My blog friend Brooke challenged her readers to record their lives for a week. I was initially hesitant to do this exercise because it will force me to come to terms with the number of times I eat in a day. But I have had so much fun reading about Brooke and Becca's days that I thought I'd give it a shot.
6:35 am: Jerk awake and wonder why neither of the kids has woken me up yet. Lie in bed until they do.
7:00: Harry barrels into the room with Kramer hair, hops into our bed, and begins talking incessantly.
7:15: Harry is still talking. He and I go downstairs to make smoothies and turn on the coffee.
7:20: Ben starts the laundry.
7:35: After enjoying my bagel and smoothie and watching Harry eat a banana, a nectarine, and leftover smoothie berries, I go upstairs to check on Ben (lying in bed) and Jack (waking up and trying to find his clothes. He often wakes up naked.) Jack can't figure out how to put his undershirt on or find his pants and begins to cry. Ben and I help him get dressed, and we all go downstairs, at which time Harry realizes he won't be getting all the attention and freaks the freak out.
7:45-9:42: The kids eat more breakfast, watch TV, play with their Power Rangers, fight. Ben makes all the beds. Ben and I hang out at the kitchen table drinking coffee, working on our classes, and finalizing some condo lease details.
9:42: I realize I have an OB appointment in 38 minutes, spring from my chair, clean up breakfast (including milk yogurt, and cream cheese that have been sitting out since 7:15. We're food poisoning risk takers).
9:53-10:06: I plug in my flat iron, wash my face, moisturize, slap on concealer, pink eye shadow, black mascara on my top and bottom lashes, and some blush. I straighten my bangs, but the rest of my hair in a bun directly on top of my head, and throw on maternity cut-offs and a floaty sleeveless top from Old Navy. I add a belt under the boobs that used to fit around my hips and Birkenstocks, my wedding rings, and my favorite earrings. Meanwhile, Ben throws Jack in some clean clothes and scrubs the top layer of snot and cream cheese off his face.
10:08: Jack pees. He is just learning how to pee standing up.
10:09: I clean up the toilet and floor around it.
10:11: Jack and I pull out of the driveway and race to my OB appointment.
10:19: 1 minute to spare!
10:20-10:48: OB's office. Jack and I read books while we wait. I get weighed and am disgusted and strangely intrigued by the number. Visit is quick and reassuring. Jack gets to hear baby's heart beat, which is why he tagged along. Nurse asks what the baby's name is, and Jack says Owen, which has been his top choice for about 8 weeks.
10:48-11:30: Jack and I browse Barnes and Noble for a Power Rangers book. Can't find one. Get Olivia instead. Jack picks out Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for Harry's birthday.
11:30-12:00: Celebrate record-setting weight gain at Panera with abagel and soup for Jack and a strawberry and poppy seed salad and frozen lemonade for me.
12:00-1:30: Come home to find that the laundry fairy has completed the day's frst load. Lie around watching TV and working on my class while the kids alternately lounge, fight, and play around me. Ben runs an errand. I eat 4 malted milk ball cookies from Trader Joe's and start another load of laundry.
1:30-2:15: My brother and his girlfriend come over to play with the kids.
2:15-2:45: Ben comes home. My brother and his girlfriend SIGN A LEASE and are officially renting this condo in August!!! Yay!!!
2:45-3:45: Nothing. We just sort of hung around upstairs doing nothing. Ben and I made some house/insurance/bank related phone calls; the kids played, fought, demanded pink lemonade.
3:45: Ben and the kids go to park. I go to my massage.
4-5: Massage. Ahhhhhhh.
5-6: Dinner. Salads with grilled chicken and farmer's market lettuce, berries, and pomegranate seeds. Grilled asparagus and baked potatoes. Jack eats oatmeal. And Joe Joes.
6:00: Freak out about impending severe storms and their impact on bath time.
6-6:40: Frantically clean the kitchen (me) and fold laundry (Ben) and clean up the kids' toys (Ben) and bathe the kids (Ben).
7:00: Family picture. Jack's bedtime. Harry and I go downstairs to watch iCarly and blog.
7:40: This is when Harry and I will go upstairs to read a chapter of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
I'll spend the rest of my night eating stale Red Vines and working on school stuff. Will take a shower when the storm ends. Ben will eat edamame and also work on school stuff; he might possibly drink Summer Shandy. We are fascinating.
ETA: OMFG. As soon as I saved that entry the news came on to tell us a tornado was spotted right by our new house moving toward our condo, and we have been in the basement under the shelves for the last 40 minutes. Bedtime might be FUBARed.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Monday, June 06, 2011
Fun in the sun
Okay, yes, I have a ton of work t do, and it is supposed to be close to 100 degrees here today (and tomorrow and the next day), but I am eating the last Dilly Bar, and the AC is working its hardest to keep things only a hair above 70 (shut up). Ben and I just had a landscape walk through at our new house, and I am so excited! We picked peonies and hydrangea and a crab apple tree and a whole bunch of other stuff that I can't really remember. Mostly we just listened to the designer tell us what would have a good sequence of bloom and said things like "I like pink."
Yesterday we had an open house (One person came. One.) and spent the afternoon at the pool. Jack jumped in over his head and generally had a fabulous time. So, phew! This picture is taken from really far away and it looks like Jack has a pacifier (he didn't), but I think it shows how much fun we were having!
Just like last summer, I am using SPF 50 and more than the recommended shot-glass full per application. I am even wearing a freaking UPF 50 long-sleeved rashguard. And I am still getting tan. What gives?
Yesterday we had an open house (One person came. One.) and spent the afternoon at the pool. Jack jumped in over his head and generally had a fabulous time. So, phew! This picture is taken from really far away and it looks like Jack has a pacifier (he didn't), but I think it shows how much fun we were having!
Just like last summer, I am using SPF 50 and more than the recommended shot-glass full per application. I am even wearing a freaking UPF 50 long-sleeved rashguard. And I am still getting tan. What gives?
Sunday, June 05, 2011
Hello, Summer
In any other town, you might feel like kind of a yippie d-bag waking away from the farmers' market to load your cloth Whole Foods bag of local, organic produce and fresh-baked bread into your Prius, but here, not so much because most people WALK to the farmers' market or at least bike or at the very least have "Recall Walker" bumper stickers on their Priuses, so you're still kind of an a-hole in the grand scheme of things. You don't even have an Etsy knit bag for your farmers' market spoils for goodness sake. Poser.
Anyway, we had a lovely day yesterday. We planned to clean the house for today's Open House, but it was just too darn nice. Instead, we went downtown for our first produce paradise of the season and had fewer balloon mishaps than usual. Sure, Harry's popped on blade of sharp grass while I stood in line at a smoothie shack (sharp grass? wtf?), but he got a new one at lunch, and Jack kept his tied to his belt loop all day, so it floated above him like a thought bubble.
Smoothies for all (but not me. I have lived here for like 8 years, and I still can't totally trust the portable food huts. It's crazy, I know).
Jack's balloon came in handy because he is totally a runner.
Also, as an aside, Jack has been completely potty trained for over 2 weeks, and he almost never has accidents and wakes up dry. About a week and a half ago, though, he pooped his pants at Target because he did not recognize signs of urgency fast enough. He was really bummed about the whole thing (even though I had pants, undies, toddler wipes and a plastic bag in my bag and it was easy peasy). Now? If we are out and about, he claims to have to poop at least 5 times and will not pass gas without being seated on a toilet, which was really hard yesterday because our fascist governor has closed most entrances to the Capitol and there's a bit of a line to get inside, so there's a shortage of public restrooms. We kept squeezing into coffee shops and restaurants so Jack could fart.
Instead of joining the throngs of slow-moving shoppers around the capitol, we walked the opposite direction on the grass, and Ben darted through the crowd to grab things like the best spinach ever and green onions the size of my forearm.
As an added bonus, it was Cows on the Concourse, an event where local dairy farmers bring their cows. To the concourse. It's fun, and we met a dairy beauty queen, who gave us free tickets to the State Fair. In mid-August. Which should be the best time ever to waddle around the fairgrounds.
Jack came home and contined his car nap on Harry's bed, thought bubble and all.
Harry and I went to the pool where I appear to have gotten tan through my UPF 50 RASHGUARD-- WTF? Then Ben marinated chicken in raspberry vinegar (my brother manages a speciality oil store in town, and that's what he gave me for my b-day-- a collection of delicious vinegars which make us feel like we know how to cook) and grilled it for our fresh farmers' market salads with spinach, onions, and a variety of berries. We ate it with a huge, round loaf of fresh-baked cheese bread. Yum.
We stalked our new house on the way home yesterday and discovered that the only road that goes straight into our subdivision is closed from next week through August 31. Neat. We also found a 15-minute road-construction detour. Hello, summer.
Anyway, we had a lovely day yesterday. We planned to clean the house for today's Open House, but it was just too darn nice. Instead, we went downtown for our first produce paradise of the season and had fewer balloon mishaps than usual. Sure, Harry's popped on blade of sharp grass while I stood in line at a smoothie shack (sharp grass? wtf?), but he got a new one at lunch, and Jack kept his tied to his belt loop all day, so it floated above him like a thought bubble.
Smoothies for all (but not me. I have lived here for like 8 years, and I still can't totally trust the portable food huts. It's crazy, I know).
Jack's balloon came in handy because he is totally a runner.
Also, as an aside, Jack has been completely potty trained for over 2 weeks, and he almost never has accidents and wakes up dry. About a week and a half ago, though, he pooped his pants at Target because he did not recognize signs of urgency fast enough. He was really bummed about the whole thing (even though I had pants, undies, toddler wipes and a plastic bag in my bag and it was easy peasy). Now? If we are out and about, he claims to have to poop at least 5 times and will not pass gas without being seated on a toilet, which was really hard yesterday because our fascist governor has closed most entrances to the Capitol and there's a bit of a line to get inside, so there's a shortage of public restrooms. We kept squeezing into coffee shops and restaurants so Jack could fart.
Instead of joining the throngs of slow-moving shoppers around the capitol, we walked the opposite direction on the grass, and Ben darted through the crowd to grab things like the best spinach ever and green onions the size of my forearm.
As an added bonus, it was Cows on the Concourse, an event where local dairy farmers bring their cows. To the concourse. It's fun, and we met a dairy beauty queen, who gave us free tickets to the State Fair. In mid-August. Which should be the best time ever to waddle around the fairgrounds.
Jack came home and contined his car nap on Harry's bed, thought bubble and all.
Harry and I went to the pool where I appear to have gotten tan through my UPF 50 RASHGUARD-- WTF? Then Ben marinated chicken in raspberry vinegar (my brother manages a speciality oil store in town, and that's what he gave me for my b-day-- a collection of delicious vinegars which make us feel like we know how to cook) and grilled it for our fresh farmers' market salads with spinach, onions, and a variety of berries. We ate it with a huge, round loaf of fresh-baked cheese bread. Yum.
We stalked our new house on the way home yesterday and discovered that the only road that goes straight into our subdivision is closed from next week through August 31. Neat. We also found a 15-minute road-construction detour. Hello, summer.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Little Baby No Name
As my friend and due date twin Jen pointed out the other day on her blog, Ben and I still do not have a name for this baby. Not even close. I asked my awesome Facebook friends for some suggestions and got lots. But still. We can't commit.
The names we considered early on like Henry (too close to Harry) and Wyatt (cute but not totally awesome) and Holden (love, but what the heck is the nickname?) and Cooper (pooper) are't really on the list anymore.
We had some fleeting attachments to Silas (really? Nancy Botwin is our role model?) and Jules (literary, so that's a plus, but not totally thrilling anymore). We liked Noah and William and Oscar okay.
Parker is adorable. I met a little cutie at the pool named Watson, and one of H's classmates has a brother named Ziggy, which is precious. We both sort of like Tennyson. But I am not rushing to Etsy to have any of these monogrammed on a onesie or carved in wood for the nursery wall, you know?
Ben wants to name the baby Indiana or Texas. I really, really, really like Finn and Oliver. We have both vetoed the other person's choices here.
We have 3 names we are actively considering, but I have to warn you, they are all slightly off the beaten path. More than some of the above names even. We are not sharing them because we really like them, and people can be-- no offense-- assholes about baby names. It's that pause before they say, "Oh," or that little moue of distaste. YOU know. And we know that these 3 names in particular would get a side eye. Once the baby is here and already branded with an unusual moniker, most people won't be total dicks about it--they'll at least lie to us. So we're sort of waiting on our top 3. But none of the top 3 is a real winner yet.
Ben doe NOT want to show up at the hospital with a list of names and "see what the baby looks like" Because the baby will look like a red, wrinkled, geriatric primate, and we'll end up naming him Morty or Bubbles. Or maybe he is worried that after birth, he'll take pity on me and I'll get to choose, and we'll end up with a little Finn or Cooper.
Coming up with a name for a 3rd boy is HARD. If you have any insight, opinions (moues are not apparent online), or suggestions, let 'em rip. Please.
The names we considered early on like Henry (too close to Harry) and Wyatt (cute but not totally awesome) and Holden (love, but what the heck is the nickname?) and Cooper (pooper) are't really on the list anymore.
We had some fleeting attachments to Silas (really? Nancy Botwin is our role model?) and Jules (literary, so that's a plus, but not totally thrilling anymore). We liked Noah and William and Oscar okay.
Parker is adorable. I met a little cutie at the pool named Watson, and one of H's classmates has a brother named Ziggy, which is precious. We both sort of like Tennyson. But I am not rushing to Etsy to have any of these monogrammed on a onesie or carved in wood for the nursery wall, you know?
Ben wants to name the baby Indiana or Texas. I really, really, really like Finn and Oliver. We have both vetoed the other person's choices here.
We have 3 names we are actively considering, but I have to warn you, they are all slightly off the beaten path. More than some of the above names even. We are not sharing them because we really like them, and people can be-- no offense-- assholes about baby names. It's that pause before they say, "Oh," or that little moue of distaste. YOU know. And we know that these 3 names in particular would get a side eye. Once the baby is here and already branded with an unusual moniker, most people won't be total dicks about it--they'll at least lie to us. So we're sort of waiting on our top 3. But none of the top 3 is a real winner yet.
Ben doe NOT want to show up at the hospital with a list of names and "see what the baby looks like" Because the baby will look like a red, wrinkled, geriatric primate, and we'll end up naming him Morty or Bubbles. Or maybe he is worried that after birth, he'll take pity on me and I'll get to choose, and we'll end up with a little Finn or Cooper.
Coming up with a name for a 3rd boy is HARD. If you have any insight, opinions (moues are not apparent online), or suggestions, let 'em rip. Please.
Friday, June 03, 2011
Oldies
When the kids are not with me in the car, I can finally listen to something besides Radio Disney. Thank god. I can only listen to Taylor Swift so many times before I want to calmly remove my ears. I would gladly go Back to December if that meant the Story of Us wasn't on the radio every 4 songs. But it's not like the kids are really cramping my music style because the moment I have the car to myself, I turn on 90s radio. I love it. The minute a song comes on-- like 3 a.m., which is what accompanied me to Panera this morning-- I know ALL the words as if I JUST heard it the other day, probably while I was sprawled in the sun at Sunset Pool like the too-tan, unemployed sloth I was every summer of my childhood and college years.
The scary thing is that these songs feel completely current to me. 1996, 15 years ago, the year I graduated high school, is as current as 2010 in my mind. Will it always be that way? Or will 2011 be the new 1996 in 15 years?
Maybe it is because I am pregnant and wearing a freaking tennis skirt to the damn pool and making fashion choices that are quite a bit about comfort (OMG-- Birkenstocks! Best, most comfortable shoes EVER-- why have I waited this long to wear them???) and elastic waist jeans, but I have recently realized just how much I am NOT like the college girls I see drifting across campus. You are probably thinking, no shit, man--you're 33. But you have to remember, in my mind, I graduated from high school JUST THE OTHER DAY and I have been in college or at college ever since. I should be the one with the long side pony tail and the huge sunglasses and the off-shoulder shirt and the where-the-hell-are-my-pants leggings and the giant shoulder bag that costs more than my mortgage, right? I feel like that person, and then I catch my wide reflection in a storefront and I have on horizontal stripes (why all the maternity shirts with horizontal stripes? WHYYYYYYY?) and mom-capri jeans that adjust around the middle like a toddler's and a sensible backpack, and the humidity makes my supposed-to-be-hip, eyebrow- brushing bangs curl under mid-foreheard, just enough to look like I probably styled them that way, just like all the 1996 moms I used to know. And I am surprised every time.
In 1996, Give Me One Reason was Tracy Chapman talking straight to me and my friends, all of us about to scatter for the res of our lives. In 1996, I already knew Ben, knew where I would go to college, had started to make many of the choices that would lead directly to this moment of contented suburban motherhood. In 1996, I had no delusions of grandeur. I knew exactly how cool I was (not cool at all) and was vain enough to know that I should appreciate looking 18, but I didn't know how quickly I would go from that to this and how blurry the time in between would be.
In my car (minivan, oh holy hell, I drive a minivan), though, thanks to the wonder of 90s radio, I am free to remember yesterday like it really was yesterday.
The scary thing is that these songs feel completely current to me. 1996, 15 years ago, the year I graduated high school, is as current as 2010 in my mind. Will it always be that way? Or will 2011 be the new 1996 in 15 years?
Maybe it is because I am pregnant and wearing a freaking tennis skirt to the damn pool and making fashion choices that are quite a bit about comfort (OMG-- Birkenstocks! Best, most comfortable shoes EVER-- why have I waited this long to wear them???) and elastic waist jeans, but I have recently realized just how much I am NOT like the college girls I see drifting across campus. You are probably thinking, no shit, man--you're 33. But you have to remember, in my mind, I graduated from high school JUST THE OTHER DAY and I have been in college or at college ever since. I should be the one with the long side pony tail and the huge sunglasses and the off-shoulder shirt and the where-the-hell-are-my-pants leggings and the giant shoulder bag that costs more than my mortgage, right? I feel like that person, and then I catch my wide reflection in a storefront and I have on horizontal stripes (why all the maternity shirts with horizontal stripes? WHYYYYYYY?) and mom-capri jeans that adjust around the middle like a toddler's and a sensible backpack, and the humidity makes my supposed-to-be-hip, eyebrow- brushing bangs curl under mid-foreheard, just enough to look like I probably styled them that way, just like all the 1996 moms I used to know. And I am surprised every time.
In 1996, Give Me One Reason was Tracy Chapman talking straight to me and my friends, all of us about to scatter for the res of our lives. In 1996, I already knew Ben, knew where I would go to college, had started to make many of the choices that would lead directly to this moment of contented suburban motherhood. In 1996, I had no delusions of grandeur. I knew exactly how cool I was (not cool at all) and was vain enough to know that I should appreciate looking 18, but I didn't know how quickly I would go from that to this and how blurry the time in between would be.
In my car (minivan, oh holy hell, I drive a minivan), though, thanks to the wonder of 90s radio, I am free to remember yesterday like it really was yesterday.
Thursday, June 02, 2011
Office day
Today I ventured to my office. It was actually quite lovely to be a productive member of society again. So lovely that I brought some stuff home with me, so I can spend a few hours in a coffee shop tomorrow morning. I spent much of my time on campus cleaning out my total shitbox office. I have not cleaned the top drawer of my desk since I moved in, so I dispensed with tons of broken paper clips, Post-Its with incomprehensible notes, and floppy disks. I cleaned off my rubbish-filled bookshelf and picked up 3 of the 5 towering stacks of dusty papers that make me an ideal candidate for Hoarders. So cathartic at the end of an academic year. Plus I needed to make room for the fridge I need to buy to hold the milk I will pump once I start showing up regularly on campus again, sometime in October-ish. Now if I can find an extra file cabinet and get someone to wax my floor, I'll be all set.
This morning, Jack spent some time drawing pictures for the baby in my "Dear Baby" book. he took his task pretty seriously
And he was really proud of the result
I LOVE driving my minivan. I love how tall I am-- finally the perfect height for the ATM and the parking garage ticket machine. I love the backup camera. I love the push-button doors. I love climbing behind the very back seat from the hatch to buckle Harry in. I love that the kids are just a little too far away to hold a conversation with, so they end up talking to each other and listening to Radio Disney and letting me chill. I love everything about it. Which, I know, makes me a huge, huge dork.
But not Harry. He is way, way cool:
This morning, Jack spent some time drawing pictures for the baby in my "Dear Baby" book. he took his task pretty seriously
And he was really proud of the result
I LOVE driving my minivan. I love how tall I am-- finally the perfect height for the ATM and the parking garage ticket machine. I love the backup camera. I love the push-button doors. I love climbing behind the very back seat from the hatch to buckle Harry in. I love that the kids are just a little too far away to hold a conversation with, so they end up talking to each other and listening to Radio Disney and letting me chill. I love everything about it. Which, I know, makes me a huge, huge dork.
But not Harry. He is way, way cool:
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Pool Day (Again!)
We were the ONLY people at the pool today when we got there at precisely 3:30-- the moment the doors opened (can't WAIT until the lifeguards are out of school).
Srsly. Not a soul in this pool-- which was the arctic one the other day and was a tolerable temp today thank goodness because I had to jump in an rescue a dive stick that was too deep for Harry-- or the baby pool which you can see off to the right.
Totally empty pool deck and diving well
Even the lap pool (which is my favorite because it is bathwater warm and Jack will let himself be coaxed in.) was deserted. Today, Jack protested at first but he, Harry, and I claimed a lane, and Harry swam laps while jack and I walked behind him. 20 minutes in, and Jack was having an awesome time kicking and blowing bubbles and dunking his own face. When the whistle blew for adult swim, he said, "That wasn't so bad."
The boys enjoyed total shit for dinner.
And Jack "took a nap in the sun." Not really a nap. And since it was 6:30, not much sun.
The moms at this pool are super, super nice, and Jack was delighted to run into a friend from his class there with her nanny and big brothers. Harry made an adorable friend in the shallow end, and he tried really hard to be cool enough to play with some 6.5 year-old girls. We didn't come home until bath time, and both kids passed out almost instantly. I love summer.
Srsly. Not a soul in this pool-- which was the arctic one the other day and was a tolerable temp today thank goodness because I had to jump in an rescue a dive stick that was too deep for Harry-- or the baby pool which you can see off to the right.
Totally empty pool deck and diving well
Even the lap pool (which is my favorite because it is bathwater warm and Jack will let himself be coaxed in.) was deserted. Today, Jack protested at first but he, Harry, and I claimed a lane, and Harry swam laps while jack and I walked behind him. 20 minutes in, and Jack was having an awesome time kicking and blowing bubbles and dunking his own face. When the whistle blew for adult swim, he said, "That wasn't so bad."
The boys enjoyed total shit for dinner.
And Jack "took a nap in the sun." Not really a nap. And since it was 6:30, not much sun.
The moms at this pool are super, super nice, and Jack was delighted to run into a friend from his class there with her nanny and big brothers. Harry made an adorable friend in the shallow end, and he tried really hard to be cool enough to play with some 6.5 year-old girls. We didn't come home until bath time, and both kids passed out almost instantly. I love summer.
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