Shabbat Shalom...Hey!

Just a quick note before the sun sets and the Sabbath begins...

I realized today that I DID go back to work. I somehow took on the monthly preschool newsletter, both the writing and the conversion from paper to an electronic format. My friends (put that in quotes) volunteered me for the Craft fair committee (or crap fair as one friend put it). I am still working part-time as marketing director for the basketball program (check out www.bfbasketballacademy.com) and I am attempting to write a book.

And, on the side I am take care of 2 boys with less than 10 hours of childcare per week. Um, I may as well go back to an office full-time and get benefits. But, who write's the newsletters in Linda Hirshman's world. It is what makes my son's preschool a community rather than a simple school. I like the Kehilla.

I'm going to work!

Well, maybe, no I don't think so. I do work part-time from home, but Linda Hirshmans article in the Post made me reconside my SAHM position. I like the way she thinks, but without reading her full book, I can't critique it one way or the other.

I do find certain humor in being one of the many Mommy Bloggers out there whom she mentions. I am not quite sure how I ended up here as a SAHM taking on 95% of domestic chores, though my husband pitches in. A Lot. He does most of the grocery shopping (I make the list and cook the food), he gets gas for my car, he does the laundry 75% of the time, he drives the boys to school in the morning and drops off dry cleaning on the way, he reads them stories at night, and so on.

Wait a minute...what the Hell do I do all day, if he is doing all that?!?!? Blogging for one thing! ;-) And building elaborate lego zoos and garages. And buying teacher presents and organizing swim lessons.

Maybe I should go back to work full time, I wouldn't mind the paycheck and I think I would get more done. That's right. I would get more done, because by staying home and having infinte time, I get caught up in the minutae and create loads of little things to do.

Buying baskets to organize library books at the Container Store becomes a whole event. Organizing outgrown clothes by size in dustproof containers takes more time. If I went to work, I would simply work, come home, make dinner, clean it & go to bed. Maybe a load of laundry would get done, or I could afford resources to do the laundry for me!!

Oooh, work is looking tempting. But, who would sit with Nate & eat popsicles, or dig for treasure in the bag yard? I hate to cop-out, but I really have no answer. Are there any countries where there is balance? If I went back to work, who would watch my children? Decent daycares & nannies charge more per hour than I make after taxes.

It is NOT fair, I would like to work, but I do want to be home with my kids when they get home from school. My mom was home then went back to work, so I did the home with mom and latch-key thing. I liked when she was home. Selfish of me, I know, but there you have it.

Ok, this American dilemma is not getting solved tonight, and certainly not by my blog.

In touch

My 3, nearly 4, year-old is should be a sixties love child. He is very in touch with his feelings and able to verbalize it to the point of being melodramatic. (Insert slow, sad, deep voice) "Mommy. I'm feeling very sad today cause I miss Grandpa." I try to listen to him, acknowledge his feelings but not let him wallow.

So, today I decided as a treat to take him to see Cars the new Pixar movie. It was his second time going to the movie theater and he knew popcorn and candy would be involved. He was pretty psyched. My babysitter arrived at 2:00 pm, and I RACED to Wheaton, stopping for gas on Plyers Mill, ran into Target looking for Superman water sandals (no luck), and dashed into Giant for a weekly Supermarket shop, and made it back home to pick up Nate by 3:15 for a 3:30 movie.

Luckily the theater is just a few blocks from my house. We got our tickets and qeued for popcorn along with 20 other preschool boys and their moms. We waited in line for about 12 minutes for popcorn then finally got to our seats missing the previews. We sat through about 6 minutes of the movie when Nate announced it was too scary and he wanted to leave.

I had one of those "aaaarrrggh" moments. Did I really just bust my ass getting errands done so I could treat you to a movie only to get rejected. I also was not sure, was he really scared, or just acting contrary? I questioned him gently. No, he was emphatic. "Let's go home!"

So we left. The manager was nice and refunded the movie tix to my credit card and we went home and played in the backyard. No pressure to Nate, just a compliment for being smart enough to leave if he was scared.

Lesson learned:
1) Don't get Nate movie coupons for his birthday
2) AMC kid packs come with jolly ranchers not M&MS, so bring your own.

Goldfish Countdown

There is now only 1 goldfish left. Keep your fingers crossed that he survives.

Fluidity theory- Do NOT read if you are squeamish

So I have a theory that parenting is all about fluid, bodily fluids in particular. It all begins with a little semen, then moves onto a lot of pee and tears during pregnancy, which translates into a lot of water and blood in the delivery. Once your angel is here, you are drowning in tears (yours & the baby's), liquidy poop and spit-up. Oh, and don't forget milk, all over your shirt if you are breast feeding; all over your hands and counters if you're not. Then as your child gets older, you lose the spit-up and the milk, but gain juice everywhere and urine during potty training. You also get some blood as the child grows more daring and active.

I bring this up, because yesterday, I had a bodily fluid day. In fact, I am still cleaning it all up. Jacob, my darling little constipated boy decided to make up for lost time, or rather, dirty diapers. During dinner he had a large liquidy poop that some might label diahrrea (sp?). I waited till after doing the dishes to clean up and allowed him to air dry since he has never gone poop more than 1 every 2 days or so. Silly me. Rookie mistake number 1.

I ran upstairs for a moment to turn on the bath water and when I came downstairs, Jacob was sitting on the steps announcing "sit!" He looked so cute I picked him up and hugged him before I noticed the poop running all over his legs, on the stairs and now all over my chest and arms. Yuck, but wait, it gets worse. Carrying Jacob as far away from my body as possible, I rushed him upstairs to clean him off. While doing this, Nate came running in to tell me the bath was overflowing. He was overstated his case, but it did not stop me from racing in there.

I then brought Jacob back downstairs asking him to show me where he had pooped. I armed myself with a roll of paper towels and heavy duty carpet cleaner spray. He brought me to the stairs and touched the stain on the carpet. I wiped off his hands and sprayed, then he brought me to the next site.

There must be some law like Boyles or Newtons regarding toddlers and poop. It must go something like, "when looking for a place to poop other then in the diaper, toddlers will always aim for a carpet or material that is difficult to wipe down." So obviously, of the 10% of my house that is covered in rugs, Jacob picked the most expensive and had diarreah all over it. Then to make matters worse, he stepped full into it.

Poor little guy, he just looked down and began to sob. I think the full humilation of stepping into your own shit impacted him. He knew it was hard to sink lower than that. I wiped him down with a paper towel, swiped at the carpet then carried him upstairs and threw him in the tub, which was thankfully full.

Finally after the boys were sleeping, I jumped into my own shower and triple-scrubbed myself.

MOMO!!!

We did it! We have been talking for months about it, and we finally did it. We got a pet. Well, make that 5 pets, now down to 3. What kind of pet you may ask. Why goldfish of course!

My husband took Nate to a carnival supposedly to introduce him to rides and games. I think Matt really just wanted some fried dough and cotton candy. So they went and they ate junk food and they played games, and they won all the usual carnival junk, including a goldfish.

Obviously the goldfish came homeless with no worldy posessions other than his plastic bag and dirty water. After the boys went to bed, my husband and I placed our bets on how long the goldfish would last. Matt won the bet with his money on "dead by morning." I optimistically gave him 2 days.

With such forecasts, Matt drove out to Petco at 9:00 pm to buy a small tank and extra fish and fish food. He came home armed with a teeny tank and some friends for the carney fish dubbed Nemo by my boys. (or Momo, by the baby who can't say Nemo).

It was so fun to see their faces light up in the morning when they saw the tank with 3 fish swimming around. Sadly, byt lunchtime Nemo and one other were dead. Nate took it well. (See previous posts on talking death with Nate). Matt once again set out for Pet-co and came home with a much larger tank and 2 more fish.

It is now bedtime, and I am hopeful we will not have to talk about death again tomorrow.