Jessica's Blog

Okay,

Forget it.

I am now putting myself out there to say that finances willing, I will likely get work done as I age.

I can see (in the future)my eyes looking tired all the time, and spending a coupld hours with our dermatologist in his office getting that "taken care of".

I can see(again... in the future)  my chin getting tucked a bit as it goes turkey on me.  Much in the same way of getting the eyes cared for.

I have no idea what will be left of the boobs when Little lady is done with them.  Would I go there?  Who knows.

But here is what I do know:  why would I look in the mirror feeling like my outsides don't match my insides?  If they match, great!  But if I keep feeling like something is there that ought not be and can't be remedied with diet, excercise and healthy lifestyle...why not get rid of it?  Or conversely... if something is missing that really makes me feel less womanly or dare I say "hot"... why wouldn't I go there?

Okay, there I said it.  Any comments?  I mean any other than that I should stop hanging out with the pole dancing crew?!?!

Yeah, the other night as I was crawling around on the floor I came  near face to face (inadvertently.. we got criss-crossed)with another student in the class.  In spite of myself, I gasped and thought, "Holy Crap!  Her breasts are perfect!!!" and then glanced down....  ech, well.  I joked about this fact with my pilates instructor and Amanda.  Both who laughed and admitted that it's totally fine to think that when you see a "perfect pair".  Both had totally opposing views about the kind of work that comes with getting "the perfect pair".  The difference between them?  Well.... to be honest... the only real difference between my friend and my instructor are a) a few years of age and b) a few breast-fed babes.  The response of one was "we need to work on acceptance"  and the response of the other is "Hell yeah, I'm so there!"

While working in the school office the other day I got into a chiding chat with my son's kindergarden teacher.  It was a double whammy.  I had him pegged for being in his twenties.  He had me pegged as, "I dunno... 36?" and I wanted to cry... well, not REALLY.. granted most moms of my son's school are in their forties by the time their kids enter pre-k.... for me to not be is different.. but it turned out..we were basically the same age.  The real difference?  HE hasn't spent the last five plus years popping out kids and not getting any sleep at all.  It. has. its. toll.

When I was younger my choral director would scream and yell at us to smile all the time.  She would say "You get the face you deserve by the time you're fifty."  I admit that may well be true.. and I don't begrudge my laugh lines and crows feet one bit... because they come from all my smiling and laughing until my face hurts... I do begrudge the puff of no-sleep, and I wonder a bit (now) about when the stretch marks might fade.  Now that I'm a size six, wouldn't it be nice to wear a bikini without looking like a burn victim around my middle?

I'm not going under the knife anytime time soon, but I am now officially removing my judgement of anyone who might chose to do so!

On Saturday we decided to go to the San Francisco Zoo.  We had not been in AGES.  I honestly can't quite remember when we last went.  I think it may have been with Dave... may have been with my dad, but this was the first time since Little Lady was born that we decided to take the venture on.

Of course, the whole Tatiana story was ringing through my mind as we strolled along the pathways I've known my whole life.    Like most folks, I have loved the big cats at the SF zoo. I remember well when the now-famed grottos were built and how exciting it was to watch Prince Charles frolic in such a nice big space. I would flock with everyone else to the tiger house when the mighty roars would resinate through the zoo at their feeding time.  I would laugh and watch in awe as they romped and played, thinking "They are sooo huge and sooo playful."  At my last visit I remember Tatiana licking the face of a keeper who had fed her, through the bars of her inside enclosure; her tongue bigger than the keepers' face.  I'm pretty sure it was her, anyway.  I remember the keeper explaining that she and her brother had come from Denver and were 3yrs old.

We all made our way around penguin island to the * new improved* tiger grotto.  The new set up is good, in light of the reason it was rapidly designed and put in.  The viewing of the cats is easier than it was before.  There are placards posted reminding visitors that we are visiting the homes of the animals, to be respectful and *ARGH* don't  taunt the cats.....

gggrrrrrr ARGH!  I am so flippin sorry, but those kids really REALLY REALLY pissed me off about Tatiana getting out of her grotto.  So what are they up to now?  The brothers whose friend (R.I.P Carols Sousa Jr.) was murdered by the tiger?  Were they scared straight after that horrifying experience?  Did they swear off the vodka and pot they were high on when they decided to visit the zoo on Christmas day after clubbing all night and lying to their parents about where they were and who they were with?  Or, maybe upon suing the zoo for the tiger getting out/ swearing they didn't taunt her... but *DID*/ burying their best friend/ then suing someone over defamation of their "character"....did they change their ways?  What are they up to?  What are they up to as they await their checks for millions that could instead go to caring for the zoo and the city?

Ummmm... shoplifting nintendo Wii stuff.

As we walked under the very Jurassic Park looking structures, a docent was walking near us and my mom engaged her in conversation.  The big cats were napping.  Amazing, glorious, and napping.  There is something magnificent about seeing a lion or tiger yawn, stretch, and re-settle and twitch its tail. The docent pointed to a big siberian tiger snoozing and told us that it was Tony, Tatiana's mate.  My heart sank.

It's hard for me to see "the good" that can come from such an incident.  Tatiana's gone, Carlos Sousa Jr. is gone.  The Daliwhal brothers keep on keeping on, could soon be rolling in money for more toys.

But then.... I am reminded that a tigress has had her babies.  Three of them! For the first time since the 1950s and she is a good tiger momma, something rare and thrilling for all of us watching with bated breath.  I can't wait to see them when they are big enough and strong enough.  SOOO CUTE!

We renewed our membership.  Big Boy and Honey Girl enjoyed the little puffer, feeding the farm animals, and their monkey-head lunch boxes.  Little Lady decided she did NOT like the train... as it tooted and whooshed by as she was trying to nurse.  I sat on the benches by the polar bears and waved at Hubby and the kids, winced as she chomped down on me.

I realized the bear I came face to face with while backpacking summer of '91 was a grizzly.  The new bear exhibit had the bears curled up right at the glass and their fur was a good reminder.  I laughed and told Honey Girl the story of emerging from a visit to the "bathroom" and almost bumping into that.  Shaggy golden fur and dark brown too.  Her eyes got huge and she announced she was ready to go to the next thing.

Going to the zoo is always awesome.  Especially when you ask Big Boy "What was your favorite animal?" and he says, "The train."

Big Boy raced to the toilet while I was bathing Little Lady in their shared bathroom, announcing while dancing on the spot that he had to go potty.  I moved out of his way so he could easily take care of business.  As I glanced back at him, I noticed he had lifted the toilet seats out of the way....thankfully heeding to our desperate pleas after wiping pee of the seat, but then he was sitting on the toilet.  As in, the toilet in order to ... as my Gramma Toni would say.... go busy busy [Dave, I can hear you laughing!]. 

Me:  Ummmm.... [Big Boy]?  I notice that you are sitting on the toilet and that the seat is folded up behind you.  Is that a little cold or uncomfortable?

Big Boy sheepishly makes the same observation with his soulful black eyes and looks at me with mild embarrassment and says,"Well, you see... I've decided to really challenge myself in doing this."

Big Boy and I have a new game for in the car.  He spots road signs, advertisements and such and reads them to me.  On the way to school today I asked him to read a sign for me and he mumbled in his morning grumpy-tiredness, "I think I would like to conserve my reading skills for school, Mom."

And lastly, we had an impromptu visit this afternoon with our property manager.  She was asking about noise from a neighbor and I explained that we were out this last weekend, and didn't see any hullabaloo.  Big Boy had been playing shy and hiding behind the couch, but decided to them jump up and announce, "Hullabaloo!  That means a loud ruckus and a lot of activity!"

And then there's my beautiful gorgeous and funny little Honey Girl.  She says a lot of funny stuff, but this one I actually texted to Hubby when it happened.

We had just returned home form doing all of our pick ups.  I was switching out laundry in the garage. I was transferring our bedspread from the washer to the dryer.  OUr Cal King bedspread doesn't get washed too often.  But I was in a spring cleaning kind of mode. 

Honey Girl climbs out of the Odyssey as I'm grunting and stuffing the quilt into the dryer and coos / 3 yr old sotto vocces to me, "OOooooooh, Mommy..... did you pee pee out  last night?!?"

As a non-speaker, but incredibly concise communicator, Little Lady had wowed me today by exhibiting that she likes to pull Hubby's shoe storage box out of his cubby.  She empties his size 13s onto the floor one by one.  Then she  pushes the basket-box around on the floor to the dinning room table, where she walks around the chairs, then pushes the box back to the stairs.  Then she begins to climb the stairs;  all the while checking in with me with her big goofy smile and deep belly laughter the fantastic joy that is the 10 month old's non-verbal "Momma look!  I'm doing it!!!"

Yes, I do realize that I have allowed my blog to go from personal insights and observations to mere clips of this, that, and the other.  I am adjusting to working life (and loving it!) and have not had energy to do more bloggity blogging about the mommy stuff.  Worry not, my readers.... hello?  Readers?  Yeah, I thought not... so in light of my fallen readership, I am happy to make this more my digital scrapbook and put this one up here.

I want to remember this one.  It's beautiful, and here I am putting myself out there to say so.

My sister in law is a member of the congregation of Trinity Church in Chicago.  If you don't know what church that is by now.. well... don't bother reading on.  I have had her in my thoughts recently.  How hard it must be to have one's place of worship being put on the chopping block of the US media/presidential race, being called names.  It's shameful.  So I was *thrilled* to hear from her today on this recent hot topic.

For the first time in our relationship, she has sent me a youtube clip.  It is a clip of the full sermon thank you very freakin much of the Rev. Wright.  We all know how the media loves to snip and clip to start sh*%.

so here it is, and Thank you, Janice!

Okay, so my zinfandel (since it's in the evening, I move from a latte sipping well-educated half black liberal to a zinfandel sipping half black well-educated liberal) went up my nose as I snarf-gafawed at this.... "Bitch may be the new black... but Black is the new president, bitch."

In December I felt a lump in my breast, but figured it was likely due to being engorged with breast milk.  Pumping and nursing seemed to help a bit until I realized that the only reason that seemed to help was the due to the milk filled tissue around the lump being softer.

I did the bad thing and let it go because, well,... it felt like a swollen duct, and I had my fair share of breast infections.

My annual exam came up and I mentioned the lump to my midwife thinking she'd give me the usual, "Yup, nothing to worrya bout.  It's just a blah blah and you can blah blah if you like, but it will go away on it's own."  But she didn't say that.  She hummed and Ooohed and gave me a referral.

errr.....ok.  I have a lump in my breast.  Very different than a lumpy breast.

I told my near and dear girlfriends, my sis.  I told my dad and step mom.  I had the ultrasound and was given reassurance that there were no red flags, but to do the biopsy just to be sure.  What a relief.  I never had the feeling that the lump was anything to worry about, but still... you hear breast, lump, and ultrasound in the same conversation, and it doesn't feel so super.

The needle biopsy was a cake walk on the breast... but since the doc felt a node on my thyroid, we decided to biopsy that as well and that biopsy was not very fun.  It took five separate needles to get the good sample.  It took me with my head tilted at an odd angle and the warning of "now, don't swallow or cough or try to make a sound."  I mean, gee... with the placement of the node she was sampling, one funky move and she could have nicked my carotid artery.

As I lay there numbed and going to my happy place in my own mind... I realized I really wished I had asked someone to be there with me.  I had sent Hubby off to do the kid pick up duty... but deep in my heart, I was not enjoying.. dare I say I was a bit scared of the fact that there was a needle wiggling and scooting about in my neck with all those nerves and teeny tiny muscles and veins and arteries.  I never told the doc that I had taken my fair share of anatomy and physiology.  If I had, she may have offered general anesthesia.

So I lay there and did my quiet meditative breathing.. needle after needle... complacently, cooperatively, quietly and patiently losing my shit entirely.  Breathing deeply.  I was *quite* sore afterward.  Whiplash sore.

That night I let it slip in a phone call with my mother that I had a biopsy or two that day and was whooped.  Zoiks.  She was  a tad bit concerned.  She connected the fact that she had had a dream the night before about my long departed great grandmother (who died of colon cancer in the 1940s) with my phone call.  She ran through all the worste case scenarios, and was concerned at my lack of concern and how no one wants to admit that they might be SICK.

*deep breath*

Deep in my intuition, I knew I was fine.

Needless to say.... I'm all benign.  Yippee!  My mom called me to check on my results.  When I told her I had left a message for her at her home, she said she was calling because she didn't want to get the message at home and have to listen to it when she was all by herself!

*deep breath*

My best response was my dad's.  The king of dry humor.

me:  Hey Pops, I'm calling to let you know I am a totally benign person.  Nothing malignant about me at all.

my dad:  Well, I certainly couldn't disagree with you more.... But, I'm glad you're healthy!

har har har!

So am I, Dad.  So am I.

The inflamed lymph node is consistent with chronic mastitis.  We'll re-eval in six months... maybe by then I will be done with the breast feeding and things will heal up.  The node on the thyroid was fine.

Kudos Melanie for this  blog post.

I am getting the distinct notion now that the democrats are going to pony up to being the asses as usual.  Puny and true.

Thank you Clinton for not following the rules, breaking the rules again, and then begging to break them again in the "sense of fairness to the voters [ provided they vote for me]".  It's such an embarrassment.  I mean, if this whole re-vote thing happens the DNC is basically admitting it is Clinton's lap-dog and that  it has no integrity to speak of.

In the republican race, it seemed Mike Huckabee was the stereotypical "nightmare republican" archetype that gave many  the heebeejeebies due to his conservative bent and religious beliefs. 

It's becoming clear that Clinton is the stereotypical "nightmare democrat" archetype.  Taxes and government programs and then.. behind closed doors... who really knows what she would do?  She is showing us in no uncertain terms that it would pretty much be whatever the hell she sees fit in order to better her own interests.  It has not been shown to me that her interests are in the interest of Americans.  I don't see her talk matching her walk.  She seems to spend a good deal of time with country club racists.

I honestly feel that should the ultimate race be Clinton versus McCain, McCain would win because at least with him, you know what you get.  Yes, that would be a never-ending conflict in the middleeast.  Yes that would be slashing and cutting of funding for roads, education, working class and middle class lifestyle.  Yes that would be more fear mongering us-versus-them rhetoric and hate breeding alienation, but no immigration reform to speak of.  Yes, that would be more jobs thrown oversees and more corporation's uppity ups getting richer and richer while their workers get poorer and poorer.  Yes, that would be no change at all for the  improvement of the lives of our children.... but at least you would know that going in. 

Long story short, it would appear that if the DNC allows itself to be smacked around, we may well be facing another campaign that would be a voting for the lesser of two evils.  At this point, I don't see Clinton or McCain being much of a happy option.

Grow a pair, DNC.  To my readers, you can decide a pair of what part of the anatomy... but let it be agreed that a definitive decision based in integrity would be appreciated.  Try some tough love.  Try sticking to your agreements.

Otherwise I think we may as well go with Lewis Black's idea of how to elect the next president..... to paraphrase:  You get the next winner of American Idol to don a blindfold.  Have them take a pin the tail on the donkey approach to the US map.... have them put a pin somewhere on the map.  Put a little monkey on a plane.  Put a parachute on the monkey.  Fly over the designated spot the Idol picked while blindfolded.  Push the little fucker out of the plane.  He falls to the ground, and in a confused monkey stumbling daze finds someone.  The first person he grabs the hand of is the next president.  Granted, for Black it was more a statement as to the absurdity of the electoral process... but I still feel it applies.

It is a scientific fact that when put under stress, the human brain downgrades to the emotional, animalistic, survivalist thinking.  I have friends who talk about "reptile brain".  Others call this flight or fight.  It's the thinking and body response that is reactive as opposed to responsive.  It's the way of looking at the world as a dichotomy.  It gets us nowhere.  There's so much more than black and white, there are many more that two kinds of people in this world.

The last eight years have shown us this.  Our nation has been ruled by fear of terror.  Our resources have been pushed to the brink.  Our soldiers abroad don't have the resources they need because they have been hastily sent off to fight a war against an ideology.  There harder they fight, the greater the ideology grows.  The more soldeirs we send, the greater the "enemy" grows out of a simple case of retaliation not unlike what we see growing in gan warfare on the much neglected homefront.  And yet, our government is so taken with "protecting" us... we've lost our borders, we lost the value of our currency, we've lost our economy.  To the international community it appears we have lost our identity.

When we live in a state of fear and reaction (which are completely ego-driven emotions!), no one is a true friend.  Every person becomes a means to an end.  We lead a shallow, self-centered existence.  Greed, hate, and delusion.

Please consider this the next time you hear a pundit or politician pontificating about "them" and how "they" want to kill you in your sleep, want to destroy the way you live and our way of life.  Who will answer that call at 3am???  Breathe into your heart and feel your chest open and allow your mind to open up and consider it more deeply.  Don't buy in to the fear.  If you truly have anything to be fearful of... it may be how these people seem to want to profit from you being fearful.  What is with that?  What would you say yes to when fearful that under a better mindset you'd see as an overreaction, a ruse?

I am not saying that there aren't bad people in the world.  It is clear that there are just as many "bad" people within our own borders and towns as there are halfway across the world.  Wouldn't it be more beneficial to take on the issues closer to home for once?  It does take a calmer mind to look closer to home.  It also takes a calmer mind to not fall for the overseas threat, but to see a greater threat in how some seem to profit so well in sending everything away.

I am so fucking sick of HIllary Clinton and her underhanded, gossipy, suggestive, backstabbing, bullshit.  I am convinced she would throw Chelsea under a bus (to quote Melanie.. I'm no plagiarist) and have someone in her campaign say.. then fire them for saying it... that it was all Obama's idea.

Does anyone else remember her talking about  the youth of today being useless, lazy and materialistic?  Then (this is what clinched me not liking her anymore)... in her early desperation to outdo others in campaigning.. sent her daughter to go speak at Spelman to get the young black feminists to vote for her.

Working to get the delegates from Michigan and Florida!?!?!  WTF?  Geee, let's see.  Clinton lost those delegates because she broke the rules.  But then.. had her name on the ballots anyway?!?  And now is working to get those counted.

I'm not surprised.  I'm just disgusted.

We all knew this woman in high school, didn't we?  She'd smile at you, praise you in debate class for your classy defeat of her... then trip you in the hallway, tell everyone in the locker room you had sex with the Bio teacher to get good grades, cheat off your paper in French, then report you to the dean for copying off of her. 

In debate... the rules don't apply to her.  Let's not answer the question.  Let's go back to what she wants to talk about.  Let's go overtime.  When things don't go as she wants, claim everyone is being nice to the white guy republican and black guy opponent... but being mean to her because she's a woman.

The ugly kitchen sink attacks, the ugly atomic bomb attacks....
This is NOT a babe in total control of herself.  This is a person who doesn't have any desire to play fair.  Status Quo.  Same old same old.  Same Shit, Different Day.  Ugly flashy shallow politics as usual.

I used to love her. I used to have great respect for her.  I even forgave her idiotic racially "insensitive" remarks early on.  But I don't know if it's power or greed or pressure from the frightening underbelly of political powers that be that have oooozed out as the race continues.  It's truly brought out the ugly in her.  I don't see her as a role model for myself or my daughters.

SO so so so sick of it.

Evolve, people.  Take the higher ground. 

While enjoying a far too rare walk/talk with a couple good friends last week, a sad truth came to light.

I was mentioning that my sister in law had to leave work in Chicago in time to get her kids and get home before the next snow storm got bad.  She's been getting slammed with way too much snow.  I know it's bad because my sis in law never complains, so for her to offhandedly mention that they really had had enough.... well..

The girlfriends nodded.

Remember having to stop for mother nature?  Remember needing to get home before the snow hit?  Remember avidly watching weather and dopler updates in order to get dressed or plan your day?

Yeah, I am a San Francisco, California native, but I have a few years in Ohio and Colorado under my belt.  I have to say I miss stopping for Mother Nature.  We get all into such a rush around here.... NOTHING but nothing hits the brakes on this place.  It rains and there are a bajillion accidents on the highways because no one wants to slow down.  I'm sure they require chains in the Sierras not so much due to the snow, but because it's the only way to get Californians to SLOW THE HECK DOWN!  I never saw chains on cars in CO, or OH.

Remember getting snowed in?  Remember calling in to work simply to say "Sorry, can't get out.  Can't find my car... I see the antenna, but it's been plowed under and only emergency vehicles are allowed out."

The girlfriends nodded.  But then Melissa perked up  and offered, "Oh!  No no.... what about the black outs?  Remember the rolling blackouts that darkened the valley and shut down businesses a day here and a day there?"

Aha.... oh, yes.  I did remember that.  De Anza College had no power so I went to Apple and took a nap on Hubby's couch instead of going to Bio.

"Oh... shyeah, right.  'Gee,.... I better go home now, because my place is on a different grid and I just may have connectivity there!!!'"  Tonya reminded us....

*groan*  oh, yeah....

And we codemonkey wives continued our stroll on the perfect spring popping path.

Yup.

I had my first sick day!  Or, part of a sick day.  I still took part in the morning "get 'em out the door" rush, and was on time for all pick ups... but for the first time in five and half years: I was sick.  I was home, alone... not caring for three kids!

I actually stayed in bed and slept while ill for the first time in  years.

It was six hours of blissful sickness.

And yes, I know how that must sound, but until you've been a full time stay at home mom of three kids... you'll just have to take my word for it.

Tonya put this on her blog and I loved it.  I love her take on it.  And being the good friend for whom the whole start-up life worked out for, I have to add:

- You still go back to work on Saturday.. no, I didn't mistype that.
- You still can't afford a single family home you'd want to live in, the Google crew has all those! (good on ya, my Google buds!)
- You don't get more time with the fam...  Seeing the disappointment in the kids' eyes today when they saw dad off (on President's Day) just sucked.

But I will say this:  When we went for it with the start up, it was more for the company, the people Hubby would work with, and passion for the concept.  We got lucky. 

Just as a man can say "We're having a baby", a spouse of someone working at at start up can say, "We're living the start up life" and "We decided to go for it" because it really is a team effort.

This weekend Honey Girl had a truly traumatic event occur.

Hubby was getting set to take the kids out.  He sent them to the garage with the understanding that they would get into Luis (the Nissan).  When the kids dashed to the car, he came upstairs to get the shopping list, or what have you.  I was changing Little Lady's diaper on the top floor.

I was coming downstairs to the living room when I heard the sound of Honey Girl crying hysterically.  She does this thing where she can't catch her breath and the hitching sobs cause her to gag and wretch.  I know, it's great.  I assumed he and Big Boy got into a tiff, or she fell down or something, but the cry was much much worse than that.

Hubby looked concerned and simply said she was justifiably upset.  She had had an accident in her pants.  She sobbed this to me as I passed Little Lady to Hubby so I could hold Honey Girl.  I soothed her that it was ok, it was ok as Hubby explained what had happened.

Honey Girl had run downstairs and jumped into the Nissan, as instructed, and closed the doors.  Big Boy meandered down the stairs and got into the minivan (not as told) and was playing on his Leapster with the doors closed.  Honey Girl had the sudden urge to go potty (as most three year olds do), but wasn't able to get out of the car due to the child locks on the backseat doors.  The doors were unlocked, but due to child safety.. she was essentially locked in the car.  Panic set in as Honey Girl has not had an accident (and is exceedingly proud of this fact) in a long long long time.  She couldn't get out of the car and was screaming and yelling as loud as she could for help, and pounding on the doors, but no one could hear her.  She soiled herself.

Hubby heard her when he had gotten to the main floor and ran downstairs.  Big Boy hadn't heard her at all inside the van, and felt horrible and was extremely apologetic.  Buck the dog was quite concerned and followed her up the stairs and kept guard as I held her on the landing.

As I held her and soothed her and coached her to breathe, she started to wretch, and I knew she was going to hurl.  Sure enough, the first pass came up and got me.  I asked Hubby to "get me something" and he passed me a washcloth.  I still laugh at this because his thinking was that she wasn't going to full on vomit... but of course she did!  Three or four good belly emptying throws on me and the stairs. 

You know your a mom when someone is puking all over you and all you can think to say is, "That's okay, honey... go on, get it all out.... okay... it's okay.. you think there's more in there?  No, no, no.... it's okay you poor thing, don't worry about it.  It's just a shirt and we can clean the floor.... do you feel a little better?"

Honey Girl of course got upset that she had throw up in her shirt. 

Honey Girl got a nice soothing bath in Momma's favorite bath salts (meditation) and shared stories with me while she soaked, calmed, regrouped and Hubby cleaned the carpet.  I told her my stuck in the car story and she laughed.  See, my story ended in me yelling at my parents, "How could you!?!?" and my parents simply saying, "You were asleep."  My, how times have changed.  She made up stories about (you guessed it) princesses and castles and ponies.  I'm glad my gag reflex held through those.

When she was ready, we went back to the garage and she climbed into the car and was coached on climbing around in the car to find different ways to get out and *most importantly* how to get to the drivers seat and honk the horn until help comes.  Big Boy got the lesson as well.  They enjoyed it and were both leery of honking the horn, especially on the minivan where it took stacking the hands on top of each other and pushing with their body weight on it, a la CPR style.

SO..... parents out there let this be an advisory to you.  Honey Girl was in a safe place in the garage.  There was no stranger danger.  It was a cool day and the garage door was shut.  She was only down there for a few minutes, much like any other exodus process when a diaper needs to be changed or an item needs to be retrieved from inside.  This time, she had to go potty and it changed everything.  Be sure to give the kids the tools to know how to get out of the car and how to scream for help when no one will be able to hear their voices.  Also, don't secure the kids in their seats until your definitely on your way.  Honey Girl was free to move about the car when this incident occurred, but still... common sense and all.

The next day Honey Girl managed to close her hand in the sliding door of the Odyssey.  Now, since Big Boy had already blazed that trail over a year ago, we managed that one just fine and once she felt better we joked a bit about how she needed to make her peace with the car gods.  That, and she need not be injured to use mom's bath salts.

Little Lady just proper crawled across the floor!  Look at her!  there's she goes!  Tummy up off the floor, on all fours in her pink cheetah shirt and her osh kosh overalls....

Oh Crap.... she's going straight for the stairs.

I love this Joy.

She's home today fielding a fever form her Hep B vaccine.

Morning time came and went like a passing fury.  Much as always. 

Honey Girl has taken a new tone to her language that I have chosen to respond to with, "Ok, let's try that again.... and try to say it nicely."  THis is in response to being told, "Mommy!  You forgot to get me my...."  Shyeah... get it yourself kiddo!  I relayed this new language choice with teachers at her school and was given kudos and a warning.  "Wait til she starts using 'it's all your fault'".  Yeah.  Thanks.  Hadn't thought of that.

Big Boy is a slow riser.  I am glad we've managed to drag out of bed in a more timely fashion in order to "support his independence" in his morning routine.  It takes this kid fifteen minutes to get out of his pajamas and into his uniform.  Thankfully I'm usually nursing Little Lady while giving him the occasional verbal cue, because if getting him into his clothes were my only task I might just lose my head.  Once he gets some food into his belly, he becomes human.

Little Lady continues to rock my world.  It's no longer okay to dress her lying down, and she will show preferences if given choices in clothing. 

Once I dropped off the final child I took a deep exhale. 

Today was my lucky day.  The weather was perfection.  The sun was shining.  I had my Buck dog with me.  We hiked.  We hiked to the reservoir in Los Gatos.  It was a wonderful *rather* brisk trip up and back in an hour.  Ferns are popping up along the sides of the trail.  The smell of damp earth is heavenly.  Rushing water from the drainage pipes is musical.

I came home, showered, took care of home chores with tired legs.  I felt physically beat and blissful.  You know, when your body is all warm and tired and rosey from a good workout?  It's yummy and fantastic.  Job well done.  Body well cared for.

Then the pick ups began.  My day went downhill from the there.  As in.... that roller coaster at Cedar Point with the highest steepest drop downhill form there.

It took me over half an hour to pick up Honey Girl as she did not want to wake up in order to leave school.  She had wet through all over her clothes and her nap time linens and did not want to be a participant in her own clean up.  She did not want to leave.  She did not want this or that..... Oh.  And I forgot to dress her.  I forgot to take her clothes off.  Y'get the picture.  I handled it gracefully and patiently.  Granted, it's my witching hour at her pick up time, so I'm usually dragging for an hour until my body gives up yet again on the concept of a nap and perks up again.

LIttle Lady  was warm I went to pick her up.  She had been sleepy all day.  Falling asleep here and there, fussy and just tired.  She had her Hep B vaccine at her nine month appointment yesterday, so it's understandable.  She was warm.  I let Katy know I'd be keeping her tomorrow, due to her steadily warming temperature while I was holding her and nursing her while Honey Girl played with the babies and the baby toys. 

I took the girls to get the groceries in a bit of a rush, in order to get Big Boy by the end of his after school sports.  Big shopping trip.  Yes, please help me to the car.  As an aside, I love it when folks pass me with two of my kids and quip how I have my hands full... when it's only TWO of them ;-).

We go to pick up Big Boy.  It's five o'clock and I've been "picking up kids"  since 2:20.  Big Boy walks to the car and informs me he had a bit of an accident in his pants.  Again.  Again.  Oh my freakin'.... fer pete's sake.... o'fer the lovah all that's sacred again?!?!?

I felt a screw go lose.

I will spare you the attempted supportive and yet strict parent dialogue that ensued... or the actual yelling that occured when Big Boy told me that one time too many "I dunno".

We got home.  Big Boy was instructed to strip out of his soiled clothes and put them immediately into the washing machine in the garage.  I unloaded the countless bags of groceries needed to fuel these ingrate brats children.  Honey Girl offered to help, but decided she "doesn't want to" after finding the one item in the bags she was gunning for to begin with; her valentines.  Little Lady was last out of the van and not happy about it because she had  a fever by then.

Big Boy sulks upstairs with instructions to take a bath.  Little Lady is given motrin and the dosage syringe to play with while I put away the groceries, empty the dishwasher and try to keep Honey Girl from hanging on the dog by offering her a mandarin orange.  While finishing my grocery chore I am told repeatedly that "I am eating a cutie, because I am a cutie.... I am a cutie princess, momma!  I am a cutie pretty princess!!  MOMMMMMAAA!  I AM A CUTIE PRINCESS, OKAYYYYY??!?!!"

I take Little Lady upstairs with Honey Girl at my feet to check on Big Boy.  Every child gets bathed in quick succession.  Lots of dialogue about "Okay, you washed your hair, what comes next?"  "Please dry your body and put on your jammies"

When we get back downstairs after our backwards evening.... I found myself feeling really done.  I wish I could feel a feeling before feeling done.  But what would I do with that feeing?  Looking back on the events of the afternoon and evening, I don't see a time I could have taken a personal time-out.  I did something I haven't done in well over a year.  I popped the cork on a bottle of merlot.  Yup.  Screw this, I'm having a glass of merlot.

I tossed the kids' valentine's to them to "do" and with babe on hip, with the occasional swig of oakey goodness, I made it til Hubby got home without running away, screaming bloody murder, sobbing uncontrollably, abusing the kids, or coming undone in some other fashion.

The kids got their nutritious, healthy dinner.  We talked about their days, their friends.  I listened to good music on the squeezebox and even sang along a little.  At the diner table, Honey Girl said, "You're a good Momma, Momma."  "Why thank you, Honey Girl... you know just what to say." 

That mild wine buzz really did take the edge off.. and seeing as I haven't had a drink that lead to a buzz since August.. gotta say I feel no guilt.

"When all else fails, lower your standards." My mom joked with me later on the phone.

Yes, the kids got to bed just fine.  Yes, they are snoozing well, although Honey Girl made three trips down saying her diaper fell off.... thus having us put her into jammie pants so she would stop taking it off.

I am in a phase of this just sucking right now.  I mean, it can really just suck the life out of me.  I feel like I'm treading water from the time I drag them out of bed until I drop them off, and then again when I get them all home until bedtime.  No, it's not always this way, but recently it's been just brutal.  Between Honey Girl's need for a constant audience to her antics and demanding feedback to every comment, Big Boy's need for complete silence or issues around school, and Little Lady's joyful (and I'd love to just do this) wish to be held all the time.... some days I am just toast.

What I have a wonder about is this:  would this evening have sent me over the edge so much if I hadn't had such a great hike earlier in the day?  I mean, if I had just run errands, replied to e-mails, made all the phone calls I needed to make.... if I hadn't done something so luxuriantly self-endulgent as hiking up into the hills and gotten my nature jollies, would this evening have felt like such crap?  In theory, one would think that I would have felt so fueled by nature... nothing would have brought me down... right?

Guess not.

So tomorrow I have Little Lady with me, and while I need to cancel on a thing or two.... nothing could make me happier than holding her, cuddling her and soothing her all day.  Maybe the bigguns will have a park run-down session after school tomorrow instead of being inside.

I took a big step in writing this post.  I have long been one to not want to talk about the hard stuff.  To not want to seem ungrateful for my kids.  I am grateful.  I love them.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  But today... and quite a bit lately.  It has been kicking my ass.  I am taking many steps  I may write about later to keep myself afloat.  I can see how moms who don't have it in themselves to fight for their happiness get lost, alienated, angry, resentful, and honestly done to the point of no return. 

Oh, and to cheer me up this evening, Hubby played Wii against me and brutally beat me in every measly game on the easiest setting.  Yeah, that felt great.....

Thank God my next pole class starts soon.