice. There was a guy ahead of me who provided his Costco card as ID. He also argued that it was his constitutional right to get an extension on his driving ticket.
Mind you, at Planned Parenthood down the street in Ponona, a woman cannot walk in without getting mobbed by anti-abortion protesters so she can get an abortion for a fetus in her own body. What you do with your own body is barely a right that can be exercised. But, getting an extension on a traffic ticket in Ponona is apparently constitutional...that and bearing arms.
I hate this place. How can I move a house?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part I: Is that clear? Crystal.
Crystal started as the night nanny for the twins shortly after they got home from the hospital. Not having a night nanny for twins and working full time is pretty damn hard. I did it for 8 weeks while recovering from a c-section and gimping on my plantar fasciitis feet and then realized that I either needed to be committed to an institution or get a night nanny...I splurged for the night nanny. Enter Crystal.
I did not have to be friends with Crystal. She was supposed to be here while I slept and so I did not care if we were not going to be best friends or whether she would set a good example for the kids. Her term was going to be extremely temporary. She was doing fine at night and my daytime nanny was taking a vacation (terrible damn timing) so I asked Crystal if she stop working nights and could help out during the day in the interim. (The babies were sleeping a good block at this point.)
Aside from the drama of actually getting here when she was supposed to on a consistent basis, one of my favorite incidents is from the day I fired her. She had been with us about 6-8 weeks (not every day due to the aforementioned "inability to show up/show up on time" drama) and I found her crying. Sympathy is not one of the qualities I am known for. She was crying because her boyfriend told her that he had herpes and so she should get tested. Good times.
I did not fire her because she had herpes, that would be cruel. A sore here and there would not affect her ability to put a bottle in my newborn's mouth every 3-4 hours. This is especially true because I would not actually be witness to these sores. She would not be seeping on anything that I own or love. Anyhow, moving on.
The reason I fired her is because she was so distressed about her potential herpes diagnosis that she could not work the rest of her shift and she did not want to wait until she got an appointment to take off. She wanted to leave immediately and come back at some undisclosed time after she had a doctor's appointment that she had not yet made but planned on making the next day.
Honestly, at this point, I just needed HELP. H.E.L.P. But, this was the only time EVER that I literally fired someone without having a backup of ANY KIND. I told her to get her stuff and get out of my house.
Cruel to fire someone who just found out she might have herpes. Yes.
But it felt so damn good after all her nonsense.
Get out of my house, Crystal. Is that clear?
I did not have to be friends with Crystal. She was supposed to be here while I slept and so I did not care if we were not going to be best friends or whether she would set a good example for the kids. Her term was going to be extremely temporary. She was doing fine at night and my daytime nanny was taking a vacation (terrible damn timing) so I asked Crystal if she stop working nights and could help out during the day in the interim. (The babies were sleeping a good block at this point.)
Aside from the drama of actually getting here when she was supposed to on a consistent basis, one of my favorite incidents is from the day I fired her. She had been with us about 6-8 weeks (not every day due to the aforementioned "inability to show up/show up on time" drama) and I found her crying. Sympathy is not one of the qualities I am known for. She was crying because her boyfriend told her that he had herpes and so she should get tested. Good times.
I did not fire her because she had herpes, that would be cruel. A sore here and there would not affect her ability to put a bottle in my newborn's mouth every 3-4 hours. This is especially true because I would not actually be witness to these sores. She would not be seeping on anything that I own or love. Anyhow, moving on.
The reason I fired her is because she was so distressed about her potential herpes diagnosis that she could not work the rest of her shift and she did not want to wait until she got an appointment to take off. She wanted to leave immediately and come back at some undisclosed time after she had a doctor's appointment that she had not yet made but planned on making the next day.
Honestly, at this point, I just needed HELP. H.E.L.P. But, this was the only time EVER that I literally fired someone without having a backup of ANY KIND. I told her to get her stuff and get out of my house.
Cruel to fire someone who just found out she might have herpes. Yes.
But it felt so damn good after all her nonsense.
Get out of my house, Crystal. Is that clear?
Monday, November 2, 2009
A Time to Read, A Time for Every Purpose
One of my favorite things in the world is to read. I love it. Give me time and leisure and I read. J and I went on vacation to the Domincan Republic in August. We were gone for 9 days and I read five or six books (between naps and meals) and lots of magazines...anything I could get my hands on including the SkyBuy magazine where I could buy anytihng for anything and would seroiusly never buy nothing. Decadence. Seriously.
You know what is weird is that I was in the hospital for 3 months gestating the twins and hooked up to monitors and required to remain on my back 24 hours a day and I never read. Nothing. I maybe read an article here or there in a random magazine. But, I could not focus. Could not read for pleasure. I worked. I read work stuff. But, not one page of one novel. I could have read like 80 books in 80 days. I read none. Weird.
I guess I am thinking about this right now because I have not read since I got back from the DR. I thought at first it was because I read so much that my little brain needed a break. But, really, I think when things are not in some order, when there is no peace, my mind cannot enjoy reading and so why bother. I typically read to escape and go to another place for a little while. But, how can I escape when my attention is required here. So weird.
Tonight, I feel like picking up a book again. Are things falling into place again? I hope so. I have a stack here calling to me. It's a time to read.
You know what is weird is that I was in the hospital for 3 months gestating the twins and hooked up to monitors and required to remain on my back 24 hours a day and I never read. Nothing. I maybe read an article here or there in a random magazine. But, I could not focus. Could not read for pleasure. I worked. I read work stuff. But, not one page of one novel. I could have read like 80 books in 80 days. I read none. Weird.
I guess I am thinking about this right now because I have not read since I got back from the DR. I thought at first it was because I read so much that my little brain needed a break. But, really, I think when things are not in some order, when there is no peace, my mind cannot enjoy reading and so why bother. I typically read to escape and go to another place for a little while. But, how can I escape when my attention is required here. So weird.
Tonight, I feel like picking up a book again. Are things falling into place again? I hope so. I have a stack here calling to me. It's a time to read.
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