we don't have it in us

We just don't have it in us to be heartless. Not that we were planning on being heartless, but we can't even come close.

We have pets. We have 2 cats and 1 dog. We've had them since before we had kids... and before we had the kids, the pets *were* our kids. They were paid a lot of attention and given lots of love. Not that we don't love them now, but we are distracted, and the actual kids take so much of our attention that we don't have a lot extra to give. We are ready to be a pet free household. We love the pets. We will be sad when it is their time to go, but we do not plan to replace them right away.

So, the deal we made, my husband and I, was that we would not take extraordinary measures to save a pet. If we were to get bad news, we would do what was needed so that the pet didn't suffer, but we wouldn't go through extensive procedures and treatments. And we wouldn't be shelling out big $$ for lots of tests and things, either. We were going to take a 'whatever happens, happens' kindof approach.

So, today I have Marty, the dog, at the vet. He needs his annual shots and checkup. We are going on vacation in June and need to board him. The vet tells me that Marty needs his teeth cleaned, which I knew. We have not done that in a while. His teeth are so bad at this point that she says to not clean them would pretty much ensure a bad infection that could kill him. BUT - - she discovered this visit that Marty has a heart murmer. This has never been detected in him before, and the vet told me that sometimes they appear as dogs age due to deterioration of the heart valves, or other age related issues in the heart muscle. So, now, before they can clean his teeth we need to have a full work up on his heart. They can't put him under the necessary anesthetic without knowing what they are dealing with as far as his heart goes. She warned me that undue stress on the poor dog could cause him to collapse. As I said, we are going on vacation and Marty has reservations at the local pet hotel. Now, the vet asks me to be sure what the policies are there about how often they check on your pet, what exercise do they get, etc. Because now that Marty is old (13), and now that they know he has this heart condition, the pet hotel will need to be prepared to handle it if something were to come up.

We love our little Marty. We are concerned for him. We know his personality well enough to know that the mere act of placing him in the pet hotel will cause him lots of stress. The pet hotel is just that, a hotel. They are not equipped to handle an emergency should one arise.

So, my husband and I have talked it over. We will pay the extra money to have him boarded at the vet while we are on vacation. If anything should happen, they are 150% equipped to handle it. While he is there, we will pay to have the exams on his heart done so that we know what we are dealing with. And then once they know, they can go ahead and clean his teeth. This will cost us close to $1000, an amount we swore we would never spend in one lump sum on any of the pets ever again.

But it turns out we are not heartless. We don't have it in us to just let Marty's teeth rot into infection because we wouldn't have his heart tested. We don't have it in us to just let a heart condition that may be manageable go undiagnosed. We can't just leave him somewhere that wouldn't be able to handle a possible emergency on the premises if need be. Once we have all the info, we can make decisions from there... but we just don't have it in us to *not* do what we can. Marty's been a good dog, and we owe him at least that much.

so, now i don't feel so bad..

Do you know how in the dawn or dusk, when the light streams in just right, you can see the tiny little dust particles floating in the air? I've seen this many times in my house, and while I agree it looks kind of cool, to me it's always been a reminder that I must not be a very good housekeeper. I really don't like to dust, and it doesn't happen too often.

But today, I feel better about it. Here is the conversation:

The Babe: Mommy?
Me: Yes, honey?
The Babe: Sometimes when I am just falling asleep, or just waking up, my room is all sparkly.
Me: It is? Why do you suppose it sparkles?
The Babe: I'm pretty sure it's Tinkerbell.

Isn't that sweet? So, now I don't feel so bad about how dusty my house is.

saving the day

Today was The Babe's last day of pre-school. wow. Her last day. Next year is kindergarten. wow. As a treat to celebrate, Daddy told The Babe she could pick a restaurant, and we would go out to dinner. The Babe picked Red Robin.

In case you are not familiar, Red Robin is a family friendly restaurant, complete with balloons for the kids. The rule in my family is that you get your balloon on the way out the door, as a reward for being good and eating your dinner. For some reason, the balloons are always a complete treasure to The Kiddos. They *love* the Red Robin balloons, and play with them all night. It was extra special tonight, because The Kiddos got to pick what color balloon they wanted, and they got to watch the host blow them up. The Babe picked blue and The Boy picked red.

Once we get home, it is important to let Daddy tie a metal washer to the end of the balloon, so it stays weighted near the floor and doesn't get tangled in a ceiling fan, or lost in the 2-story foyer. Daddy tied a washer to The Babe's balloon, and as The Boy was waiting for his washer, his balloon popped. I still don't know what happened, it didn't appear that anything happened that should have made it pop, but it did. It was, of course, quite loud. The noise startled The Boy, and he looked as if he were about to cry, but it wasn't until he noticed his red balloon in pieces on the floor that he really let loose. He was sobbing. "My balloon, my balloon! My pretty balloon!" Now, there is a part of me that wanted to roll my eyes at this, but I remember being three. I remember when a balloon was special, and I knew The Boy was genuinely upset. I picked him up to console him, and I carried him to the other room so he wouldn't have to see his balloon pieces on the floor. As I was walking away with him, I noticed The Babe looked near tears herself. I am certain the noise startled her, because I've met her before, but I also know that she's sensitive, and when someone else is as upset as The Boy was, it really upsets her, too. I left her with her Daddy and took The Boy to the foyer where we sat on the stairs.

I was hugging him, telling him it would be OK, and that we could get another balloon next time we were at Red Robin, when The Babe appears. Her face is tear stained, and she came to give The Boy a hug, and she gave him her balloon. She gave him her balloon. I almost died, it was so sweet, but I didn't want her to give up her balloon, so I said, "look, she said she'll share with you. Isn't that nice? You two can share the balloon". And all three of us sat in a little group hug on the stairs and admired the pretty blue balloon in The Boy's hands.

This is when Daddy enters the picture, holding a new blue balloon that he had dug out and blown up with the helium tank we had left over from The Babe's birthday party. Thank goodness for the Party City balloon pack. The Kiddos' faces lit up. The Boy and The Babe were both so happy to each have a balloon. Daddy had saved their day.

But my day had already been saved, watching The Babe give her balloon to her sobbing brother, even though I knew she wanted to keep it. Not much compares to that.

gets me every time...

Seriously. Have you ever had a TV commercial just crack you up every time you see it? The one that is getting me these days is, I think, for Traveler's Insurance. Have you seen it? Do you know what I am talking about?

It just cracks me up! Thought I would share:

watch it! I am telling you.... watch it!

total failure as a mother

OK, it's not that dramatic. But, tonight I failed miserably at one of the basics of motherhood: macaroni and cheese.

The Kiddos requested mac&cheese for dinner this evening, but only if I "make it like Daddy". *sigh* This is the story of my life these days. Daddy is a very particular person, he pretty much has a set way to do almost anything. Daddy used to be in charge of things like macaroni and cheese for this very reason. But now that Daddy has a job that keeps him from getting home in time for dinner, I have to try to make all kinds of things "like Daddy", and it drives me nuts, because not even Daddy should have to make things "like Daddy", that's how insane some of these things are. So... macaroni and cheese.

We are a Kraft macaroni and cheese family because Daddy has declared it to be the best macaroni and cheese there is, and he is not going to have his children eating some kind of frou frou mac and cheese like that Stouffer's (which is my fav, by the way). You might be sitting there right now thinking I must be some kind of lug nut if I can't even make Kraft macaroni and cheese. Well, yes and no. The problem that Daddy has with the Kraft is that he hates the tiny little noodles. Being the hardcore Italian that he is, he needs to eat a larger, more substantial pasta. So, when Daddy makes macaroni and cheese he uses Barilla rotinis, and he throws the Kraft noodles away. You read that right. He just tosses perfectly good pasta noodles in the trash. So, making macaroni and cheese "like Daddy" means that they don't want the wimpy noodles, either.

So, I boil the water (score one for Erika. I can boil water). Here's where it all goes awry... I mindlessly dump a whole box of Barilla fioris in the water (we didn't have any rotinis... I was hoping The Kiddos wouldn't be so cruel as to reject the fioris). The WHOLE BOX. Do you know how much pasta that is? Well, first of all, I can tell you it is too much pasta to fit in the pot that I had all the boiling water in. It barely fit. Secondly, it is far too much pasta to expect The Kiddos to eat. I realized right away that I had made a serious blunder, and now I was going to need to double the sauce to accommodate all that pasta. That's two boxes of wimpy macaroni in the trash (score one for the mac and cheese... it got me on basic pasta measuring skills).

Basically, the pasta was done and I set it to drain. I made the sauce in the pan, and then tried to add all my mountains of pasta back into the same pan to mix it in with the sauce. Why I didn't take this opportunity to switch to a larger pot, I don't know. Too logical, I guess. So, I am trying to squeeze back too much pasta into a too small pot *AND* mix it up so that the sauce is evenly disbursed. I made a huge mess, spilling pasta all over the place: the stove top, counter top, floor, evrywhere. THEN... I didn't get a spoon to serve the mac and cheese into the bowls, I just tipped the too full pot and tried to guide the right amount of mac and cheese into each bowl. This is a good system that I have used often when there is an appropriate amount of pasta in the pot... but with overloads of pasta, well, let me just say that it all kind of comes tumbling out at once.

I swear, my kitchen was such a mess. It looked like I had let The Kiddos cook their own mac and cheese (hhhmmm... that's an idea.... ) and it actually took a lot for me to get it cleaned up. So. There you have it. Total failure as a mother. How on earth could I possibly have so much trouble with macaroni and cheese?

But... they ate it. So maybe it's not *total* failure... (I do have lots of leftovers, though. Anyone hungry?)

singin' in the rain

Today was our neighbor's 40th birthday party. As a surprise, his wife emailed the neighborhood a while back asking that we all appear on their lawn and create a spectacle at 6:30 pm to celebrate, and she would serve cake and drinks after the surprise. Isn't that sweet? It turned out beautifully, lots and lots of folks showed up and I do think our neighbor was surprised. Hooray! The one damper on the whole thing (no pun intended) was the rain.

It rained this afternoon and was pretty cold by this evening. Right before 6:30, it started raining again. Everyone showed up with umbrellas and rain ponchos and we still had a great time, especially the kids.

Now, you all know me by now, right? I am probably the most paranoid person in the world when it comes to all things dealing with "sick". So, here we were, at an outdoor party, in the rain. Our neighbor moved the cars out of their garage, and we all pretty much congregated in there... all except the kids. The kids were, of course, fascinated by being outside in the rain.

The Boy went and got his tricycle and rode it all up and down the driveways, wearing shorts, a t-shirt, crocs, and a fleece. When he was done with that he joined The Babe and her best friend jumping in puddles. The Babe was dressed the same as The Boy, only she didn't have her fleece on half the time. Not that it mattered, they aren't waterproof, and by the time we went home it was just one more piece of waterlogged clothing helping to soak The Kiddos to the skin. They were actually pruny when I got them inside.

But, you know what? As much as I hate sick, and as much as I sincerely hope The Kiddos do not catch a cold from this, I almost don't care. I had forgotten. I had forgotten how much fun it could be to just be wet, to splash in a puddle to see how far you can make the water go, to run around like a maniac and not notice that you are totally wet, all the way through. It was like a little bit of magic to get to watch The Kiddos discover that part of childhood.

Even though it was far past bedtime when we came in, I did make The Kiddos take a hot bath before bed. The part of me that hates the sick couldn't send them to bed chilled through like that... but maybe a small cold would be worth all of the fun they had, and all of the fun I had, too.

mother's day

The Babe made me a picture at school for a Mother's Day gift. The front of it is a print of her hand with a heart in the center, and there is a nice little poem that goes with it.

On the back, she drew a picture of me, and there were spaces where she had to answer questions about me. Her teacher obviously wrote in whatever it was that The Babe said:

My mother is _______ years old. The Babe answered 22. LOL
She likes to eat _______. The Babe answered lasagne. Correct!
I love her because _________. The Babe answered because "she gives me what I want". Hmmmmm...
She likes to ________. Work. The Babe thinks I like to work.

That last one has me bothered. #1, I don't really like to work. Who likes to work? But #2, it makes me feel like she thinks I would rather be working than doing things with her; and that makes me sad.

Maybe I am overly sensitive because I work at home, and it is pretty often that The Babe or The Boy will ask me to play Memory, or build a zoo, or have a tea party, or whatever, and I have to say that "Mommy can't right now. Mommy needs to work." I *always* feel terrible that I have to work and not play. I'd rather play. I feel as though they are trapped in this boring old house with a no-fun, has to work mommy... and now here it is. On my mother's day picture. "Mommy likes to work" *sigh* I wish it said "Mommy likes to bake cookies" or "Mommy likes to read me stories". But no. "Mommy likes to work". :(

new song

The Boy has written a new song that he sings *constantly*. It is sung to the tune of "Where is Thumbkin" or "Frere Jacques" (which, because I don't speak French, I am sure I have spelled incorrectly).

Hello, Bobby Hello, Bobby
Come and land Come and land
Right in the middle Right in the middle
Of my diaper. Of my diaper.

LMFAO

writer's block

Hi there loyal reader! I have writer's block. It's not that interesting things haven't happened, it's that I can't seem to articulate them into any sort of coherent thoughts in my own head, much less write them down.

I will tell you that The Boy has a horrible eye-thing going on and we have to see the opthamologist on Wednesday. The Babe has only 9 days of pre-school left and then I have to admit that she's a kindergartner. I had a new washer and dryer delivered today and proceeded to wash everything in the house. Perhaps best of all, I am currently watching Tommy Boy, which I could probably recite, and always cheers me up. Gotta love cable TV.

I will hopefully have more to share in the near future. Maybe it will even be interesting.

when do you feel...

... most like a Mommy? What is it that triggers the "Mom" feeling for you? See, when I'm home all day, just in my house or out on the block, I don't really feel like a "Mom". Odd, don't you think? I mean, I'm home all day with The Kiddos. I'm out on the block watching The Kiddos. I'm in the back yard pushing The Kiddos on the swingset. Why doesn't that make me feel like a mom? Mostly, I just feel like "Erika, who is in charge of making sure these small children eat and make it through the day alive". I hear the words "Mommy, mommy, MOMMY" all day long, and somehow it doesn't sink in that it's ME they're referring to here. I answer, of course... but.... am I making any sense?

I do feel like a "Mom" when they're sick. I felt a bit "Mom-ish" today at the pharmacy, filling a prescription for The Boy, but I didn't feel very "Mom-ish" while at the doctor with The Boy. I felt like "The woman who needs to listen carefully", but that's all wrapped up in the part about making sure The Kiddos make it through the day alive.

I always feel like a "Mom" when I am aware that high school kids are around. Why is that? It's like I'm keenly aware that I am not in high school anymore, and even though I don't feel very old, I bet those kids think I am ancient. I vaguely remember how "old" I thought all adults were when I was in high school... and here I am.

Mostly, I think I feel like a "Mom" at bedtime, or any other such time when The Kiddos are feeling snuggly. Marita posted about her daughter noticing her smell. "You smell like mommy". I wonder if I have a smell. My mom had a smell. When The Kiddos cuddle up for stories before bed, when they are fighting for space on my lap... that's when I feel most like a "Mom", but in a good way. Not in a frazzled, needs a shower, has too many errands, can't keep the house clean kind of way (which is me all day), but in a comforting "you smell like Mommy" kind of way.

So, when do you feel most like a "Mom"?