So joining the Y has been the best thing we've done since moving back to Puyallup--I think we've been there nearly every day since signing up. Zoey loves swimming and is proving herself to be quite the fish in the toddler pool. It's all been great, with the exception of Saturday morning's incident, which played out as follows:
We woke up to 38 degree weather and a rain/snow mix. Depressing. Bryan was leaving to take his dad fishing for the day for his birthday, and I was supposed to meet up with him later for the "surprise" portion of his dad's birthday. This meant we were leaving Zoey overnight with my aunt, since his father has chosen to live way out in the middle of nowhere, and driving back after the party wouldn't be such a great idea. (Also, hanging out with his dad generally requires a large amount of alcohol for both Bryan and I, but that's a different subject.) Anyway, the thought of leaving Zoey overnight after her traumatic move-in week, and the possibility of performing CPR on an old unhealthy clueless dude with Vietnam-induced PTSD who was about to be "surprised" by all his friends and maybe a heart attack, had me a little down. I wanted to do something fun with Zoey before we had to leave, so I decided to head to the Y. I thought it would be best for me to squeeze in a short work out before hanging with the Friends of Fatty Foods Club, and I thought Zoey would have fun playing on all the new toys in the nursery.
I was wrong.
Having been to daycare before, and having had no contact with anyone under the age of 30 in over a week, I thought my daughter would be overjoyed to play with some other kids. Granted, in hindsight, I can see that introducing her to the nursery on a busy Saturday morning was probably not my best game plan. It was crowded and chaotic and I had extra paperwork to fill out because this was her first time visiting the nursery. She looked wary as I handed her over to the YMCA employee but I still grabbed my tag with the number that matched the sticker on Zoey's shirt, and headed off to the cardio equipment.
Now, a word on signing your kids in to the YMCA nursery. You always sign them in and out and write down where you will be working out, in case they need to come find you. In this case, I had specifically written "downstairs cardio", thinking this was descriptive enough to locate me in case of emergency. Again, wrong.
I hit the elliptical machine for 40 minutes and was feeling pretty good about myself before deciding to run to the bathroom before picking up Zoey. As I headed toward the main entrance, I glanced in the direction of the nursery to my left and saw another Y employee holding a screaming, wet, frantic looking toddler. My toddler. Who spotted me from across the room and howled "MY MOMMY!!".
I rushed over and the somewhat annoyed looking employee asked "is she yours?". Um, clearly. Zoey was clawing at me and throwing herself in my arms in a way that suggested she was trying to save herself from a sinking ship. The front of her shirt was soaked with tears and snot, and she appeared to have fluid leaking from every orifice on her head.
"Has she been crying the whole time?" I asked. "Well, she had a snack and then she got real upset. We looked for you. Where were you?". I replied that I was right where I had said I would be--on the elliptical machine downstairs. I was informed that they had looked there and didn't see me, maybe because I wasn't wearing my ID tag with Zoey's number on it? I pointed out that yes, I had been wearing the tag, but by this point there was surge of about 10 parents either picking up or dropping off their children, and the employee who had been holding Zoey was swallowed up in a sea of preschoolers and parents. I had to fight to find somebody who could retrieve her jacket, let alone to ask how we could prevent an episode like this from happening in the future.
Meanwhile, Zoey had grabbed on to my neck and rested her head on my shoulder and announced she was very tired. She was still hiccup-sobbing as I got both of us out of there and in to the car.
I think it might be awhile before Zoey works up the nerve to visit the nursery again.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Back in the saddle
It's official, we're moved in and somewhat settled in "Kowawa"!
We made it here around dinner time on Saturday, and the entire evening was a blur of boxes and furniture coming out endlessly from the stuffed-to-the-gills moving van. And now, nearly a week later, there are still random boxes scattered around, no curtains on my living room windows, no pictures on the walls, and no books in the bookcases. This is not how I normally roll--under other moving circumstances, I have had all boxes unpacked and pictures hung neatly within 24 hours. But this time, maybe because I also have a two year old to entertain, or (as I prefer to believe), since we're NEVER MOVING AGAIN, I figure I'd might as well take my time and make sure I like the way things are situated before I fully settle in and decide that the funky picture my friend Ben gave me would really look better on that OTHER wall.
In some ways, this transition has been much easier than your average moving scenario. Since we are from Puyallup, I will not be spending the first 6 months here driving around with my glove box stuffed full of MapQuest directions. I already know how to get to the nearest grocery store, the post office, the library, etc. In fact, hitting up story time at the library was one of the first things we did this week. It's nice to be back in a town where I can easily get around (the back way, even!) from place to place.
As for Zoey, she's not having the greatest week of her life. Moving at age two has got to be a major pain in the ass. There is no way to explain the concept of not being able to just drop by your friend's house any time you want, because now we live far away. For the first 48 hours, she asked repeatedly to go home. And then, when she asked to go to Adley's house and I explained (again) the near-far concept, she just gave me the sad-brown-eyes face and said "oh...maybe tomorrow". Truly, it's enough to make me cry.
But, on the bright side, we checked out the local YMCA yesterday and I think we're going to join and enroll Zoey in a tumbling class. She was also very excited by the presence of a "fwimming" pool, and has asked twice already if we can please go "fwimming". Hopefully this will be a great way for both of us to make some friends.
We made it here around dinner time on Saturday, and the entire evening was a blur of boxes and furniture coming out endlessly from the stuffed-to-the-gills moving van. And now, nearly a week later, there are still random boxes scattered around, no curtains on my living room windows, no pictures on the walls, and no books in the bookcases. This is not how I normally roll--under other moving circumstances, I have had all boxes unpacked and pictures hung neatly within 24 hours. But this time, maybe because I also have a two year old to entertain, or (as I prefer to believe), since we're NEVER MOVING AGAIN, I figure I'd might as well take my time and make sure I like the way things are situated before I fully settle in and decide that the funky picture my friend Ben gave me would really look better on that OTHER wall.
In some ways, this transition has been much easier than your average moving scenario. Since we are from Puyallup, I will not be spending the first 6 months here driving around with my glove box stuffed full of MapQuest directions. I already know how to get to the nearest grocery store, the post office, the library, etc. In fact, hitting up story time at the library was one of the first things we did this week. It's nice to be back in a town where I can easily get around (the back way, even!) from place to place.
As for Zoey, she's not having the greatest week of her life. Moving at age two has got to be a major pain in the ass. There is no way to explain the concept of not being able to just drop by your friend's house any time you want, because now we live far away. For the first 48 hours, she asked repeatedly to go home. And then, when she asked to go to Adley's house and I explained (again) the near-far concept, she just gave me the sad-brown-eyes face and said "oh...maybe tomorrow". Truly, it's enough to make me cry.
But, on the bright side, we checked out the local YMCA yesterday and I think we're going to join and enroll Zoey in a tumbling class. She was also very excited by the presence of a "fwimming" pool, and has asked twice already if we can please go "fwimming". Hopefully this will be a great way for both of us to make some friends.
Friday, March 20, 2009
In need of a box
Here we are, on the eve of The Big Move, and I have officially run out of boxes.
That's right. I thought I had it so well planned out, and yet there is miscellaneous crap strewn all over my kitchen counter, needing some cardboard padding before it is loaded in to the big truck. So here's my question:
What time does the liquor store open?
Not because I'll be drinking before noon, but because they always have such a nice supply of small or medium sized boxes.
Wish us luck and send happy thoughts our way tomorrow! I'll be the crazy lady on I-5 heading north with a toddler, two cats, and her fingers crossed that her husband's unpredictable truck doesn't die on her.
Because if that happens? I will cry.
That's right. I thought I had it so well planned out, and yet there is miscellaneous crap strewn all over my kitchen counter, needing some cardboard padding before it is loaded in to the big truck. So here's my question:
What time does the liquor store open?
Not because I'll be drinking before noon, but because they always have such a nice supply of small or medium sized boxes.
Wish us luck and send happy thoughts our way tomorrow! I'll be the crazy lady on I-5 heading north with a toddler, two cats, and her fingers crossed that her husband's unpredictable truck doesn't die on her.
Because if that happens? I will cry.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Make. It. Stop.
We thought our luck had taken a turn for the better. But we were wrong. In the past six hours, here is a brief list of what has happened:
I am not going to tempt fate by asking "could it GET any worse?". Because, as my mother always told me, it can ALWAYS get worse. There are worse things than realizing your daughter isn't going to be able to make it to her last day of preschool, which is probably for the best, since God only knows what other childhood disease she'd pick up and bring home. There are worse things than not knowing when your husband's truck will be fixed and able to make it more than 50 miles on the freeway towards Puyallup, and there are even worse things, I'm sure, than not knowing how much it will cost THIS TIME to fix the problem AND purchase a new tire and rim for his poor, pathetic truck. There are worse things than making one more trip to the pediatrician's office before we leave.
But seriously? What's left to throw at us?
- We picked up Bryan's truck at the Toyota dealership. (This is what led us to believe we were back on the right track.)
- Bryan went to a friend's house out by his school. On his way home, around 9 pm, his truck died. Again.
- AND THEN a semi-truck nearly ran him off the road, slamming him in to the guard rail, which ruined one of the rims, blew out a tire, and scraped the side of his truck.
- How he made it home without dying, I'll never know.
- At 3 am, I heard him get up with Zoey. At 3:20 am he brought her downstairs to tell me he's pretty sure she has impetigo. She has an itchy rash on the back of her head and looks like she feels like crap. We gave her Benadryl, rubbed some cortisone cream on her "itchies", and brought her to bed with us.
- But after 20 minutes I couldn't lie there anymore, as visions of tiny impetigo germs jet-launching from her head to mine played around in my brain.
- Which brings me to this, my 4 am post.
I am not going to tempt fate by asking "could it GET any worse?". Because, as my mother always told me, it can ALWAYS get worse. There are worse things than realizing your daughter isn't going to be able to make it to her last day of preschool, which is probably for the best, since God only knows what other childhood disease she'd pick up and bring home. There are worse things than not knowing when your husband's truck will be fixed and able to make it more than 50 miles on the freeway towards Puyallup, and there are even worse things, I'm sure, than not knowing how much it will cost THIS TIME to fix the problem AND purchase a new tire and rim for his poor, pathetic truck. There are worse things than making one more trip to the pediatrician's office before we leave.
But seriously? What's left to throw at us?
Monday, March 16, 2009
Never-ending string of bad luck (or, The Move That Is F@$*ing Cursed)
My weekend? Here's how it went:
Friday, 2:30 pm: Bryan has truck loaded down with boxes and small furniture items, bound for Puyallup. We load in to the truck and take off.
2:45 pm: Zoey asleep in her carseat. Bryan and I enjoying a rare moment of quiet together and talk about all kinds of random shit, NAMELY how much we love our cars, because they are so reliable. We both drive Toyotas, and you just never see them broken down on the side of the road, you know?
3:00 pm: Bryan's truck broken down on side of the road. Well, at a Texaco station that we managed to coast to in Castle Rock, to be exact. I note that we have made it exactly 49 miles in our 130 mile trip to Puyallup. I can see the list of things I need to get accomplished that evening slowly slipping away.
4:00 pm: Cram Z
oey's car seat in to the half-back-seat of a tow truck. She is unhappy because the loud, stinky "no-twuck" is "scawy". I am unhappy that she is sitting with her knees in her face.
5:00 pm: Arrive relatively unscathed at Toyota dealership in Longview. Bryan gets a ride from a Toyota employee in to town to rent a U-Haul. (I had originally lobbied for a U-Haul run this weekend anyway, the irony of which does not escape me now, as he returns with a gigantic truck that we literally load 15 boxes and some bookcases in to.)
6:00 pm: My dear friend Kendra arrives on the scene to rescue Zoey and I. Bryan leaves for Puyallup, Zoey and I head back to Vancouver to get MY car. We abandon the stupid truck in Longview. F#@%ing Toyotas.
7:15 pm: Zoey and I are back in the car. We leave (again) for Puyallup in what I can only hope is a reliable car.
8:30: Total carseat meltdown. Can I really blame her? No. She's been in the freaking carseat since 2:30 pm and is officially DONE. We stop in Centralia for milk, a diaper change, and a fill-up at the gas station.
9:25 pm: We finally arrive in Puyallup. For those of you keeping score at home, that's SEVEN hours after we left our house in Vancouver.
9:45 pm: Bryan leaves with my car to return to Vancouver. He has a seminar in Portland all weekend, and he needs to head back. My best friend Rikki is at the Puyallup house, ready and waiting to start tiling the downstairs bathroom.
10:20 pm: Zoey crying because she wants to go home. I survey the shit-scene around me and inform her that, sadly, THIS IS GOING TO BE HOME VERY VERY SOON. Although honestly, I don't know how.
Saturday, 9:00 am: Zoey dropped off at Grandma Heather's house. Rikki and I head to Starbucks and Home Depot. We are approximately one day behind schedule.
12:00 pm: We return home. Start laying out tiles. My mom shows up. Wants to get lunch with my aunt, cousins, MIL, and Zoey.
1:00 pm: We will never tile. Never.
3:00 pm: Finally return to the house to begin the project we had wanted to start 24 hours ago. My mom takes Zoey with her to Mt. Vernon to spend the night. Zoey is noticeably relieved to be going to Oma's house. Don't think she likes the "Kowawa" house much at the moment. I don't either.
4:30 pm: Rikki says to me "unless you're dying to learn how to tile, feel free to get your other stuff done around here--I can knock this out myself in a couple hours". I want to cry. These are the nicest words anyone has uttered in days.
6:30 pm: My Grandma brings us dinner. Love my Grandma.
8:30 pm: Tile is down. Thank God. Rikki has brought me a bottle of wine, which we proceed to open with my husband's drill, only to destroy the cork and leave bits of it floating in the wine. Not to be deterred, we strain the wine through paper towels in to small cups. (We have reached the point in this long, God-forsaken move where everything you need happens to be in the OTHER house. Including corkscrews.)
10:30 pm: I begin to notice that our hard work is paying off. I have most boxes unpacked and have contained the construction-zone-debris to one area of the kitchen. Will get rid of it tomorrow in the hopes this makes the house appear more liveable.
Sunday: More unpacking, grouting, cleaning, hauling of shit to garage, etc. Rikki is a rock star. Downstairs floor looks fantastic. (Wasn't hard to beat the nasty, stained linoleum that was in there before.) The great floor almost offsets the horrid, floral, plastic-vinyl-faux-tiles on one wall, right next to the horrid, gold, floral shower stall door. Ugh.
Sunday night: Arrive at my mom's house in Mt. Vernon to find a happy, content two-year-old who has apparently decided that this is the weekend to hit it hard with potty training. My mom informs me Zoey has consistently asked to go potty on the toilet. I am proud. And...worried. This is the week we're moving. Really, do we need to tackle potty training, too? Really, Zoey?
Monday morning: It's Amtrak day!! Miraculously, and I think God was trying to throw me at least a little bone here, Zoey was a model toddler the entire trek down to Vancouver. She dozed on my lap between Seattle and Tacoma, and, of course, wanted to try out going potty on the train. Let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've crammed yourself and your child in to the Amtrak bathroom, train swinging and swaying side-to-side, and tried to convince your child to let you hold her over the toilet, instead of her gripping the grimy seat herself with her chubby little hands. She, of course, won, and I, of course, tried not to imagine myself trying to contain an E. Coli outbreak in my house while simultaneously loading a U-Haul. But she did go potty! And she DID wash her hands afterwards!
Monday afternoon: We hop off the train and Zoey is literally bubbling over with exciting stories to tell Daddy. She was particularly proud of handing the conductor her own ticket, and, of course, going potty. Bryan is happy to see us but then informs me that our bad luck has not changed, as his truck will cost $1200 to fix and he also discovered a leak under the kitchen sink last night that had seaped down from the sink to the floor to the basement ceiling and beam...right over our bed.
F#@$ing fantastic.
Friday, 2:30 pm: Bryan has truck loaded down with boxes and small furniture items, bound for Puyallup. We load in to the truck and take off.
2:45 pm: Zoey asleep in her carseat. Bryan and I enjoying a rare moment of quiet together and talk about all kinds of random shit, NAMELY how much we love our cars, because they are so reliable. We both drive Toyotas, and you just never see them broken down on the side of the road, you know?
3:00 pm: Bryan's truck broken down on side of the road. Well, at a Texaco station that we managed to coast to in Castle Rock, to be exact. I note that we have made it exactly 49 miles in our 130 mile trip to Puyallup. I can see the list of things I need to get accomplished that evening slowly slipping away.
4:00 pm: Cram Z
oey's car seat in to the half-back-seat of a tow truck. She is unhappy because the loud, stinky "no-twuck" is "scawy". I am unhappy that she is sitting with her knees in her face.5:00 pm: Arrive relatively unscathed at Toyota dealership in Longview. Bryan gets a ride from a Toyota employee in to town to rent a U-Haul. (I had originally lobbied for a U-Haul run this weekend anyway, the irony of which does not escape me now, as he returns with a gigantic truck that we literally load 15 boxes and some bookcases in to.)
6:00 pm: My dear friend Kendra arrives on the scene to rescue Zoey and I. Bryan leaves for Puyallup, Zoey and I head back to Vancouver to get MY car. We abandon the stupid truck in Longview. F#@%ing Toyotas.
7:15 pm: Zoey and I are back in the car. We leave (again) for Puyallup in what I can only hope is a reliable car.
8:30: Total carseat meltdown. Can I really blame her? No. She's been in the freaking carseat since 2:30 pm and is officially DONE. We stop in Centralia for milk, a diaper change, and a fill-up at the gas station.
9:25 pm: We finally arrive in Puyallup. For those of you keeping score at home, that's SEVEN hours after we left our house in Vancouver.
9:45 pm: Bryan leaves with my car to return to Vancouver. He has a seminar in Portland all weekend, and he needs to head back. My best friend Rikki is at the Puyallup house, ready and waiting to start tiling the downstairs bathroom.
10:20 pm: Zoey crying because she wants to go home. I survey the shit-scene around me and inform her that, sadly, THIS IS GOING TO BE HOME VERY VERY SOON. Although honestly, I don't know how.
Saturday, 9:00 am: Zoey dropped off at Grandma Heather's house. Rikki and I head to Starbucks and Home Depot. We are approximately one day behind schedule.
12:00 pm: We return home. Start laying out tiles. My mom shows up. Wants to get lunch with my aunt, cousins, MIL, and Zoey.
1:00 pm: We will never tile. Never.
3:00 pm: Finally return to the house to begin the project we had wanted to start 24 hours ago. My mom takes Zoey with her to Mt. Vernon to spend the night. Zoey is noticeably relieved to be going to Oma's house. Don't think she likes the "Kowawa" house much at the moment. I don't either.
4:30 pm: Rikki says to me "unless you're dying to learn how to tile, feel free to get your other stuff done around here--I can knock this out myself in a couple hours". I want to cry. These are the nicest words anyone has uttered in days.
6:30 pm: My Grandma brings us dinner. Love my Grandma.
8:30 pm: Tile is down. Thank God. Rikki has brought me a bottle of wine, which we proceed to open with my husband's drill, only to destroy the cork and leave bits of it floating in the wine. Not to be deterred, we strain the wine through paper towels in to small cups. (We have reached the point in this long, God-forsaken move where everything you need happens to be in the OTHER house. Including corkscrews.)
10:30 pm: I begin to notice that our hard work is paying off. I have most boxes unpacked and have contained the construction-zone-debris to one area of the kitchen. Will get rid of it tomorrow in the hopes this makes the house appear more liveable.
Sunday: More unpacking, grouting, cleaning, hauling of shit to garage, etc. Rikki is a rock star. Downstairs floor looks fantastic. (Wasn't hard to beat the nasty, stained linoleum that was in there before.) The great floor almost offsets the horrid, floral, plastic-vinyl-faux-tiles on one wall, right next to the horrid, gold, floral shower stall door. Ugh.
Sunday night: Arrive at my mom's house in Mt. Vernon to find a happy, content two-year-old who has apparently decided that this is the weekend to hit it hard with potty training. My mom informs me Zoey has consistently asked to go potty on the toilet. I am proud. And...worried. This is the week we're moving. Really, do we need to tackle potty training, too? Really, Zoey?
Monday morning: It's Amtrak day!! Miraculously, and I think God was trying to throw me at least a little bone here, Zoey was a model toddler the entire trek down to Vancouver. She dozed on my lap between Seattle and Tacoma, and, of course, wanted to try out going potty on the train. Let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've crammed yourself and your child in to the Amtrak bathroom, train swinging and swaying side-to-side, and tried to convince your child to let you hold her over the toilet, instead of her gripping the grimy seat herself with her chubby little hands. She, of course, won, and I, of course, tried not to imagine myself trying to contain an E. Coli outbreak in my house while simultaneously loading a U-Haul. But she did go potty! And she DID wash her hands afterwards!
Monday afternoon: We hop off the train and Zoey is literally bubbling over with exciting stories to tell Daddy. She was particularly proud of handing the conductor her own ticket, and, of course, going potty. Bryan is happy to see us but then informs me that our bad luck has not changed, as his truck will cost $1200 to fix and he also discovered a leak under the kitchen sink last night that had seaped down from the sink to the floor to the basement ceiling and beam...right over our bed.
F#@$ing fantastic.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Early morning questions to ponder
This morning, as Bryan was running around getting ready for school, Zoey arrived on the scene and announced she was awake. (Right.) I tried to convince her to crawl in to bed with me and go back to sleep, but no luck. So we lounged around in the "big bed" for a little bit until I asked her to go tell Daddy "Mommy needs coffee". Which she did. Which I was so proud of.
Bryan ran upstairs for my coffee, and Zoey asked me what Daddy was doing.
"Getting Mommy's coffee, which is very nice of him, then he's going to school."
"I go 'cool too?"
"Yes! Today is a school day for you too! It's Friday, so that means it's Spanish day. Does Teacher Carly work on Spanish with you?" (As I'm re-reading this before posting it, I'm noticing that I make myself sound much more articulate than I actually am at 6:57 a.m. What I really said probably sounded more like "mmmpff, yes, 'cool. Spanish day, with Teacher Carly. Where's Daddy with that coffee??". Just so you know.)
"Yeah. Teachoh Caw-wee. 'Panish!! Mommy...what does Daddy make at 'cool?"
My as-yet-uncaffeinated brain paused to ponder this question. It made sense, really, since Zoey's perception of "cool" is that you go there to make fun things with messy art media that Mommy won't let you use at home. And, as I'm sure she was thinking, Daddy had yet to produce any glittery, painted, big-globs-of-glue artwork to hang on the refrigerator. His Spanish vocabulary was noticeably minimal, and he didn't appear to know the words and super-cool dance moves that go with the "Pokey" song. (That's right. The Hokey Pokey is making a comeback.)
Bryan stepped in at that point to tell Zoey that Daddy learns how to make people feel better at school, that he helps with owchies on their bodies, blah blah blah...
Zoey's eyes glazed over. If her vocabulary was just a LITTLE more developed, I'm sure she would have said "show me the construction paper art projects, Daddy".
Bryan ran upstairs for my coffee, and Zoey asked me what Daddy was doing.
"Getting Mommy's coffee, which is very nice of him, then he's going to school."
"I go 'cool too?"
"Yes! Today is a school day for you too! It's Friday, so that means it's Spanish day. Does Teacher Carly work on Spanish with you?" (As I'm re-reading this before posting it, I'm noticing that I make myself sound much more articulate than I actually am at 6:57 a.m. What I really said probably sounded more like "mmmpff, yes, 'cool. Spanish day, with Teacher Carly. Where's Daddy with that coffee??". Just so you know.)
"Yeah. Teachoh Caw-wee. 'Panish!! Mommy...what does Daddy make at 'cool?"
My as-yet-uncaffeinated brain paused to ponder this question. It made sense, really, since Zoey's perception of "cool" is that you go there to make fun things with messy art media that Mommy won't let you use at home. And, as I'm sure she was thinking, Daddy had yet to produce any glittery, painted, big-globs-of-glue artwork to hang on the refrigerator. His Spanish vocabulary was noticeably minimal, and he didn't appear to know the words and super-cool dance moves that go with the "Pokey" song. (That's right. The Hokey Pokey is making a comeback.)
Bryan stepped in at that point to tell Zoey that Daddy learns how to make people feel better at school, that he helps with owchies on their bodies, blah blah blah...
Zoey's eyes glazed over. If her vocabulary was just a LITTLE more developed, I'm sure she would have said "show me the construction paper art projects, Daddy".
Thursday, March 12, 2009
How it went down today
1. Took Zoey and her friend, Adley, to Cafe Sip N Play for a puppet show. Adley missed her mommy and wanted me to hold her continuously. This sent Zoey in to "Oh no you don't, that's MY mommy" mode, and was a little leary of the puppets to boot. By the time we got home we all needed naps.
2. Unfortunately, Zoey only napped an hour and a half today, which is about an hour and a half shy of what she really needed. But she seemed to be in a decent mood and wanted to help me pack boxes bound for "Kowawa".
3. Half an hour later, while I was packing in the kitchen and talking to my best friend on the phone, I noticed that strange silence that immediately alerts you to dangerous toddler activities.
4. Went to find Zoey. Located her in the mud room attempting to shove a screwdriver in to an electrical outlet. Yell at her to stop. She freaks out. Tell Rikki I need to call her back.
5. 15 minutes, a binky (for Zoey) and a beer (for mommy) later, we sit down to have yet another safety discussion. She tells me she was trying to "fix the waw (wall) yike Daddy". Well, shit. I have no argument for this. I don't know where the screwdriver came from and, until VERY recently, hadn't even been aware we had an electrical outlet in the mud room.
6. TV is an excellent babysitter. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.
7. Hot dogs for dinner. Have taken mental stock of all the crap we have eaten this week--hot dogs, donuts, Girl Scout cookies, and one outing to McDonalds quickly come to mind. Am craving the stability of a well-stocked kitchen and the presence of a menu. Make mental note to organize Puyallup kitchen immediately, before you see me on an episode of TLC's "Half Ton Mom".
8. It is now 9:00 and time for bed. For all of us.
2. Unfortunately, Zoey only napped an hour and a half today, which is about an hour and a half shy of what she really needed. But she seemed to be in a decent mood and wanted to help me pack boxes bound for "Kowawa".
3. Half an hour later, while I was packing in the kitchen and talking to my best friend on the phone, I noticed that strange silence that immediately alerts you to dangerous toddler activities.
4. Went to find Zoey. Located her in the mud room attempting to shove a screwdriver in to an electrical outlet. Yell at her to stop. She freaks out. Tell Rikki I need to call her back.
5. 15 minutes, a binky (for Zoey) and a beer (for mommy) later, we sit down to have yet another safety discussion. She tells me she was trying to "fix the waw (wall) yike Daddy". Well, shit. I have no argument for this. I don't know where the screwdriver came from and, until VERY recently, hadn't even been aware we had an electrical outlet in the mud room.
6. TV is an excellent babysitter. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.
7. Hot dogs for dinner. Have taken mental stock of all the crap we have eaten this week--hot dogs, donuts, Girl Scout cookies, and one outing to McDonalds quickly come to mind. Am craving the stability of a well-stocked kitchen and the presence of a menu. Make mental note to organize Puyallup kitchen immediately, before you see me on an episode of TLC's "Half Ton Mom".
8. It is now 9:00 and time for bed. For all of us.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
$172.50 well spent
What I purchased at Target tonight:
1. Four curtain rods (have desperately been waiting for them to go on sale and finally hit the jackpot this week)
2. Two window panels (scratched "extra bedroom windows" off my list, but still feeling wishy-washy about which curtains to choose for the master bedroom. As if my life depends on this one home decor decision.)
3. One window shade (replace broken shade in Zoey's room)
4. One toilet seat (Seriously, we've replaced this one toilet seat THREE TIMES since we've lived here. We do not have exceptionally fat asses. I do not understand how this is possible.)
5. One set of shower curtain hooks (in my futile attempt to offset the ugliness that is my lavender tub)
6. One box Entemanns chocolate covered donuts.
7. One box Diet Coke.
I'll let you guess what I'm sitting on the couch eating right now. Perhaps this DOES explain all the broken toilet seats??
1. Four curtain rods (have desperately been waiting for them to go on sale and finally hit the jackpot this week)
2. Two window panels (scratched "extra bedroom windows" off my list, but still feeling wishy-washy about which curtains to choose for the master bedroom. As if my life depends on this one home decor decision.)
3. One window shade (replace broken shade in Zoey's room)
4. One toilet seat (Seriously, we've replaced this one toilet seat THREE TIMES since we've lived here. We do not have exceptionally fat asses. I do not understand how this is possible.)
5. One set of shower curtain hooks (in my futile attempt to offset the ugliness that is my lavender tub)
6. One box Entemanns chocolate covered donuts.
7. One box Diet Coke.
I'll let you guess what I'm sitting on the couch eating right now. Perhaps this DOES explain all the broken toilet seats??
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Amtrak adventure
I am contemplating taking Zoey on her first ever train ride next week.
I know. You're thinking that now, yes, I truly HAVE lost my mind.
But I think she might like it! She is going to go up to Mt. Vernon to stay the night with my mom on Saturday, while Rikki and I are tiling the much-debated-over laundry room floor. Then, I could ride up to Mt. Vernon with Rikki, spend the night at mom's, and take Zoey home on the train the next morning.
I'm trying to think how many things we'll have to pack to keep her occupied on a five hour train ride.
Hmmm.
I know. You're thinking that now, yes, I truly HAVE lost my mind.
But I think she might like it! She is going to go up to Mt. Vernon to stay the night with my mom on Saturday, while Rikki and I are tiling the much-debated-over laundry room floor. Then, I could ride up to Mt. Vernon with Rikki, spend the night at mom's, and take Zoey home on the train the next morning.
I'm trying to think how many things we'll have to pack to keep her occupied on a five hour train ride.
Hmmm.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Conversations with a two-year-old
Setting: My bed. 9 p.m. I am reading my copy of "Better" by Atul Gawande, and Zoey is laying next to me, "reading" her copy of "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" by Eric Carle.
Zoey: Bwown Beah, Bwown Beah, what do you see? I seeeeee....a puwple howse! Aannnndd...Mommy, was dat?"
Me: Um, that's the Red Wolf.
Zoey: Oh. Hmmmm. Scawy. Wed Woof scawy, Mommy?
Me: Well. I suppose wolves can come across a little scary sometimes.
Zoey: Yesh. Scawy. Okay. Wed Woof, Wed Woof, what do you see? I seeeee....a godefish! Mommy, yook! (She pauses in her storytelling to frantically sign the word "fish".)
Me: Good job, Zo-bug. Good signing.
Zoey: Yeah! Mommy, was dat?
Me: That's the teacher.
Zoey: Oh! Yeah! Teachoh, teachoh, what do you see? I seeeee.....childwen! Yooking at me!
At this point I have obviously given up on following my own story, and I'm only pretending to read as I cast sidelong glances at my child, who is so incredibly excited to be reciting her own story. I notice things like the way she replaces the letters "r" and "l" with either a "w" or "y", or simply eliminates them from a word altogether. I notice the way she has memorized how we read the story to her, so that she can re-create it all by herself. But mostly what I notice is how much she loves to read, and how her face lights up at each new page.
Life is, well, chaotic right now. But at least I am still managing to raise a fabulous little reader.
Zoey: Bwown Beah, Bwown Beah, what do you see? I seeeeee....a puwple howse! Aannnndd...Mommy, was dat?"
Me: Um, that's the Red Wolf.
Zoey: Oh. Hmmmm. Scawy. Wed Woof scawy, Mommy?
Me: Well. I suppose wolves can come across a little scary sometimes.
Zoey: Yesh. Scawy. Okay. Wed Woof, Wed Woof, what do you see? I seeeee....a godefish! Mommy, yook! (She pauses in her storytelling to frantically sign the word "fish".)
Me: Good job, Zo-bug. Good signing.
Zoey: Yeah! Mommy, was dat?
Me: That's the teacher.
Zoey: Oh! Yeah! Teachoh, teachoh, what do you see? I seeeee.....childwen! Yooking at me!
At this point I have obviously given up on following my own story, and I'm only pretending to read as I cast sidelong glances at my child, who is so incredibly excited to be reciting her own story. I notice things like the way she replaces the letters "r" and "l" with either a "w" or "y", or simply eliminates them from a word altogether. I notice the way she has memorized how we read the story to her, so that she can re-create it all by herself. But mostly what I notice is how much she loves to read, and how her face lights up at each new page.
Life is, well, chaotic right now. But at least I am still managing to raise a fabulous little reader.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Teetering on the brink of insanity
Okay.
Spent another day in Puyallup, when it actually hit me:
There is no way in HELL the house is going to be move-in ready in two weeks.
My incredibly optimistic mood of last week completely faded as I looked around at all the junk, dust, ugly appliances scattered about, even uglier light fixtures strewn across my kitchen counter, and potholes in the as-yet-unfinished floors. So, in complete desperation, I picked a fight with my husband, who has done nothing but work his ass off for the past two months on this place. I just...can't...believe....how ugly it still is.
Here's part of the problem: in my mind, on my agenda, I would be spending this upcoming week driving loads of boxes and (small) pieces of furniture to Puyallup, where I would lovingly unload and unpack them in my somewhat-ugly, but properly floored-and-painted house. I AM SUPPOSED TO BE ORGANIZING MY KITCHEN RIGHT NOW, PEOPLE! I CAN NOT DO THAT WITH EMPTY SODA BOTTLES AND A FREAKING 1960'S WALL SCONCE LITTERING MY COUNTERTOPS!
It was in this state of near-meltdown that my mother-in-law and her husband walked in and found me. Bryan was at Home Depot (likely to escape my wrath) and I had just finished wailing on the phone to my mother about why, why, WHY my husband always feels he has to move me in to a house with "potential". (Which, in case you hadn't already guessed, is code for "hovel, that can be righted again after two years worth of intensive labor, during which time you will contemplate divorce on at least four occasions".)
Anyway. MIL Heather and Alex walk in, assess the situation, and Heather proceeds to grab me by the shoulders in a very shake-some-sense-in-to-you fashion, look me square in the eye, and tell me it's time to re-evaluate my priorities here. In fact, I believe what she actually said was, "let's not be getting spoiled here! You can't have everything done all at once!".
Yes. Well. Clearly you don't read my blog.
AS MENTIONED PREVIOUSLY, I am perfectly okay with a set amount of ugliness upon move-in day. The degree of ugliness had been bargained for previously (I had to trade the replacement of the lavender toilet and tub for removal of all wood paneling, new kitchen floors for...nothing...and removal of the hideous master-bedroom vanity for new kitchen counter-tops, which, as it turns out, we won't even be able to afford before we get there anyway.)
So, in my present state of freaking out, I was in no frame of mind to ponder the fact that a woman who wants proper flooring installed in her house before moving in might not, in fact, be spoiled. After all, Bryan and I are 30 years old. We're trying to put our days of living in trashy dumps BEHIND us, not continue forth with living in close proximity to stained, 40-year-old linoleum. And besides, anyone who knows Heather knows this is simply her style. And she was willing to concede that perhaps I was under a wee bit of emotional stress at the moment, what with trying to pack up the Vancouver house, keep tabs on Zoey, say goodbye to my fabulous friends, and start all over again back in Puyallup. That, and she was obviously there to work, so I had to give her considerable leeway.
In no time, she and Alex and I had the downstairs bathroom cleared out and a huge "going to the dump" pile started in the garage. Heather pointed out that, with a little bleach and a toothbrush, the linoleum that was the bone of contention to start with my clean up just fine. This, however, did not go with my plan. And since all other aspects of my plan have gone to hell in a handbasket, that fucking linoleum was coming up if it was the last thing I did all day.
Turns out it was, and talk about stress relief--there is nothing like ripping up and tearing out anything to burn off some steam.
While Alex worked at getting the toilet and utility sink out of the room, I ripped and tore to my heart's content. It was fabulous. And now, the room is ready for Rikki and I to storm in next weekend and lay new tile. This activity has, of course, been on The Agenda for weeks now. And really? My laundry room is a sacred space. I have been dreaming of the day when I will move in to a house with an actual laundry ROOM, not some hole in the basement wall or hastily-made space 10 steps away from the stove in my kitchen. (We have lived in some real shit-holes in the past 9 years, believe me.)
Lesson learned: don't mess with My Plan.
Spent another day in Puyallup, when it actually hit me:
There is no way in HELL the house is going to be move-in ready in two weeks.
My incredibly optimistic mood of last week completely faded as I looked around at all the junk, dust, ugly appliances scattered about, even uglier light fixtures strewn across my kitchen counter, and potholes in the as-yet-unfinished floors. So, in complete desperation, I picked a fight with my husband, who has done nothing but work his ass off for the past two months on this place. I just...can't...believe....how ugly it still is.
Here's part of the problem: in my mind, on my agenda, I would be spending this upcoming week driving loads of boxes and (small) pieces of furniture to Puyallup, where I would lovingly unload and unpack them in my somewhat-ugly, but properly floored-and-painted house. I AM SUPPOSED TO BE ORGANIZING MY KITCHEN RIGHT NOW, PEOPLE! I CAN NOT DO THAT WITH EMPTY SODA BOTTLES AND A FREAKING 1960'S WALL SCONCE LITTERING MY COUNTERTOPS!
It was in this state of near-meltdown that my mother-in-law and her husband walked in and found me. Bryan was at Home Depot (likely to escape my wrath) and I had just finished wailing on the phone to my mother about why, why, WHY my husband always feels he has to move me in to a house with "potential". (Which, in case you hadn't already guessed, is code for "hovel, that can be righted again after two years worth of intensive labor, during which time you will contemplate divorce on at least four occasions".)
Anyway. MIL Heather and Alex walk in, assess the situation, and Heather proceeds to grab me by the shoulders in a very shake-some-sense-in-to-you fashion, look me square in the eye, and tell me it's time to re-evaluate my priorities here. In fact, I believe what she actually said was, "let's not be getting spoiled here! You can't have everything done all at once!".
Yes. Well. Clearly you don't read my blog.
AS MENTIONED PREVIOUSLY, I am perfectly okay with a set amount of ugliness upon move-in day. The degree of ugliness had been bargained for previously (I had to trade the replacement of the lavender toilet and tub for removal of all wood paneling, new kitchen floors for...nothing...and removal of the hideous master-bedroom vanity for new kitchen counter-tops, which, as it turns out, we won't even be able to afford before we get there anyway.)
So, in my present state of freaking out, I was in no frame of mind to ponder the fact that a woman who wants proper flooring installed in her house before moving in might not, in fact, be spoiled. After all, Bryan and I are 30 years old. We're trying to put our days of living in trashy dumps BEHIND us, not continue forth with living in close proximity to stained, 40-year-old linoleum. And besides, anyone who knows Heather knows this is simply her style. And she was willing to concede that perhaps I was under a wee bit of emotional stress at the moment, what with trying to pack up the Vancouver house, keep tabs on Zoey, say goodbye to my fabulous friends, and start all over again back in Puyallup. That, and she was obviously there to work, so I had to give her considerable leeway.
In no time, she and Alex and I had the downstairs bathroom cleared out and a huge "going to the dump" pile started in the garage. Heather pointed out that, with a little bleach and a toothbrush, the linoleum that was the bone of contention to start with my clean up just fine. This, however, did not go with my plan. And since all other aspects of my plan have gone to hell in a handbasket, that fucking linoleum was coming up if it was the last thing I did all day.
Turns out it was, and talk about stress relief--there is nothing like ripping up and tearing out anything to burn off some steam.
While Alex worked at getting the toilet and utility sink out of the room, I ripped and tore to my heart's content. It was fabulous. And now, the room is ready for Rikki and I to storm in next weekend and lay new tile. This activity has, of course, been on The Agenda for weeks now. And really? My laundry room is a sacred space. I have been dreaming of the day when I will move in to a house with an actual laundry ROOM, not some hole in the basement wall or hastily-made space 10 steps away from the stove in my kitchen. (We have lived in some real shit-holes in the past 9 years, believe me.)
Lesson learned: don't mess with My Plan.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
From Vancouver to Puyallup...and back...and back again.
Zoey and I just finished up our second out of three trips to Puyallup this week. And while I am tired of hauling my sorry ass, a cranky toddler who wants out of her carseat, and a Corolla loaded down with boxes up and down I-5, I am happy to report that we're making progress on the house.
Mind you, I'm defining "progress" rather loosely--we're talking floors are almost in and paint is on the walls. Paint of a decent color, that is. Do we still have a lavender toilet in our main bath? Yes. Is there still a hideous built-in vanity in a corner of our master bedroom, circa 1970, which I will have to live with and hate for quite awhile? Yes. And while we're on the topic of ugly built-ins, is there another one located in the diningroom that I'm trying to convince myself is so ugly it's a little bit cute? Yes. Does the horrid flourescent lighting in the kitchen sort of give off the impression you're cooking in a cave? Absolutely.
These are things that, sadly, we will just have to live with...maybe pretend to ignore...until we have the money to update them and bring them up to the current decade's standards. However, there ARE books on the shelves of the (ugly) built-in bookcases in the upstairs bedrooms, we are going to put together the spare bedroom this weekend so we actually have a bed we can sleep in, which will (hopefully) eliminate the need for Zoey and I to drive up and back in a single day, and I'm starting to fill closets with things like blankets, cleaning supplies, and even a little food. This is progress.
And for all the ugliness, I still have to remind myself that there are very cool perks to this house, including but not limited to the laundry chute, kitchen cupboard designed specifically for my KitchenAid mixer, and the endless amount of closet space.
I am thinking Saturday might be the last day Zoey and I trek up to Puyallup and back in a single day. Assuming, of course, that the rest of the installation of hardwood floors upstairs goes smoothly, and the house begins to look like something other than a war zone.
And for the record? You'd be amazed how many boxes can be crammed in to a little Toyota Corolla.
Mind you, I'm defining "progress" rather loosely--we're talking floors are almost in and paint is on the walls. Paint of a decent color, that is. Do we still have a lavender toilet in our main bath? Yes. Is there still a hideous built-in vanity in a corner of our master bedroom, circa 1970, which I will have to live with and hate for quite awhile? Yes. And while we're on the topic of ugly built-ins, is there another one located in the diningroom that I'm trying to convince myself is so ugly it's a little bit cute? Yes. Does the horrid flourescent lighting in the kitchen sort of give off the impression you're cooking in a cave? Absolutely.
These are things that, sadly, we will just have to live with...maybe pretend to ignore...until we have the money to update them and bring them up to the current decade's standards. However, there ARE books on the shelves of the (ugly) built-in bookcases in the upstairs bedrooms, we are going to put together the spare bedroom this weekend so we actually have a bed we can sleep in, which will (hopefully) eliminate the need for Zoey and I to drive up and back in a single day, and I'm starting to fill closets with things like blankets, cleaning supplies, and even a little food. This is progress.
And for all the ugliness, I still have to remind myself that there are very cool perks to this house, including but not limited to the laundry chute, kitchen cupboard designed specifically for my KitchenAid mixer, and the endless amount of closet space.
I am thinking Saturday might be the last day Zoey and I trek up to Puyallup and back in a single day. Assuming, of course, that the rest of the installation of hardwood floors upstairs goes smoothly, and the house begins to look like something other than a war zone.
And for the record? You'd be amazed how many boxes can be crammed in to a little Toyota Corolla.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Officially unemployed...and liking it...so far.
That's right, I survived my last week of employment!!
And now it is early Monday morning, and all I can think is that, instead of lounging on the couch in my jammies, I should be at work. Ahhhhhh.....nice. And now I am going to go get Zoey ready for preschool so that I can have three whole hours to myself. My fat ass is definitely hitting the gym today--I had a few too many celebratory donuts on my last day of work Friday. After that, I have a date with some empty cardboard boxes and some various books and kitchen items that need to be packed.
For the record, Zoey and I spent the day in Puyallup yesterday, and when we got home (late) last night, she woke from a sound sleep in her car seat and proceeded to throw the BIGGEST fit I've ever seen over a perceived threat to her independence--how could I forget that she can put the lid on her cup of milk ALL BY HERSELF? At that point, I began to rethink the whole spend-a-month-as-a-stay-at-home-mom plan.
We'll see how it goes.
And now it is early Monday morning, and all I can think is that, instead of lounging on the couch in my jammies, I should be at work. Ahhhhhh.....nice. And now I am going to go get Zoey ready for preschool so that I can have three whole hours to myself. My fat ass is definitely hitting the gym today--I had a few too many celebratory donuts on my last day of work Friday. After that, I have a date with some empty cardboard boxes and some various books and kitchen items that need to be packed.
For the record, Zoey and I spent the day in Puyallup yesterday, and when we got home (late) last night, she woke from a sound sleep in her car seat and proceeded to throw the BIGGEST fit I've ever seen over a perceived threat to her independence--how could I forget that she can put the lid on her cup of milk ALL BY HERSELF? At that point, I began to rethink the whole spend-a-month-as-a-stay-at-home-mom plan.
We'll see how it goes.
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