Mandajuice

California Vacation - Day one

Yesterday the family came over and we got to play with all the cousins (not pictured because I forgot to ask if it was okay!).  The visit was bittersweet for me, since I have no idea when I'll see them again and it's frightening how much we can all change in just a year.

For brunch, I made my polenta casserole.  The highlight of my day was when my grandfather, who had been chiding me all morning about how much he hated polenta, leaned over and said, "I take it back.  Your polenta is really good."  [Recipe coming soon, I've taken the pictures already and everything.]

We also celebrated our birthdays.  My grandmother turns 85 today and I'll be 32 tomorrow.  My mom smuggled an awesometastic pyrotechnic candle back from China that played a song and everything.

We blew out the candles (after the big explosion died down).

And then my fro attempted to eat my poor 85-year-old grandmother.

But, seriously, my cousin Sara took this picture and it's probably the best one I've ever seen of my Grandma.  I love it.

Flight from Hell

Usually when I talk about traveling with kids, I say the worst part is the schlep - getting me, two kids, two car seats, two suitcases, a diaper bag, a stroller, my camera bag and Alex's tiny little owl backpack all THERE.  Once we check the luggage, the worst is usually over.  Even getting through security with two small kids seems like a cinch after that.  The best part is that we get to pre-board, literally the only true good thing about traveling with little kids.

Not so much anymore.

Southwest apparently changed their policy.  It used to be that families with kids under four boarded first along with the disabled and any children flying solo.  But not anymore, now families board AFTER A group.  (If you've never flown Southwest, you should know that they don't assign seats.  It's a first come/first served basis.  A Group boards first, B Group second, etc.)   Fortunately, or so I thought, I actually HAD an A Group seating assignment, which is funny because usually I don't bother getting a seat assignment until I get to the airport solely because I figure I'm boarding first anyway, right?  I might as well let some lucky business man get my A ticket.

Now the groups are also numbered and you board the plane in numerical order.  We were A40, so I figured we'd still be fine.

We took the first window seat that was available.   In the second to the last row on the plane.

This is the stupidest policy change I've ever seen.  I always thought it was better for EVERYBODY to let the babies on first.  We would all congregate in the first three rows of the plane and that helped make sure that anybody who didn't want to sit next to a baby DIDN'T HAVE TO.  You could walk right passed those aisles and guarantee yourself a quieter flight.  No cranky toddler was going to up and grab that final seat right next to you because we would've already been on the plane.

Anyway, this pissed me off quite a bit and has made flying Alaska Airlines, where I can both book a specific seat AND pre-board, look a lot more attractive to me.  I'm pretty sure this will be my last Southwest flight.

It also turned out that Genoa isn't so much a fan of heights!  Watching the ground slowly disappear freaked her out and she snuggled into me and kept repeating, "I don't yike it!"  Other than that, though, both kids were really well behaved the entire flight.  No screaming, no spilling, no fighting.  We colored and played matchbox cars and ate goldfish crackers.  I had a cocktail.  All was good in the sky. 

Of course, as we were getting closer to landing, Alex started complaining that his stomach hurt.  A LOT.  Eventually he admitted having a "poopy fart" which I took to mean we needed to hit the bathroom pretty quickly upon landing.  But no.  Seconds after the plane hit down, Alex completely emptied his stomach contents onto the floor. 

GOOD TIMES!

Actually, as far as barfing on a  plane goes, it couldn't have gone any better.  We were already on the ground!  And having read some of your blogs and learning from your lessons, I was prepared with wipes and a change of clothes for everyone and even a plastic bag to put the barfy clothes into.  Alex felt bad, though.  I had to keep reassuring him that it was okay and that he wasn't the first kid to ever barf on a plane.  So far, we think it was either some bad Wendy's or plain old air sickness because the kid is completely back to normal.

Sadly, because it was sitting directly beneath him, my camera bag will never be the same.

John Adams, Rocky Balboa, frosted sugar cookies

I just wrote a post about how we're watching John Adams on HBO and how awesome it is and yada yada yada, dude I totally love this country, but I won't bore anyone with posting it.  I'm sure you'd probably rather read about how I took the kids to an indoor play area place today and after over two hours of crawling around on my hands and knees and hiking my sagging jeans up over my flat butt a thousand times in a row and generally being Super Mom, Genoa tripped over her own feet and landed eyelid-first onto the edge of the slide.  She now looks like Rocky Balboa.

Did I mention that the kids are scheduled for professional portraits on Tuesday?  How did I not see this one coming?  You'd think I was new at this job or something.

I've been scrambling around doing all that last minute pre-vacation shopping I love so dearly.  Any opportunity to make a list and I'm ON IT, but my house is a disaster.  The kitchen sink is so full that I'm exhausted just thinking about it.  Tomorrow's list:

1.  Clean house.
2.  Pack.
3.  Get a car wash.
4.  Keep the kids up late so they'll nap Saturday afternoon before our dinnertime flight.

It's also Alex's last day of preschool, which will be entirely bittersweet, unlike the cookies Alex picked out to share with his class.  Hopefully I'll remember to pick up my camera at some point tomorrow.

Dinner, soccer, broken dishes, stupid fashion designers

On Friday afternoon, Dave won a big motion in court for his biggest client.  We went out to dinner, sans kids, to celebrate.  It was nice, but I'm getting sick of Beaches.  My half cheeseburger and fries were rockin' good, though.  The mango margarita turned out to be blended instead of stirred, so I barely drank it (frozen drinks + tiny post-op tummy = no room for dinner).

When we got home, Carol was cleaning up a broken glass bowl that Genoa had knocked off the kitchen table onto the tile floor.  I quickly got out the Dyson and took over.  When the job was finally finished over half an hour later, my blood sugar was down to 35.  There goes that plan to incorporate exercise into my, cough, healthy lifestyle.

The next morning, Alex had his first indoor soccer practice.  It was adorable. 

We enrolled him in a class for 4-5-year-olds and it seems like a perfect fit.  The whole thing was incredibly enlightening.  Alex had a MUCH harder time listening to instructions than I ever would've imagined.  I could blame the instructors for being less than stellar with the directions in the first place, but most, no, ALL of the other kids followed directions better than Alex.  So obviously, this soccer class is A GOOD THING.  He needs it.  Maybe next week when the newness wears off, he'll be a better listener.  I'm hopeful.  The good news is that he ADORES it. 

On our way out to dinner on Friday night, Dave somehow threw out his back and was basically useless the entire weekend.  I was bummed because I had long been planning that Saturday would be Operation Build Garden Box.  It didn't end up happening and now all my seedlings are completely outgrowing their tiny starter box.  I won't get to plant them until I get back from California in ten days.  Hopefully they'll make it.

Anyway, Saturday night Genoa broke yet ANOTHER glass bowl, this time a piece of supposedly-un-breakable Corelle.  I spent another twenty minutes vacuuming my kitchen, at which point my Dyson up and died on me.  It's currently at the repair shop having approximately 14 pounds of long curly hair extracted from its bowels.  It won't be ready until after I leave for California, which means I can't vacuum my house before I leave.  Good times!

And finally, I AM NOT PREGNANT, but that doesn't mean I don't NEED CLOTHES.

Easter redux

Sorry this is so long, but I feel the need to share it, since it tickles me pink.  First off, this is what the kids found on the kitchen table this morning:

Then, we went on a treasure hunt:

[video of the kids finding treasure]

I actually took an obscene quantity of videos today, so here are a few million more.

[video of Genoa saying, "I got stuff I need need a buy"]

Best line from Bee Movie

COW:  "You're a lawyer too?"

MOSQUITO: "I was already a blood-sucking parasite.  All I needed was a briefcase!"

Endocrinologist Schmendocrinologist

I had that long-awaited appointment with the Endocrinologist yesterday morning.  I explained everything that's been happening to me and basically told him what I thought it was (a hyper-active pancreas) and he agreed.  Then he told me it's also likely that my blood sugar issues mean that I'm "pre-diabetic" which shocked and appalled me.   

Part of me thought it sounded right: that the pancreas has only so much lifelong function and that I'm promptly wearing it out by allowing it to work too hard (pumping out too much insulin with every meal).  I know from watching the other diabetics in my life that the pancreas does ACTUALLY wear out, at which point type 2 diabetics go from taking medication to control their blood sugar, to the dreaded insulin needle.  But the part that struck me as odd is that I wasn't even pre-diabetic at 309 pounds!  I always thought that if I didn't get diabetes when my body was perfectly primed for it with 100+ extra pounds of crazy-hormoney, insulin-screwy body fat, then I would NEVER get diabetes.  Not to mention that there is absolutely ZERO family history for me.  No member of my family has ever had it.  The diagnosis seemed odd.

So I immediately came home and e-mailed the resident expert on all things hypoglycemic: Melting Mama.  And she sent me this link to a report about pancreatic islets, of which I understood only about every third word.  But I'm going to forward it to my Endocrinologist, a man who inspired virtually zero confidence.  He was obviously nervous (which I'm going to pretend to attribute to being alone with me and my tightest muffin-top-producing jeans and greasy ponytail) and didn't seem to have much expertise with gastric bypass patients, since he kept attempting to inform me how important it was to get my vitamin levels tested.  I finally told him that my old doctor used to just hand me the blood work sheet and tell me to fill it out myself, since I knew more about the tests I needed than he did.  My latest test was completed less than a month ago and all levels are normal.

I also plan to call the surgeon who performed my surgery.  He is still an expert, still performing 3+ gastric bypass surgeries every day, and I can't imagine I'll be the first post-op to call his office five years later saying, "what the hell is going on with my blood sugar?"  Maybe he'll have some answers.  The most important thing to note here is that this is definitely a POST-OP GASTRIC BYPASS SURGERY problem.  I wouldn't be bottoming out with a blood sugar of 35, like I did last night after dinner, if I hadn't had this surgery.  NOT THAT I WOULD TAKE IT BACK.  Because, NO, NEVER.  I'm just interested to see what this means for my long-term health. 

Montessori not always a perfect fit

This morning I left Genoa with Carol so I could attend the "showcase" at Alex's school.  I came home and wrote all about it over at The Mom Street Journal, but the gist of that post is that I'm feeling more and more like taking him out of school is the right decision.  Today was meant to be a big marketing day to encourage parents to re-enroll their children next year (and past preschool through the even more expensive elementary school years), but if anything, it had the opposite effect on me. 

Today I learned that instead of getting to work with the Montessori beads that teach kids math in a really cool way, he's been grating nutmeg and get this: cutting paper with SCISSORS.  We've basically spent almost four grand so our kid can learn how to juice an orange.  I feel slightly bamboozled.  I also feel like for whatever reason, the teachers aren't working with my kid enough.  I saw first hand what some of his peers have been learning and I feel like he's been left out.  I am certain he is capable of more and I had hoped the Montessori method would bring it out of him, but I think it's been the opposite. 

I'm sure some kids excel in a setting with a lot of independence and no competition from their peers, but Alex isn't necessarily one of them.  [For example, today he told me he would "grate more nutmeg than ANYBODY else!  It would fill up the classroom!  But oh how I wish it had been, "read more books than anybody else!"]  Montessori is also famous for its low-key quiet atmosphere, an atmosphere in which the antics of rowdy boys, I dunno, like MINE, tend to be looked down upon instead of channeled into other areas.  At his current school there is no outdoor (or indoor on rainy days) play time until AFTER the entire school day is over.  He's outside playing when I pick him up and I see him running around and getting all those willies out and I wish he had more opportunities to do that during the school day, instead of just at the end. 

So yeah, when they say that not every preschool style works for every child, I think it's important to PAY ATTENTION.  Montessori hasn't turned out to be a great fit for my child (although for some reason I think it would be perfect for Genoa!).  I hope the program we've picked for next year will be a better fit.  (They get outdoor play time during the school day and the academics portion of the class is a DAILY requirement of all the children, not just something he only does when he feels like it).  We'll see.  The price is certainly a better fit.

More and more, I'm looking forward to having my boy with me and to getting a bit of a preschool-like structure going at home.  I've already started listing out all the various ways I hope to fill our days, so I'll definitely be sharing that as it unfolds.

Questions, answered

AMERICAN IDOL 
Last night sucked, although that could be because Dave was out at a client thing and I got to watch it live.  Watching it live is a little like nails on a chalkboard.  Even though last night's performances left much to be desired (I hate the Beatles, shoot me!), I still have the same handful of favorites: Carly, David Cook, Jason Castro and especially Brooke White.  I ADORE Brooke White.  I realized last night that it's not even her singing I like so much, it's just HER.  I love that she's so comfortable with herself and she's so confident without it coming across as conceit.  I think the word I'm looking for is GENUINE.  David Archuleta has a little bit of the same thing going on, but as well as he sings, I find him very boring.  I think Ramiele Malubay will be going home tonight.

TWO CHILDREN IS ENOUGH
Before having any of my own, I really loved kids, especially bigger grown kids that I could relate to.  I was never really much of a baby person.  I honestly thought I'd tolerate my babies until they became PEOPLE.  But the second they placed that first slimy squirmy monster on my chest, I was SMITTEN.  It turns out I'm totally a baby person and after Alex was born and I realized how much I loved every minute of his existence, I started thinking that two kids was never going to be enough for me.  I saw how fast he grew up and didn't feel like I was done with the baby stage and that I wouldn't be, not even after a second baby.

But Dave and I had agreed before marrying that two children would be the perfect amount.  It was never a plan I thought I'd want to revise, so imagine his surprise after Alex was born when I immediately started niggling him for a third.  It actually became a bit of an issue for us.  I mean, how do you SOLVE that?  I couldn't make him want a third child any more than he could make me want only two.  He always had the upper hand in the discussions, though, because I had technically agreed to having two children.  I mean in Dave's lawyer mind, this was a case that had long ago been decided and shelved in the law books.  We had agreed.  It was ME who was changing her mind, not him.

Then I got pregnant with Genoa and it was hard.  I realized how much I HATE being pregnant, that it turns me into a big fat whiner.  With hemorrhoids.  Alex also turned two right around that time and my experience of parenting changed.  I can look back and say that I LOVED being Alex's mommy virtually every minute of his first two years.  He was an easy baby and being his mother made me happier than I'd ever been in my life.  But age two?  It slayed me.  Parenting became actual work.  I had also quit my job and had literally zero alone time, something I never thought I really needed.  Mostly I stopped missing him because I wasn't ever away from him.  On my life, I swear moms who go away to work all day appreciate their children in entirely different ways than moms who stay home all day.

Then Genoa was born and if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, I think it's pretty clear that she is NOT an easy baby.  She was up nursing FIVE times LAST NIGHT.  And she's almost two.  I haven't had a solid night of sleep since mid-2005.  I'm tired!  The idea of adding another child to this chaos is totally overwhelming to me, and I'm not someone who often feels overwhelmed about anything.

So here's the real truth: having two kids isn't as hard as I think most parents make it out to be.  Even when Genoa was screaming bloody murder every time I ate dairy and I was stressed out about it, I was still vacuuming my house every week.  Physically, I can do all the work.  I honestly feel like I'm a good mother, even at my worst.  The thing that's gotten harder for me is being in the moment, enjoying it instead of worrying about the next chore on my list.  When it was just me and Alex, that was so easy.  I missed him all day while I was at work and then spent every minute we were together just focusing on him.  I don't feel that way about parenting anymore.  If I spent every minute of the time my children were awake focusing on them, I'd be writing this post from the looney bin.  It's just not possible. 

If I could do it all over again, I would honestly decide to wait longer between children.  Being pregnant with a two year old was really a changing point for me.  It was really difficult and I stopped enjoying EVERY minute of parenthood.  I think it would be easier if my kids were a little further spaced.  I think that's how the larger families do it - the older kids help with the younger kids.  I know I certainly helped my mom when my baby brother and sister were born.  If nothing else, it spreads the manual labor around a bit more manageably. 

So I guess I do feel like I'm done having babies.  Ideally, in a perfect world where money and career don't matter, I'd have another baby when Genoa goes to Kindergarten.  But I am honestly looking forward to going back to work and having a career again, so that won't happen.  And there would be the whole pesky issue of having to find a new sperm donor.

ON HAVING MY MOTHER-IN-LAW LIVE RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET
When I tell people that Carol moved in right across the street, I usually get a raised eyebrow of suspicion.  I mean, why would anybody actually WANT to live that close to her husband's mother?  But I'm being very honest when I say that I am very happy to have Carol so close.  I'm not saying it just because she reads this blog.  In fact, I pretty much pushed her into buying that house because the convenience factor was so huge.  I can be fairly persuasive, you know.

Carol and I have always gotten along well.  We have a unique relationship and I count her as one of the few (three?) people around whom I can say anything I want to (including all my annoyingly honest complaining) without fear.  Any eggshells in the room with Carol and me were stomped on long, long ago.  I truly and honestly love her like a mother.  When she hurt her back last year and I wasn't there to help her, it was really hard for me.  I'm hugely relieved that she's right across the street now.

The nice thing is that the road goes two ways.  There is nothing Carol wouldn't do for me out of the goodness of her heart.  She's super helpful with the kids and I'm glad she's here to spend more time with them.  The best part of the relationship is that there is no tit for tat.  No one's keeping track.  I enjoy helping her out as much as she enjoys helping me out.  There's no downside for either of us.

My only complaint is my husband.  He and his mother get along fabulously, but only when I'm not around.  The second I'm there, all they do is fight.  It's the most annoying phenomenon and no matter how much we rationally discuss it, he goes into crank mode the second we're all in a room together.  I can't tell you how often I wish I could install a zipper on his mouth.

The world's most perfect curl

Oddly, I'm not feeling particularly verbose lately.  I can't think of anything worth posting about, but I did write a  "day in the life" post over at Disney.  And there's always this:

Is there anything I should be posting about?  Any burning questions out there I've let go unanswered?  I promise another post in the gastric bypass series soon, but they require a good two hour chunk of time to finish and I haven't found that in days.