Hot Dogs? June 15, 2008

Last week we were walking to the park, when my boys caught up to an older woman who happened to be, how should we say, maybe embracing fitness a little late in life? She was very sweet, and stopped to talk to the boys, who said hello as the raced their scooters past her. When she was safely out of earshot, the Adventurer quitely disclosed, very mater-of-factly, the following: “Mommy, I thought that lady had hot dogs in the back of her legs. But she didn’t, they were just bones.” I tried to keep a strait face, as I nodded in agreement, and told him how much it would have hurt her feelings if he had told her that.

Later in the day, he walked up to me, and said, “Mommy, your legs are getting really fat. Are you getting old?” Which the Captain immediately followed up by saying, “Ya, do you have any pictures from when you were skinny? I forgot what you looked like.”

With honesty like that, it’s no wonder that many of the women I’ve met with four kids start loosing their baby weight so quickly! Here’s to hoping, and to all the sit-ups I will be doing this fall.

Salud, and may you never have hot dogs in the back of your legs. H

Warning: Extreme Irrationality May Exist June 15, 2008

I think that I have stumbled upon what makes pregnant women so crazy: Sleep Deprivation. I always forget about the last part of pregnancy, the part when you don’t sleep. I know, everyone talks about the first weeks when no one gets sleep, but I always feel like that is when I get the best sleep of my life, though it is sporadic at best. Who knows, I’ll readdress that statement when I have more current information.

Anyway, by the time my children are born, I am so sleep deprived and exhausted, that taking on the challenges of a newborn don’t feel as extreme as they would under different conditions. I feel for parents who adopt!

BUT back to my original point: Sleep Deprivation. Pregnancy hormones are their own catastrophe, add sleep deprivation and exhaustion in on top, wala, Insanity.

Case and point: My husband has been working out for the last year. Lately, he’s kicked it up a notch. It could have something to do with the fact we are at the pool or the beach almost every day, or that he has a sedentary job, or that he feels better when he is working out, or that he realizes he is getting older and wants to stay in good shape. But those reasons are all to logical. In my mind, he is so disturbed by my ever-widening hind-side and my increasing largeness, that it is driving him to extreme fitness. Seriously, he goes for a run, and all I can think is how much I must repulse him that he is running at 3pm in the Florida summer heat. I know, Insane, Insane, Insane.

Conclusion? If you know a pregnant woman, or happen to be married to one, take everything she says with a grain of salt. Sleep Deprivation exasperates pregnancy hormones, and really she doesn’t mean any of it. Just be aware, if you give her a hug, she will probably start to cry all over you, and we all know tears make pregnant women even more irrational… chocolate though does seem to have a nice soothing effect. AND, if you work for the FDA, could you work on finding something like “Red Bull that is safe for women who are pregnant or nursing?” I could really use a legal shot of liquid speed.

Salud! H

Update:

My husband told me he read this post, and said, “But why didn’t you mention how good I’m looking?” What?!? I was hoping for chocolate!

However, to his credit, he is looking VERY good, and I will also add that the reason I’m sleep deprived is because I can’t sleep. He has been awesome at giving me plenty of opportunities to rest. They are two facts that I didn’t include because in my experience, the last trimester of pregnancy is not a good time to advertise how wonderful your man is… the crazy women start coming out of the woodwork, because they think I’m to chubby to give them the smack-down; but I’ll still try! -H-

Florida… June 14, 2008

Ah, how can I sum up the last month in one quick post?!? Actually, it is nice to look over the last month with a birds-eye view. I think trying to blog in the middle of such a big move would have been difficult for me, there are too many different emotions in any given day, and frankly, blogging has not been a time priority for me.

To start, I have never experienced 3 days roll by so quickly. We left New Mexico early-early on a Monday morning, watched the sun rise through a thick layer of mist that covered about 2 or 3 feet of the ground. It was gorgeous- I’ve never seen anything like it in New Mexico. It lasted most of the way to Texas, and gradually turned into a very slow rain storm, that brought a light drizzle right before we got to Dallas. It followed us all the way through Louisiana, and Mississippi, and then cleared up the minute we hit Florida, where we traded the thick trees that lined long gray bridges spanning algae-covered bogs for wild-flower-covered medians and bright blue skies. It was like Florida was welcoming us home. Even as we headed south to my parent’s house, I told B I couldn’t believe how quickly the time had lapsed.

The boys did wonderful. What 4 and 6 year old wouldn’t love spending 3 days eating skittles and watching the Sandlot 1 and 2 over and over again? Once we made it to Florida, and we sat down to watch it with them, we quickly banned them from viewing either one- to many bad words. Solved some questions I had… Anyway, the Entertainer did as well as can be expected for a young man who isn’t quite two… by the third day sleep became his coping method, as he realized that screaming wasn’t going to free him from the car seat, which he began calling his “Big Boy Car Sweet Heart.” At one point, I let him start taking pictures with my digital camera, which turned out to be a rather expensive mistake. Apparently the LCD screen is compatable with children under two… still works great, but it’s now more of a point-and-click camera, than a capture-and-review camera. Honestly, it was worth the hour of peace.

Within three weeks time, we all got nice tans, and I decided to go west-coast blond. The boys love the beach, all three a becoming little swimmers, and currently the Adventurer’s personal goal is to get as tan as our friend Hazel, who is dark-chocolate, year round.

Our house is a cute bungalow, with a giant back yard with a swing set and a fort and a basketball court, and plenty of room to plant a garden. The boys tell me thank you every day for picking it, though it was actually my mom who found it for us. She apologizes every day, as we discover more of the disadvantages of renting, including a leaky roof, a water-heater on the verge of blowing up, and swarming termites, and a property manager who promises to take care of everything “first thing-tomorrow.” But, what can you do?

There’s been a lot of joy spending so much time all of us together, and on the couple of hard days I’ve had, I’ve stayed away from my email like it’s the plague. No point torturing myself with what friends back home are planing. But mostly it has been joy, walking to the park while the mornings are still cool, watching the boys play in the yard, reading books, and exploring a new city. All in all, The Land of Shorts and Flip-Flops has been a good fit for us. And judging the way the bugs line up to nibble on my pregnant ankles, I would say the “natives” are glad we’ve arrived.

Salud, From Florida, H

April 30, 2008

The Entertainer just made it into a big-boy bed. With each of my boys, we’ve made a big deal about getting the bed set up and made, and talking about staying in it. And each of my boys have decided to get out. So, they each had to spend the night or a naptime in the playpen, a fate worse than any other, and majically, they are cured from getting out of bed. (For a while, I think the Captain and Adventurer need a night in the playpen. They sound like jumping elephants at night!) Anyway, the Entertainer has been really enjoying his newfound freedom, and has been very obliging at staying in.

The third night he was in his big-boy bed, be fell out in the middle of the night. I’m not sure what scared him more, falling out, or the idea of having to go to the playpen for the night. I tucked him back in and laid down next to him. I was so tired I figured I could just sleep there for a wile, and then he wouldn’t be scared. He let me stay about 10 minutes, and just as I was falling asleep, he gave me a gentle push and said, “Get out, mommy.” So, I did, and he fell fast asleep. I went back to my warm bed, feeling a little guilty. Poor guy has spent almost every night of his little life in his own bed, he can’t fall asleep with me next to him! How opposite things can be for child number 3 from the way things were for child number 1!

Salud, and sweet dreams. H

Moving… April 30, 2008

So far, I have been doing pretty well with the move. Which considering I’m pregnant, is pretty good! I’m sure I’ll be much crazier after the baby comes, so it is good we are moving now. Anyway, it is odd saying goodbye to people. More than anything, it feels like we are getting ready to leave on a long vacation; it is all rather nostalgic.

The reality sets in in waves. Last night, one of those waves washed in when I started packing up the kitchen. Later I told my husband that putting spices and plates away in boxes made me feel kind of sad. He gave me the strangest look, because I’ve been seeing friends for the last time all week long, and every day he asks how it was, how I’m doing, and my answer’s always the same. “I’m fine. We had a great time!”

But there is something so permanent about packing up a kitchen. There can be no chairs, no tables, no beds, in a house, but so long as there is something in the cupboards, then someone still lives there. Packing a kitchen means you really are moving…

So my kitchen is half packed, and yes, we really are moving. It is a strange process, especially when you have lived in one state for so many years, but I can’t wait to get on the road and to our new house. I’m sure I will be loaded with stories about my first fly-cockroach encounters, and the overwhelming presence of trees and grass, and things that are truly green, instead of a couple shades off of brown.

Forgive me for my absence, I’ll be back when I have time, Salud! H

Oh Captain, My Captain. April 25, 2008

Yesterday I was driving down the highway, hustling to an appointment, without my kids. Usually they are with me, and I drive slow, because it is hard to focus on the road and answer all their questions. It’s kinda like taking mid-terms, all over again, every day. And, questions always come out of left field, so I to dig deep to comb my long term memory.

“Mommy, why are we having a baby, why don’t you lay an egg?”

“Well because people are mammals. Mammals are warm blooded, have hair, and they don’t lay eggs to have babies.”

“So snakes have eggs?”

“Yes.”

“And dogs have babies?

“Yes.”

“Elephants must lay REALLY BIG eggs!”

“No, elephants are mammals, they don’t lay eggs.”

“But they don’t have any hair.”

“Ya, they do, not a lot, but they do.”

Thank goodness we didn’t start talking about dolphins!

And then it’s off to the next question. They are rapid fire I tell you!

“Mommy, I know hair and fingernails are dead cells. Do the blood cells just die and then grow out of your finger nails?”

I temporarily black out.

Seriously, you’re 5!

“Um, well, no.” Now you know why I drive slow, so don’t honk at me.

“Ok, um, remember how your kidneys filter your blood and fluids? Well, if there are dead blood cells, I think they get filtered out in your kidneys and sent out with your potty.” There’s a pause as the wheels in his mind turn for a couple minutes.

“Huh, so I pee out my dead blood cells?”

“Ya.”

“Then where do dead cells for hair and fingernails come from?”

“Ummmmmm. Wow, look at that big tractor over there!”

I hated anatomy and physiology in college. I didn’t get it then, and explaining what I don’t understand to a 5 year old is tough! So now you know why I drive so slow!

Salud, H.

The Adventurer April 24, 2008

The Adventurer is very thoughtful. He brings me jewelry to wear, tells me I look beautiful, and tells me I smell pretty, he is very sweet. It makes me smile when he notices those sorts of things.

He is also all boy. This morning he was on his way to breakfast when he looked at me, bent over slightly, and said, “Wait for it…” and promptly tooted. I tried not to laugh, but I was to horrified, so I did. Aren’t boys supposed to do that sort of stuff when they hit puberty? Not when they’re 4!

He has also decided to start dressing himself. Something that the Captain has only recently realized he can do. By dressing, I mean pick out his own clothes. Yesterday, he picked bright yellow workout pants, a blue-striped button down shirt, and his bright red tie. I told him to change into shorts, because it was warm, (trying to avoid mentioning the fact that his wind-pants looked terrible), and he did. He changed into swim trunks. Which (I discovered later) he decided to wear without underwear, “because they just fit so good mommy,” and are much to small for him. So for the whole day, he sported a little boy muffin-top, with a hint of butt-crack. He was happy as a lark, and frankly, so was I. How many days in your life can you really get away with an outfit like that? Zero more in his case, because I instantly moved the swim trunks into the Entertainer’s drawer, to avoid any further muffin-tops.

Salud, and may your children bring you laughter! H

An Ode to Nap Time… April 22, 2008

Nap time, oh nap time, how you have been my friend.
I can scarcely believe our time together is drawing to an end.

I remember when first I learned your name,
You were the only thing that kept me sane.

And now my children have grown beyond your grasp,
How has time had such a big laps?

Oh to quickly you have fled and vanished,
To soon from my home you have been banished.

It was a good run, I must admit,
That daily hour and a half I’ll never forget.

To sit and stare at the wall
While downing ice cream, says it all.

Good-bye my dear, dear friend,
It is time to accept that this is the end.

The mouse who took out the elephant… April 16, 2008

Packing is an interesting task. Especially when I waddle more often than I walk, and doing ANYTHING takes me longer and longer every day. But, packing is my job, by self-appointment. I need to know things are organized. My husband, wonderful man that he is, would probably throw everything in garbage bags, pile it all into a moving truck, and hit the road, in 20 minutes or less; just like the time he did when he packed for our boys, when we decided to leave 2 days early for a trip to Phoenix. Walking past the check-in desk with three giant trash bags is just a little embarrassing.

But today, I think I might have thrown out my lower back for good. Not from the pack and lifting, but from screaming.

You see, our townhouse has a storage closet, but not a garage. Most everything in it is from our childhoods or Christmas, with several boxes of books, and some car-supplies mixed in. On Monday when I began to clean it out, and make sure nothing was living in any of those boxes, I discovered the tell-tell droppings that announced mice were dwelling among our childhood possessions. I packed the boys off to Home Depot and picked up some bug spray and some mouce poison. Big mistake. I should have just gone with the spring loaded traps, because apparently, it takes 5 days, after ingestion, for the suckers to start dieing. And, you have no idea where they will end up. Well, that meant I couldn’t put anything back into the closet, and there where so many boxes stacked in front of the double doors that I couldn’t close them, so instead of moving the boxes, I left the doors open, figuring it would be easier for my husband to check for critters each morning.

My first flaw was in failing to realize that they might come out of the closet. My second flaw was in forgetting that they might come out during the day. Which one did. The cute little guy crossed my path right as I was heading for more tape, and he was OUT of the closet he was supposed to be living in! As I was screaming bloody murder, trying to dodge the tiny teeth and tail, with my belly doing the shimmy-shake just like that of a forty-something-year old man who thinks he still has the “moves” when it comes to basketball, I couldn’t help but feeling bad for the poor little guy that he is gonna be dead, hopefully on Friday. I also couldn’t help but notice that he seemed very healthy, for a mouse who is supposed to be dead on Friday, which means we will probably be going to Home Depot this afternoon, when I can walk again, to get the spring-loaded traps, to speed up the whole process. My second thought was to look up and down our street to make sure that none of our neighbors were running to my aid, and then I remembered that they are all at work during the day, except Miss Betty, who’s 87, and can’t hear a thing when her hearing aids aren’t in.

The funniest part was that when I finally made it back into the house, the Adventurer was tentatively on his way down the stairs to check on me, having heard me scream. The Captain was right behind him with a baseball bat in his hands. He grabbed it just in case “you saw a black widow and it was about to bite you mommy.” Pretty sweet for a 5-year-old. I guess with three sons, I can officially resign from any more bug or mouse slaying, before any more tiny living things send me into early labor.

Salud, and may your homes be mice-free! H

I Hate McDonalds. April 14, 2008

Moms make great detectives. Maybe the police force will have a spot for me when my boys are older. I do detective work all day long. “Who ate all the cookies?” “Where are your shoes at?” “What is going on in here?” Guess I’m pretty good at interrogation too.

But, on occasion, when I’m not following a crumb trail, or looking in the strangest of places for little boy shoes, or trying to figure out exactly what just happened and how to deal with that particular occasion, I get the opportunity to solve a real mystery, like where did we contract the stomach flu virus?

Every mom I know is a genius when it comes to pinpointing where viruses are contracted. My general method is to note when the first child gets sick. If another child gets sick very quickly, then they were all exposed at the same time. If there is a time delay, then I know only one child was initially exposed, and then I back track. We had some friends who every time we went to their house, the Captain would get diarrhea. Only the Captain would get it, and only the Captain would use their bathroom. Then he would pass it on to mom and dad and the Adventurer, who was still in diapers. It took two visits, and then I knew for sure; now we only meet at the park.

So, I realized very quickly when the Entertainer got the stomach flu (despite covering every surface of my house in bleach), exactly two days after the Adventurer did, that the incubation period is two days, which puts the Adventurer and I at McDonalds, on an ice-cream date at the point of viral contraction. I know, the obvious question is did I let him into the play place? Yes. I have to confess I did, and he only went through it once. Stinking McDonalds. If there food wasn’t already unhealthy enough, they have to provide entertainment that is a breeding ground for childhood disease.

And in addition to that, who takes their kid to McDonalds when they don’t feel so good? “Mommy, my tummy hurts.” “No problem, Bobby. Let me just fill you up with twice your daily caloric intake, namely through grease and soda. That’ll make it all better!” I love a #2 just as much as the next guy, but I’ve never thought about McDonalds being the cure for nausea, and having gone through horrible morning sickness 4 times now, I consider myself a bit of an expert on nausea.

Anyway, I should have known I was playing with fire. It was only a matter of time before play-place-vomiting took it’s toll on our family again. If we can make it through tonight with out any one else getting sick, we may just be in the clear. Otherwise, I’ll make sure to cancel all plans Wednesday and Friday night.

(Though I do have to confess, it was REALLY nice to not hear the words “I’m SO HUNGRY!” from the Adventurer a whole 2 days in a row.)
Salud! H