New Year's Resolutions

2012-- What a crazy year.  Exactly one year ago I was sitting with my husband in a small NYC apartment actually stating out loud that it might be time to leave our beautiful city for an easier lifestyle.  One that included a few hundred more square feet, a 3rd bedroom and a washing machine.  After much discussion, much city hunting, many tears, many mixed emotions and a few hysterical breakdowns, we made it happen.  We packed up our family and moved from NYC to SC (which I keep writing about because it still seems surreal to see it on the screen before my eyes).  I would absolutely say that this fact is the biggest thing that happened to me in the last 12 months.  As simple as it really was to move (and as much as I wanted to ease up on the insanity of big city living), it was definitely a defining moment for the next several years of my life.  That one event has changed the trajectory of my future.... 

So- I have some really specific goals for 2013.  I just turned 34 and I'm beginning to realize that if I want to fulfill some life dreams, I need to start mapping out a detailed plan to make it happen.  If I can find time to read Perez Hilton every day, I can certainly find time to do a few sit-ups and pushups.  

I'm putting my goals on here so I will feel even more accountable.  If I continue to put them in writing, maybe I will actually focus all my spare time into accomplishing a few easy things.  If I can get through these things, I can actually start dreaming about my apartment in Paris.

1. Music teaching business- I want at least 3-4 students by the end of March.  I need to do a lot of advertising and research on my end but the goal is 3-4 weekly students in 3 months time.  I need to work on this every single day.

2. Out of debt- I want 2013 to be the year we get out of debt.  We only have 1 credit card left to tackle and I want it gone from my life by December 31st, 2013.

3. Writing-- I don't want my hobby of writing to distract me from the teaching business so my goal is to write one post a week on this blog.  It might be a dumb story or a quick anecdote but it will be mine.

4. Health- I want to stick to our diet and find time to exercise every single week.  I want to learn 1-2 new dinner recipes because things are getting a little repetitive in the evenings.  

My goals are now out there- I don't want to give up chocolate or lose 10 pounds or anything like that.  I want to build a life I'm proud of and that is balanced.  I want to stop reading gossip about celebrities- it's rotting my soul (and truthfully, now that Kim Kardashian is pregnant, I think it will be extremely easy for me to turn all that shit off).  I don't want to watch reruns of Top Gear or old sitcoms- I want to read novels that are inspiring.  I don't want to starve myself on crazy diets that I can't make last more than 72 hours-- I want to eat cookies or pasta when I want but in moderation.  I don't want to have a full time job away from my kids- but I do want to build a small business that allows me to be creative, earn a bit of money and use that other part of my brain.  And- I still want to discover my writing voice- but I won't allow it to be my new distraction so I don't focus on the business.  

So- I've cleaned out my head.  I've said it all.  If I could accomplish all this stuff- then in 1 year, I could be really proud of my progress.  For now, I'm going to drink my glass of wine, read my book "How to be a Woman" by Caitlin Moran (utterly fabulous!!) and ring in the new year watching my husband yell at football on tv.  

Cruises

I have a Life Bucket List that is 20 pages thick.  Sometimes it's intimidating to think about all the things I want to accomplish and experience in my few short years.  I start looking at the list.....and then promptly eat a Xmas cookie and watch House Hunters International or Downton Abbey reruns and go to bed far too late again.

So- I've decided to think about one thing I never ever want to do-- almost like I'm crossing it off the life list so I can feel like there's one less thing in the world for me to knock out.  I never, ever, ever, under no condition or circumstance, ever want to take a vacation cruise.  I've never been and never want to go.

I like boats.  I like the water.  I like traveling.  I've been on two dinner cruises-- one was surprisingly amazing and the other was utterly horrible.  We booked a touristy dinner cruise in Paris on our honeymoon and was fantastic.  You get to the dock after walking down a quaint street to quaint stairs and wander down the Seine until you find your boat.  We were the cheesy newlyweds who rushed to the front of the boat to grab a table so we could get the best view and feel like we were alone.  We figured the food would be barely edible at best.....and I had one of the best steaks I've ever had.  All of Paris's sites are situated on the water front so we got to see so many amazing sites without moving a muscle.  And- we totally ate up the cheesy, touristy fabulousness of watching the Eiffel Tower light up at dusk.  Perfect dinner cruise.

To relive the feeling, I booked a dinner cruise for my husband's birthday in Washington, DC.  Totally different night.  No offense to the truly dangerous parts of DC, but we parked in a fairly trashy neighborhood and quickly walked from our car to the dock anxiously looking over our shoulders because the shady neighborhoods in DC are always a little too quiet..... The boat was packed and it was a four hour cruise---it took us five minutes to realize that nothing in DC worth marveling at was on the water front.  You basically float south and see a few lights from the highway and a power plant or something.  The food was terrible- I think it was a buffet of soggy noodles and barely recognizable meat.  The wine was the cheap wine that gives you a headache when you are just reading the label.  The tables were an inch apart.  They had horrible music playing and a small dance floor for the wilder patrons.  At one point in the night I turned to my husband and said "I feel like we are at a wedding and we don't know anyone and the party is long over and I can't leave unless I jump overboard."  We were the first people off the boat that night.

So- I don't want to go on an actual cruise for a week.  I don't want to be stuck in a small room (I've lived in NYC- been there, done that), I don't want to meet new people every night at dinner at some big round table (I want to relax and barely talk to my husband if I so choose), I don't want to lay on a deck of some boat or play games.  I don't want to dock at an island I want to explore and have a curfew.  I don't want to get food poisoning (I know this can happen anywhere but I don't want to be sick on a boat).  I enjoy a good drink now and again and I'm a clumsy person...I don't want to fall overboard.  These are just the basic concerns.  But the big one is this: I never again want to plan for a fun event and feel like I'm stuck at a stranger's terrible wedding...and that I have to swim my way out of it to make it end.

I'll stick with the Parisian dinner cruise or an island getaway.

Belts

I have come to realize that I will never own more than two belts- one black and one brown.  If I only have 2 dollars to my name or 200,000, I will only have 2 in my drawer.  I literally never think to buy them.  The sad truth is that I wear a belt almost every day and I will wear them until they are ridiculously falling apart.  I will only ever buy one when the hole for the clasp rips completely and is beyond repair.  Then, I'll consider driving to the nearest store to pick one up...but only if it is extremely convenient.

I have absolutely no idea why I have an issue with belts.  I just never think of them.  They always seem really expensive and I can convince myself that I don't really need one.  I never think of them as an accessory that can add to an outfit....to me, they are completely utilitarian.  I need a belt to hold up my pants..period.

Well- I've lost a bit of weight recently due to this Paleo diet thing we've been doing for the last 6 months.  So now belts are a huge part of my attire.  Still only own 2 though.  I think I may need to reconsider my belt situation and get a 3rd for backup.

Or- I could just start an adult clothing line featuring the adjustable waist pants that are so popular with kids and eliminate the need to ever think about belts again.

Empty/Full

I have to take my son to preschool tomorrow morning and I'm scared.  Really really scared.  When I lived in NYC on 9/11, I was scared and shaken and it changed me.  I cried and watched the news every moment I could for weeks.  It still hits me like a fist to the stomach once in awhile.  But- this is different.  I'm always shaken and scared when an act of random, evil violence invades our society.  But- this is different.  

I have a four year old son who wakes up every day asking me what we are doing, where are we going, who are we going to see, what are we going to eat.....the sheer joy of living is what greets me everyday (albeit a little on the early side sometimes).  My 16 month old daughter already shows off a fiercely delightful sense of humor and cracks herself up all the time.  She wants to do whatever her big brother does and is prone to giving random bear hugs all day long.  So- even though they often wear me out with their 'delight,' I'm surrounded by love and beauty every day.  Every. single. day.

I don't know how to be a good mother.  I don't know how to be a good grown up.  I don't know how to be a strong leader.  I don't know how to stop feeling the sheer pain, terror, panic and sadness that I feel.  I don't know how to teach my son to be strong and brave and opinionated and human when I'm so scared.  I don't know how to deal with the anger I will feel in a few weeks when I've dealt with the initial fear and 'moved on' and then I remember it all again.  

I'm scared that I will walk into my son's preschool tomorrow and demand to see how they are going to better secure the building.  I'm scared I won't be able to leave him there while I go Christmas shopping with my daughter.  I'm scared I won't be able to go into a store.  I'm scared I will sit in the parking lot for 3 hours watching and waiting with Cheerios in hand for my daughter- so my son can have a normal, happy Monday and I can feel like I'm doing something to keep him safe.  

I'm not sure how to move past this.  I'm not sure how to be brave and strong and human.  I'm not sure how to equip my children with all they need to know while allowing them to enjoy being babies and allow me to enjoy the wonder and sheer magic of motherhood.  I know that when I asked my son for a hug every other second last Friday- he didn't hesitate-- he got that something was sad and he could hug me and make it better.  

I'm so sad....and so scared....but I will take my son to school tomorrow.  I won't be able to bear it but I'll do it.  And I'll hug him no less than 30 times and tell him I love him with every ounce of my soul.  

Sirens

An event occurred last night sums up what it is like to leave one life behind and try to embrace a new one.  

As my husband and I were putting the kids to bed, we heard a fire truck siren.  I turned to my husband and said "Ahh, reminds me of home."  I was referring to the fact that just two months ago we were living in Manhattan and heard fire truck sirens, police cars and ambulances on an hourly basis.  They were responding to the stabbing at the corner (seriously) or a suspicious subway gas smell or a pedestrian who got hit by a car.  We got so immune to the siren sounds that we never looked out the window or were curious or concerned....just our way of life.  I only ever noticed them when someone was visiting from out of town and they would get really worried when they heard the noises and we would just shrug.

Last night, the fire truck siren grew louder and louder and was taking a long time to pass our house.  We actually became concerned that something was happening on our block-- maybe the 430 blow up Christmas figures or strings of lights at our next door neighbor's house had caught on fire.  So- we opened the blinds........and what do we see?!!?!!  We see the fire truck slowly coming down the street.....with Santa on top of the truck--- all lit up--- waving to each house as he went by.  A real live Santa saying hello to the kids.  

My son about flipped out.  He lay in bed beaming after that for 10 minutes and was so excited.

My life has really changed.....in the strangest of ways.  

Rash

My daughter has a rash all over her belly and back.  It's not painful, doesn't itch and isn't bothering her in any way-just the end of a virus.  But- I feel so bad for her because I think she might be cursed with my skin.....and my bizarre skin rashes.

Let me explain (and properly disgust all):  I get rashes.  Not every day, not from food, not from weather, not from anything in particular....I just get rashes.  And- I'm extremely pale skinned....I glow in the dark.  So- when I get a rash....it's obvious.  The only thing that I can pinpoint is that I get them when I get outrageously stressed out.

Years ago, I got a full body (and I mean full body) rash when I was moving apartments in NYC.  For some reason, I was a wreck.  I looked like a freak show until the day after the move-- then I woke up with Heidi Klum skin.  So weird.  I'm allergic to something that is used in face products but have never been able to find out what ingredient it is.  Right after giving birth to my daughter, I just wanted to feel pretty.  I bought a little tube of under eye cream at Sephora and lathered it on.  Three hours later, I looked like someone had burned me with a cigarette under both eyes-- my skin became inflamed, puffy and bright red.  So much for feeling beautiful after childbirth.  Nine months later, we took a family trip to Aruba and I was treated to a surprise spa morning.  I got a facial......and promptly had an allergic reaction.  My eyes exploded- they were red and puffy and I looked like a giant mosquito.  I couldn't wear contacts so I was sporting glasses poolside, loaded up with Benadryl and Margaritas-- I'm lucky I didn't get arrested.  I could go on and on with little gems like these.

But-- the one that takes the cake is my honeymoon rash.  Thankfully, by the grace of God, Allah, Buddha, whatever, I didn't get a rash on my wedding day.  I looked fabulous!  The rash descended the day our honeymoon started.  We were in Paris, late May, and they were experiencing a bizarre heat wave.  Our suitcases were packed with sweaters, coats and long pants and it was over 105 every single day we were there.  The first day there, we made a dash for the nearest Gap and bought out the store.  So- I was sightseeing and sweating and rubbing my arms on my sides all day long in the some of the worst heat I've ever dealt with.  By the end of day two, the underside of my arms and sides (most prominently my arm pits) were completely red, swollen and TOTALLY COVERED in painful, hideous bumps....or welts - to be more accurate.  We would get back to our hotel at the end of seeing the Eiffel Tower and Napoleon's tomb and I would lay on the bed while my lovely new husband would cover my arms and sides with ice cold wash cloths.....over and over.  Totally romantic right?!?!  Just writing about this makes me cringe in pain because I still remember the agony of it all.

Somehow- we are still married and it is a bit of a joke now.  At least we know when I'm overwhelmed and need a 'Christina' break.  So- if you see me and I look like I have chicken pox, I suggest you steer clear.....cause I'm about to blow!

Katherine...er....

Many years ago, while aspiring to be an actress/singer in Manhattan, I was really a waitress at Carmines (a semi-famous, past its prime restaurant on the Upper West Side- not even the really famous one in Times Square).  I made really great money even though I was only the second woman they ever hired on the floor (which had its own unique set of problems) and I spent a lot of time wishing that certain waiters would stop doing coke in the bathroom (while secretly wishing that the really lunatic ones would snort a line so they would be appear more normal).  I could write thirty blogs telling stories about the inner workings of a Manhattan restaurant-including the day the basement storage area flooded with backed up sewage from the hotel above, or my soon-to-be good friend who asked me to marry him over and over to get his green card (I toyed with the idea but he only offered $10,000-- I was holding out for more).

But- once in awhile - when I hear the name "Katherine," I get especially nostalgic.  There was an older bartender who was utterly, completely, madly and whole-heartedly convinced that my name was Katherine.  Let me remind you- there were only two women in the whole place....you'd think we'd stand out a bit.  Nope.  I was Katherine.  I spent the better part of a year trying to tell him (without embarrassing him) that my name was Christina.

Christina: printed on every single cocktail order receipt that hit the bar.  Christina- the name everyone else called me in front of him.  I staged interventions: I would stand by the far end of the bar and have another waiter call out for me -- right where he could hear--- they would say my name like ten times......never worked.  Everyone in the restaurant was in on it....and we never told him.  There was even that random time where OUT OF NOWHERE-- he called me Christina!!!  Let the angels sing!!!  The man got it!!  Then........"Katherine" not five minutes later.  Eventually I had to take some personal time to think about what's in a name?  Like frigging Romeo and Juliet.....a name is really just a way to distinguish yourself from the next person...so I knew I was Katherine to him and left it at that.

The best was when my parents came to town and we wanted to take advantage of my staff discount.  We bellied up to the bar and ordered a few drinks from the bartender while we waited on our table.  He chatted with my dad forever and talked me up (so sweet).  We had a great twenty minutes.  When our table was called, my mom got up to grab it and my dad and I stayed behind to pay the bar tab.  As we were hopping up, the bartender called out "Have a great dinner, Katherine!"  My dad completely stopped walking and spun his head towards me-confused.  "Dad, keep walking, just keep walking, I'll explain at the table."  I didn't want my dad to blow my cover.

Months and months later, the bartender (whose name I can't remember) finally got schooled by a busboy from Ecuador when he kept telling him to find Katherine and this frazzled fifteen year old looked like he was going to cry....because he didn't know who the hell this guy was talking about.  Awkward, bizarre and hilarious apology followed minutes later.

I need to go shopping

For the last five plus years, I’ve either been trying to get pregnant, been pregnant or trying to NOT look pregnant.  I feel like I’ve been living in a sandbox- from actually being a sandbox at the park or trying to vacuum up the sand that traveled back to our apartment.  I’ve changed hundreds of diapers on the sticky floor of small NYC bathrooms because the restaurant was too cool to have a pull down changing table.  If I haven’t been wiping someone’s butt, I’ve been cleaning pee from around the toilet at home because my son gets distracted and pees….all over the wall.  My shirts have become an instant tissue for all small noses.  My cooking now consists of grilled cheese, pasta and….pasta with cheese.  I haven’t slept through the night since 2009.  I spend the better part of my day tying shoelaces, putting on helmets, trying to figure out where the poop smell is coming from and somehow trying to stay dry while giving two kids a nightly bath.

So—imagine my delight when my husband and I made the decision that we were done having babies and wanted to focus on the two we have with whatever ounce of sanity we each have left.  True- I’m sad that I’m done experiencing the joy of that new presence in my belly, the beautiful daydreams I had wondering what my children would look like and the ridiculous bliss of holding my newborn babies while they slept in my arms.  But- I’m not going to miss the swollen feet or horrible varicose veins that exploded on my calf (still disgusting to this day), the morning sickness, the pain of child birth and crying/hallucinating on the bathroom floor after the umpteenth night in a row of less than 2 consecutive hours of sleep. 

I haven’t put a lick of time into thinking about my clothing selections in these last five years.  Before I was pregnant, I was thinking about getting pregnant….so I didn’t shop.  Once I was pregnant, I lived in 4 outfits from Target Maternity.  After my first pregnancy, I wore whichever bottoms I could button with whichever shirt masked the mommy belly straining over the top of the pants.  I knew we would try for another baby so I didn’t shop.  Pregnancy number two—start all over.

Now, here I am….done with baby making and I’m starting to pick my head up out of the sand and am checking out the sad situation which is….my closet.  And, lucky me- due to a recent diet change at our household- I’ve lost an extra 6-7 pounds from my pre-baby weight.  I look pretty good (all things considered).  But- nothing fits.  I mean absolutely nothing.  I have jeans that fit just recently and now look like clown pants. My new party trick is that I button my pants, clasp a belt around my waist and still pull my jeans off without undoing anything.  The pants get all bunched so I look like I’m wearing a deflated balloon tucked under the belt.  After years of washing, every shirt I own is stretched and stained in some weird spot because of baby hands on me all day.  We recently went to visit friends’ overnight and I realized in the car on the way there that my shirt had a giant hole in it but since it was black and my bra was black, I could get away with it for the night.  Worse than that, my skirt (which oddly seemed to fit fine that morning) was so loose- I had to hold it up the rest of the evening when I walked....or it would literally fall down.  I’m a disaster.

I’ve felt at war with my body for the last few years because I feel like I donated it to procreation for a bit…but I want it back.  I’m glad I lost weight and feel good but I want to look good again.  I don’t want to look like a woman who got her clothes out of a dumpster….circa 1998.  (I’m still wearing a pair of sweat pants from high school—I mean- I even disgust myself)  I want some pants that fit – that I can wear in a sandbox….and wear later on a date with my man. 

This entire post could have been much shorter—I should have just said:

“I need to go shopping….”

Radio

I need someone to explain to me what is wrong with radio stations.....there has to be a logical explanation that I don't understand.  Why does each station have 30 or so songs they are allowed to play....and that's it?  About 15 current 'hits' and about 15 'hits' from the 90s.  I'm guessing it has something to do with paying for the rights to play certain songs and it's expensive so they only play a few but it's awful.  Just awful.

I've been driving and listening to the radio again these past two months and am just amazed.  I never thought I'd hear Stone Temple Pilots or Rage Against the Machine ever again or played with such vigor.  And sadly- it's only one song from each band that they play.  I actually got excited the other day when I heard the Spin Doctors (which are easily my least favorite band) because it was the first song in an hour that didn't feature Rihanna.  (I don't even mind Rihanna but I don't want to listen to anyone day in and out every five minutes).

And, Everclear (I mean really) sandwiched between Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Bruno Mars "Locked Out of Heaven" (which I liked the first 457 times....not anymore) on an easy listening station.... I was looking for a Stevie tune, Carly Simon or even John Lennon but instead got my daughter clapping in the backseat to Kurt Cobain.  Not what I was expecting.

I feel like there is so much great music being made nowadays that deserves a bit of attention.  And there is so much older music from the past few decades that would be lovely hear on my way to the grocery store.  I wish one radio station would go back into the business of surprising their listeners..and offering something unique like an enjoyable musical journey.

Time

I keep running out of time.  I keep wanting to think of a new post and then I'm asleep on the couch.  I worked for a bit last night on a post --but I copied and pasted a number of things for the internet and then it wouldn't copy properly to the blog.....really irritating.  So I chunked the whole thing (I didn't like it that much anyway).

Earlier today, when my son was at preschool, my daughter clung to me like a koala bear the entire morning.  She is a bit under the weather and had some vaccinations & flu shot yesterday.....so there was my morning.

Every day- my son has at least one hysterical breakdown.  Today's was epic.  We got home from preschool and he wanted cereal for lunch.  Not the best lunch ever but at least it was something.  I put his mini wheats in a bowl with milk and he just lost it.  Absolutely lost it.  He wanted chocolate milk on his cereal.  Since that would be disgusting, I poured him a glass of chocolate milk....which proved unsatisfactory so he threw it onto the ground.  He tried to leave in a huff to watch tv so I beat him to the other room and turned the tv off.  He stormed into the kitchen, took his full bowl of cereal and threw it across the kitchen---- milk and soggy mini wheats everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  So that happened.

I will say that he is very quietly playing by himself now.....after an hour in time out.  And- he ate his peanut butter sandwich without a word when he came back downstairs.  Just exhausting.

Aside from the blog (which is really for fun), I'm also trying to start a music teaching business (for voice and piano students).  I'm terrified because I want to be really, really good at it.  I want to be really prepared and organized and energized....but have no time due to the temper tantrums, koala bear hugging and down right tiredness.  I guess I need to start rallying around 9 PM each night to work and get some things organized while every young thing in our house is asleep.

By the way-- does anyone else have a kid's toy that involves this moon dough stuff?  It's like a powdery, molding dough that never dries out and can be manipulated into a million shapes.......it's fantastic for kids and terrible for clean up.  I've been picking pieces of it up in my house for the last hour and it's still everywhere.

Well-- 2nd kid is up from their nap....time for the next chapter of fun to begin!

Why?

Why does my daughter like to hit the on/off button on the tv over and over again each day?
Why does any tv manufacturer put the on/off button on the lower portion of the tv?
Why does another Xmas roll around and I still have zero ideas for my dad?
Why did I never travel abroad in college?
Why do I still worry about trivial things.....like mom belly or flossing?
Why do I still read Perez Hilton's website?  I really don't care who Taylor Swift is dating.
Why is my favorite time of day laying in bed at night with my son?
Why do my children's feet grow so fast?  I'm always buying new shoes.
Why am I constantly thinking of ways to add just one more thing into my day?
Why am I always doing laundry?  I didn't know we were a terribly dirty family.
Why am I always just on the wrong side of well rested?
Why do I hurry through books and movies just to get to the next one?
Why do I sleep better on my stomach?
Why do I still love Jeff Buckley as if I just discovered him?
Why do I love the movie PS I Love You....oh wait, Harry Connick Jr, Gerard Butler and Jeffrey Dean Morgan....yeah --that's why.


Why does my son ask the same question every day over and over and over and over.......'why?'

Sometimes I think I'm going crazy because of that one word.....why....

Skipping school

So- I have to share this funny story--well I think it's funny anyway... and I hope I'm able to enact the statute of limitations for bad high school behavior because my mom reads this blog.....

I thought I was a big rebel high schooler because I figured out a way to skip school once in awhile without getting caught.  One would think I would skip school to do really scandalous activities.....like smoke in the woods behind the football field, make out with a boy or try elicit drugs.  Unfortunately, none of these things ever happened (would have made for a better story).  I skipped school mostly to avoid going to mandatory pep rallies, be an extra in an independent movie being filmed in town when I was too young to legally do it or go to a coffee shop near NC State.  Yup-- that was my entire agenda.....drink an iced latte near a 22 year old Art History major and buy used books at noon on a Tuesday.

Side note- I've never smoked a cigarette, never smoked pot (so never tried anything more shocking) and never drank an entire beer until the end of freshman year of college.  Of course, after that first beer, I had to stumble around this house party like I'd had four shots of Jagermeister and half a keg of beer when, in reality, I just felt really full and bloated.  I have to say that I'm even embarrassed now by my blatant un-coolness.... 

So- best day of skipping school ever......my friend Jessica was home sick.  While home, she heard about this independent film that was shooting around town that needed extras for a street scene.  Knowing this would be right up my alley, Jessica popped into school during my lunch break and found me sitting in the courtyard.  Schemers that we were, we devised a plan that she would pull up to this roundabout drive that was near the back exit to the auditorium and pick me up.  I just had to wait for her car, nonchalantly walk out the door, saunter to her car like it was totally normal and we would drive away....totally normal.

When you involve me, especially 15 year old me, in a stealthy plan, it always becomes ridiculous.  I'm hanging out by the back door and see Jessica pull up....just like we planned.  I open the heavy door and start to walk normally to her car.  But- just as I take my first few steps, I start to panic.  It's like I think the gates of hell are going to open up and suck me to the base of Purgatory in the parking lot- because the universe really gives a crap that I don't want to go to 5th period Geometry.  So- what do I do?  I break out into a full marathon sprint....I run....and run....and run as fast I can with 40 pounds of text books in my backpack banging into my back.  Jessica, clearly startled by my frantic running and assuming I'm being chased by a pack of starving cheetahs, throws open the passenger door and I leap in.  

So- here I am- crouched in her front seat sideways, facing Jessica, book bag jammed halfway outside, trying to reach behind me to pull the door shut, yelling at Jessica to go....."GO! GO!!  JUST GO!!!!!"  She clearly doesn't understand the urgency is 'Christina' induced and utterly imaginary...so she does what any normal 16 year old would do....she guns it.  We fly out of that parking lot like Thelma & Louise- her gripping the wheel (she totally should have had driving gloves) and me still trying to get the door shut.  We get about two blocks from school when Jessica has to pull over because she puts together that I'm a complete moron and I'm fairly sure she peed in her pants from laughing until she couldn't breathe at my scaredy cat ass.  

The best part was, after we stopped laughing hysterically ten minutes later, I realized that the entire packed cafeteria (not to mention the principal's office) had a clear view of my escape route and either laughed as hard as we did or were worriedly wondering who was chasing that poor girl through the parking lot.  Not sure it's funny to anyone but me....but almost (ALMOST) 20 years later and I still laugh out loud at that car ride.  

Christmas tree

Tis the season!

We bought our Xmas tree today.  What a fiasco.  I don't think anyone with small children should be required to bring along their wee ones for the tree purchasing.  We were there for all of five minutes but they were the most stressful five minutes of my weekend.

Small children dodging in between rows of trees- dodging in and out of sight-- too stressful.  We picked the closest tree to our car for utter ease but forgot that the rugged tree men have to cut the stump and wrap it up for you.  So, we trekked across the parking lot (moved on from curb side NYC shopping to parking lot shopping-- much more suburban) and watched as they cut our tree.  My son, thinking this was the coolest thing ever, kept finding the shavings from the bottom of the last few trees that conveniently make hard frisbees and proceeded to throw them (with surprisingly accurate aim) at the chainsaw.  Not one to be undone, our daughter was drawn to the whirring of the chainsaw and kept walking towards it in a trance (much like the little girl in Poltergeist keeps getting sucked into the tv-- damn that movie still scares the crap out of me).  So- we got to be the family wrapped in holiday cheer.....arguing about who is/isn't watching the kiddos.

And- decorating the tree....I mean... what a joke.  I put the ornaments low and my daughter pulled each one off as I turned away.  If I put them high, she reached up and tried to yank the tree on top of herself.  We hung the stockings by the chimney with care.....and both kids climbed onto the base of the mantle and tried to pull them down.  So- now only the top half of our tree is decorated and the stockings are in a heap on top of the mantle.  So much for decorating.

My guess is I will be sooo tired of keeping the kids away from the tree for the next few weeks that it will end up in our backyard around noon on December 25th.  Or- more probable- before the end of the week our dog will try to drink the tree water, eat one of the musical Santa ornaments while it's singing "Jingle Bells" for the umpteenth time or mark his territory/dominance by peeing on the lower branches.

Boy.... I can't wait.

End of pregnancy

I was looking for photos today for our holiday card and got completely distracted by old pictures on the computer.  Some old photos were charming and a nice surprise....ones of my daughter as a tiny baby just 15 months ago, ones of my son dancing, etc.  But- there were a few I came across that I really wish I hadn't seen.  Particularly the ones during the end of my 2nd pregnancy.

It was August....in NYC....hot....sticky....humid...and I was past my due date....barely able to walk to the corner and back with the dog.  I was utterly miserable.  Yet, during all the misery, I still thought I looked somewhat cute.  Hmmmmm...someone should have told me.

I thought I looked like this everyday:

Or maybe even as tough as this:

Sadly....no.  This is really what I looked like every single day:

I wore the hell out of that green stretchy shirt....like several times a week....because I thought it looked good on me.  In actuality, with the green shirt and the swollen ankles, I looked like the lead in Shrek the Musical that they let walk around Manhattan in costume to drive up ticket sales.  (Note....10 hours after this picture was taken I gave birth so this is about as horrendous as it got....but still- you'd think my lovely husband would have told me to hit up Target Maternity one more time).

Now on to finding cute pictures of the kids......