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.
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