I recently found a new blog I am enjoying, The Miss Elaine-ous Life. Being such a big fan of Seinfeld and liking smart and cute people who make funny plays with words, I couldn't not check it out.
Reading there today led me to The Biggest One Day Contest EVER at Burgh Baby. Head on over and join in, there are loads of fun and wonderful prizes for you to win!!
I had one of those experiences today.
One of those experiences to which I don't like to admit, of which I am completely, totally, and utterly embarrassed. One of those experiences where you sit back later on, while sipping a cup of coffee or tea, and wonder, "was that ME?".
Oh, oh, oh. It was me, all right.
I have not felt as if my hormones were "raging" or "out of whack" now for a while. As a matter of fact, I had been thinking that things were finally chugging along pretty smoothly in the hormone department. For the most part, I feel pretty great every single day. I'm still nursing, so I recognize that inside of me swims a lovely little cocktail of various female hormones, leaving their imprints on me in the forms of excitement, stress, anxiety, sadness, and elation.
I had a horrible cold all weekend, and could barely get out of bed. I felt rotten, and the sinus infection of which I had worked diligently to rid myself seemed to be rearing it's ugly head again. I slowly felt myself slipping into that deep, dark hole of victim mode.
Why me? I'm a mom, I'm too busy to get sick. I don't get any days off. It's NOT FAIR.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion I felt from a long weekend of being sick, or maybe it was that unique mix of hormones raging through me, but something caused me to become a weepy, blithering idiot on the telephone this morning.
I called my optometrist's office because I was out of contacts. I buy the two week lenses, and then I wear them for a month or two. It saves me money and is better than the dailies I used to wear (due to the fact that I had a serious eye infection a number of years ago). When I run out, I call the office to order more and I have them in 48 hours.
Well, on the phone this morning the receptionist tells me she can not order me contacts because I am overdue for my latest eye check up. I realized this, told her I was sorry, and that I would come in sometime in the New Year when life settled down a bit. So could I please just order the contacts?
She wouldn't budge. She was not going to order me my contacts. I started to panic, because I am at the very end of the pair I am wearing and I need contacts in the next week or two or I'd have to . . . wear my glasses. Which I don't do. In public. Very often. If ever.
I've had glasses since I was a wee little thing in grade two or three. I couldn't see the board at school, the teacher told my mom, and I got myself a cute little pair of little girl frames. I got contacts at age 14, something I was able to convince my parents were *necessary* because I was very into figure skating and also did cross-country running. Sports + Glasses do not mix well. I've been wearing contacts ever since.
I remained calm as long as I could, but the thought of having no contacts soon became more than I could handle. She told me that I would need to come in for an appointment, but that they weren't booking times before November. NOVEMBER?
She said if I booked an appointment time for November, that she could order me a trial pair of contacts to use until I saw the doctor. She so kindly reminded me that "they are only for two weeks though, so you would need to wear your glasses for the remainder of that time".
Uh, yeah. Right.
I just wanted the contacts. I had tried to go to Costco last week to buy contacts, but being near-blind, they don't carry my prescription and they don't let you order if you don't have that little piece of paper with your prescription written on it.
I just want contacts. I explained to unfriendly lady X on the phone that I am a long time contact lens-wearer, that I know my eyes have not changed, that I am not having any problems and that I would come in for an appointment later. But for now, a four year old in kindergarten who takes the afternoon bus, an almost three year old in preschool two mornings a week, and a nursing baby who doesn't take a bottle are preventing me from coming to an appointment (their office happens to be very far from where I live, I can't just "pop" over for an appointment).
She still won't budge. And I just wanted the contacts. Badly. I started to imagine what a cocaine addict might feel like if they didn't know where their next stash would come from.
Then it happened. I started to cry. On the phone! With a total stranger.
I tell her, "I can see where this is going. You have no intention of giving me contact lenses and I'm totally screwed."
"If you book an appointment we can order you a trial pair, " she replies in a calm voice that tells me she has perhaps been through this before.
I say, "Fine. Book me an appointment in November and I'll see if I can make it". "And now I'd like to order the trial set of contacts."
My husband later explained to me that this was where the fateful phone conversation really went sour. Apparently, "I'll see if I can make it", probably made optometrist reception woman see red. Hindsight is 20/20. I can see what a bitch I was now that I'm calmer.
Dealing with hormonal nursing moms must not be the high point of this woman's day because she then tells me to "calm down and call back later after I find out if I can make the appointment or not".
Do you think that made me feel any better? No. She then explains that she can't talk about this anymore, she is alone in the office and very busy, and will phone me back later. Uh huh.
She does call back about 15 minutes later. She offers me an appointment on a day and time I know I cannot possibly make. Rather than even get into that, I calmly tell her, thank you, but no thank you, I will have to look elsewhere for my optometric needs. I'm stunned that she shows no compassion or even seems remotely concerned that I want a pair of contacts and she is ruining my day.
After some panic and a number of frazzled phone calls, I did find an optometrist who would see me in two weeks from today. With an office within five minutes of my home, instead of twenty-five. I booked an appointment, and I will have my new contacts by mid-October. What I am most regretful of in this whole situation is the fact that I truly liked my optometrist. I was one of her first patients, as she opened her office across the street from a company for which I used to work. We hit it off as we were roughly the same age and had a number of similar interests. I thought she was a fantastic eye doctor.
The worst part is how much this inane conversation actually upset me. There are multiple things that go wrong for me in any given day, things out of my control that just happen and cause a chain reaction of mixed-up things that require me to make alternate arrangements and fix and rework things. It just seemed ridiculous to me that a person wanting a pair of contact lenses cannot purchase them without a prescription.
I found this piece of grass, and I'm dyin' to test it out . . .
I think I'm gonna do it, I'm sure it's going to taste yummy.
Yep, let's just pop 'er right in there.
Bleck. That's stinkin' gross. Who knew?
I am a slave to the clock. I am a slave to the school bus. I am a slave to the beginning and end times of my children's activities.
Surely this is no new phenomenon. My parents went through it. My friends' parents went through it. My friends today go through it. If you have school age children - or ever did - you know exactly what I am talking about.
Although in no means was my life "PRE school bus" easy. Last winter and spring I had a four year old, his eighteen-months-younger brother, and a new baby girl to tote around the city with me. We struggled Tuesday and Thursday mornings to get Thing 1 to and from preschool. Where he spent 2 1/2 hours. Yet it took me longer than that to actually organize us all to drop him off and pick him up. Where on Tuesdays we could never find parking because the school parking lot was completely jammed due to another activity taking place at the same time.
Yet, outside of Tuesday and Thursday mornings we were fairly flexible in choosing our day to day activities. If we felt like going to the library on Monday afternoon, then that is where our little group ventured. Too rainy or snowy to play outside? I might have hit the indoor play area at the mall, looked for sales, and choked back a coffee while juggling three Things with the other, non-coffee-clutching, hand.
But, alas, this year is different. Thing 1 must be at the designated bus stop around the corner at 12:15 every single weekday. The bus comes at 12:18, so if by some chance of fate (or a dawdling, rock-kicking, leaf-inspecting toddler) we are late, the big giant banana-coloured bus would not stop to take my oldest son to his afternoon kindergarten class. Then what would I do? Trudge back the six to ten minutes it takes the four of us to walk a distance any grown adult could cover in two to three, buckle three kids in car seats in the van, and drive to school.
You get my point.
I'd rather not miss the bus. So in order to ensure we arrive at the designated spot, on the proper side of the street, at 12:15 every single day, all the stars must be aligned. We must all have eaten lunch, finished, washed our hands and wiped our faces, peed, pooped, put shoes on - sweaters or jackets as they become increasingly necessary - prepared, packed and zipped backpack, grabbed whatever *special* and crucially important "small useless toy of the day" each boy must have before we descend down the front steps of our house. Because if we dare leave the end of the driveway without "the helicopter guy with the blue hat" or "the Lego Star Wars person who is not actually Obi Wan Kenobi but who Thing 2 pretends is Obi Wan", the mother of all breakdowns will occur, rendering it then impossible for me to get us all to the bus stop on time.
Oh. I forgot to mention Thing 3. She may or may not be up from her morning nap at this time. If she went to sleep late, she could easily still be sleeping and therefore I need to jolt her from her peaceful, quiet, and happy world where no one is yelling "Hey, I got you", "No way, I got you first", "NO, I said I GOT YOU FIRST", "MOMMY, HE DID NOT GET ME FIRST", lift her from her soft, comfortable and protective crib, and plunge her into one of our two strollers (a single pram-type stroller from back in that very short time period that we had just Thing 1, or a sporty, double stroller we were given as a gift after we had Thing 2), so that we may make our way around the corner and up the street to . . . .
"the designated spot".
The previous details don't even come close to describing the bundle of stress and nerves I frequently become on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when we take Thing 2 to preschool at 9:00 a.m. and pick him up at 11:30 a.m. (because I was so adamant that I did not want to neglect my second child by not providing him with the same preschool opportunities his older brother had), rush home and throw lunch on the table while hoping and praying picky-eater Thing 1 eats enough to give him sustenance for his afternoon at school. And who am I kidding? Some days I just threaten him.
"You need to eat Peter, because X will happen if you don't."
"You only have two more minutes to eat, Peter, or else . . . ."
"I SAID EAT OR XYZ!!!"
And I get to repeat the aforementioned process at 3:15, when Things 2 and 3 and I must return to the designated spot to retrieve Thing 1 from the jaws of the big banana bus and begin to listen to the pleasantries of his day at school, on the long, slow and less frazzled walk home. Where the Things can stop and smell the roses, pick up stones on the side of the road, talk to neighbours, and chase each other around the front lawns that we walk past.
"Mommy, I learned how to print my name . . . and I made a picture on the computer, and I learned a new song, and madame read us a story, and I made two new friends . . . and can you even believe there are TWO Ryans in my class . . . do you think we could go to the park and play, and maybe read a story later, and then play Star Wars?"
He oozes excitement, pride, and happiness. He talks so quickly I can barely process his train of thought.
This is why I remain a slave to the clock, and will for every single school day until the end of June.
Totally worth it.
I did it!
I finally decided to give in and open an Etsy store.
I'd been thinking about it for a couple years now, but have always fallen back to the "I'm too busy" excuse. And while, yes, I am very busy, I love making my cards and doing crafts in the evenings when the Things go to bed. It is therapeutic and relaxing for me. It is GOOD for me. So with lots of support from my family and friends, I opened a store in Etsy called "A Crafty Mom's Cards".
Original - I know. But the truth is I have been selling the cards to family and friends for years, so it will be interesting to see how this turns out . . . or if it will still be the original family and friends who are purchasing them. Either way, I appreciate the support and absolutely LOVE doing them.
So, I'm going to post a few cards I have made recently, and if you're interested in taking a peek at my new store, you can see my banner to the left or click here.
Enjoy!
Blog WARNING: Ahead will follow many extremely cute and gratuitous photos of members of our family . . . these are being posted mostly for the benefit of said family members. Those not related to the 3 Things may find the following could induce a wide mouth-opening reflex known as a yawn.
My uber-cool sis and her family hopped on an airplane and made the trek to Ottawa to visit us a couple weeks ago. While they needed to attend a wedding in a nearby town, I know the real reason they came was to spend some much needed time with our quiet, peaceful little family.
(**SNICKER**)
We had a great time and actually got to babysit the Things' cousin R overnight while L & M headed out of town to a friend's wedding.
I bravely set-up a finger painting activity one afternoon when it was raining:
Um, I think R loved it.
Thing 1 (pre-haircut) is an old pro at this stuff now.
R and Thing 2 hangin' out at bedtime. Sleepovers are TOO fun!
My cousin A holding baby H.
While my sis was visiting, we got together with our two cousins and their children. As kids, the four of us spent a lot of time together (we four girls are all pretty close in age). So here are my three Things, my sis's two kids, A's two girls and S's boy and girl - and one is missing. She has a job now and couldn't make it to our get-together.
Relaxing, chatting, enjoying the evening . . .
Aunt M with Thing 2
C holding Thing 3
Grabbing Thing 2 for a quick photo opp - you can't even tell how sick I was in this picture. I had had a bad cold and allergies for weeks . . . it kept getting worse and worse and I really felt like someone had lodged a brick in my sinus cavity. A few days after returning from Toronto I went to the doctor to find out I had a pretty severe sinus infection. I am finally feeling better, but I literally couldn't breathe for a month. I've never had a sinus infection before and thought it was a flowery exaggeration hypochondriacs used to describe "a cold".
So that's a wrap for our busy September activities . . . stay tuned in October for "Leah gets christened with her cousin P" as another big family gathering will be taking place!
I am absolutely bursting with pride today. Bursting almost seems like an understatement because it's more like, exploding, really. My two little boy Things are official school-goers! And starting school this September truly went off without a hitch.
Many of you know that Thing 1 has had a long history with pretty serious separation anxiety. Although things had been improving in that aspect for the past year, I still felt pangs of nervousness as I put my first little Thing on the school bus today.
Did I say SCHOOL BUS?
I sure did!! My little four-year-old Pete got on the big yellow school bus today at 12:15. It whisked him away to Junior Kindergarten, where he will spend his time between 12:20 and 3:00 for the next ten months. He had a few short visits last week, but the *actual* first day of school wasn't until today. Much to my initial dismay, he was placed in the afternoon kindergarten class. I'm quickly realizing that one more year of not having to rush around in the mornings might be just what this family of Three Things needs right now. While we do have some timing issues and need to fine-tune getting Thing 3 to the bus on time (the bus stop is not at the front of our home, it is up the street and around the corner . . . far enough that I certainly need to drag Things 2 and 3 with me each jaunt), things are most definitely going well.
Way to go my two Things . . . I admire you more and more every single day.
Wanna see what A Crafty Mom and her family are eating?
No? That's cool, move along and get on with your day!
Yes? Then check out my new blog, where I will highlight our weekly menu plans and delicious and easy recipes, at A Crafty Mom Eats. It is very new and not formatted or visually-pleasing, yet, but I'll be working on it in the next couple weeks.
Thanks for checkin' us out!
One of my goals in initiating this blog was to keep family far away up-to-date and in tune with our growing family. I wanted a place where I could freely write about each of my three Things, which would enable me to take some time out of my hectic life to just enjoy and experience the blossoming lives of each one of them.
Except that sometimes I get busy and I forget to do this. And while I am never too busy to think about what I'd like to write, I don't often enough afford myself the time to do justice to the incredible little people you three are becoming.
So, for this moment, I'll start with Thing 3.
My dear, little Leah. Time must be truly escaping me, because I cannot fathom how it is you turned seven months old on Friday. What this means is that seven months ago I gave birth (quickly) to your sweet 7lbs-and-10-ounces-self; and I held your adorable little body for the first time. I nuzzled in the warmth of your tender skin next to mine as I nursed you for the first of what would become countless feedings. My heart skipped a beat as I caught you doing the unimaginable . . . opening those stunning blue eyes to try to get a glimpse of this crazy world you just entered. This life-long adventure for which you just earned a round-the-world ticket.
Just as it was with Thing 1 and Thing 2, I find myself completely amazed at your growth and development at this tender, young age. You are embarking on that path that leads away from infancy and into a “big baby” world. You are a little person now, with a distinctively unique personality, one that envelopes the world around you and captivates your friends and family.
You can sit up on your own. On occasion, you will lean to one side to pick up a toy, or grasp for a piece of the rug or some other fascinating texture, and suddenly tip over. You're well cushioned and so you don't cry as you tumble over. You're a big girl, and are likely 19 pounds by now (weight check at your six month check-up was 18 lbs 7 oz). You resemble a soft, plush teddy. Like those yummy, squeazable ones you would urge your boyfriend to win for you at the fair. I could hug you and kiss you all day long, if there were just enough hours in a day for me to live out that kind of blissful fantasy.
You rolled over for the first time months ago, and lately you like to gain enough momentum to just, well, keep on rollin'. As in - right across the room - or right down the hall. You're fascinated with our hardwood floors, you seem to delight in knocking your soft little knuckles on the sturdy surface. You're not crawling yet, but I fear this milestone is not far out of reach. You easily extend yourself up in a full push-up position, even raising your body up onto hands and knees. You can slide and push yourself backward several feet, and that is simply all the baby mobility that this mama of three Things can handle right now. I have two other monkeys on the move I need to keep my eye on. So, yes, this is my plea: no crawling before kindergarten!
You have taken recent interest in all your surroundings, especially your toys. And we have many of them. Being a toy-testing family with a young baby, a toddler, and a preschooler, our home is inundated with toys, with at least half a dozen just in the 6-12 month range. Your latest fascination is with Jessie, that crazy cowgirl from Toy Story 2. You love when your brothers pull her cord and she barks, “howdy cowpokes!”, or “yeeeeee-hawwwww”. You laugh and giggle and shake all over. And then sometimes you try to eat Jessie. But I don't let you, because you just never know if her adorable painted little face and puckered lips might have possibly been painted in China.
You love your exersaucer and you really revel in sitting in the middle of the room taking in all the hustle and bustle that has become our little home. From your safe vantage point, you can watch your brothers, keep an eye on Rudy, and make sure mommy stays in line. You love going for walks in your single stroller, and in your Beco, but nothing beats an evening stroll in the hefty double stroller, allowing you to tilt your head to one side to peek at your big brother, Thing 2. He acts all tough sometimes, but really his heart melts when he looks at you and catches you smiling at him, and he loves hangin' witcha in da 'hood.
Your smile, little Leah, could brighten a thousand cities. It could light a million torches. It might outshine an entire fireworks display. And it certainly melts the hearts of those fortunate enough to be caught in its path. It is even precious enough to stop your brothers in their tracks, and to halt strangers at the grocery store. Those two tiny chicklets jutting from your bottom gums lend character to that enchanting grin.
You are always happy and content. You have barely cried in your entire seven months. You nurse well. You eat well. You sleep well. In my best Renee Zellweger voice . . . You Complete Me. You are the perfect completion to our family, the last Thing to take membership in our clan. You fill an emptiness I didn't even know my heart held. You have made going from two Things to three easier to adjust to than when we went from one Thing to two. You are the sand to our beach, the ketchup to our fries, and the sunshine to our blue sky.
I love you.
I am so stupid. I am THAT stupid.
I have been ridden with a mild case of acne since Thing 3 was born, in January. It has been far worse than it was after I had Things 1 and 2. I've had enough little bumps covering my entire forehead to warrant a road sign declaring "Bumpy Road Ahead". I expected it to go away eventually, because I am very self-conscious about it. I have not had acne of any severity at any point in my life, so the greasiness was all new to me.
Eventually I succumbed to my blossoming vanity. It was starting to consume me.
I ordered the Proactiv solution that I had seen on TV. I know of a few people who use/d it and raved about it. It promised to give me blemish-free skin. It said "get the clear skin you deserve". I'm a super-stressed, overwhelmed mom of 3 Things lately . . . don't I deserve clear skin?
Apparently not.
I started the Proactiv treatments on Monday.
By yesterday morning, I was burning, my whole face was red and blotchy (like a bad sunburn, only worse, picture your face being scalded, or dipped into a dripping hot deep fryer), my pores have opened up to the size of saucers, AND . . . my face is swollen!!!! If I smile hard enough, my eyes will actually close completely, with no effort.
Can you hear me screaming?
Yes, I stopped using it by Wednesday, but I don't know what else to do. My face is totally dried out, itchy, sore, burning, it's killing me. It feels like 20 year old, dried leather. That has been stepped on for years, on dry, cracked pavement.
I have tried putting some moisturizer on it because the skin is SO dried out, but it's not working.
I think they have a 30-day money back guarantee. Uh, yup, need my money back. And a new face.
My vanity has been humbled and is now back in check. Clearly, the acne was far better than the circus freak side-show I now exhibit.
Any skincare experts out there have any tips? Anyone been in a similar situation??
We spent the second part of our trip on the south shore of Nova Scotia. We stayed in the cutest little cottage, right across from the beach I grew up on. We regrettably didn't have the best weather that week, but it didn't really phase the boys. They were resilient and welcomed the cool ocean waves with open arms.
Sand. And salt water. It doesn't get any better than this for a four year old.
Even their cousin R dipped her feet in.
Mommy helped the boys cope with some of the bigger waves. Although they acted scared, they loved every minute of it. It must be the faint bit of Maritime in their blood. Mommy later dove in and went for a swim . . . in order to earn herself five dollars.
The babies braved the beaches in their Becos. We actually had sun this day, although you can't really see it in this picture. We found a little pocket of sunshine that afternoon, in the midst of a sea of fog.
We went hiking through a provincial park, following a trail that led right along the ocean's shore. It was rocky terrain, but we all made it. The scenery was breath-taking. Well worth carrying around a nearly-20-pound baby on my back to see.
Of course, the best part of the trip was spending time with family.
Nana with four of her grandkids (little H was sleeping).
We went out for dinner with my parents one night, to the resort where we were married eight years ago. The food was amazing. The boys loved it because they could play on the beach or at the playground right after supper.
Thing 3 and Grandad, bonding over a glass of wine.
And here is Granny, who came down to spend a few days with us in Nova Scotia, relaxing at our cottage with Thing 1 and Thing 3. Thing 2 was eating breakfast at this point. He is very serious about his meals, and was not to be disturbed, even for a photo opp.
Due to the fact that we were so crammed into our little van, we didn't bring our stroller (we did throw in an umbrella stroller but didn't end up using it once - what a waste of precious space!) and Paul or I carried Leah in the Beco all the time. It worked out incredibly well.
And really, the true sign of a successful day out. We were fortunate enough to turn around and see this in the back of our van a number of times after long afternoons out having fun.
See you next year Eastern Canada!!!!!
