I Abhor Vomit.

I picked A up from the world’s best babysitter today (yes, she’s ours, and no, I’m not biased. Hands down, this woman is THE BEST), and she said that he had thrown up this afternoon. We packed up the diaper bag and headed out to the car...and he threw up in the driveway. Like, bucketloads. It was awful. I immediately felt tremendously guilty for working in an area that has no cell phone coverage (even though D is literally right down the street...and even though D is the one A asked for when he puked the first time because, “Dad’s a doctor”), then I realized that the world’s best babysitter doesn’t call at the sight of vomit...she quarantines and waits it out. A got to watch movies away from the other kids, so he was pretty OK with it. I still felt smaller than small.

I hate vomit. I hate that when he went to bed tonight he was limp and clammy and all under-eye-circled. I hate that he kept taking in big deep breaths and sighing. I hate that now he has to worry about missing his last.day.of.preschool.ever. I hate that I’m exhausted but will spend the night worrying about missing his call if he needs me. I hate it when my kids are sick.

And meanwhile, I’m wondering...does anyone actually need one of these things?! Because, um, I’m pretty sure I survived my childhood without so much as an actual carseat, let alone a device to keep it cool...

And with that, she suspends herself from preschool...a whole year before she can go

We went to A’s spring school program the other night. It was J’s first experience with that sort of thing, and we were a little nervous about how she would manage. A attends the Catholic preschool. The program was taking place in the church. We’re not Catholic. All are critical elements to the story.

We frequently talk about how much sass our little J-Bird has. It’s quite astonishing, really. She’s on her own agenda through life, and nuts to you if you’re in her way. When we left A in the social hall of the church to meet his class, J was adamant that she did not want to leave without him to go to the church to wait for the program to start. After a little fit, we made it out of the social hall and headed down the block to the church building. About halfway there, she stomped her foot and announced, “I NOT go to ’cool here.”

Which was only outdone by what she said once we arrived in the sanctuary. She looked around and spotted the Crucifix hanging above the altar. She pointed and said, “Hey Mommy! Look at that boy up there. His name is Pango.”

One of my best and dearest friends is getting married this summer. She’s 32, has waited a long time, and has found a mate that is so right for her...well, it’s pretty wonderful. She’s the analytical type, your typical social worker, and because she’s a fabulously independent person with tremendous spirit and inner strength, I think she’s taking this step into marriage a little more seriously than most. Not that I advocate anything less. But she questions all the little things and is really taking to heart the commitment she’s making. She’s been seeking the advice of those of us who married shortly after college and have now been married 8, 9, or 10 years.

Today she sent me an email that said their wedding invitations went out today. I think it was nearly panic-inducing for her...she said it made her nervous to know that now all their loved ones would have those invitations in hand, and would be anxiously anticipating the day of their wedding. I kind of remember that day and those feelings, but for her it’s just a little different.

She said she needed to know all about the best parts of being married.

In thinking about how to reply to her, I thought about a conversation I had with my mom this weekend on the way home from my friend’s bridal shower. My mom has been a widow for 12 years now. I know that she misses my dad every day, in ways I can only begin to imagine. I told my mom that when D was away a few weeks ago, I found myself realizing that I take so much about him for granted. There were many times when I wanted to tell him something and I knew he wasn’t at the other end of an email or cell phone call because he was busy in meetings. I realized that I don’t really think about how grateful I am that he’s the last person I say goodnight to every single night, and the first person I see each morning. That he’s there to talk to each evening, that he’s able to manage any math question I throw at him, and that he keeps the Internet connection to our house working. He pays the bills. He calms the children. He recognizes when I’m at the end of my patience, and he makes me take a break. He encourages me to do and be anything and anyone I want to be.

Sure, I would survive and go on if for some reason he were no longer here. But life would be much less fulfilling and much more difficult.

On the lighter side of things, when I posed the question tonight at dinner for D to answer, he paused thoughtfully to think about what the best part of marriage is for him. While he was thinking, A piped up and said, “CAKE!”

Balance?

Yay! A had his school program tonight. He did great.
Boo! A is school-age now and will be starting actual, honest-to-goodness school in the fall.
Yay! Dog is darn near housebroken.
Boo! Dog still requires walking. In the morning. 5:45.
Yay! Do you know...I’ve actually been able to read several grown-up books lately?
Boo! I usually fall asleep before I read more than a page.
Yay! We find out who wins AI and DWTS this week!
Boo! AI and DWTS will be all over this week, marking the start of a looooooong and boring TV hiatus that pretty much ends when OSU football starts. And that’s not til September.
Yay! College reunion in 2 weeks.
Boo! College reunion will only last 3 days.
Yay! Only 13 days left with students!
Boo! Still 13 days left with students!
Yay! Bedtime for kids!

D requested that I begin using liquid fabric softener. After discovering that my washer (inherited about 3 years ago) has a liquid fabric softener dispenser, I went about trying to figure out how it works. Long story short, it had to be cleaned. Since I had no idea that my washer had such a thing, it has never been cleaned. We average about 6 loads of laundry each week. Multiply that by the number of weeks I've been washing without cleaning the dispenser, and perhaps you may get some sense of the nasty grossness I found when I pulled it out of its little housing.

There was a layer of slime, created by years of laundry detergent residue that's never been wiped away. On top of that was a thin layer, almost like icing, of little spots of mold. Mmmmm. Hard to imagine that our clothes were actually getting clean in a machine that had such yuck inside it.

To say I'm a little embarrassed is an understatement.

Mother's Day

I truly enjoy Mother’s Day. For the last 5 years, I’ve felt like being able to celebrate Mother’s Day as a mother confirms my membership in some sort of club. It’s kind of nice. It helps, too, that D goes out of his way to make it a nice weekend for me. I’m pretty lucky as these things go.

We went to church this morning, where we participated in the annual Mother’s Day breakfast. The men of the church get together and cook a wonderful breakfast to honor the women of the church, and I think it’s fabulous. They serve us! I was particularly touched by what the priest said about mothers...that we are so important in shaping the next generation and that God bestows upon us special skills and abilities that allow us to nurture and shape and guide our children and families. “There’s no higher calling,” he said. And while I may feel that way on most days, it’s nice to hear that others recognize the loving work that mothers do.

I had it out with a parent today. Those who know me know that it’s not really in my nature to show (or even have, frankly) any backbone. But I was not about to sit still and let someone tell me that I am not doing my job when in truth I bend over backward daily to serve my students. My principal told me I was “strong” and that I “did well.” And I knew I had the backing of the administration going into this meeting. But still...it hurts to the bone when someone calls my professionalism and clinical judgments into question.

What is it with parents? Fortunately, to this point, I can’t say I understand her situation from a parental perspective. I’ve not had to go to bat for my kids with the schools. I’ve not had to haggle through an IEP meeting or advocate for services or any of that. I can say with certainty, however, that I hold teachers and administrators and school professionals in high regard and certainly would not go in to face them in a confrontational manner when all signs point to the fact that they care about my kid and are doing their best to serve him. I would speak civilly. I would be respectful, even in disagreement. I would participate in give-and-take.

This is the part of the schools that I was dreading. And it’s just the first parent who is angry and upset at an inefficient system that no one seems to be able to change. And as much as I might like to think the issue is about me, it’s really not. I’m sure that over the course of time I will face many such parents...whose frustration and anger and dissatisfaction go unresolved, and for whom I can do nothing other than my very best to serve their children.

I can see it that way. Why can’t she?

The Little Man

All of a sudden, A is just a little man. He rides a two-wheel bicycle, whistles, can do most of his bath by himself... it’s just like overnight he grew up!!

D is away on business. It’s precisely the third time since we’ve been together (10 years this summer, holy crap) that he’s gone anyplace for work...without me/us. It was originally a 2-day thing that morphed into a 4-day thing, then a 5-day thing. What do I have to say about that? Well, after 2 mornings of getting the children and dog up, fed, walked, pottied, clothed, cleaned up, and out the door... I’ve decided that unless he reeeeeeeeeally does something to screw up, I suppose I really need to keep him around a while longer.

If, however, he does manage to do something the screw up major, I get the kids. He can have the dog. She’s cute and all, but cripes...with the barking and the peeing and the chewing... at this point I’m thinking another kid would’ve been less work!

Not that I’m bitter or anything about D getting to go away and sleep in posh hotels for 4 nights...and not have to beg not to watch Night at the Museum one more time...and not have to change a diaper or take out a dog...and drag the trash to the curb...and make breakfast...and pick up toys and cat hair. I think it was really the comments about “Oh but the weather’s not that great here. It’s so windy the palms are just really swaying,” and “We had dinner on the hospital at Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant last night, but I don’t think you really would’ve liked what I had” and “Well, I had an upgradable fare, so I decided that since I didn’t pay for the ticket and I haven’t paid for anything so far on this trip, I could justify upgrading my airplane seat to first class.” Yep. Just go ahead and twist that knife just a teeeeensy bit more.

Two words. Pay.Backs.