Holy crap. We have snow. Again.
Here's one of the especially funny vagaries of Colorado weather. We spent most of the winter with temps in the 60s and 70s. And now that it's officially spring, we got a blizzard followed by about five inches of flurries in my front yard.
Yay for spring!
I guess it's impossible to predict the weather around here, because last night we were slated to get light flurries that wouldn't even stick and things would be OK for morning rush hour. Except that when Eric went outside to go to work, there were four inches of "not sticking" on our van. By the time he'd scraped THAT off, there was another inch to scrape.
I'm assuming he eventually gave up and drove the snow off the van, 'cause he did text me from the road at about 8:30. From about two blocks away. Half an hour after he left.
I know we need the snow--for every inch we don't get, we'll have another week where nobody can water their lawns this summer. And nothing makes people in my neighborhood pissier than brown lawns. "What are they spending our HOA money on?!" they'll say, and "It's a damned shame we can't have nice lawns like Complex Y or Apartment Z! We sure pay enough!" They forget that we live in Colorado. A state reclaimed from desert. And that even the all-powerful people on our HOA board can't make water where there is none.
And, of course, snow means skiing, and if you know anything about Colorado, you know that we have mountains and skiing and associated tourism centers. I guess there's some spring ski interest (I know nothing about skiing. The one and only time I went, I hit a tree at a low speed and broke a bone. Nonetheless, I'd love to learn to snowboard. How awesome would that be? Me, a 30+ Mama, whooshing down the mountain.......on my ass. I can probably do that without a snowboard.), so perhaps this wil attact some money to the area.
So, yay for snow pack. Yay for accumulation in our mountain areas. Yay for green lawns this summer and water for our swimming pools. But BOO for meteorologists!
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Low Speed Come Apart.
Is it possible, you think, to be burnt out on everything in your entire world?
I feel like a sandcastle built a little too close to the water. And the tide has come in and begun to wash parts of me away.
The part of me who cared that she's a diabetic and needs to take care of herself better? Gone. I have a seriously high A1c, and I can't even pretend to care about what that's doing to my body. I KNOW I need to do better. I even know exactly what to do to get there. I have the meds, I have the pens, syringes, vials and test strips, I just seriously don't care enough to do it. I even know it's a life or death thing, but that doesn't really wring even an ounce of guilt out of me. Not even enough to BEGIN to care.
And then there's the Mom part of me. It's eroding fast. Really fast. Right now, I have a baby who wants constant attention (and I understand that. She's a baby. Babies need constant attention) or always needs something done for her, and I have a five year old who is seriously feeling neglected because I can't dance constant attention on HER, and therefore has become insanely defiant and pushy. Oh, and who thinks I am her own personal couch and punching bag combo. I swear, every night at bedtime for the past two weeks, I've gotten bruises from putting her to bed. I can't shit by myself--I can't even get a minute alone in the bathroom to put a tampon in.
The friend part of me? That's been gone for a long freaking time. I used to pride myself on keeping up with friends, and that's just going down the crapper. I had lunch with a friend from High School last week, and half way through I realized that even though I really like this person, I have no space in my head left for being an engaging conversationalist. I am sure I came off badly in that one. I have friends I haven't talked to in weeks because there's just not enough left of me to pick up the phone and call them.
The wife part of me was probably the first to go. I spend all day with hands on me--in my hair, down my shirt, wrapped around my arm, grabbing my lip--ALL DAY LONG. There is no part of me that, at the end of the day, wants to be romantic with my husband. I am all touched out. Even at night I end up with small feet in the middle of my back or a head on my tummy or someone wrapped around my left leg. Sometimes I end up snuggling a baby all night long and having a tiny fist wrapped in my hair or caught up in my shirt. I miss having personal space.
I haven't seen my brother since Peyt's birthday party. Even then I saw him briefly. I see my Mom every week, but some weeks--and I love her DEARLY--some weeks it seems like a lot of effort.
There are so many other parts of me that I'm not sure where the Amber part went, or when I lost her. The only planes where I exist are in what I am to other people. I am a wife and a Mom and a daughter and a sister and a (shitty) friend...but along the road somewhere I forgot who I am. I used to have all of these plans for my life...and I have made headway on not a single one of them. Not one. I didn't plan to ever be a stay-at-home Mom, although I know I'm lucky to be here and that many women would kill to stay with their kids all day. I planned to own my own home and have a yard and all that horseshit. I thought I'd have my own job--a paycheck job--doing something I loved and that was important and meaningful--or maybe I'd be a published author by now. Just something.
Seriously, I know that I'm going to get a ton of comments about how raising kids is important, and I get that. I do. I understand that raising kids is a meaningful and important thing to do. And I'm sure people are going to point out things they think about me that are nice and great things to be. I just don't really care anymore. I'm looking into the future, and I'm seeing not much to be excited about. I'm turning into the person everyone looks through, and it's feeling pretty damned bleak.
Meh. I should go to bed. This is a major downer post.
I feel like a sandcastle built a little too close to the water. And the tide has come in and begun to wash parts of me away.
The part of me who cared that she's a diabetic and needs to take care of herself better? Gone. I have a seriously high A1c, and I can't even pretend to care about what that's doing to my body. I KNOW I need to do better. I even know exactly what to do to get there. I have the meds, I have the pens, syringes, vials and test strips, I just seriously don't care enough to do it. I even know it's a life or death thing, but that doesn't really wring even an ounce of guilt out of me. Not even enough to BEGIN to care.
And then there's the Mom part of me. It's eroding fast. Really fast. Right now, I have a baby who wants constant attention (and I understand that. She's a baby. Babies need constant attention) or always needs something done for her, and I have a five year old who is seriously feeling neglected because I can't dance constant attention on HER, and therefore has become insanely defiant and pushy. Oh, and who thinks I am her own personal couch and punching bag combo. I swear, every night at bedtime for the past two weeks, I've gotten bruises from putting her to bed. I can't shit by myself--I can't even get a minute alone in the bathroom to put a tampon in.
The friend part of me? That's been gone for a long freaking time. I used to pride myself on keeping up with friends, and that's just going down the crapper. I had lunch with a friend from High School last week, and half way through I realized that even though I really like this person, I have no space in my head left for being an engaging conversationalist. I am sure I came off badly in that one. I have friends I haven't talked to in weeks because there's just not enough left of me to pick up the phone and call them.
The wife part of me was probably the first to go. I spend all day with hands on me--in my hair, down my shirt, wrapped around my arm, grabbing my lip--ALL DAY LONG. There is no part of me that, at the end of the day, wants to be romantic with my husband. I am all touched out. Even at night I end up with small feet in the middle of my back or a head on my tummy or someone wrapped around my left leg. Sometimes I end up snuggling a baby all night long and having a tiny fist wrapped in my hair or caught up in my shirt. I miss having personal space.
I haven't seen my brother since Peyt's birthday party. Even then I saw him briefly. I see my Mom every week, but some weeks--and I love her DEARLY--some weeks it seems like a lot of effort.
There are so many other parts of me that I'm not sure where the Amber part went, or when I lost her. The only planes where I exist are in what I am to other people. I am a wife and a Mom and a daughter and a sister and a (shitty) friend...but along the road somewhere I forgot who I am. I used to have all of these plans for my life...and I have made headway on not a single one of them. Not one. I didn't plan to ever be a stay-at-home Mom, although I know I'm lucky to be here and that many women would kill to stay with their kids all day. I planned to own my own home and have a yard and all that horseshit. I thought I'd have my own job--a paycheck job--doing something I loved and that was important and meaningful--or maybe I'd be a published author by now. Just something.
Seriously, I know that I'm going to get a ton of comments about how raising kids is important, and I get that. I do. I understand that raising kids is a meaningful and important thing to do. And I'm sure people are going to point out things they think about me that are nice and great things to be. I just don't really care anymore. I'm looking into the future, and I'm seeing not much to be excited about. I'm turning into the person everyone looks through, and it's feeling pretty damned bleak.
Meh. I should go to bed. This is a major downer post.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Life's Not Fair, Pumpkin.
Whoever taught Peyton to say "NO FAIR!" any time she doesn't get her way, I'm coming for you. I swear to God, I will knock you around until you scream for mercy. And then when you do, I'm going to yell in your face "LIFE IS NOT FAIR."
Unless it was another kid, and the I'm smacking your parents around.
Gah. I thought this mess would get better now that she's five. All the parenting gurus and books say that five year olds don't throw tantrums. We were supposed to have left those behind at four.
I BEG TO DIFFER.
The tantrums are killing me. And the blowing raspberries while we have our mouth full of sweet potatoes is killing me, too. That's Chuck, though, not Peyt.
See, this is why I don't, as a general rule, read parenting books. Because the people who write them don't know what the hell they're talking about. But, the class I'm helping teach that I took last session has a book that comes with it. And the book is a must-read for the class. And that book says that tantruming ends at five.
So why is my daughter screaming her fake cry right now because her Daddy told her that she can't go on PixieHollow.com tonight?
Might I add that it's 12:30 AM at the time I started writing this? That would be why she can't go on PixieHollow.com tonight. Because it is already tomorrow morning, and she NEEDS TO BE ASLEEP NOW.
The thing is, it never gets better. She'll trade tantruming for something I hate more. OR, we'll keep the tantrums and she'll pick up something ELSE that I hate more. That's what I really think will happen, and what I think happens every time we move through a phase--I think they keep all the horrible behaviors from the previous phases, and then they just add more and more terrible things until you realize that the phase you just passed through was not so bad at all.
Parenting is relentless. And the leading cause of blackout drinking.
Unless it was another kid, and the I'm smacking your parents around.
Gah. I thought this mess would get better now that she's five. All the parenting gurus and books say that five year olds don't throw tantrums. We were supposed to have left those behind at four.
I BEG TO DIFFER.
The tantrums are killing me. And the blowing raspberries while we have our mouth full of sweet potatoes is killing me, too. That's Chuck, though, not Peyt.
See, this is why I don't, as a general rule, read parenting books. Because the people who write them don't know what the hell they're talking about. But, the class I'm helping teach that I took last session has a book that comes with it. And the book is a must-read for the class. And that book says that tantruming ends at five.
So why is my daughter screaming her fake cry right now because her Daddy told her that she can't go on PixieHollow.com tonight?
Might I add that it's 12:30 AM at the time I started writing this? That would be why she can't go on PixieHollow.com tonight. Because it is already tomorrow morning, and she NEEDS TO BE ASLEEP NOW.
The thing is, it never gets better. She'll trade tantruming for something I hate more. OR, we'll keep the tantrums and she'll pick up something ELSE that I hate more. That's what I really think will happen, and what I think happens every time we move through a phase--I think they keep all the horrible behaviors from the previous phases, and then they just add more and more terrible things until you realize that the phase you just passed through was not so bad at all.
Parenting is relentless. And the leading cause of blackout drinking.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The clue phone has been answered.
It's taken nearly 10 whole years, but Eric has finally figured me out.
See, he's never been one to give the fantastic WOW gift. I don't get diamonds or flowers or things like that, and I'm generally OK with that. I always forget to water flowers, and what am I going to do with diamonds? I just don't like getting gifts that are clearly not me, you know?
Recently I thought he had given up. We didn't get each other much for Christmas. I got some nail polish and a hot chocolate set from Peyt, and E got me a giant Hershey kiss. Normally that would have pissed me right off, but I was OK with it this year, because I got the much beloved and adored DSLR. My baby, my Nikon D60. And as I'd always told Eric, if he got me that, he's off the hook forever. Well, at least until it's time to upgrade. ;)
Anyway, today I was over at Jillian's, babysitting her son Travis, when Eric knocks on the door. I answered, not knowing it was him, and he holds up a Sprint bag. And we all know what that means...new gadgets! Whee!
I know I just posted a long thing about my love/hate relationship with my cell phone, but mostly that was because it wasn't purple and didn't have a slide out QWERTY keyboard. And my new one does. So, I now have a strictly love/love relationship. With my new Samsung Rant. It's pretty. And new. And shiny. And PURPLE.
Suddenly I adore purple. I've never been a fan, but now I am. It's a lovely deep purple, too. Not eggplanty, more jewel toned. And seriously, nobody will ever care but me. But I love it. I might love it more if it were pink, but I am learning to adore purple just as much.
It was cute, though, Eric was all worried I wouldn't like it. He prefaced giving it to me by saying that I had 30 days to return it if I wanted to. But I don't. I love it. He picked out the perfect phone for me...I can text easier and....well, I mean, otherwise it's pretty much just a phone. But that doesn't mean I don't adore it.
Anyway, it was better than roses or diamonds or frilly girly things. The way to my heart is through gadgetry.
**********
Chuck is six months old! I can't believe how fast time is flying. She's trying hard to sit up by herself and has started to coo and babble. She sounds like a Wookie. It's cute, and every time Eric or I pretend to understand what she's saying, Peyton goes "What is she saying, Mom?" she doesn't quite get that we're just encouraging her to babble.
She's started on baby foods--we're already on stage 2 foods. She still takes a bottle--her bottles are her best friends. But, she loves sweet potatoes and apples. She does not enjoy peas or carrots. But, she's trying them all, and she eats a LOT. She can polish off four ounces of baby food and then four more ounces of formula.
And the reflux is pretty much gone. We have a few episodes every now and then, but for the most part she's outgrown it. It's nice to get my shirts back--I'm not constantly covered in formula vomit. But, she likes to blow raspberries with food in her mouth, so tonight I got covered in baby food spit.
Peyt is a great big sister--she always wants to buy presents for Chuck. Last week at Wal-Mart she bought her a stuffed baby doll. Charlotte LOVES to chew on it, which cracks Peyton up.
All in all, things are going well here! We're ready for spring, for sure, and it looks like that's just around the corner. We're meeting a friend of mine from high school for lunch, and Peyt's super, super excited about that.
Anyway, hope everyone has a great Thursday! Catch you on the flip side!
See, he's never been one to give the fantastic WOW gift. I don't get diamonds or flowers or things like that, and I'm generally OK with that. I always forget to water flowers, and what am I going to do with diamonds? I just don't like getting gifts that are clearly not me, you know?
Recently I thought he had given up. We didn't get each other much for Christmas. I got some nail polish and a hot chocolate set from Peyt, and E got me a giant Hershey kiss. Normally that would have pissed me right off, but I was OK with it this year, because I got the much beloved and adored DSLR. My baby, my Nikon D60. And as I'd always told Eric, if he got me that, he's off the hook forever. Well, at least until it's time to upgrade. ;)
Anyway, today I was over at Jillian's, babysitting her son Travis, when Eric knocks on the door. I answered, not knowing it was him, and he holds up a Sprint bag. And we all know what that means...new gadgets! Whee!
I know I just posted a long thing about my love/hate relationship with my cell phone, but mostly that was because it wasn't purple and didn't have a slide out QWERTY keyboard. And my new one does. So, I now have a strictly love/love relationship. With my new Samsung Rant. It's pretty. And new. And shiny. And PURPLE.
Suddenly I adore purple. I've never been a fan, but now I am. It's a lovely deep purple, too. Not eggplanty, more jewel toned. And seriously, nobody will ever care but me. But I love it. I might love it more if it were pink, but I am learning to adore purple just as much.
It was cute, though, Eric was all worried I wouldn't like it. He prefaced giving it to me by saying that I had 30 days to return it if I wanted to. But I don't. I love it. He picked out the perfect phone for me...I can text easier and....well, I mean, otherwise it's pretty much just a phone. But that doesn't mean I don't adore it.
Anyway, it was better than roses or diamonds or frilly girly things. The way to my heart is through gadgetry.
**********
Chuck is six months old! I can't believe how fast time is flying. She's trying hard to sit up by herself and has started to coo and babble. She sounds like a Wookie. It's cute, and every time Eric or I pretend to understand what she's saying, Peyton goes "What is she saying, Mom?" she doesn't quite get that we're just encouraging her to babble.
She's started on baby foods--we're already on stage 2 foods. She still takes a bottle--her bottles are her best friends. But, she loves sweet potatoes and apples. She does not enjoy peas or carrots. But, she's trying them all, and she eats a LOT. She can polish off four ounces of baby food and then four more ounces of formula.
And the reflux is pretty much gone. We have a few episodes every now and then, but for the most part she's outgrown it. It's nice to get my shirts back--I'm not constantly covered in formula vomit. But, she likes to blow raspberries with food in her mouth, so tonight I got covered in baby food spit.
Peyt is a great big sister--she always wants to buy presents for Chuck. Last week at Wal-Mart she bought her a stuffed baby doll. Charlotte LOVES to chew on it, which cracks Peyton up.
All in all, things are going well here! We're ready for spring, for sure, and it looks like that's just around the corner. We're meeting a friend of mine from high school for lunch, and Peyt's super, super excited about that.
Anyway, hope everyone has a great Thursday! Catch you on the flip side!
Friday, March 13, 2009
It's 3 AM, Do You Know Where Your Cell Phone is?
The other day I lost my cell phone. Well, I thought I lost it--see, I have this love/hate relationship with the thing. I love that I can call people whenever I want and wherever I am, but I hate that people can call me whenever they want, wherever I am.
Somtimes, I just want to be alone. Unreachable. Off the grid.
But not so far off the grid that I can't call Eric and annoy the ever-lovin' hell out of him.
So, my cell phone is generally in one of three states (in order of rarity):
1) Fully charged, within reach.
2) Just about to die, somewhere in the diaper bag.
3) Completely dead and lost.
The problem with number three is that when the cell phone is completely dead, you can't call it to find out where it is. And the problem with number two is that I'm usually wrong about it being in the diaper bag, which means I've got limited time in which to find it before it passes into number three-dom.
Having said that, we come to the reason why I'm awake at 3 AM (besides the fact that Martha Stewart's crapfest of a show is on daily rerun at 3 AM in Denver, Colorado, on Channel 20, and we all know just how much I'm down with Martha. Dude. She's talking about Twitter. And she sounds retarded. And right now, I want to cut her bangs off her damned head, 'cause I hate it when people have bangs they're constantly brushing out of their eyes. Get a barette or a headband or something. Better yet, get a non-douchey haircut.) is because my cell phone, which I thought was in my jeans pocket on the floor in the hallway (don't judge.) was actually in my shorts pocket, and then migrated northward to end up beneath my pillow, where it began beeping its hideous and incessant "MY BATTERY IS ABOUT TO DIE SO PLUG ME IN NOWNOWNOWNOWNOW" beep of slow, agonizing death about 20 minutes ago.
Gah.
If it's not nightmares, sick kids or nighttime snack craving, it's the cell phone. I am my cell phone's 3 AM bitch.
Somtimes, I just want to be alone. Unreachable. Off the grid.
But not so far off the grid that I can't call Eric and annoy the ever-lovin' hell out of him.
So, my cell phone is generally in one of three states (in order of rarity):
1) Fully charged, within reach.
2) Just about to die, somewhere in the diaper bag.
3) Completely dead and lost.
The problem with number three is that when the cell phone is completely dead, you can't call it to find out where it is. And the problem with number two is that I'm usually wrong about it being in the diaper bag, which means I've got limited time in which to find it before it passes into number three-dom.
Having said that, we come to the reason why I'm awake at 3 AM (besides the fact that Martha Stewart's crapfest of a show is on daily rerun at 3 AM in Denver, Colorado, on Channel 20, and we all know just how much I'm down with Martha. Dude. She's talking about Twitter. And she sounds retarded. And right now, I want to cut her bangs off her damned head, 'cause I hate it when people have bangs they're constantly brushing out of their eyes. Get a barette or a headband or something. Better yet, get a non-douchey haircut.) is because my cell phone, which I thought was in my jeans pocket on the floor in the hallway (don't judge.) was actually in my shorts pocket, and then migrated northward to end up beneath my pillow, where it began beeping its hideous and incessant "MY BATTERY IS ABOUT TO DIE SO PLUG ME IN NOWNOWNOWNOWNOW" beep of slow, agonizing death about 20 minutes ago.
Gah.
If it's not nightmares, sick kids or nighttime snack craving, it's the cell phone. I am my cell phone's 3 AM bitch.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
We have internet access again!
WOOHOOOOOOO!
It's been a while since I've been able to be on a reliable internet connection that belongs to us and doesn't require me to resort to piracy of any sort.
Although, I will miss constant references to "Matey" and "Arrrrrr!"
We got Cricket Broadband. It's pretty cool, it works on a USB connection, so I can take it pretty much wherever I go. Sweet!
Of course, that means I have no real excuse to neglect my blog. Whoops. Let's see...what have we been up to lately?
Peyt's birthday party was on February 20. We had it at Amazing Jake's, and everyone had a blast. Here are some pictures:
And then Peyt and Eric went to a Daddy/Daughter Dance. Here are some pictures of them pre-dance:
Those have been the big things! Chuck is getting bigger and bigger (she's still tiny, but she seems huge now compared to when she was born!) and she's started on real baby foods now...so far she loves everything. We've tried apples, pears, bananas, peas, sweet potatoes and carrots. She's eaten everything really well and we're going through at least two jars of baby food and one serving of oatmeal every day. Clearly she's trying to get bigger in a hurry! She's rolling over now and trying her hardest to sit up by herself.
Peyt's still challenging, but fun, too. We found out that she got into the school we want to send her to this fall, so that's fun. She's excited for the pool to open in May, and she's not 100% sure about Kindergarten yet--one day she can't wait to go and then the next she's worried about not having me there. I'm thinking about volunteering in her class, but I'm not sure that's the best idea--she needs time away from me and the reverse is certainly also true! Plus, it will be good for her to have some independence.
Otherwise, we've been playing on Facebook, Webkinz and Pixie Hollow, visiting with friends and looking forward to spring!
It's been a while since I've been able to be on a reliable internet connection that belongs to us and doesn't require me to resort to piracy of any sort.
Although, I will miss constant references to "Matey" and "Arrrrrr!"
We got Cricket Broadband. It's pretty cool, it works on a USB connection, so I can take it pretty much wherever I go. Sweet!
Of course, that means I have no real excuse to neglect my blog. Whoops. Let's see...what have we been up to lately?
Peyt's birthday party was on February 20. We had it at Amazing Jake's, and everyone had a blast. Here are some pictures:
And then Peyt and Eric went to a Daddy/Daughter Dance. Here are some pictures of them pre-dance:
Those have been the big things! Chuck is getting bigger and bigger (she's still tiny, but she seems huge now compared to when she was born!) and she's started on real baby foods now...so far she loves everything. We've tried apples, pears, bananas, peas, sweet potatoes and carrots. She's eaten everything really well and we're going through at least two jars of baby food and one serving of oatmeal every day. Clearly she's trying to get bigger in a hurry! She's rolling over now and trying her hardest to sit up by herself.
Peyt's still challenging, but fun, too. We found out that she got into the school we want to send her to this fall, so that's fun. She's excited for the pool to open in May, and she's not 100% sure about Kindergarten yet--one day she can't wait to go and then the next she's worried about not having me there. I'm thinking about volunteering in her class, but I'm not sure that's the best idea--she needs time away from me and the reverse is certainly also true! Plus, it will be good for her to have some independence.
Otherwise, we've been playing on Facebook, Webkinz and Pixie Hollow, visiting with friends and looking forward to spring!
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