Grey’s vs. The Office

I finally got around to watching Grey's. But I had to do it on the computer, because apparently there was a conflict on our dvr with the Office, which my husband was recording at the same time, and somehow, the office won. But I watched it. And now I can go about my weekend.

Can you believe Izzy? Seriously, that girl is a wreck. And she's starting to annoy me a bit. But just a bit. Okay, not a bit. A lot. Because whether she likes it or not, George is married. And whether she likes Callie or not, he is married to her. I know, she's in love. But sometimes I think you just need to know when to back off. Know when to fold em, right? And now (I'm sure this is the point) I have to wonder what, exactly, George plans to do with his confession that he loves her, too. And it makes me a little angry. If he really feels like he made a mistake with Callie, she needs to know. It is just not fair to keep her around if he doesn't love her, want her to have his baby… and there she is, trying to make their relationship work and George is all fucked up because Izzy doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut. Sounds a little like the beginnings of a story line we saw conclude last year… Chief's affair with Merideth's mother. It was quite obvious that he loved her. And he dragged his actual wife around for several years, watching her put things off that she wanted so he could have the career he wanted. And apparently, the relationship he wanted, because she knew about him and Ellis. And she stayed.

And is it possible that Christina is growing a heart, after being left standing alone on her wedding day?

And is it really over between Mer & Der? I hope not. Because really, I thought he was good for her. He Gets her. I personally think that she called it quits because she doesn't know what else to do. He was asking too much from her. And he knew it. But he's willing to wait for her. And I don't think that she knows how to handle that. Derek put himself out there, now he's vulnerable. And Merideth doesn't do vulnerable.

By the way, I love that Sloan came out of the closet, as it were, to tell Derek that what he came to Seattle for was really to fix his relationship with him. He wants his friend back. He made a mistake, and now he's willing to jump through the hoops to fix it. I hope they can work it out. Especially now. Addison left Sloan, basically. And now it seems that Mer is calling it quits with Derek. They both need a friend. They could be good for each other again.

Other than that I spent my morning battling the rush that occurs the day before every single payday. Everyone comes out of the woodwork to do their grocery shopping at the commissary at the same time. Everyone- including the people who take too long to get out of the way, steal the whole aisle with their shopping carts while they decide between French cut green beans in a can or whole ones, and then park themselves in places throughout the commissary to create a maximum disturbance in the flow of traffic. Thankfully, dh kept the girls. Even he knew… you just don't take kids to the commissary the day before payday. And today isn't just the day before payday. It's the weekend before payday, so most people are home, and therefore, more people jamming up the aisles in the store. And you just can't shop with kids like that. Even though our list was blessedly short and sweet, it just was so much easier to deal with without the girls.

Gotta set the dvr now for Brothers & Sisters. And I'm going to find a way to make sure that if the dvr can't record Grey's and the office at the same time, that this time Grey's wins…

Thank God for DVR

Note the time. 8:14 pm. Season premiere of Grey's Anatomy, and I'm here in front of the computer, where I told myself I wouldn't be after 7 pm. Now why is it that I'm here blogging when I should be watching the gang abuse the new interns and Torres flail as the new chief? Because my daughter's have forgotten how to take instructions and therefore would not stop making noise. I don't do noise when I'm trying to do something that involves listening and following a story. I asked nicely, even. I really, really did. S., the 2 year old- after I told her to be quiet the first time she said, "I'm sorry" and then she didn't stop saying it until I told her to cut it out. Saying sorry once is good, I told her, but then you stop. She looks at me and says, "I'm sorry." Meanwhile, A. is making some kind of clicky noise, and she doesn't stop either. So by the time A. makes into my line of vision, standing right between me and the tv I tell her to move. So then she goes off crying because I told her to move (which, oddly is the way she responds to S., who constantly plants herself between A. and the tv). Then she comes back, clicking away as she crawls all over the other couch. It's 10 minutes into the show, and I'm tired of asking them to be quiet and get out of the way nicely. So I got up and walked straight into the office. Not that they won't try to bug me in here, but here I can always shoo them out and shut the door. Sadly, we do not have a door between the living room and the rest of the house. Or even a sound proof plastic box like they use on that TLC 10 years younger show. The box they put the women in while everyone in NY city stops to stare and tell the camera how horrible (beginning of the show)/fantastic (end of the show) she looks. We don't have one of those either. But maybe I should think about getting one and just planting it in the corner of the living room. They'll have enough room to sit comfortably amongst huge comfy pillows decorated with the princess of their choice. And they can scream as loud as they want to while I try to watch tv because I won't be able to hear them! How awesome would that be?! I wonder how much it would cost to get one of those things. We have the room for it. There's a nice corner near the tv and everything that hasn't really been designated a purpose. Well, except for time out. That's A.'s preferred time out corner. Which would be perfect, because she's already familiar with that particular corner, except then she'd be in a sound proof box. Now where do you suppose I would find one of those? Target?

Bloody Sunday

I can't really pinpoint exactly what it was that led me to this thought but basically I feel like today was the suck! I got things done. Things that needed to be done and things I wanted to be done. Most of the day I was pretty okay. Well, there was the whole grocery shopping expedition at the commissary with two tired children this afternoon.

I've gotten to the point that, when I'm in public with my kids and I find that they're frustrating me to death, I don't even care what other people might think if I reacted in a way that most people would not find pleasant. I'm not talking about beating them or locking them in the bathroom. I'm not calling them names. It's other things. Let me give you an example:

S. was riding with her legs on the bottom part of the shopping cart and holding onto the handle. I told her to get off. She did, and then got back on. Well, eventually she just fell off. And in a store full of people my first reaction and response was not to pick her up and say, "oh dear. Did you get a boo-boo? Come here and let me make it better". Instead it was, "Didn't I tell you to get off? Get up. Now you know." as I took her by the hand, pulled her off the ground and put her back into the little car part of the cart. She howled for the rest of our time there- at least another 10-15 minutes. At least. And I didn't care what people thought. I didn't even care if other people thought I was being mean. "That woman is on the verge of losing" they were probably thinking. And you know what? They might just be right.

I remember those days when I didn't even want to raise my voice even a little at my kids around other people because "what would other people think of me?" I didn't want to be that bitch mom that was hollering at her kid all the time, "stay off this, don't do that, stop screaming, quite hitting your sister." Well, now I just don't give a flying f----. Mostly, I avoid eye contact with anyone who is not in my direct line of vision, and when the kids are crying its like I don't notice anyone else at all. I zone out, wandering around store aisles with one, sometimes two crying kids, looking for the next item on the list. And really, I just don't care. I used to care. I used to be so embarrased when the girls were crying in public. I didn't want to be a neusance to everyone. But you know what? If these people are going to take their time and then cut me off coming around corners then they can deal with my screaming kids.

As a mom I think that at some point you have to find you're groove, and it doesn't always include being really pleasant and saying shit like, "oh Johnny, please don't pull the kitty by it's tail" in a way that would make June Cleaver proud. Sometimes, yes, I'll admit it, sometimes, my groove includes words like, "just be quiet ok? Shut up for a minute." And I raise my voice. My groove includes that too. And now my shopping groove is basically, as I mentioned earlier, avoiding eye contact, except for when someone blocks the entire frikkin aisle with their one stupid cart and there's no other way to get through because someone is parked on the other side. I like to think I can convey a very real sense of power over their actions. Sometimes they notice and move. Other times they stay where they are and I turn my cart around, scowling the whole time, unsure of why my jedi-mind trick didn't work.

There are other things, too, in the not so pleasant aspects of being in public with your cranky kids and a cranky you. I growled at my girls today while we were going down the yogurt aisle. It happened before I could stop myself. Just this really loud "ughhhh!" because they wouldn't keep moving. As I said, I try to avoid eye-contact with most people but I couldn't help but notice one woman in particular. She was judging me, I just know it. But she has no idea what inane ramblings and off the wall requests and maddening behaviors I have had to deal with in the last 4 years! So screw her.

There was just too many people and so much noise- just noise all day. Tv, kids playing, video games- I need those Bose headphones that keep sound out. I wouldn't even play music in them. I would just wear them and sink into the silence, hoping for a little peace. But is that even really possible when you're a mom, no matter how old your kids are?

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Oddities abound at my house today.

Just minutes ago, when I asked my daughter if she wanted corn dogs for lunch she bellowed, "yeah, but with the stick in it!". It was in a tone that suggested she was thinking, "how dare you even think about giving me a hot dog without a stick!" If I had been looking at her, she probably had her eyebrows furrowed in my direction with a scowl across her face. But then again, the scowl could have been because her pet fly was smooshed.

Yes, I said "pet fly". Let me tell you how it started:

I had to fill out some paperwork for my dr. yesterday. The lobby was small and we were the only ones there, which was fabulous because I didn't have to worry about them bothering others too much. As I filled out my papers I hear the girls cooing, "oh it's so cute! Look, it likes me!" They get my attention to show me how cute "it" is. It takes a second to realize that "it" is the fly perched on S.'s shoe (she's 2). Alrighty then. I think. "That's great!" I say, and go back to my clipboard. The cooing continues for some time. But then I hear S. crying in distress. This was not an I'm-bored-and-tired cry (well, not entirely). It was more like a someone-just-stole-my-bike kind of cry. You know, the ones kids save for REALLY BIG crisis. Being the *ahem* good mommy that I am, I get up and see what's making her so upset. You know what she tells me through her tears? "It went away! It doesn't like me anymore!" Cross my heart. "It will come back" I tell her, hoping that 1- it will or 2- she'll forget about it in mere seconds. But then the fly came back and a good time was had by all.

Flash forward to today:

A. (whose 4) claims a different fly. One that's been buzzing around our house all morning. She shows me the top of her hand, where it's sitting, looking at me with those thousands of buggy fly eyes. She declares it her pet, I tell her how great it is, and then she moves on. Minutes later I hear A. tell S., "I think it's hungry. Let's go see in the pantry." Oddly, those words did not strike the panic it maybe should have as I overheard that. What I wondered, was what do you feed a housefly? Later I find a box of vanilla mini-wheats discarded to the floor. One lone mini-wheat stood outside the box. Alone. My only thought was, "so that's what you feed a housefly." So I start the what-do-you-want-to-eat, no-not-cereal-for-lunch conversation. This is when A. reveals to me that she was, in fact, trying to feed her fly that mini-wheat. But then in a startling chain of events yet unclear to me, she says she smushed it.

"Smushed it?" I ask. "Why would you smush your fly?"

"Because I wanted a new one!"

Ah, out of the mouth of babes.

On a completely different note, but not really, the girls locked managed to accidentally lock the bathroom door at the dr's office from the inside. Meaning, they locked the door but did not stay in. A. said she had to pee (which is what started the debaucle in the first place), went into the restroom. Her sister followed. A minute later I notice that there is a lot of joy emanating from the restroom, and S. is nowhere to be found. Then I see the colorful striped shirt lodged in the cracked-open doorway. I spring into action, chastise them for playing in the bathroom (even though no one else was there), drag them out by their wrists and tell them to sit down. It's not until A. tells me that she still has to pee do we all realize the door to the ONLY bathroom in the lobby, was locked! So we wait, and watch the receptionists come over with one key after another until finally one of them says, "if she has to pee you might want to take her somewhere else. It might take us awhile to find the key." This was after two failed key attempts and nearly 10 minutes… I apologized profusely, and she insisted it was fine. And maybe it was. Some people have considerate internal dialogue in situations like this. I probably would have thought, man, that lady's kids are out of control! Good luck to her.

It might be interesting to note that she kept telling me how darling the girls were when we first got there. I wonder if she still thought that when we left.

When good parenting intentions go bad

I am so in the mood for something warm and gooey and chocolatey. Brownies, cookies, cake, fudge- anything will do really. Bonus if it has caramel or maybe even peanut butter in it today. But because I have been trying to keep so much junk food out of our house, I have nothing ready made, except for ice cream. But it's not warm and gooey. There is a box of brownie mix in the pantry. I actually took it out of the pantry and placed it onto the counter for a second, deciding on whether or not I had the energy and patience to make up a batch of brownies in order to quelch this sudden craving. I ended up putting it back because I decided that I didn't feel like making them right now. Guess I didn't want them that bad.

This is the problem with trying to make sure that your pantry is not a ready-access bakery and candy store so that you're kids can't sneak into the pantry. Of course, you don't want them eating (too much) of it, because it's just not healthy. But also it's because, no matter how far back on the very very top pantry shelf you put these goods, they will find them. And they will take them. My two year old is very resourceful. DH bought butter cookies on Sunday. We let her have one- just one and then I put them away, in a place I thought would be out of reach. I was wrong. A few minutes later I notice she's eating another whole new cookie. I can't exactly tell if that was her second or fifth. Toddlers move so quickly when sugar is involved! But it's reasons like this that I minimize those kinds of treats in the house- because one day I'll come out of the bathroom and find an empty carton of oreo cookies, a bag half filled with empty reese's cups wrappers and some m&m's trailing through the house, and it will lead me right into their bedroom. Where more wrappers and candies will be strewn about. And I'll ask them what they hell did they think they were doing and my 4 year old will just say that her sister did it.

And then there's the issue of my midnight snacking. I've done it all my life. I remember being about 10 years old. I was sleeping over at a friends house and it was late. But just then I REALLY wanted a toasted pb&j sandwich. An internal battle ensued- do I dare go downstairs and help myself to my friends pantry while everyone slept, unaware? Or do I suffer silently until the morning, when I can eat without feeling like a freak. I suffered. It was a very long night for me. At one point my Dr. thought that if I could sleep through the night, I would stop the snacking (I've never really been able to sleep through the night). Which totally makes sense. Who gets up to snack if they don't ever wake up even once? So I got ambien. And it was wonderful! I don't take it anymore. I think it's because my rx ran out and we moved and my new dr. didn't think a sleep aid was necessary for me. I don't snack as often- the 20 lbs I had to lose last year really motivated me to stay in bed when I wanted to get up and gorge. But lately, gaining weight has not been on my mind. Getting to the rest of those cookies before everyone else ate them all was. I have finished off entire batches of cookies this way- get up, head to the kitchen, grab a few and try not to make too much noise in the kitchen. Not because I don't want my husband to wake up and get grumpy cuz he has to work, but because I don't want my girls to wake up and see that I've got cookies in my hand at 11:30 at night. Then they'll want some, and I'll either have to come up with a story (which I have done) or share (which I have not done). It's terrible, I know. Sometimes I get so tired up going into the kitchen when I get up in the wee hours that I just stuff some snacks into a sandwich bag and hide it in the bedside table drawer.

And this happens almost every time we have some really delectable goodie in the house, like fresh baked brownies, or, like the other week- French silk pie…

So this is why I try not to keep very many really fantastic and satisfying sweets in my house. And now I hate myself for it. Because all I want is a brownie or a cookie or a fantastically rich chocolate cake, and all I've got are stale butter cookies and potato chips.

That is so unacceptable to me right now- I'm just going to have to bake those brownies after all. Here's hoping we've got eggs!

Time Out

It's 11:12 pm. I'm not usually up at 11:12 pm. I'm not usually up past 9 pm!! So you just may be curious about why I'm up so much later than my normal bedtime. It's because of a time out. Yes, I gave myself a time out- a long time out.

The morning started out a bit challenging but not to terrible, we went to a playgroup, had lunch with dh, I got myself a Pumpkin Spice Latte to make myself feel better and the girls were nice and quiet when we got home. No fighting, yelling, screaming, climbing all over my chair and around my back like monkeys. I actually got a full uninterrupted hour to myself!! It was wonderful. And then somewhere around 4:30, the noise and the whining and tattle-telling started back up, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I got dinner started for the girls once dh got home, since my 4-year old had been complaining about being hungry but then I snapped at her about something. She was whining about being hungry again while I was in the process of making her something to eat and I got short with her and told her to cut it out. But I guess I was a little harsh because my hubby calmly told me to cool it before he went off to change. So that made me feel even worse. I got the girls their food and went straight to bed. It wasn't even 7 pm.

I tried reading a little bit at first, but I was too agitated to really give a crap about anything that I was reading. Seriously, that's exactly what I was thinking- "who gives a crap about this junk anyways?!!" So I tossed the book onto the rest of my books on the night stand and, at a loss of what to do with myself otherwise, I lay down and went to sleep. I gave myself a very long, much needed time out. But then dh came into bed somewhere around 10 pm and I woke up a little bit, realizing that I was very hungry, so I got up to make a pbj sandwhich and now I'm here typing because now that the house is completely quiet I don't want to go back to bed. The tv is not on: not Strawberry Shortcake or ESPN. There is no screaming or loud noise coming from the x-box or the bedroom. I don't have to get up and get anyone a drink or clean up after their spilled milk on the table and crumbs off the floor. I don't have to do any of these things. And I should be reveling in that. But I'm not. Because I feel like a jerk. I wasn't yelling at the girls the way I do sometimes, but I wasn't the most patient with them. It's a terrible feeling when your 4 year old is almost in tears as she's telling you to be nice to her. And instead of getting on the floor and making up songs and stories for them and making them laugh, I send myself to my room and shut the door, making it very clear to everyone that I do not want to be bothered at all. You'd think that after being a SAHM for 2 years I'd have it together by now. But I don't. Sometimes I feel like it just gets worse. My eldest daughter is acting out, going through some emotional thing that I don't know how to identify or fix. We moved here from Texas in April, and I know that she misses her friends a lot. But no amount of consolation or promises of making new friends is enough to make things completely better for her. And I am making very active efforts in finding situations for her to make new friends. And it's fine, for then. But once that's done, we're back to square one. I feel so helpless.

And so I gave myself a time out tonight and now I feel like I should have just sucked it up and spent time with the girls instead of being selfish and hiding away in my room. Because what kind of mother just hides from her family for an entire evening? I couldn't even dress it up as being something fun and productive, like going to the mall or bookstore or gym or wherever. Someplace for not just me-time, but for a little personal enjoyment, a place to do something fun by myself. Instead I went to my room. Not for fun, but for survival, really. And now that the girls are sleeping I want to wake them up and tell them I'm sorry. I wish I could be a better mother. They deserve a better mother. Especially since they really are very good kids, and even when I'm mad at them, they still love me. They don't deserve to be yelled at over little things and made to feel like they are being bad when it's really not them that are the problem. It's me. It's all me. And no matter how I try to make it up to them the next day when I have days like this, it always eventually ends up back the same. I end up angry and guilt-ridden because I just can't keep it together. And I just don't know what else to do.

Bizarro World

As a parent, have you ever found yourself in an alternate universe? Like Bizarro World? Here you find strange things happening, like you’re children are cleaning their room without being asked to even once, or they are putting their own clothes away, or they come to you and say, “mommy, you look a little upset. We’re going to go over there and be quiet for ten minutes and maybe you’ll feel better, okay?”.
The other morning I had just such an experience, and I thought that I had perhaps been suddenly transported to a type of twilight zone that intrigues only parents. This is the way it happened.
It was after lunch, and I put my girls in their room for naptime. I knew they wouldn’t nap, but could you blame me for trying? Anyways, about a half an hour later I hear one of them wailing. Before I could get up and see what was going on, I find myself faced with the girls. The older one stood behind her sister, with her hand on the small of her back as if she were trying to prevent her from falling over. The two-year old had tears trickling down her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask. My four-year old spoke first. “She’s sad because she was asking you to get her off of my ladder and you didn’t come.” I look at them both and note that the two-year old has managed to get down the ladder without my help.
Um, okay.
“I didn’t know she needed my help.”
“Well, she did.”
“Okay, well she seems like she got down okay. Let’s go back to bed.” I turn the girls around and begin ushering them towards their bedroom. The two-year old is suddenly in tears. I think she’s upset because she doesn’t want to take a nap. That is not an unusual occurance in this house. I keep moving her towards her bedroom anyways, promising all sorts of goodies when they wake up from their nap. She turns away from me and continues to cry. I can faintly make out the words “time out” as she sobs. “No, no.” I try to assure her that she is not in trouble, that it is just naptime. Not time out. Just naptime. I reach down for her hand and again she turns around and begins walking towards the living room, mumbling something about timeout the whole way. Finally she gets fed up with my apparent lack of understanding, so she turns around and says loudly, “I want time out!” I stared down at her, completely befuddled. I let her go and sure enough she walked into the living room to their designated time-out corners, although this one is usually reserved by her sister. The point is that she went into her time out corner completely by will. What could I do? I let her go, and then head to the restroom. Once I’m in there, the door is pulled open and an angry four-year old stands there, glaring at me.
“She did not want a time out!” she yells.
“yes, she did. She’s the one who put herself in time out. She did it.”
“That’s not what she said! She said she didn’t want time out!”
And so on and so forth until finally I realize that this is a futile conversation. A debate in which I can not win. It is scientifically impossible. I remind her that her sister did, in fact, put herself in time out and then I shut the bathroom door. She pulled it open one last time. Her hands were balled into fists and she thrust them at her sides toward the ground and belted out her absolute favorite phrase these days.
“IT’S NOT FAIR!”
“No, it’s not. Now leave me alone, I have to pee.”
See what I mean? I have a toddler putting herself into time out, and a preschooler raging over the injustice of her sister being in time out. Bizarro world.