As I told Adam this morning, I had a busy day planned. So, after sending the boys off to work/school this morning, I hopped into my car and set off. I stopped at Randall's to pick up a few things, the first of my six planned stops today. Go in, pick up the 2 things I needed and bop on back out to the car. Get in my lovely little car, turn the key and hear "whir, whir" and nothing else. "Well, that doesn't sound good" I think to myself. "Perhaps, I just need to try it again and it will work." Whir, whir. Seriously? I have a full day planned and I am stuck at my first stop? You have got to be kidding me.
So, I whip out my cell phone (handy little things) and call Adam. I explain to him that the car won't stop, it just goes "whir" and I am stuck at Randalls. And my dear husband says he will be right there. While I wait for Adam, I go ahead and call my car dealer (where I have an extended warranty) and get the phone number for the towing service they use. It is obvious that something is really wrong with my car (otherwise I would be headed to my next stop) and I am going to have to have it towed to the shop. My entire day is shot.
About 15 minutes later, Adam pulls into the parking space next to my car which, fortuitously, was unoccupied. He goes around to the tool box and pulls out his jumper cables. I, knowing it can be something as simple as the battery, say "I think it's the starter. Don't you even want to hear it." To humor me, I think, Adam agrees. So I turn the key and the car goes "whir whir." "It's the battery," says Adam. "How could you possibly know that?" I ask. And this is where I find out that I probably know less about cars than a monkey. "Because, my husband replies, if it was the starter it would go click click. Any other sound and it's probably the battery."
Oh. I mean, how many of you girls out there knew that? I consider myself a reasonably intelligent and well-educated woman. But when it comes to all things car-related, I know less than a trained monkey. I absolutely dread taking the car into get the oil changed because every time I do, I run the risk of getting monetarily screwed. They could say to me "You need to have your cam rotors realigned" and I would say ok, not knowing that my car doesn't even have cam rotors (admittedly I made that part up, I don't know if there is such a thing as a cam rotor). But you can see the danger. I was already to spend who knows how much today getting my car towed to the dealer and the starter replaced when all it needed was a jump and Adam to replace the battery.
So, any parents of young children out there reading this post, make sure someone teaches your daughter the basics when it comes to a car. They really should know more about it than a trained monkey or at least more than I do.
And by the way, Adam was right. It just needs a new battery. Imagine that.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
HWIC
As anyone who knows me well can tell you, I am a worrier. I love to worry about stuff. In fact, Adam says I am not happy unless I have something to worry about. And, if I don't have anything to worry about, I will invent something. I don't know how true that is but I can tell you that I come by it naturally.
I suspect I come from a long line of worriers. I have never met anyone who can worry like my father. I am not sure Dad worries as much as I do but when he does worry about something he does it wholeheartedly. I have never seen someone get so worked up as my Dad when he's worried about something.
The birth of Andrew opened whole new worrying vistas in my life. Actually, I think when it comes to him, I control myself pretty well. I do not, in general, over-react and worry about every little bump and scrape. I would be a wreck if I did. In fact, Andrew hit his head at school one day, giving my precious baby a black eye, and his teacher remarked that as long as all of his limbs were still attached, she didn't think we would get excited. I was proud of that remark. Clearly, when it comes to Andrew, I have my worrying firmly in hand.
At least I thought I did, until last Friday. Last Monday, Andrew fell and hit his knee on the bed frame. He whacked it pretty hard and gave himself a nice big bruise. On Wednesday, he complained a couple of times that his leg hurt. Since he was grabbing the knee that he whacked, I didn't pay much attention. He complained about it again on Thursday and, finally, on Friday, after his nap, when he complained about it again and refused to walk, I decided to check it out.
So I sat him down and started poking his kneecap. "No Mommy he says, it hurts here" and grabs the back of his leg, just behind the knee. So I put my hand behind his leg and feel the biggest lump I have ever felt. The lump was the size of a grapefruit. Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, it was more like the size of a really small grape. But, still, it was huge and hard. That's when my little worry gene roared into high gear. Clearly, my precious baby had a tumor! It was as obvious as the nose on my face. I immediately called the doctor and scheduled an appointment, then called Adam and informed him Andrew had a huge lump on the back of his leg and he needed to come home RIGHT NOW!
So we rush Andrew to the doctor, in five o'clock traffic (ick). The whole way there I am almost sick with worry. It is all my fault. He had been telling me for days that his leg hurt and I had been ignoring him. I am an awful mother. MY POOR BABY!
Yeah. "It's just some fluid, probably from when he hit his knee" says the doctor. When I was obviously relieved, she asked what I thought it was. I, somewhat embarrassed, admitted I thought it was a tumor. God bless her, she didn't laugh at me, just explained to me why it wasn't a tumor.
Ten minutes after leaving the doctor's office, my baby (you know, the one who couldn't walk on his leg after his nap) is crawling all over the playscape at Central Market where we stopped for dinner. So much for his tumor!
And I realized, despite what I thought, I am clearly, still, the Head Worrier in Charge!
I suspect I come from a long line of worriers. I have never met anyone who can worry like my father. I am not sure Dad worries as much as I do but when he does worry about something he does it wholeheartedly. I have never seen someone get so worked up as my Dad when he's worried about something.
The birth of Andrew opened whole new worrying vistas in my life. Actually, I think when it comes to him, I control myself pretty well. I do not, in general, over-react and worry about every little bump and scrape. I would be a wreck if I did. In fact, Andrew hit his head at school one day, giving my precious baby a black eye, and his teacher remarked that as long as all of his limbs were still attached, she didn't think we would get excited. I was proud of that remark. Clearly, when it comes to Andrew, I have my worrying firmly in hand.
At least I thought I did, until last Friday. Last Monday, Andrew fell and hit his knee on the bed frame. He whacked it pretty hard and gave himself a nice big bruise. On Wednesday, he complained a couple of times that his leg hurt. Since he was grabbing the knee that he whacked, I didn't pay much attention. He complained about it again on Thursday and, finally, on Friday, after his nap, when he complained about it again and refused to walk, I decided to check it out.
So I sat him down and started poking his kneecap. "No Mommy he says, it hurts here" and grabs the back of his leg, just behind the knee. So I put my hand behind his leg and feel the biggest lump I have ever felt. The lump was the size of a grapefruit. Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, it was more like the size of a really small grape. But, still, it was huge and hard. That's when my little worry gene roared into high gear. Clearly, my precious baby had a tumor! It was as obvious as the nose on my face. I immediately called the doctor and scheduled an appointment, then called Adam and informed him Andrew had a huge lump on the back of his leg and he needed to come home RIGHT NOW!
So we rush Andrew to the doctor, in five o'clock traffic (ick). The whole way there I am almost sick with worry. It is all my fault. He had been telling me for days that his leg hurt and I had been ignoring him. I am an awful mother. MY POOR BABY!
Yeah. "It's just some fluid, probably from when he hit his knee" says the doctor. When I was obviously relieved, she asked what I thought it was. I, somewhat embarrassed, admitted I thought it was a tumor. God bless her, she didn't laugh at me, just explained to me why it wasn't a tumor.
Ten minutes after leaving the doctor's office, my baby (you know, the one who couldn't walk on his leg after his nap) is crawling all over the playscape at Central Market where we stopped for dinner. So much for his tumor!
And I realized, despite what I thought, I am clearly, still, the Head Worrier in Charge!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Just call me a geek!
As my husband will tell you, I am something of a technophobe. Actually, I pretty much hate new technology and every time we get something new I wail and moan because I have to learn something new. For example, he wants to get a programmable remote for the t.v. I hate the idea. I just figured out the one we already have, why would I want to learn a new one. Have you ever seen the movie "I Robot?" Technology baaaad.
Well, recently, actually about 3 months ago, the battery in my laptop started going bad. In fact, it started going real bad. Unplugged, it only worked for about 7-8 minutes before it crashed. About that time, I discovered that I can not live without a laptop. I check e-mail, research my weekly meals, and write this blog from my laptop (among many other things). I needed a new laptop. ("Need? my husband asked. I thought you didn't like technology." Uncomfortable conversation. I was about to eat crow.)
So after a little research, we went last night and bought me a new laptop. Lightweight, small (smaller than a sheet of paper), and pink! I LOVE IT! Bring it home. I was humming with glee. Plug it in. I can barely stand it. Turn it on and.....nothing. It's is defective and won't turn on. DISAPPOINTED! (Have you seen the movie "A Fish Called Wanda?" Kevin Kline's character opens a briefcase he believes is full of money and it's empty and he yells "Disappointed!" He says it so perfectly that it really conveys the meaning of the word. It's how I always say/hear that word.) So I package it back up and this morning Tiger and I go to Fry's to exchange it. Come back home, open it up and plug it in and...it works! And I love it!
It is so small and lightweight. Technology is a wonderful thing. I love technology. In fact, I think I need an Iphone!
Well, recently, actually about 3 months ago, the battery in my laptop started going bad. In fact, it started going real bad. Unplugged, it only worked for about 7-8 minutes before it crashed. About that time, I discovered that I can not live without a laptop. I check e-mail, research my weekly meals, and write this blog from my laptop (among many other things). I needed a new laptop. ("Need? my husband asked. I thought you didn't like technology." Uncomfortable conversation. I was about to eat crow.)
So after a little research, we went last night and bought me a new laptop. Lightweight, small (smaller than a sheet of paper), and pink! I LOVE IT! Bring it home. I was humming with glee. Plug it in. I can barely stand it. Turn it on and.....nothing. It's is defective and won't turn on. DISAPPOINTED! (Have you seen the movie "A Fish Called Wanda?" Kevin Kline's character opens a briefcase he believes is full of money and it's empty and he yells "Disappointed!" He says it so perfectly that it really conveys the meaning of the word. It's how I always say/hear that word.) So I package it back up and this morning Tiger and I go to Fry's to exchange it. Come back home, open it up and plug it in and...it works! And I love it!
It is so small and lightweight. Technology is a wonderful thing. I love technology. In fact, I think I need an Iphone!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The First Step
We have all heard the saying "The first step is admitting you have a problem." Well people I have a problem. Most of the time I can keep my little addiction in check. But I always find this time of year particularly challenging. The thing I am addicted to is everywhere, it is flaunted in ads on t.v. and featured in every print ad. There are few stores I can walk into where the items are not prominently displayed or pushed at the counter. What the heck am I talking about you ask.
School supplies. Yes, I am addicted to school supplies. I love the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil, the feel of a new ruler, the possibility contained in a brand new, never used spiral bound notebook. Other kids were excited to go back to school because they got to see their friends or got to buy new clothes, I was excited by the thought of purchasing school supplies.
And the fact that I no longer need them has not diminished my desire for them. And they are everywhere. I can not walk through my local grocery store without passing them. And the choices, the endless choices. Pencils: plain old number 2 or mechanical. Spiral bound notebooks: solid color or printed cover, wide ruled or college ruled. Rulers: plastic, metal or old school wooden. I salivate just thinking about the choices. The other day, I bought a 10 pack of pencils (plain old number 2). I did not need them but I could not help myself. They were calling my name and they were only 50 cents a pack.
So there, now you know my secret. I am addicted to school supplies. My only hope lies in my child. In a couple of years he will be heading off to school and then I get to pick out his school supplies. Yes!
School supplies. Yes, I am addicted to school supplies. I love the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil, the feel of a new ruler, the possibility contained in a brand new, never used spiral bound notebook. Other kids were excited to go back to school because they got to see their friends or got to buy new clothes, I was excited by the thought of purchasing school supplies.
And the fact that I no longer need them has not diminished my desire for them. And they are everywhere. I can not walk through my local grocery store without passing them. And the choices, the endless choices. Pencils: plain old number 2 or mechanical. Spiral bound notebooks: solid color or printed cover, wide ruled or college ruled. Rulers: plastic, metal or old school wooden. I salivate just thinking about the choices. The other day, I bought a 10 pack of pencils (plain old number 2). I did not need them but I could not help myself. They were calling my name and they were only 50 cents a pack.
So there, now you know my secret. I am addicted to school supplies. My only hope lies in my child. In a couple of years he will be heading off to school and then I get to pick out his school supplies. Yes!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
An Answer to the Question Why
As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, Andrew has discovered the word why and, quite frankly, he was driving me nuts. Every statement was met with "Why?" You would answer the question and he would just ask why again. Over and over again.
Well the other night at dinner, my brilliant husband figured out how to stop the whys. It's quite simple. The answer to the question why must be long and, preferably, contain some really big words.
That evening, as we were eating dinner one of us mentioned the sunlight. So Andrew starts looking out the window at the sun. Adam told him to stop looking at the sun and get back in his seat. Andrew, of course, asked "Why?". Adam responded it was bad for your eyes. Andrew again asked why. And Adam offers the following explanation:
Because the sun emits photons and ultraviolet rays and when you look at the sun the photons and ultraviolet rays enter your eye through the iris and bounce off the back of your eye and can burn your retina.
Andrew sat there for about 5 seconds and then said, in a knowing tone, "Oooooooooooh. Okay." And continued eating dinner.
Did I mention that the answer to the question why could be complete bullshit?
Well the other night at dinner, my brilliant husband figured out how to stop the whys. It's quite simple. The answer to the question why must be long and, preferably, contain some really big words.
That evening, as we were eating dinner one of us mentioned the sunlight. So Andrew starts looking out the window at the sun. Adam told him to stop looking at the sun and get back in his seat. Andrew, of course, asked "Why?". Adam responded it was bad for your eyes. Andrew again asked why. And Adam offers the following explanation:
Because the sun emits photons and ultraviolet rays and when you look at the sun the photons and ultraviolet rays enter your eye through the iris and bounce off the back of your eye and can burn your retina.
Andrew sat there for about 5 seconds and then said, in a knowing tone, "Oooooooooooh. Okay." And continued eating dinner.
Did I mention that the answer to the question why could be complete bullshit?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My Heathen Child No More
Yesterday, we had Andrew baptized...finally. It took us 3 years but we finally got it done and what an experience it was. Allow me to explain. I am Catholic, Adam is not. Having Andrew baptized in the Catholic Church would have meant attending a series of classes, something my husband was not going to do. I am cool with that. But then how do we get Andrew baptized? It took me a while, but I finally figured it out. Our friend Jeff has a childhood friend who is a Lutheran minister and he was willing to baptize Andrew for us. Hallelujah!
So yesterday, we went to a local church to baptize Andrew. As my mother remarked, "There is a reason children are baptized when they are 2 months old." Yes, there is. It was chaos.
Let me set the scene. We are in the sanctuary of a very nice church. My parents and Adam's parents are there. Our best friends, Jeff and Cheryl and there 3-year old son, Tanner, are there. The minister, Eric is there along with his wife and 3-year old son, Ford. Now if you are paying attention you will have noted that there are three 3-year old boys in the same room. That is not a prescription for orderly and quiet.
During the first part of the service, Andrew's participation wasn't really needed so we let him play with the two other boys (in the chair, out of the chair, up the aisle, down the aisle). But then we got to the actual baptism part and Andrew was definitely needed. So Adam drags Andrew out from under the chair and carries him to the baptismal font. At that moment my adorable son starts screaming at the top of his lungs "I no want any water! No water! I no want water!" and struggling to get out of Adam's arm. Eric finally manages to get some water on Andrew's head. I was praying Andrew wouldn't start screaming "It burns! It burns!"
Then Jeff lights the ceremonial candle and brings it over to Adam and I. Andrew has been to plenty of birthday parties lately and knows just what to do with candles so he takes and big breath and blows. Adam just manages to get his hand in front of Andrew's mouth. Three times Andrew tries to blow out the candle.
Then we get to the part where Eric annoints Andrew with oil. Andrew screams "NO!" and buries his head in Adam's shoulder. God bless Eric, he remained calm, stepped around behind Adam and marked Andrew's forehead. It was a good thing he has a 3-year old son and knew what to expect.
So finally the ceremony ends and we all went off for dinner. I can only be glad that there were a limited number of witnesses and all of them were laughing.
As my mother said "There's a reason children are baptized when they are 2 month old." Because it is utter chaos if you wait until they are three.
So yesterday, we went to a local church to baptize Andrew. As my mother remarked, "There is a reason children are baptized when they are 2 months old." Yes, there is. It was chaos.
Let me set the scene. We are in the sanctuary of a very nice church. My parents and Adam's parents are there. Our best friends, Jeff and Cheryl and there 3-year old son, Tanner, are there. The minister, Eric is there along with his wife and 3-year old son, Ford. Now if you are paying attention you will have noted that there are three 3-year old boys in the same room. That is not a prescription for orderly and quiet.
During the first part of the service, Andrew's participation wasn't really needed so we let him play with the two other boys (in the chair, out of the chair, up the aisle, down the aisle). But then we got to the actual baptism part and Andrew was definitely needed. So Adam drags Andrew out from under the chair and carries him to the baptismal font. At that moment my adorable son starts screaming at the top of his lungs "I no want any water! No water! I no want water!" and struggling to get out of Adam's arm. Eric finally manages to get some water on Andrew's head. I was praying Andrew wouldn't start screaming "It burns! It burns!"
Then Jeff lights the ceremonial candle and brings it over to Adam and I. Andrew has been to plenty of birthday parties lately and knows just what to do with candles so he takes and big breath and blows. Adam just manages to get his hand in front of Andrew's mouth. Three times Andrew tries to blow out the candle.
Then we get to the part where Eric annoints Andrew with oil. Andrew screams "NO!" and buries his head in Adam's shoulder. God bless Eric, he remained calm, stepped around behind Adam and marked Andrew's forehead. It was a good thing he has a 3-year old son and knew what to expect.
So finally the ceremony ends and we all went off for dinner. I can only be glad that there were a limited number of witnesses and all of them were laughing.
As my mother said "There's a reason children are baptized when they are 2 month old." Because it is utter chaos if you wait until they are three.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Why Me?
It happens in every parent's life, so I can't say I didn't know it was coming. I was just unprepared for it's arrival. And when it finally happened to me...well, you'll see. So what am I babbling on about. I am talking about my child discovering the power of the word "Why."
Yes, "why" has become Andrew's favorite new word. He uses it every time you tell him to do something and, I swear, my head is going to explode soon. You all know what I am talking about. If you are a parent, you have had first hand experience. If you are not a parent, I am sure you have seen a movie with a little kid who constantly asks why. Seriously, it is driving me bonkers. Witness the following exchange:
Me: Andrew, get your shoes on.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we are going to the grocery store.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need to buy groceries.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need food to eat or we will get hungry.
Andrew: Why? (Are you kidding me, this is the kid who whines if dinner isn't ready when he walks in the door from school)
Me: Because food makes our bodies go.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Get your ass in the car or so help me I am going to beat you!
Andrew: Why?
and BOOOM! my head explodes.
Yes, "why" has become Andrew's favorite new word. He uses it every time you tell him to do something and, I swear, my head is going to explode soon. You all know what I am talking about. If you are a parent, you have had first hand experience. If you are not a parent, I am sure you have seen a movie with a little kid who constantly asks why. Seriously, it is driving me bonkers. Witness the following exchange:
Me: Andrew, get your shoes on.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we are going to the grocery store.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need to buy groceries.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need food to eat or we will get hungry.
Andrew: Why? (Are you kidding me, this is the kid who whines if dinner isn't ready when he walks in the door from school)
Me: Because food makes our bodies go.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Get your ass in the car or so help me I am going to beat you!
Andrew: Why?
and BOOOM! my head explodes.
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