Sisterly Love

On Tuesday and Thursday mornings EM goes to preschool for 2 1/2 hours. I thought this was going to give me a GOOD break a couple days a week. I'd be able to clean the house, do laundry, maybe even read a book! Wishful thinking. For those 2 1/2 hours I am on LuV entertainment duty. With no big sister to play with, I get to attempt to replace EM. I don't do a very GOOD job. LuV walks around the house, calling "E? E?" It isn't as fun to read stories or play games when it's just the two of us. She misses EM and all her silliness. She's whiny and needy and 11:30 can't get here soon enough. At about 11:20 I announce that it's time to go "bye-bye" so we can get EM. Immediately her face brightens and she reaches for me to pick her up and get her loaded into the car. Today as we drove to pick EM up I looked back at LuV in my rear view mirror. She was looking longingly at EM's empty booster seat. We all agree, life is so much more fun with EM around.

Oh, the Hypocrisy

Last Sunday I taught a lesson in church to the 14 and 15-year-old girls on GOOD health habits. Me, a lesson on GOOD health habits. My health habits involve devouring an entire pan of apple crisp in one evening (nearly did so tonight). My weight fluctuates more than a politician's promises (don't believe me, look at my high school yearbook from sophomore to junior year). Okay, so my health habits have hopefully improved somewhat since high school, but still I'm not exactly an exemplary role model in this department. Since those high school yo-yo weight years, I have never been able to look in a mirror and see what I really, actually, physically look like. Ask my little sister. Back in the day I would drive her crazy asking her how I compared to passersby. "Am I bigger or skinnier than her?" Nowadays I just use a scale and how tight my jeans fit as a standard of comparison. I'm pretty sure CW would not appreciate me asking him to compare my weight to other women's. So what do I say to these girls? Do I tell them all my poor health habits and say, "Do as I say not as I do (or did)?" Or do I pretend to be Patty Perfect who eats only fruits and veggies and whole grains and meat sparingly and exercises daily? You really don't need to answer that question, but sometimes I feel like such a hypocrite giving these lessons to THESE girls. They are way better than me.

And so, to add insult to injury, I get a call Monday evening. From a member of the bishopric. I thought Monday evenings were supposed to be off-limits for such phone calls. I am speaking this Sunday in church. On prayer. I am not a perfect prayer. I do not have a perfect testimony of prayer. Now, don't panic anyone. I recognize the importance and need for it. I just struggle with it sometimes. And so, I get to, once again, preach my hypocrisy. This time it's not just in front of five adolescent girls. This time I get to preach it from the pulpit to the entire congregation! I know that I'm being melodramatic. I don't have to be perfect in order to give a lesson or a talk on a subject. How many times have I heard someone say, "I learned more from preparing this lesson/talk than...."? So, apparently I've got a thing or two to learn. Who knew? As it's the Sunday before Thanksgiving, I think it's more than appropriate to talk about prayers of gratitude. I can handle that.

Happy Veterans Day

A couple weeks ago I went to lunch with my sisters-in-law and mother-in-law. One of the topics of conversation, a topic that only other mothers can truly appreciate, was "mommy brain" or "momnesia." Apparently Oprah's very own Dr. Oz claimed that a pregnant woman's brain can shrink up to 8% while she is pregnant! Something to do with Omega-3 fats, but let's not get technical here. So in order to help grow back a brain you are supposed to take Omega-3 fats and get plenty of sleep. I have never taken Omega-3 fatty acids, and it has been well over a year since I got a full night's sleep. That reminds me, I forgot that I should be in bed right now. I think I will finish this post tomorrow. GOOD night.

Well, it is now days later, and I am debating whether to finish this silly post or not, but since I am a firm believer in starting what I finish (or switch that around)...So, some of you may have been aware that Tuesday was Veterans Day. I should have been aware, but apparently my brain has shrunk so much that I cannot remember a tiny detail for 48 little hours. The youth group from our church, of which I am supposedly a "leader," puts flags up on applicable holidays in order to raise money for various activities.

Tuesday morning felt like any other morning to me. It looked like any other morning. I wake up and lie in bed until it is absolutely necessary to get up and take care of my children. I feed them and dress them and do all the things a GOOD mother should. It was a Tuesday, which means that I actually leave the house to take EM to preschool. As I turn off my street I see a sight that makes my stomach sink. There are festive flags of red, white, and blue waving from the front lawn of every house, except the poor houses on my pitiful flagless street. Someone dropped the ball - big time. Sunday - less than 48 hours ago - an announcement was made. Meet at 6:30 a.m. to put up flags. My brain took that little piece of information and immediately discarded it. I didn't sleep in - I was awake at 6:30 (though not necessarily up and at 'em). I simply had no recollection when I awoke that morning that it was any other day than a normal Tuesday.

All I can say is thank GOODness it was a Tuesday! Most days the chances that I would have left the house at all, let alone by 9:00 a.m., are pretty non-existent. Looking out my window, all I saw were my neighbors' houses barren of their Veterans Day flags. I would have remained blissfully oblivious to the fact that just that very morning my group of girls stood waiting in the cold for their trustworthy leader to show up. Hope they didn't wait too long.

Needless to say, I cursed myself all the way to preschool. "I am an idiot." EM replied, "Yep, Mom, you are." Thanks, sweetie, love you too. Maybe she doesn't really know what the word "idiot" means, and that to her it is a princess-like creature who is loved by all and is practically perfect in every way. Let's just pretend.

I put the flags up, with the help of a kindly man who took pity on my idiocy. It was only three hours late. I only hoped the girls could find it in their hearts to forgive me. I wouldn't blame them if they decided to leave me on my own for President's Day, 4th of July, 24th of July, Labor Day, and whatever other holidays warrant a flag. I brought hot cocoa and donuts that evening when it was time to take the flags down. What else could I do?

So, who knew that senility begins in your thirties? I didn't think I needed to start posting post-it notes all over the place for at least another couple decades. I can just imagine it:

"your name is SaM, husband is CW and kids are EM and LuV"
"brush your teeth"
"pluck"
"dress yourself - preferably something weather appropriate and/or matching"
"your children will need to be cleaned and fed and clothed...and a billion other things"

Fortunately for me that last one is not a problem. My kids are very GOOD at reminding me of what I need to do for them. Anyway, it is now 11:21 p.m. and I am still not in bed - not GOOD for my brain function. I still have not rushed out to buy myself an Omega-3 supplement - not GOOD for my brain function. When, oh when, will I learn?

Oh Baby

I was talking to a friend the other night, and she asked me if I was still nursing LuV. When I responded in the affirmative, she called me a "baby." How rude! So, apparently it is not my 13-month old who's the baby, it's yours truly. She's right. I'll admit, I'm scared. It's going to be a battle. At this point it's just easier to maintain the status quo. But at what point do I draw the line, and say enough is enough? Six months ago I vowed that she would be weaned by her first birthday. Her first birthday came and went a month ago. I rationalize. She's only 13 months.

Except what will I be saying when she's 18 months? Or two years? Heaven forbid I end up one of those mothers who's still nursing her kindergartner! I don't know if I'm ready to quit (okay, if I'm being honest, I was ready to quit six months ago). I want LuV to be ready (okay, if I'm being honest, she may NEVER be ready). So what does one in my predicament do? She is not a great eater. She does not drink cow's milk or soy's milk or any other milk than momma's milk. I know she won't starve to death, but sometimes it feels like pulling the plug on nursing is literally pulling the plug. After all, I am her life support, am I not?

So to my faithful readers, all three of you, (and I apologize to any of you who may be uncomfortable with this topic) I ask, what age is too old? At what age does the thought of a child STILL nursing repulse you? When will I become the topic of family discussions (where I am conveniently not present)? "Did you hear that SaM STILL nurses LuV? How disgusting! She really needs to stop." I don't want any of you throwing up in your mouths, not even a little bit, when I am the topic of conversation. When do I become one of THOSE moms, that even I have talked about, rolled my eyes at, made judgemental judgements about, and thought to myself, "I would NEVER nurse a child that long...that is just so wrong."?

And then, once I have my answer of when, where to even begin with the HOW?!

The Evolution of a Nerd

In high school a POPULAR boy called me - not for a date - not to chat - but because he needed the answers to a school assignment.

I took the ACT three times and the SAT once.

In college I would come home from class and recopy my notes until they were perfection (sorry environmentalists).

I won the Freshman Chemistry Handbook Award.

I love taking standardized tests! In addition to the ACT and SAT I took the MCAT and GRE (and I was so looking forward to help CW study for the LSAT and/or GMAT until he decided it was a no go).

My secret indulgence is doing MATH PUZZLES and LOGIC PROBLEMS - I am totally addicted once I get started!


I have always been and will always be a nerd. What makes you a nerd?

Trick-or-Treat

Happy Halloween! We have been anticipating this day for weeks. EM was so excited to be Jessie, the cowgirl from Toy Story 2. That was until she went to preschool Thursday, and saw all the other kids in their costumes. She came home telling me all the things she REALLY wanted to be. That girl has a serious case of the "I needs." Who knew a 3 1/2-year-old would NEED a box of tissues, simply because it's Disney princess?

Last year's Halloween experience was not everything I had hoped it would be. I don't know why I try to force my children to enjoy holidays they are too young to really understand or appreciate or care the least about. But, I continue to try and I continue to be disappointed. At least there's hope - at 3 1/2 and 1, we've got a few Halloweens to come. If I have my way we'll have a GOOD Halloween someday. If CW has his way, we'll forget the holiday all together. I'll get my way.

So, what happened last year? CW took EM trick-or-treating. At the first house she got a pink candy. What could possibly be better than a pink candy? Apparently not a granola bar. It was only the second house, and already she had made up her mind what was GOOD enough for her. She threw that healthy, non-pink granola bar right back at our new neighbors. EM came home from her first trick-or-treating adventure with a single pink candy.

This year I coached her. What do you say when you get to the door? "Trick-or-treat." What do you say when they give you the candy (or granola bar, as the case may be)? "Thank you." I was anxious to see how the evening would actually play out. CW took EM out trick-or-treating with her cousins (this time we weren't in our own neighborhood, so if her manners failed her again, at least we had anonymity on our side). EM returned home dragging her trick-or-treat bag on the ground it was so heavy. Must not have been too much throwing of candy back into the face of the giver. I asked EM how it went. Her report back...I said "thank you." Such a perfect child. I'm her mom, and as such, I have magical mom powers, so I know that's not how it really went down. This is how I see it playing out: she gets her candy, she turns her back and starts to walk away, when she's no longer facing the person and is too far away for anyone to hear her she timidly whispers the words to the sidewalk. That way she did what Mom told her to do, but she was still able to avoid making eye contact or actually speaking to an adult - GOOD grief, that is just asking way too much.

I asked her if she said "trick-or-treat." "Next time, Mom." I'll take that.