so what’s left? July 3, 2008

I want to post but I don’t want to talk about anything.

I don’t want to talk about how relieved I am that my parents may move their plane reservation to Saturday so that they will be here before Train leaves for his first week of classes in Virginia Beach. I don’t want to talk about how guilty I feel that I think it may cost them $300. I don’t want to talk about how I begged them to come three days early when I was pregnant with Sherman and we ended up waiting two more weeks for him to show up. I don’t want to talk about how my parents are dealing with several issues with their rental properties that we were all hoping could be wrapped up before they came but probably will not be, and since they are staying until the end of August, I worry that this will cause them added stress and cost.

I don’t want to talk about how when my parents get here, Sherman will probably prefer my dad for the first few days until he gets used to Train being gone and Grammy and Grandpap visiting, because he is much more into his uncles and Train’s male friends than any adult females lately, and how worried I am that this will hurt my mother’s feelings.

I don’t want to talk about how, after three weeks of being home with Daddy all day, Sherman won’t even talk to me for the first hour when I get home from work, and forget about allowing me to distract him while Train tries to make dinner. I don’t want to talk about how I can’t stand to see him try to get his way by screaming and pushing. I don’t want to talk about how then two hours later he will snuggle up to me on the couch while we watch Sesame Street after bath time and I forget all about the monster that made me want to call Super Nanny.

I don’t want to talk about how Sherman has been fighting naptime (for Daddy during the day) and bedtime for the past few days, including one hellacious two hour fight Friday night after our time at L&D. I REALLY don’t want to talk about how nervous I am that these episodes will continue after my parents get here, and my preferred method of cry-it-out/repeatedly put him back in bed will cause tension and unnecessary drama between my mother and I, at least for the first few days until she comes to her senses and realizes that when Sherman is allowed to rule the roost, everyone suffers. I don’t want to talk about how nervous I am about Sherman getting a good night’s rest and good naps with a newborn in the house who will wake loudly at all hours of the day and night. I’m less nervous about the baby sleeping because I think he will get used to the noise (hopefully).

I don’t want to talk about the credit card bill. I don’t want to talk about Train’s new job as head volleyball coach at a high school in our county, a prestigious job with a great team with excellent prospects that will, if nothing else, mean a lot for his career and fulfill him professionally. I don’t want to talk about how as head coach he is actually responsible for three teams (freshman, JV, and varsity) including practices and games, including away games and all-day tournaments on several Saturdays. I don’t want to talk about how we don’t know what to expect as far as having two children, and that I am anxious I won’t be able to handle them both on my own while he’s gone and will end up (a) taking it out on Train and/or (b) totally losing my mind. I don’t want to talk about the fact that both of his graduate programs finish this fall and I worry that he is taking on too much but he simply could not turn down this job.

I don’t want to talk about the fact that the school where he is coaching is on the other side of the county and we just bought a gas-guzzler to hold our growing family, and how Train has been looking for cheap, high-MPG cars on Craigslist. I don’t want to talk about how not only has he been unsuccessful finding something decent, I have a feeling that whatever he brings home, I will make him park it down the street instead of in our driveway.

I don’t want to talk about how much I freaking hate the ice cream truck that drives around our neighborhood, and how irritated I am that last summer I had a whole list of reasons and this year I can’t remember any.

I don’t want to talk about how it’s 4th of July weekend and I have been hearing fireworks in our neighborhood since Tuesday night and I’m sure they will continue through Sunday, and how keyed up I get worrying that they will wake up Sherman and knowing that one of our dogs simply can’t take it. I don’t want to talk about how I consider calling the county police non-emergency line every 20 minutes to complain about the noise but I figure that would be a nuisance. I don’t want to talk about how every year I wonder if we should take Sherman to see fireworks, but I always decide that messing up his bedtime routine isn’t worth it and I worry if I am too uptight of a parent.

I don’t want to talk about how anxious I am about being in the hospital to have this baby and being away from Sherman for at least two days, and if he will totally forget me while I’m gone or hate me when I get back. I don’t want to talk about how I don’t want him to come to the hospital because if he were to come and pitch a fit or tantrum it would stress me out even more. I don’t want to talk about how I want my parents to stay at the house with Sherman so he doesn’t feel like he is being left behind, but I know they want to be at the hospital when the baby is born.

I don’t want to talk about how I don’t know if I should buy a bunch of different types of pacifiers to take to the hospital. I tried 3 different kinds with Sherman before he liked one. I don’t want to talk about how I only have 3 bottles for this baby because I’m afraid we’ll end up switching brands.

I don’t want to talk about work frustrations, and how if I have the baby early I can go on maternity leave but Train will be out of town, so I keep hoping to not deliver early, which is pretty much the opposite of any normal pregnancy instinct. I don’t want to talk about how social security has not been taken out of my last 3 paychecks and I’m doubtful it will be resolved before I go out on leave, meaning not only will I take my leave without pay, but I will owe money when I return.

I don’t want to talk about our five year wedding anniversary next week, and how all I ever want to do on our anniversary is go to Hershey Park with Train, but for the last two years I didn’t want to leave Sherman all day and this year I’m just too damn pregnant. I don’t want to talk about how our plan was to start trying to get pregnant around this time of year and instead I had a freakout last fall and here we are, and how glad I am that I am almost done with this pregnancy and everything seems to be fine. I don’t want to talk about how much of a help Train has been lately in indulging my nesting instincts and increasing lack of control in my own life, and how lucky I am to be his wife and how much our lives have changed and improved in the last five years.

So I’m just not going to post. What is it that you don’t want to talk about today?

multi-task May 2, 2008

On Wednesday I came home late from work (I’m in an all day class at work all this week and next…brutal). There was a fresh meatloaf on the stove and macaroni boiling on the burner. Sherman was in the backyard with Train, who was mowing the grass.

“Can you check the macaroni? It’s been boiling for a couple of minutes,” Train said.

I went in and drained the macaroni, and added the butter, milk, and cheese powder on the counter (the butter was sliced, the milk measured, and the cheese package opened). I went back outside just as Train finished the last patch of grass.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” I told Train. “I was thinking one or the other would get done - dinner or the grass.”

“Well, the meatloaf took an hour, and when that was done I started the water boiling, came out and mowed a few minutes, and then went back and added the noodles, then came back out.”

That, ladies, is how it’s done. I can barely get dinner cooked when Sherman is in the other room watching monster trucks on Tivo, much less mow the grass at the same time.

shall we get into the “English” vs. “American” versions? February 20, 2008

I know you’re all on the edge of your seats wanting to know why I asked about toffee. Everyone’s definitions sound like what my idea of it was; I don’t particularly like toffee even though I don’t exactly know what it is…it just doesn’t sound like my choice of candy.

We were at the mall last week letting Sherman play at the play area, and we got cookies from one of the Mrs. Fields-type stores, and Mom opted for a “butter toffee” cookie (instead of her usual pecan-themed-something). I said, “What exactly is toffee?” and she said very matter-of-factly that it was “caramelized caramel,” and that was her full explanation. I’m not one to disrespect my mother…but she’s full of shit and I told her so.

Some of you were pretty close: it’s a “confection made by boiling molasses or sugar along with butter, milk and occasionally flour” (thank you, Wikipedia).

we were in WASHINGTON, for PRESIDENTS’ DAY, for god’s sake February 19, 2008

The weather here on Presidents’ Day was absolutely gorgeous. My parents are visiting (arrived last Wednesday night), and Train and I both had off work. We were having some repair work done on our furnace so I had taken a shower before the repairman arrived at 9am. After my mom’s shower, she had an idea that we should go into D.C. and walk around in the nice weather (by 10am, it was 60 degrees! heat wave!). At first I wasn’t sure…every time I think of the national mall I think of HOT, and WALKING, and HEAT, and SWEAT, and SWAMP. But there was nowhere nearby that we could spend the majority of the day outside, except our muddy, dog-poop-filled backyard. Plus, I’ve been wanting to take Sherman to the National Building Museum for a while. He could run around on the mall and people-watch. My dad passed on the trip as he’s getting over a sinus infection or something, and Train had lunch plans with his brother. We gathered up snacks, bottled water, and jackets just in case and headed into D.C.

We drove in and parked in a deck across from the Verizon Center. Sherman had slept for a little while in the car and woke up when we got in the deck. We put him in his stroller and walked the few blocks to the museum. The weather was gorgeous. My mom had on short sleeves and a light jacket. Sherman and I had on long sleeves and I had our jackets in the stroller just in case. Before we’d left the house, I asked Mom to grab Sherman’s hat. I meant his baseball cap (for the sun, because he refuses to wear sunglasses) but she grabbed his fleece/earflap hat. I left it in the car because I figured it would be too hot. 

We got to the museum and had to wait about 15 minutes to get into the little kids’ exhibit (there’s a 40 person capacity). We played there for about an hour, and then walked another couple of blocks to McDonalds. The sun was bright, in Sherman’s eyes, and I was kind of sweating by the time we sat down for lunch. We finished our meals and brought Sherman’s fries with us in the stroller. We walked around our asses to get over to the closest Metro stop and I was excited because Sherman has just recently started saying “choo choo” and we thought he would get a kick out of the train.

Of course the Red Line train was leaving right as we got down to the platform and we had a 10 minute wait for the next one. I had forgotten about the major holiday weekend track work with “delays up to 30 minutes“. Even when the train arrived we sat for a good 5 minutes before it moved, with Sherman freaking out just like on an airplane. He was actually pointing at the doors like, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” We only had a couple of stops and a train change and he did okay, but I had to hold/carry him until we got to the Smithsonian station. We decided we’d walk the 10-or-so blocks back to the car when we were ready to leave since he had not enjoyed the Metro and it was running so slowly.

We came up the escalator and it was like we had been transported to a different world. It was overcast, windy, and cold, and then a raindrop fell right on my nose. “Mom,” I said, “it’s going to rain.” We shrugged it off. Surely, after we came all this way into the city, and spent the beautiful morning INSIDE at the museum, it wasn’t going to crap out on us now. But I would have loved to have Sherman’s fleece hat (as a kid visiting DC, the winds whipping between the buildings gave me an ear infection, so I always try to keep his ears covered when it’s cold like that). We crossed the mall and ended up at the Carousel which I haven’t been to in years. I forget it’s there.

The rain picked up in intensity. Mom showed Sherman the horses and asked him if he wanted to ride and he said yes. This is after the nuclear meltdown he had at a street carnival in Key West when I tried to get him to ride some of the kiddie rides. We figured I should go with him in case he freaked out. We waited for our turn with a bunch of high school kids, trying not to get wet. I picked a horse near one of the stationary bench seats so if he didn’t like it I at least wouldn’t have to stand and hold him during the ride. Of course he didn’t like it, and of course he wouldn’t sit on the horse, and even when we sat on the seat he still fussed for a while (even I was getting dizzy!). About halfway through he kind of calmed down and watched the horses go up and down, and as the ride slowed I let him pet the horse and look at it. Well, then he wanted to ride and pitched a fit when we had to get off.

By then, it was freaking pouring. People are running for the museums and the information booths, just trying to get out of the rain. We figured the only thing to do was go back to the Metro where at least it was dry. We ran back to the station on the gravel, with Sherman in the stroller. It was so damn cold. Mom was wondering if it hadn’t started sleeting, the rain felt so cold. Of course we couldn’t run the whole way because we were out of breath, so we got even wetter as we walked back to the escalator.

We immediately caught a train back towards our parking deck, but when we had to switch trains at Metro Center, everyone was on a single platform and there wasn’t a train in sight. Mom walked Sherman around in his stroller while I used my trusty map and got my bearings. We were about 5 blocks from the car and the thought of waiting around in the station for 20 minutes with a soaking wet Sherman, then crowding onto the train just to go one or two stops and still have to hike to the car was enough to make me decide that we could just walk. The station manager let Mom and I use the restroom and Sherman was doing OK in his stroller (I see kids who sit in their strollers while their moms browse or chat and I am so jealous…if the stroller isn’t moving, Sherman is FREAKING).

We got up to the top of the escalator and luckily we were still under cover because it was still raining. There was a SAM there with a huge umbrella that we were about to pay her for. Anyway, we speed-walked the 5 blocks to the Verizon Center, trying to stay under building awnings but literally weaving through people on the sidewalk. Our hair was dripping and the legs of Sherman’s jeans were too. Mom mentioned that Sherman was being awfully quiet…”probably thinking this couldn’t get any worse!” It was pouring. Mom pointed at the umbrellas through the window of the H&M.

FINALLY we got to our parking deck and ducked into the garage entrance. I peeked down at Sherman WHO WAS ASLEEP. Mom and I try to use our Sherman-napping-time very wisely. We don’t like to waste it on things like RUNNING THROUGH THE FREEZING COLD RAIN, we like to be watching Tivo or browsing at Target. We were stunned that he was asleep and at this point we were pretty much beyond hysterical from the mess of the day. Mom insisted we try to get a picture of the three of us, right there on the ramp of the garage.

We got to the car and took off Sherman’s pants and sweatshirt jacket. His shirt was dry and I put him in his carseat with a spare towel I had in the car as a blanket (of course, he woke up and didn’t go back to sleep). I put the stroller in the back of the car next to the humongous golf umbrella we always keep there.

We both needed a drink, but I would settle for a fountain Coke on ice, which always makes anything better in our family when alcohol isn’t an option. I circled around to the McDonalds where we had had lunch and Mom ran in to get some big drinks for us and milk for Sherman (he was sweetly snacking on Cheerios while we waited). Of course traffic going home was worse than my regular workday traffic and it took us almost and hour and a half to get home (including screaming at the mulch-filled dump truck who tried to cut me off in the HOV lane, and giving myself a nosebleed in the process). We considered not telling Train and my dad about our day but Sherman - with no pants on - was a dead giveaway that something was awry. Either way, it was fun to get out of the house and spend the day with Sherman. Although I could have used another day off after all of that exercise.

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Let’s kick it HollowSquirrel style and have you settle a family dispute:

Without looking it up ANYWHERE (internet, food label, book, etc.) - how would you define “toffee”? First thing off the top of your head.

blue skies and ultraviolet rays* January 2, 2008

Despite last night’s post, the past week at my parents’ house was wonderful. While Sherman did refuse to nap most days (usually only surrendering during a walk in the stroller), he slept through the night every night, which is always our greatest stress (yes, even more than the plane). Our earliest morning was 5am, and our latest was 7:30 (yes, I made Train go in to make sure he was alive).

Christmas feels like an eternity ago, as it does each year when we get back from a week away. You already know, for the most part, what Sherman got for Christmas from us. We woke up Christmas morning to open gifts.

the play kitchen from JCPenney…it’s pretty low-tech and suprisingly engaging

a “Traveling to Grandma’s” suitcase with his name on it that had to be kissed

the Sesame Street Old School DVD which is going on Craigslist…it says it’s for nostalgic adults and not preschoolers, and they are right, because Big Bird doesn’t even look the same and it freaked my shit out…anyone interested?

another kiss for a personalized truck beach towel

After a few chores to get ready for our trip, we went out to Ditto’s house for Christmas lunch and gifts like we do every year. It was right during Sherman’s nap time, and he had slept a little late that morning so we knew he wouldn’t go down early, so we just let him sleep in the car. He was in a bad mood most of the day because of it, but oh well. Christmas Eve dinner was rearranged for our niece’s naptime, but let’s not get into that. Lunch was delicious and there were tons of gifts for us and for Sherman (the rest of the family exchanges/opens gifts at Christmas morning breakfast at my in-laws’, which is too early for us to get out there, since it’s about 45 minutes away).

Train’s sister Nanny got Sherman a Cabbage Patch doll that looks a lot like him. I actually considered getting him one but I wasn’t sure. I’m so glad she did. My Cabbage Patch had yarn hair. This one definitely does not. Our niece got one that looks like her too.

Do you see the pile of gifts on the right? Those were all for Sherman. Train had to move so that he could even see me.

My mother-in-law was so excited about this garage. The rocking chair is also Sherman’s.

Back at our house, the trampoline from Train’s parents.

Tuesday night we finished packing, sent our dogs to my co-workers’ house, and put together a couple of presents (the majority are still sitting in the front hall where they came in from my sister-in-law’s).

Wednesday morning our ride was picking us up at 7:30am. Sherman usually gets up at 7am, but of course that morning I had to wake him up. Train ran to McDonald’s to get us some breakfast which we ate in the car on the way to National. Our flight was at 10am. Train and I are notoriously early for flights, not because we want to be. The traffic is unpredictable in this area, so a ride to National could take anywhere from half an hour to an hour and a half, especially in the morning. Train would prefer to use the lower end of the traffic estimate and put us at the airport an hour before the flight. I too don’t want to be at the airport more than an hour before the flight, but I tend to be more pessimistic about the traffic, especially the day after Christmas. This time, I really thought we were doing well - I estimated an hour for the drive, to put us there at 8:30, an hour and a half before the flight. Of course, we were at the airport and THROUGH SECURITY by 8:30, with an hour and a half still to entertain Sherman.

Playing with his new trucks with Daddy. The calm before the f’ing storm of the f’ing century.

Our plan was for Train to board first, get Sherman’s car seat installed in his seat, and then I would come on at the last minute (even before Sherman, we like to be on the plane for the shortest time possible). Sherman was already tired, and I walked him around the terminal while our plane boarded slooooowwwwwly. Agonizingly slow. After about 15 minutes, he started to get pissed. He wanted to get out of his stroller, but he didn’t want me to hold him, and if I set him down he ran off screaming. He just screamed, and screamed, and screamed. I got to the point that I didn’t even care what people thought, I was already so fed up with the whole idea of traveling with a child (if you’ve done it, you know what I mean…it’s just such a cliche), no one being helpful, the exhaustion of trying to make sure you have everything. Sherman never acts like this, but how would anyone know that? He’s in an unfamiliar place totally off his routine and he was miserable.

Eventually I had to board the plane because I needed Train’s help with Sherman. The car seat that I was so excited about using on the plane was shockingly huge compared to the teeny tiny rows of USAir. I put Sherman in it and there was nowhere for his feet to go except into the seat of the guy in front of him. I have seen parents who let their toddlers scream and simply hold their feet so they can’t kick the seat in front of them, thinking that if they are going to scream at least they won’t physically bother anyone else. Of course this made Sherman angrier and I wasn’t getting a helpful vibe from the man in front of him (”Is he kicking you?” “Not yet.”). This whole time Sherman just screamed and cried and screamed and cried. On top of all this, our row didn’t have a window. I got him out of the seat and held him and so did Train. We still hadn’t taken off. It seemed like forever until we did; it was probably about 15 minutes. He continued to pitch a fit for another 10 minutes into the flight and after that he was fine. I broke out the DVD player and it paid for itself within the first 20 minutes. It was a lifesaver, especially with the new Elmo DVD my mom had given Sherman for Christmas. He ate Cheerios, and pretzels, and apple juice (what’s the one thing you’re not supposed to forget when traveling? extra clothes for your kid, right? yes, his diaper leaked and he spent the second half of the flight with no pants on).

So he sat in his car seat for about ten minutes total. We thought if we could get him to sit there for a little while he would fall asleep, but even when he wasn’t angry the temptation to kick the seat in front of him was too strong. Damn but those rows were narrow.

As he always does, Sherman fell asleep in his stroller as soon as we got off the plane. He slept through baggage claim and the shuttle ride to the car rental center and didn’t wake up until we put him in the car seat, but he fell back asleep pretty quickly. We had a nice Nissan Altima. We were on the road about 2pm and we made great time around Miami and called ahead an order to Sonny’s so we wouldn’t have to stop and Sherman could keep sleeping.

Once we were on the 18-mile stretch through the Everglades (before you hit the Keys), traffic was terrible. We would be stopped dead for long periods before we’d inch forward just to stop again. This was about when Sherman woke up but he was okay. We had gotten him some macaroni and cheese from Sonny’s and he ate some of that. He was content for a while and after that we pulled out the DVD player again.

After about a 45 minute delay, we were over the drawbridge and on our way down the Keys. The rest of the trip went well. We got to my parents’ house in Key West around 6pm. For the second time since moving to Key West in 2003, Mom had put up a Christmas tree. The first time they paid some astronomical amount for a tree brought in from North Carolina or Georgia. This year they ordered an artificial “corner tree” and it looked great. We opened a few Christmas presents and then we had a delicious spaghetti dinner.

It was wonderful to be at my parents’ house. Although it’s not where I grew up, it’s home because that’s where they live. It’s always cool and clean and waiting for us like a hotel room. Mom had a special plate and a Thomas the Tank Engine towel and washcloth for Sherman to use. Dinner was warm and filling and perfect. They had snacks and whole milk for Sherman. Ever since our first trip to Key West with him, they’ve had my aunt’s pack n’ play and baby monitor at the house so we don’t have to bring ours. They have a white noise machine like the one in Sherman’s room at home. It’s a place where we can relax even though we are traveling. Everything has been thought of and all we have to do is get there.

The one thing my parents don’t have is a bathtub. They have a large open shower stall that is all tiled, with a chest-high wall. Usually we give Sherman a bath in the sink but he’s finally gotten too big. We stopped up the drain in the shower and he had a shallow bath. Last time I tried that he smacked his head when he slipped. But he was careful this time and he loved the bath. It was like a spa pool, I was kind of jealous.

Sherman stayed up until 9, and then we did our regular routine of teeth brushing, stories, and singing. He went down without a peep. I had brought his stuffed animals, blankets, and sheet from his crib. Train and I decided to sleep on the pull out couch in the front room and give Sherman the guest bedroom to himself. I don’t sleep well when I share a room with him, mainly because every peep wakes me up, and this way we wouldn’t disturb him either.

the cure-all…mini M&Ms.

On Thursday afternoon we walked down to the park at Higgs Beach. Sherman has been the only child at day care for a few months now and it certainly shows. He is not as interested in nor as friendly with other children. He was kind of in a mood so he would be happy one minute and mad the next. Unfortunately this park also gets the afternoon sun.

After the park we walked all the way up to the ice cream parlor to get a banana split and they were inexplicably closed. I was so pissed. Only in Key West.

On Friday Mom and I tried to trick Sherman into napping by walking him around in the stroller and then transferring him to the Pack N Play. It didn’t work, and for the rest of the week he took his naps in the stroller if that’s where he fell asleep, even if we put him in his room.

It was hot down there. Some days it got into the 80s. I remember last Christmas having to dress Sherman in long sleeves a couple of days because it was cloudy and chilly. Not this time. It felt like June to me. Sherman spent every second outside that he could, and wore sandals or no shoes all week. My parents blew about three million bubbles. There are constantly planes overhead flying very low as they prepare for landing at the Key West airport (as the locals say each time they hear one, “here comes money”), so Sherman had a great time pointing them out. There are also tons of chickens and roosters (since they are protected in KW) and he really enjoyed watching and following them.

On Friday afternoon we all walked down to Sloppy Joes for a drink (and french fries). Sherman fell asleep on the way so we were able to enjoy ourselves for a while.

Sherman was here

On the way home he woke up and didn’t want to ride in the stroller any more so Train had to carry him the mile back to the house.

His first corn dog…he thought the stick went in the ketchup

On Saturday morning while Sherman was asleep, Train, Mom, and I went to an art fair at Bayview Park where a lot of local artists were selling their items. I got two prints (Mom bought me a seashell photo canvas for the new purple bathroom and I bought one just because I loved the colors). On Sunday Train and I went back and I ordered a print of a Bahia Honda bridge painting that is going to be shipped to us. It will look great in our bedroom.

That afternoon we took Sherman to the carnival at Truman Annex. We thought he would like some of the rides but we didn’t realize he would have to ride by himself. We did not make that mistake twice. He hated everything. He even hated when Mom and I rode the ferris wheel without him. It was hot, and he was miserable, and we spent about $25 in an hour.

this was the only thing I could ride with him

Sunday was the day Sherman was up at 5am. I don’t know what was up with him, but I laid quietly with him until about 6 and then we got some milk and the portable DVD player. That lasted until my mom got up at 7, and I went back to bed until 10. We wanted to see a photo exhibit of Old Key West at the Customs House so again we popped Sherman in the stroller, he fell asleep, and we enjoyed the exhibit in peace. This time he slept for two hours and we got halfway through lunch on the pier before he woke up.

Looking for birds. My mom taught him to call for the lizards while cupping his hands around his mouth so he did the same for the seagulls.

After lunch my parents and I took Sherman to the Aquarium. Our visit ended when he threw his pacifier into one of the turtle tanks (my dad got it out).

On Monday, New Years Eve, we stayed close to home. It was hot, and Sherman had more fun just puttering in the house and the backyard, so there was no point in dragging him out. Train and I went and had lunch at the Raw Bar and walked around Duval for a few hours, visiting some of the co-op galleries we had learned about at the art fair.

playing in Dad’s truck

organizing Mom’s pantry

Mom broke out the Fantasy Fest beads for New Years Eve…as I sat there with Sherman I started sorting them by color and I couldn’t stop!

Train and I were in bed by 9pm New Years Eve. We got up at 5am on Tuesday to head home. We had gotten another rental car on Monday (this time a Chevy Malibu) and we headed up the road around 5:30am. My plan had been to put Sherman in the car asleep. Unfortunately, I forgot that everything that needed to be packed, plus our clothes for the day, were in the room with him so I couldn’t help but go in there.

He stayed awake for the three hour trip up the Keys. When we stopped to get gas we took our time, and he played in the car some. When he had to get back in the seat he had a bag of Teddy Grahams that made him happy. Of course he fell asleep about 20 minutes before we got to the rental car return.

When you have a four hour drive to the airport, and only one road to take to get there, you definitely don’t want to mess around with cutting it close getting to the airport. Our flight was at noon, and by the time we had returned the car, taken the shuttle to the terminal, and gone through security, it was still only 10am. Sherman was in a terrible mood. Train walked him around in the stroller and after a while brought him back to the seats where I was sitting. There was a very nice family with three teenage girls sitting near us, and they thought Sherman was the greatest thing and he had a good time charming them. He literally ran back and forth from one side of the seating area to the other, just laughing and showing off for them. God bless them all, because it really improved his mood and got some energy out. I was desperate to keep him in a good mood before we boarded, since I think going on the plane mid-tantrum on the way down was a big part of the problem. For the last 20 minutes or so before we boarded, we took turns walking him in the stroller to settle him down.

We decided to gate check the car seat this time and it was a great decision. We had the three full seats to enjoy and Mr. Wiggleworm could do what he liked, plus we had a window this time. Another 20-month-old girl was seated in front of us with her parents, and a nice young couple was behind us and they laughed whenever Sherman turned around to talk to them. It was a great flight. It passed quickly and I even got to read my book for a while. Near the end, with all of his jumping around, Sherman conked his head on the armrest and got pretty upset, but it was only because he was tired. It was the last squall before he fell asleep on Train’s shoulder and didn’t wake up until we got to our house. Ditto and Wahoo picked us up at the airport after an hour wait for our luggage.

So all in all, a nice break from real life. I haven’t been to work in 12 days. Yikes!!

*Jimmy Buffet, Floridays

scroogeish November 29, 2007

Not that I want to beat a dead horse, since Jen had such a well-thought-out post about this subject before Thanksgiving. But after leaving my smug comment on her post about not having to buy gifts for all of Train’s family for the first time last year, there were some mutinous grumblings at my in-laws’ over Thanksgiving regarding my Scroogey stance on gifts.

Train has two sisters and a brother. (You can (try to) keep track of them here.) His mother still demands that we create Christmas lists and although she now has a daughter-in-law and son-in-law to buy for, I suspect that she still spends the same amount of money, time, and energy Christmas shopping as she did when her children all lived at home. On the other hand, my mother - in the interest of ease and saving space in our luggage when we return from our after-Christmas trip to Key West - gives Train and I each a check or gift card.

For the first three years after we got married, we exchanged gifts with each of Train’s siblings. I don’t remember what we gave, just that getting them to give me suggestions was like pulling teeth. I remember several gift cards and restaurant gift certificates that we were given that we never could use.

I know people think gift cards are so terrible and thoughtless gifts, but I for one appreciate them. However…they aren’t foolproof. Sometimes you just can’t use them. Or you hate Best Buy and you refuse to walk into the store even if you are spending your brother-in-law’s money.

Given that, I made the logical mental jump last year that we should just give money for Christmas, since it can be used anywhere for anything.

Then I made another logical mental jump that if we are all just going to exchange $20 bills, why bother in the first place? Let’s nix the whole gift exchange and enjoy the freedom from stress as our gift. I pitched it especially to his younger, unmarried brother (Wahoo) and sister (Nanny) this way: why buy a gift for me, Train, and Sherman when we only have to buy one gift for you?

Everyone was reluctantly on board. We still got gifts for Train’s parents, including last year’s new kitchen table and chairs which was a group gift. We all had plenty to open Christmas Day since his mom had spoiled us as usual. But last year was also the first Christmas for Sherman and our niece Pete, so everyone was focused on them, and what Santa had brought them, and trying to get them to rip some wrapping paper. It was great!

Or so I thought. Possibly my in-laws think I ruined Christmas last year.

My favorite Christmas movie truly is How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I rediscovered it a few years ago (the original, cartoon version that was shown on television) and was shocked to realize it was only 30 minutes long. As a kid it seemed to take forever, with the Grinch preparing Max and sled to go careening down the mountains, slinking around the Whos houses taking all of their presents and decorations, then the Whos gathering outside anyway to “Welcome Christmas”. In my family, we call roast beef “roast beast”. Any time I move out of an apartment/house, I leave “nothing but hooks, and some wire” on the walls and feel especially Grinchy. When things get too loud, I complain about “all the NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!” That poem, and that gruffy narrator, are ingrained in my head. “It came without packages, boxes, or bags!”

I don’t hate the giving part of gift-giving. When I find the perfect gift, I really do enjoy giving to others and making them happy, any time of the year. Who doesn’t? The hard part is finding that “perfect gift”. In the stress and pressure of Christmas, I end up left with no other option than gift cards or cash. Which isn’t really the point of Christmas gifts. (Not to say that gifts are the point of Christmas, but that is another post, don’t you think?)

Where this puts me is on a slippery slope. If you see gift giving as “trading money” as I do, you start to question all of it. I mean, I enjoy picking things out for my mother, but does it make a lot of sense for me to spend $50 on her when she’s going to turn around and give me some cash for myself and a pile of useful gifts for Sherman? Where does it end? It’s all very existential.

I think if I were one of those people (whom I admire) that pick things up throughout the year that truly make them think of the recipient, it would be much different. Then, holiday gifts would be much more about the person and my fondness for them instead of a feeling of obligation or tit-for-tat. I wish I could do that. I wish I had the time and money to color coordinate my ornaments and gift wrap. I wish people looked forward to receiving packages of homemade treats from my kitchen each year. But none of that is going to happen in the near future, so I’d rather just save myself, and everyone, the trouble.

As far as gifts for me, I learned from my mother that when you buy what you want, when you want, for yourself all year long, it’s tacky and unnecessary to truly long for things at Christmas. That’s why last year we didn’t exchange Christmas gifts. We have a joint bank account, and I don’t need another excuse to spend our money on myself. (Train never wants anything that costs money, so it’s not really a factor. As with most things, this truly is all about me.)

So really, maybe I’m more of a Who than a Grinch. I want Christmas to be more about the holiday and about family and time spent together and not the gifts (although it’s out of laziness, not a purity of spirit). What is your philosophy?

i won’t be home for christmas November 21, 2007

My parents are here and like we’ve done for the past few years, we will all go out to my mother-in-law’s house for Thanksgiving. I am very thankful that we do not have to “choose” which holidays to spend with which family each year.

When I was a kid, we would spend Thanksgiving with my mother’s family (including her 4 siblings) and Christmas with my dad’s family (he’s an only child like me), and then the next year we would switch. Both of these options involved traveling to Florida - mom’s family was 8 hours away from our house in North Carolina, while dad’s parents were 20 hours away in Key West, and we always drove to both places. I can only remember one Christmas Day spent at home before I went to college. There were two things I considered “normal” when I was growing up: spending the holidays away from home, and going to daycare during summer break.

Santa would always find me at my grandma’s house, where there was never a fireplace but my stocking hung from Grandma Betty’s wet bar and got filled up just the same. As I got older (and Santa stopped coming), Christmas came earlier, as in the night before we packed up the car to head to Florida. That way there were no gifts to hide in the trunk of the car and I could pick and choose what gifts to bring with me. After all, these were the days before internet shopping and drop shipping.

Now, since my parents don’t have any other children to split their time with, they are able to spend Thanksgiving with us and my in-laws. I’m also glad that my in-laws are willing to include them, but they are those kinds of folks…the more the merrier, especially since Sherman came along.

For Christmas, we will do our own thing on Christmas Eve (mainly because I’ll be working that day). When I was a kid, I sometimes missed enjoying my own family’s Christmas tree and decorations while waiting for Santa (don’t get me wrong, I loved being with family, I just wasn’t crazy about the traveling, and no one ever came to us), and I would like for Sherman’s memories of the holidays to include our home.

Christmas morning we will get up to open gifts, then shower and get ready and head out to Ditto’s house for gifts and a nice big meal with the family. The only thing bad about this is that, since all of Train’s family lives in the same town (except his brother who is not married and spends his Christmas break at his parents’ house anyway), they usually all get together early Christmas morning for gifts. I wish we weren’t left out of that, but I’m not willing to get up at the crack of dawn to go out there, either, so oh well.

Then we’ll go home and pack (and put away the Christmas tree and ornaments if we have time) to leave for my parents’ house on December 26. We’ve done this each year since we got engaged. My parents aren’t adamant about seeing us on the actual holiday, and they actually have their own Christmas Day tradition of going to the movies and going on a nice long bike ride. On the other hand, my mother-in-law thrives on having all of her children (and now grandchildren) together just like when they were kids, and it’s nice to have a tradition.

So we spend the week after Christmas, including New Years Eve, in Key West. Luckily, part of our Christmas gift each year from my parents is the plane tickets to come visit. My mom always hated having to drive to Key West (basically eating up 4 days of time off work in the car) and she insists that my grandparents could have helped out with the cost, so now my parents do.

Our Christmas trip last year was Sherman’s first plane trip and also his first trip to my parents’. It was stressful, but we survived. (Also, Dr. P and her new husband came to spend a few days with us for New Years and we had a blast!)

Since then, we’ve had two more plane trips, and next month, Sherman has his own seat and we will be taking his car seat to strap him down. Otherwise, it’s a two-hour wrestling match that I dread more than anything. I am hoping sitting in his car seat will feel more familiar, while Mommy and Daddy’s hands are free to entertain him and (gasp!) actually drink an in-flight beverage. I hope I am not deluding myself, but I’m actually looking forward to trying the car seat. Ideally he will stay in the seat for the entire (approx. 2 hour) flight because I’m afraid if we let him out he won’t get back in. We’re planning on getting him a portable DVD player and stuffing his stocking with new small toys so we have plenty to entertain him.

Also this year, we are flying to Fort Lauderdale and driving a rental car the rest of the way. This way we avoid having to make connections, and we don’t have to worry about Sherman bothering anyone but us. We can stop and eat, stretch, go to the bathroom on our own schedule (it’s about a four hour drive from the airport to my parents’ - but it’s gorgeous and only about 150 miles). We did the same thing when we went down in June with Ditto and her husband and daughter. I’m hoping for a free upgrade to a minivan on this trip because it would be nice to have the extra room.

It’s possible that as Sherman gets older and possibly has a sibling, that (a) it will be too much hassle to travel to Key West during the holidays or (b) my parents will want to share Christmas morning with their grandchildren. If that happens we’ll reevaluate our routine, but for now it works out very nicely. December is the very best time to go to Key West and I always look forward to it (more than a mid-summer sweat fest) and the New Years festivities.

steel city November 15, 2007

I don’t know what to title this post. “Week of Death” sounds a little harsh.

First there was my coworker’s husband, who was hit by a drunk driver, in a coma for a week, and passed away leaving three daughters (the youngest is 13) and his wife.

Then, my dad’s 49-year-old cousin passed away suddenly (under still-unclear circumstances) this past weekend.

While I was at THAT funeral, I found out that the mother of one of Train’s high school friends, who had been battling breast cancer for a few years, passed away the night before.

So thanks for stopping by for such an uplifting message.

I’d rather talk about my trip to Pittsburgh yesterday. It took four hours to get there. There was a time when High School Musical was almost unbearably cheesy to me. That time has passed. I rocked out in the car.

I don’t know whether to love Pittsburgh or hate it. I dig the blue collar vibe you get as soon as you drive in. I love how the steel mill family houses are just stuck on the sides of mountains anywhere they can go. I’m not wild about the double decker bridges you have to take to get anywhere, but they are kind of charming and unique to the city (thank you VZW Navigator for saving my ass) - after all, the city revolves around the rivers.

It’s so different from the rest of Pennsylvania. You can recognize a Pitt accent anywhere. At the reception after the yesterday there was a keg flowing at noon. My grandfather’s church is now a brewery. Some of you probably can’t help but remember my rowdy Pittsburgh relatives from my wedding (especially that night, in the basement of the hotel, with a bottle of Jose).

My grandparents on my dad’s side were both born in Pittsburgh. My grandmother was one of 6 children (from the West End) and my grandfather was one of four children (from the East End). They were both the oldest in their Irish Catholic families. When they got married (during the Depression), my grandfather was 20 and my grandmother was 16 and still in high school. They kept their marriage a secret for two years until she finished. Unfortunately, the details of this arrangement, which I find fascinating, are unknown since they’re both gone (#1: who married them? they were devout Catholics) (and hey! more death!).

Eventually my grandfather couldn’t find work in Pittsburgh and started heading south. He would find a short-term job and then hear about another and continue on south. By 1939 he was working for the Navy in Key West, and my grandmother finally was able to join him. My dad was born two years later. They never returned to Pittsburgh full time although they visited as much as they could, remained close to their families, and sent my dad to spend every summer with his Pittsburgh aunts, uncles, and cousins.

I always enjoyed going to Pittsburgh because there was always so much going on. Each of my grandmother’s siblings all had at least three kids apiece, and each of THEM all had at least two kids apiece (my dad and I are the only “only children”). So there were always ten thousand kids running around getting into something, with nobody paying attention to us because they were drinking and/or engrossed in discussions/arguments with their own siblings or cousins. Everyone lived in Pittsburgh and they were always together. I still can’t always keep track of which child belong to which aunt or uncle, because everyone was always so jumbled up.

While we didn’t visit too often (since my grandparents weren’t living there and to see them we would go to Florida), we always went for big events like weddings and anniversaries, and a couple of times just to see everybody if it had been a while.

Pittsburgh has this weird glamour to it. Yes, everything is kind of dirty, and gray, but there are incline trains and tall department stores with very low ceilings, and I can imagine my grandmother as a young woman taking a streetcar to sell women’s accessories at Kaufmann’s.

I’m glad I went yesterday, because it was good to see everyone and be introduced as “Jimmy’s daughter”, and to be together during a confusing, sad time. I had to leave too soon to get back before dinner time but it was worth the trip.