Here is something that I really don’t like: being in the middle of things. Let me explain further. I really enjoy starting projects. I like making lists of things to do/buy for said projects. I like finishing projects, too, and having some sort of major accomplishment to show for my hard work. What I don’t like so much is the middle of the project, where the hard work actually takes place. I don’t mind the hard work itself; what I don’t like is having to make decisions, and having things not finished.
I am currently in the midst of a couple of projects that are conspiring to make me lose my mind. At the very least, they’re keeping me up at night. Losing an hour of sleep for Daylight Savings Time? Not an issue for me, since I wasn’t really sleeping anyway! Woo!
Project #1: Will’s bedroom.
When Joe was on vacation the weekend before last, he ripped out a wall in Will’s room that had some cracks in it, and was generally just...not put together very well. You may remember this as the weekend my mother-in-law was supposed to keep the boys, but didn’t. It all worked out, though, and Joe was able to get all of the drywall/spackle/sanding done in a matter of days, because he is handy and awesome.
But now we’re in the middle of the project, and things aren’t finished yet. We moved Will’s crib into Andrew’s room for the time being, which is actually working out really well (except for last night; they were up for two hours after bedtime laughing and cracking poop jokes -- I blame Daylight Savings Time for the wakefulness and Joe for the poop humor), so getting him back into his own room right now to sleep isn’t the issue. What is the issue, for me at least, is that now we have all of these decisions to make, and I can’t make up my mind.
Here’s just a sampling of what’s been cycling through my mind regarding these decisions: Should we move Will to a toddler bed, or should we just move him directly to a twin bed? If we move him to the toddler bed, we’ll still need to get him a twin bed in a year or two anyway. Either way, we’re going to need to get a new bed and new bedding for Andrew. He’s outgrown the toddler bed even if Will doesn’t use it. So what kind of bedding should we get for Andrew? I really like those red and blue patchwork quilts in the style of Pottery Barn Kids, but unfortunately the only place I can find one in stock is at Pottery Barn Kids, and it’s much more than I’d like to spend. We should probably paint Andrew’s room sometime soon, too, but what color? And what color should we paint Will’s room? What kind of bedding should we get for Will’s room? I’ve narrowed it down to dinosaurs or outer space but, hilariously, whenever I ask Will which one he’d like, he answers with the opposite of the answer he gave when I asked him previously.
So yes, I have lots of decisions to make. I’m leaning towards just getting both of them twin beds along with new bedding. I need to decide on the bedding before I decide on the paint color, because it should obviously coordinate. But just when I think I’ve made up my mind, I second-guess myself. I hate these types of decisions, although I know that in the big scheme of things, I’m waaay over-thinking it and it’s ultimately really not going to matter all that much.
Project #2: My sister-in-law’s baby shower.
The shower is this coming Saturday afternoon, and I’m co-hosting it with my other sister-in-law (although it is, thankfully, at an outside venue, which saves me from freaking out about the state of my house). She’s in charge of the decorations, and I’m in charge of the food. At this point, I’ve done all I can for my part: planned the menu, written out the grocery list, set out a timeline for Friday night and Saturday morning as far as what I can prepare when. But although I have it all planned out, I’m still freaking out because it looks like so much, and I can’t really start doing any of it yet. Also, I know there is going to be way too much food. I always, always plan a ridiculously large and varied menu when I host things, and yet I still always question myself: Will there be enough variety to please everyone? Even though OH WHO CARES, THEY ARE GETTING FREE FOOD, THEY CAN DEAL WITH IT.
I also have a fun activity planned for the shower, which involves making homemade flowered headbands for the baby girl (my niece!). This, in itself, was a huge test of my decision-making skills. Saturday morning found me rushing all around the store, trying to find the perfect silk flowers and headbands and buttons and rhinestones and SERIOUSLY, CASSIE, JUST MAKE UP YOUR MIND. This tendency of mine to over-think everything makes being in the middle of projects SO MUCH WORSE.
I am quite aware that these are all solidly in the First-World Problems category, and that I’m making it much worse on myself by obsessing over all of these things. And now, I’m off to stare at the stuff saved in my Target shopping cart, until I finally make the decision to purchase it.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
bonus points if you know what movie i'm quoting in the third paragraph.
Well, the weekend didn’t go exactly as we’d planned. It was still a nice weekend, and at least partly relaxing, but it wasn’t exactly what we’d anticipated.
What happened was this: On Friday afternoon, I got a text message from my mother-in-law, saying that we needed to talk about whether or not the boys should come. She said that the friend who lives with her had an ear infection, bronchitis, and pneumonia, and that she herself had bronchitis and shingles. Mind you, I’d talked to her the previous evening at about 9:00, and there was not one mention of any type of illness. She said she was “leaving it up to” me whether or not the boys should come.
Um, exsqueeze me? Baking powder? As if! Like I would even dream of letting my sons spend the weekend in that House of Sick. Long story short, they did not spend the weekend with my mother-in-law.
I was pretty ticked off, I’ll be honest. Maybe she really was sick, but at this point, she’s done this so many times that it’s kind of hard to believe her excuses. It was her idea to have them spend the weekend with her, and she herself told the boys about it, and Andrew talked about it all week last week. I’m so tired of seeing their hopes crushed when it comes to her. I told Joe that the next time she asks for them to come, I’m just going to say no outright. And if she asks why, I’ll tell her the truth.
Thankfully, my stepmom was able to take the boys on Saturday evening, and she brought them back last night, so we still got a bit of a break. Joe had been planning to spend both Saturday and Sunday working on drywall in Will’s room, but he wasn’t able to start until Sunday since the boys would be in the house on Saturday (and judging by how upset Andrew was that he couldn’t help Joe last night when he got home, that was the right choice. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with that all day on Saturday if Joe had started the project as scheduled). Instead, we had a wonderful family day on Saturday. We all went grocery shopping together (something that I actually kind of really love, even if I do always end up spending more than I would if I went alone), and came home and did this all afternoon:
It was pretty lovely. After my stepmom picked up the boys, Joe and I spent the evening watching a music countdown show on VH1 (we love those) and drinking Shamrock shakes.
Joe was able to start doing the drywall yesterday, and somehow I got roped into helping him at least part of the time, so it wasn’t quite what I imagined when I was planning out my weekend of relaxation. But it was still a great weekend, despite its rocky start, with the perfect balance of family time, hard physical labor, and rest.
What happened was this: On Friday afternoon, I got a text message from my mother-in-law, saying that we needed to talk about whether or not the boys should come. She said that the friend who lives with her had an ear infection, bronchitis, and pneumonia, and that she herself had bronchitis and shingles. Mind you, I’d talked to her the previous evening at about 9:00, and there was not one mention of any type of illness. She said she was “leaving it up to” me whether or not the boys should come.
Um, exsqueeze me? Baking powder? As if! Like I would even dream of letting my sons spend the weekend in that House of Sick. Long story short, they did not spend the weekend with my mother-in-law.
I was pretty ticked off, I’ll be honest. Maybe she really was sick, but at this point, she’s done this so many times that it’s kind of hard to believe her excuses. It was her idea to have them spend the weekend with her, and she herself told the boys about it, and Andrew talked about it all week last week. I’m so tired of seeing their hopes crushed when it comes to her. I told Joe that the next time she asks for them to come, I’m just going to say no outright. And if she asks why, I’ll tell her the truth.
Thankfully, my stepmom was able to take the boys on Saturday evening, and she brought them back last night, so we still got a bit of a break. Joe had been planning to spend both Saturday and Sunday working on drywall in Will’s room, but he wasn’t able to start until Sunday since the boys would be in the house on Saturday (and judging by how upset Andrew was that he couldn’t help Joe last night when he got home, that was the right choice. I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with that all day on Saturday if Joe had started the project as scheduled). Instead, we had a wonderful family day on Saturday. We all went grocery shopping together (something that I actually kind of really love, even if I do always end up spending more than I would if I went alone), and came home and did this all afternoon:
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| Not pictured: Me at the other end of the couch (well, before and after taking this picture, that is). |
Joe was able to start doing the drywall yesterday, and somehow I got roped into helping him at least part of the time, so it wasn’t quite what I imagined when I was planning out my weekend of relaxation. But it was still a great weekend, despite its rocky start, with the perfect balance of family time, hard physical labor, and rest.
Friday, March 2, 2012
cassie the grouch
I have been so grouchy this week, due to a combination of things. I haven’t been sleeping very well for a few different reasons: I can’t get comfortable (with the crazy weather we’ve been having I’m either too hot or too cold); Andrew’s been losing Pooh multiple times throughout the night; and Will is in the middle of a flare-up of his bronchiolitis, which has necessitated mid-night breathing treatments. I’ve been busy at work, my house is a mess and I have no desire to clean it, and Andrew is in a particularly difficult phase wherein he whines and cries about EVERY.SINGLE.LITTLE.THING.OMG. When he’s not crying or whining, he’s defying me in one way or another. All of these factors have combined to make me tired and irritable. The boys and Joe should be thankful I don’t have my period on top of all of this. For real.
But it’s March now, and some exciting things are looming this month. I’m throwing a baby shower for Joe’s sister, and I’m deep in the planning stages and having so much fun. My birthday is also this month, and I’m excited about that (even if I’m not so excited about the number). The Hunger Games movie is being released on the 23rd, and I’m taking that day off so I can go see it with my stepmom and sister.
Joe starts a week of vacation today, and he’s celebrating by doing our taxes (refund FTW!) and starting some framework for new drywall in Will’s room. Also, my mother-in-law is picking up the boys tonight so they can spend the entire weekend at her house, so I have the whole weekend ahead of me to do whatever the hell I want. That will definitely include sleeping in, taking at least one long bath, having at least two adult beverages, and eating out a lot.
I need the break so badly. Hopefully when they come back on Sunday, I will be in a much less grumpy state of mind.
But it’s March now, and some exciting things are looming this month. I’m throwing a baby shower for Joe’s sister, and I’m deep in the planning stages and having so much fun. My birthday is also this month, and I’m excited about that (even if I’m not so excited about the number). The Hunger Games movie is being released on the 23rd, and I’m taking that day off so I can go see it with my stepmom and sister.
Joe starts a week of vacation today, and he’s celebrating by doing our taxes (refund FTW!) and starting some framework for new drywall in Will’s room. Also, my mother-in-law is picking up the boys tonight so they can spend the entire weekend at her house, so I have the whole weekend ahead of me to do whatever the hell I want. That will definitely include sleeping in, taking at least one long bath, having at least two adult beverages, and eating out a lot.
I need the break so badly. Hopefully when they come back on Sunday, I will be in a much less grumpy state of mind.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
don't tell me he's like the kid in the sixth sense. just don't.
Just in the past month or two, Andrew has started to develop some nighttime, darkness-related fears. I’ll put him to bed, and he’ll instruct me to leave the bathroom light on (since he can see its light shining around the cracks in his door). Or he’ll ask me, “There are no monsters, right, Mommy?” To which I respond by saying, “Just the mommy monster!” and tickling him until he can’t take anymore. Of course.
One night a few weeks ago, I picked up a book for the boys at the library and unknowingly inspired a new fear of the Big Bad Wrecking Ball (the equivalent of the Big Bad Wolf in this truck-centric retelling of The Three Little Pigs). The Big Bad Wrecking Ball makes very mean faces and does very mean things. Hispartners in terror friends are the Mean Magnet and the Cruel Cutter. At the end of the book, all three of them are dunked in a “melting pot” of boiling hot lava which, while it’s probably what they deserve, just adds to the scary factor.
(Let this be a warning to you: ALWAYS READ A BOOK YOURSELF BEFORE READING IT TO YOUR CHILDREN. DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP. BROWSING IT IS NOT ENOUGH. THE FACT THAT THE AUTHOR WORKED ON ALL THE PIXAR MOVIES DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MAKE IT SAFE.)
Of course, Andrew has a gigantic crane in his bedroom that has a wrecking ball attached to it, so there were a few nights of hysterics as he thought the Big Bad Wrecking Ball was coming after him. We only read the book once, but it made quite a negative impression. Now, nearly every night, Andrew asks me if the Big Bad Wrecking Ball is going to get him. My Mommy guilt is THROUGH THE ROOF.
Then, last night, something really strange happened. I’d just turned out Andrew’s light and was kneeling over his bed to give him hugs and kisses, when he pointed to the corner of his room and said, “See the faces, Mommy?”
He was pointing in the general area of his Buzz Lightyear nightlight, so I thought maybe Buzz was making shadows on the wall, and I told him as much. But he was insistent: “No, Mommy, the faces, right there. See them? See the faces?”
I did not see the faces. I was also getting freaked out.
Then Andrew said, “I don’t like the faces. They’re bad guys.”
At that point I tried to prod him for more information: Do the faces talk? Are they there all the time, or just in the dark? He just kept insisting that they were there, and that he didn’t like them. He didn’t seem upset or scared; he was very matter-of-fact about it. What else could I do? I assured him that he was safe in his snuggly bed, and that there were no faces. And I kissed him goodnight and left the room.
Even now, writing about it, I’m still freaked out about the whole thing. What in the world, you guys? Is it just his imagination? Just the vivid ideas of a bright almost-four-year-old? Another fear manifesting itself in his little mind? I mean, I’m sure that’s what it is, right? Our house isn’t haunted, right? I mean, the upstairs was just added in the 1980s. Thirty years is hardly enough time to generate a ghost. Right?
He slept fine last night. I, however, slept with my closet light on.
One night a few weeks ago, I picked up a book for the boys at the library and unknowingly inspired a new fear of the Big Bad Wrecking Ball (the equivalent of the Big Bad Wolf in this truck-centric retelling of The Three Little Pigs). The Big Bad Wrecking Ball makes very mean faces and does very mean things. His
(Let this be a warning to you: ALWAYS READ A BOOK YOURSELF BEFORE READING IT TO YOUR CHILDREN. DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP. BROWSING IT IS NOT ENOUGH. THE FACT THAT THE AUTHOR WORKED ON ALL THE PIXAR MOVIES DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MAKE IT SAFE.)
Of course, Andrew has a gigantic crane in his bedroom that has a wrecking ball attached to it, so there were a few nights of hysterics as he thought the Big Bad Wrecking Ball was coming after him. We only read the book once, but it made quite a negative impression. Now, nearly every night, Andrew asks me if the Big Bad Wrecking Ball is going to get him. My Mommy guilt is THROUGH THE ROOF.
Then, last night, something really strange happened. I’d just turned out Andrew’s light and was kneeling over his bed to give him hugs and kisses, when he pointed to the corner of his room and said, “See the faces, Mommy?”
He was pointing in the general area of his Buzz Lightyear nightlight, so I thought maybe Buzz was making shadows on the wall, and I told him as much. But he was insistent: “No, Mommy, the faces, right there. See them? See the faces?”
I did not see the faces. I was also getting freaked out.
Then Andrew said, “I don’t like the faces. They’re bad guys.”
At that point I tried to prod him for more information: Do the faces talk? Are they there all the time, or just in the dark? He just kept insisting that they were there, and that he didn’t like them. He didn’t seem upset or scared; he was very matter-of-fact about it. What else could I do? I assured him that he was safe in his snuggly bed, and that there were no faces. And I kissed him goodnight and left the room.
Even now, writing about it, I’m still freaked out about the whole thing. What in the world, you guys? Is it just his imagination? Just the vivid ideas of a bright almost-four-year-old? Another fear manifesting itself in his little mind? I mean, I’m sure that’s what it is, right? Our house isn’t haunted, right? I mean, the upstairs was just added in the 1980s. Thirty years is hardly enough time to generate a ghost. Right?
He slept fine last night. I, however, slept with my closet light on.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
i should just rename this blog "sickness ensues" and be done with it.
Andrew woke up in the middle of the night on Saturday, crying because he’d lost Pooh. When I went into his room to help him look for Pooh, I had an unpleasant surprise waiting for me: He’d gotten sick all over himself and his bed. He didn’t seem to realize what had happened and was relatively untroubled by it, so I began the process that I’ve unfortunately become all-too-familiar with as a parent: bathe child, wash bedding, put on new bedding, spray foam carpet cleaner on the floor, retrieve child, dress child in new pajamas, tuck child back into bed. I repeated the process with Andrew twice Saturday night.
He was okay on Sunday -- a bit lethargic and tired, obviously, because he’d been up much of the night before. But he didn’t get sick again. I chalked it up to one of those Random Pukings that kids sometimes have and went on with the weekend (including scaring both boys to death with my thoughtless choice of tee-shirt because I am an awesome mom).
Monday I sent the boys to daycare and had a quiet, productive, peaceful day at home. But Monday night, right after I got the boys in the bathtub, something in my belly started to revolt. I completely emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet (OR SO I THOUGHT), and as I turned back around to make sure I hadn’t terrified the boys, I saw Will doing the exact same thing IN THE BATHTUB.
He had hot dogs for dinner. A sight I will never forget.
(Sorry.)
Thus began a horrible, awful, terrible, no good night of sleeping for 20 minutes, waking up to vomit, feeling good for 5 minutes, sleeping for 20 more, and waking up to vomit again. This went on for both Will and me until about 5:00 in the morning, at which point we were finally able to collapse into bed and sleep for more than 20 minutes at a stretch.
Joe came home from work and informed me that his stomach had felt off all night (and he wasn’t able to leave work, since he’s the manager and is responsible for all kinds of things), although he didn’t throw up. We promptly sent Andrew to daycare and spent the day resting. By Tuesday evening, Will was able to keep down a banana and some water, and Joe and I had toast and apple juice.
Yesterday was much better, and today we all feel almost completely normal. I’m still having a few moments of queasiness, but I was able to drink a very welcome cup of coffee this morning (my first cup since Monday!) with no problems.
There should be some sort of quota for how sick a family can be in one year. If there were, I’m pretty sure we would’ve reached it already. In February. We’re just over-achievers like that.
He was okay on Sunday -- a bit lethargic and tired, obviously, because he’d been up much of the night before. But he didn’t get sick again. I chalked it up to one of those Random Pukings that kids sometimes have and went on with the weekend (including scaring both boys to death with my thoughtless choice of tee-shirt because I am an awesome mom).
Monday I sent the boys to daycare and had a quiet, productive, peaceful day at home. But Monday night, right after I got the boys in the bathtub, something in my belly started to revolt. I completely emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet (OR SO I THOUGHT), and as I turned back around to make sure I hadn’t terrified the boys, I saw Will doing the exact same thing IN THE BATHTUB.
He had hot dogs for dinner. A sight I will never forget.
(Sorry.)
Thus began a horrible, awful, terrible, no good night of sleeping for 20 minutes, waking up to vomit, feeling good for 5 minutes, sleeping for 20 more, and waking up to vomit again. This went on for both Will and me until about 5:00 in the morning, at which point we were finally able to collapse into bed and sleep for more than 20 minutes at a stretch.
Joe came home from work and informed me that his stomach had felt off all night (and he wasn’t able to leave work, since he’s the manager and is responsible for all kinds of things), although he didn’t throw up. We promptly sent Andrew to daycare and spent the day resting. By Tuesday evening, Will was able to keep down a banana and some water, and Joe and I had toast and apple juice.
Yesterday was much better, and today we all feel almost completely normal. I’m still having a few moments of queasiness, but I was able to drink a very welcome cup of coffee this morning (my first cup since Monday!) with no problems.
There should be some sort of quota for how sick a family can be in one year. If there were, I’m pretty sure we would’ve reached it already. In February. We’re just over-achievers like that.
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