TheMommyBlog

Phil wanted to know how my morning went. I love when he shoots me an IM and then logs off to teach; I always have some rant waiting for him when he checks back between classes.

“How was it? Hard - did laundry (Daphne wet the ENTIRE BED. the KING SIZED BED.), I begged the kids to get ready, my ex came over at eight to take them to school, Dylan got mad at me and said he was glad my Mother’s Day flowers were starting to die but took it back when I asked him to help me throw them away.

“Other than that, routine.

“Wait, that is routine.”

First let me state for the record that I have a real job, one that pays the bills.

In my FREE time, I have cheerfully agreed to try to fit the following in:

1. The reading and review (or at least a mention) of all of these books, generously sent to me by authors and publishing houses and PR reps, oh my. I haven’t yet heard back from any of them about having a look at my own books, both published and pending. It seems that if I want something done, I will have to do it myself. Again. But I digress. Anyhow, although there are twenty-six books pictured, I have a nagging feeling that I’m missing some, and that they may be buried among my children’s schoolwork, which we all know never gets sorted until they go off to college. If they go to college.
2. Resolution of the 2005 tax return misunderstanding with state agencies so that they will release the hold on my 2007 refunds and drop the claims for tens of thousands of dollars in taxes due were I to have earned since then what I earned that year. They funny thing? I was barely employed between 2005 and 2007, and actually earned LESS than I paid in mortgage interest. Life in these United States! Boy, that was a good one.
3. Ditto with federal agencies. I have been on hold with the Nutcracker Suite for a collective ninety minutes between yesterday and today. I’m walking around with the phone clipped to my shirt so I can hear the music and be ready to pick up when the rep finally comes online. HOTT.
4. Multiple attempts and finally success in reaching someone who can effect a full payout on what’s left of my meager retirement accounts. As you may or may not recall, I gave ninety percent of my retirement away in the divorce, so we’re not really talking about all that much. Which makes it all the more pathetic that I’m happy to pay the ten percent penalty to get my ass out of this sling.

Ooh! he just came online and said that they have everything straightened out, and that I should receive my check in, oh, about eight to twelve weeks.

*tucks grenade in blouse, pulls pin*

For those of you wondering how we skated through another holiday without a scrape, turn up the schaudenfreude!

I woke up to an extraordinarily tender ear yesterday–not the normal kind of ache, just a dull throb along the cartilage at the top. As I walked my fingers along the ridge, I found a DENT in my ear. Yes, A DENT. And behind my ear was the most horrific bruising. Have you ever tried to look behind your own ear? You could bruise yourself that way. I finally asked my kids to look and tell me how bad it was and Logan actually yelped and jumped back. Nice.

I got it at the park while carrying Daphne’s scooter over my shoulder. As I started to put it down, the wheeled board swung around and smacked me in the side of the head. I knew it hurt, but I didn’t know I’d wind up looking like an animal that had lost a fight. Seriously, you could ID my body by this thing now. It’s forever.

Speaking of forever, I will never, ever regret raising my children in a perpetual snuggle. Every time they write about their mother for something at school, “snuggling” gets mentioned in there somewhere. It’s my favorite thing to do, ever. And so I give you my children’s Mother’s Day gifts to me this year: Logan’s, Dylan’s, and Daphne’s, front and back.

As Phil was leaving tonight after dinner, I told him that it had been the best Mother’s Day, ever.

“I’ve been waiting three years to hear you say that.”

“Oh. Um, I guess I wasn’t all that happy for the last few (three–no–more like nine) years.”

“No you weren’t.”

“I was pretty grumpy.”

“Yes you were.”

Yikes. I do remember writing about it last year, and saying that it was the one holiday I couldn’t wait to get through, and that I always end up crying at least once, usually more.

High Cortisol Level: For Sale or Trade

So yesterday was one loooong Mother’s Day wasn’t it? You know what I’m talking about, though no one usually says it out loud. We all dream of being pampered and some of us in fact are pampered on this day and we appreciate it—really—but secretly we wish it would just be Monday already so we can go back to mothering under normal circumstances.

My children have a highly developed sense of empathy and concern alternating with a deep vein of je ne se quois and whatever, dude…

What was it about this year? Well, the kids are older, for one. They were fully capable of making toast and tea (learning first that you can stop at the OUTER wrapper on the packet; If you just dump the tea leaves in, you’ve sort of defeated the purpose.), and the cutest part was that Dylan’s teacher had them make Breakfast in Bed kits at school with tea, a cookie, and a napkin.

“Mom! Are you hungry?”

“Ye–”

“Good!” Stampede to the kitchen. Stampede back. “Do you like apple pie?”

“I love apple pie, but what–”

“Good!” Stampede to the kitchen. I heard Logan telling Daphne that she had the most important job: stay in bed with Mom and don’t let her get up. She took this assignment very seriously, laying across me and kissing me and making silly faces. After a lot of “Whoa! That’s too much!” and “I RUINED IT!” and “Wait! There’s a whole BOX of tea in here!” from the kitchen, Logan peeked around my door.

I said, “Your sister is insane. Seriously, I need help. She’s crazy. Get her off me.”

Giggling madly now. “That was my job, silly! I was supposed to keep you in here!”

“Were you also supposed to creep me out? How do you keep rolling your eyes so far up into your head?”

“Daphne! We’re ready! Come on!” Stampede to the kitchen. Then near-total silence. They navigated the hallway, shuffling carefully over my Gabbeh runner, and the turn into my room, all three of them carrying the tray together, with a huge mug of green tea and the oatmeal cinnamon cookie and fancy paper napkin that was in Dylan’s kit. They were so proud, and wanted so much to make me breakfast in bed, and they did it all by themselves. We were giddy. We were like the Teletubbies.

“Tea!”

“Cookie!”

“Yum!”

“Toast!” My God, we had fun. Maybe you had to be there.

They decided to Velcro themselves to me all morning, so I sat under the lot of them on the sofa and watched The Truman Show. I picked it, and they actually let me watch it. Usually they’re trying to get me to harken back to my childhood and remember how much I LOVED Tom and Jerry cartoons and wouldn’t it be cool to watch some RIGHT NOW? They’re ON DEMAND! And I would lose every time.

Not this morning.

Later, Phil showed up with donuts and made a picnic lunch to take to the park. We roller bladed, played catch, rode the carousel, scootered, and crashed out on the blanket. Once we got home, stinky and muddy, everyone went straight for baths. Daphne and I fell asleep on the sofa, Logan passed out in front of the hockey game in my bed, and Dylan played I Spy on the computer. For TWO HOURS. We all woke up after seven and had a late dinner. (Except for Daphne. She let me carry her to her bed and tuck her blankie in the hole she makes, curled into a ball.)

Jiminy. I’m not used to these gushy posts, least of all about Mother’s Day, so I can understand your wanting to hurl by now, but it’s after eleven and I still have this silly grin on my face.

By now you might know that I’m a fan of SafetyTat.com, and not just because I’ve lost my kids once or twice and would LOVE for someone to have called me before I lost my mind completely. (We always got them back, now we have adopted the ancient but effective Chain Gang tradition.)

Warmer weather and lots of family outings make it a perfect time to “arm” your kids with SafetyTats. Enter code: MAY02025 at checkout to receive 15% off your order. Offer good May 10 - May 31, 2008.

May Safety TatTip:

Historically we have told our children if they are lost to seek a police officer. Not so.

According to Gavin de Becker, Child Safety Expert, and author of Protecting the Gift (Excerpt) “Teaching this to a young child ignores several facts: All identifying credentials, insignias, badges and nameplates are above the waist, but a young child sees a world of legs. In fact, many children get lost in the first place because of following legs (the wrong set): Legs aren’t that distinctive when viewed from two and a half feet off the ground.”

De Becker also states as an inflexible rule: Teach children that if they are ever lost, Go to a Woman. Why? De Becker says, “First, if your child’s selects a woman, it’s highly unlikely that the woman will be a predator; A woman is likely to stop whatever she is doing, doing, commit to that child, and not rest until the child is safe.”