My Real Life

I had the next few days posts ready and scheduled to post automatically, however, in the wake of yesterday’s tragedy, it felt wrong to post today’s post today.

I also don’t really know what to say about the shooting in Newtown, CT.

On Thursday, there were 20 minutes of my afternoon when I didn’t know where Monkey Girl was.

I mean, I seriously had no idea where she was, as there was a bit of a miscommunication between my mother and I about who was picking her up and when.

20 minutes and I absolutely lost my mind.

You can ask anyone I interacted with in those 20 minutes.

I was a complete and utter madwoman.

She was fine.  She was with my mother.  And if I had rationally thought it through, I would have been able to figure that out.

I tell this story not to shift attention to myself.

I tell this story to illustrate the fact that I cannot, in my wildest dreams imagine what the parents of those poor, sweet, innocent little children are feeling.

I had 20 minutes of uncertainty about where one of my children was and I was out of my mind with fear.

These parents had those moments of fear and uncertainty when they heard about the shooting and then their worst fears were confirmed.

I don’t know how they go on.

I honestly don’t.

How they face down the coming holidays.

Hell, how they face down the next few minutes.

And the next few.

And the next few.

I am absolutely heart-broken for the families of all of the victims.

Hold your own a little tighter and don’t sweat the small stuff like the spilled milk or messy rooms.

They are amazingly good problems to have.

1.  This was my Facebook status on Monday night.

A friend suggested I post it here.

Apparently, my children have taken a vote and they would like me to never make roast beef again because it’s “the grossest thing ever.” In unrelated news, roast beef has suddenly become my favorite meal and I think we’ll be having it, at least, twice a week.

Roast beef has long been a nemesis of the monkeys.

However, it’s crock-pottable, I use the leftovers to make sandwiches for my lunches during the following week, and Real Man and I like it.

So, they usually grumble, but eat their small portions (because I’m not a short order cook and what’s for dinner is what’s for dinner, whether you like it or not) and are on their way.

When they assembled and actually took a vote about it, however, while secretly pleased that they were working together on something, the steam came out of my ears, and all of those phrases you swear you’ll never say to your own kids started coming out of my mouth.

“When you start cooking dinners around here, you can make whatever you want!”

“Do you know how many children around the world would LOVE a meal like this?”

You can imagine the rest.

Needless to say, my Facebook status stands, and if anyone local sees a great two roasts for the price of one sale, gimme a holla.

2.  The missing iPod continues to be missing.

At this point, I think it’s a loss.

I’m 99.9% convinced it is no longer in the house, and if that is the case, then it’s gone.

I feel badly for her because I know how much she loved that thing.

I’m angry with her because it was irresponsible.

But, you know what?  It’s life.

We’ve all lost something we shouldn’t have lost when we were kids.

Retainers, glasses, favorite toys, etc.

Next time, I’m pretty sure she will be more responsible.

3.  I’m tired.

I have a feeling all of you are tired, too.

And, because I’m so tired, I did a bad thing today.

I cancelled a doctor appointment for myself because I just couldn’t bear another night of running from 7 am until 7 pm.

Again, I know I’m not the only one with this kind of schedule, and maybe the rest of you are handling it worlds better than I am, but something’s gotta give.

After I hung up the phone, I realized that I had made a mistake.

I’m so busy running around for everyone else that I am now neglecting to take care of myself.

Granted, it was a dermatologist appointment and not for anything more important than cosmetic issues, but it was still something that would allow me to take care of me and I cancelled it.

So, I don’t really know how, but in the new year, I need to make some changes.

I’m not quitting my job or anything ridiculous like that.

I love working and I love my career.

However, changes are needed, and I think I might make it a feature on the blog, like Simple Saturdays or Slow Down Sundays or something.

Keeps me accountable, keeps me on track, and I think it’s a pretty good plan.

4.  Baby Monkey has begun a campaign to have a later bedtime.

However, he doesn’t see it as a campaign.

He sees it as a restoration of his rights and a restoration to the way things “used to be.”

Except, his version of what used to be and our version of what used to be are nothing alike.

See, Baby Monkey has convinced himself that in September and October, we let him stay up until 9 pm on school nights.

This is absolutely, unequivocally not true.

Yet, he is convinced.

And, I know this kid, and he’s not just trying to manipulate us.

He somehow actually remembers bedtime being at 9 pm on school nights in September and October.

I’m thinking that maybe it was a common theme in his nightly sleepwalking strolls and that it became reality, but he never complained about his 7:30 bedtime in September and October, and he can tell time, so he has me befuddled.

When we start reading books at 7, he starts up with “This is SO unfair!  You used to let us stay up until 9 on school nights!  Now you make me go to bed at 7:30.  Why am I getting in trouble and having to go to bed so early?  Not fair!”

And when we try to remind him that this has always been bedtime, he starts in with the whole 9 pm rant.

It’s weird.

Definitely weird.

5.  Speaking of bedtime, Tiny has decided to be our first child with bedtime issues.

We’ve been spoiled.  Definitely spoiled.

All four of our children started sleeping through the night very young (Monkey Girl was 6 weeks) and have been power sleepers.

Baby Monkey had a month or so when he decided he wasn’t going to sleep.

He must have been about 6 months old.

The only way we could get that baby to sleep was by bouncing our bodies in an inverted V pattern.

Not an actual V, mind you.

An inverted V.

He knew if the pattern changed and started crying immediately.

We would be tired of standing still in the bouncing inverted V and would start walking around in a weird bouncing march of inverted V and when one of our thighs would start to give out, we’d pass him off to the other.

Teamwork.

Monkey Girl was the only one who stopped napping early, but the boys have all been champion nappers.

Recently, (okay, it’s only been two nights, but it is hellish), we take Tiny in, go through our normal bedtime routine, and as soon as we shut the door behind us he starts screaming.

Not crying.

Not calling.

Screaming.

Then, after a few minutes, the screaming turns into screaming and crying and I swear to God, it sounds like he is being murdered.

We give him about 20 minutes, then go in.

He’s standing in his crib, face covered in snot and tears.

So, I rub his back and clean his face (not turning the lights on, not speaking), and rub his back and kiss his head and face while he’s standing.

Eventually, his legs give out and he lays down and I rub his back and cover him and rub his back.

When his breathing has regulated and he’s warm and cozy and hasn’t made a sound in about 10 minutes, I head for the door and the screaming starts again.

So, we let him go for awhile, and after about 20 more minutes, Real Man heads in.

Same story.

Last night it took three hours to get him to sleep.

Tonight, we are now at an hour and a half with no end in sight.

It’s heartbreaking…truly, it is.

He doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything…just doesn’t want to sleep.

He’s exhausted…yawning and rubbing his eyes and saying “Night Night,” but not able to pull the trigger and actually allow himself to sleep.

I know it will work itself out.

In the meantime, we’ll just continue the shift work like we used to do with Baby, because that’s what partners do.

So…I never quite know what I’m going to find when I come home from school.

Some days it is utter chaos.

But some days…some days…

I walk in from the garage and find this mellow guy strumming away…

…and find these two engaged in a battle to the death with their Grandpa and Mario Kart.

And I breathe a sigh of relief.

Since Real Man put the tree up last Monday, the monkeys have been begging to put up the tree.

The problem was that last week was a week where none of us were home for more than (what felt like) an hour or two a day, so we never got to it.

Yesterday, once Monkey in the Middle got home from hockey and Monkey Girl got home from dance, we were set to have the rest of the night at home.

So, out came the decorations.

Real Man stayed in the library with the 3 big monkeys while they began their decorating, and I began some of my best distracting work for Tiny.

While Tiny and I made banana bread in the kitchen, watched the Wiggles in the living room, read books in the dining room and did everything else I could think of that would keep him out of the room where they were decorating, I was able to hear the excited chatter about each and every ornament.

Now, I’ll admit, I am not a fan of the tree.

We don’t even have a real tree that requires any work.

I just don’t really enjoy decorating the tree.

However, I can see the draw.

The monkeys had a memory for every single ornament on the tree, and if they didn’t know the story, they asked Real Man or I and had us tell the story.

Tradition.  Family.  History.

I do get it.

We had to laugh when we found this ornament, because it is so perfect for our little puzzler, yet he made it so many years ago when he was in Pre-K, way before he was into puzzles the way he is today.

Get it?

‘Cuz it’s made out of puzzle pieces?

Love it.

The end result was a lovingly decorated tree which we all got to enjoy as we ate our steaming hot banana bread.

I don’t want to do the decorating, but I sure enjoy the fruits of their labor.

1.  You know how, sometimes, when you write a word over and over, suddenly the word appears to be spelled incorrectly?

Well, that’s happening to me, recently, but not with a word…with a song.

Tiny’s new bedtime request is the alphabet song, and he asks for it at least ten times a night.

So, I oblige, because it’s nice to rock and cuddle with him while I sing, and he is very good about eventually saying, “Mom, mom, mom…night, night,” which is his signal that he’s ready to hit the hay.

However, I have now sung the ABC’s so many time that I am 99.9% certain that I am singing “Q,R,S,T,U,V” in the wrong melody.

I realize that I’m probably not, but I have now sung it so many times, it just doesn’t sound right anymore.

I think there is the distinct possibility that I am just weird.

2.  It’s definitely the holiday season, and I have to say that I am beyond thrilled.

Because the holiday season means my favorite holiday movies.

I have many.

Some old (White Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life).

Some brand-spanking new (Arthur Christmas).

And some, neither old nor new, but movies that I absolutely cannot turn off and I just visually devour every time they are on.

Most notably, Polar Express and The Holiday.

The Polar Express is enjoyed by the whole family, and leaves at least three of us with tears in our eyes every single time we watch it.

The Holiday is all mine.

Kate Winslet, Jude Law, Jack Black, Cameron Diaz.

I love this film beyond all reason.

Why?

No idea.

But, I’ve already seen it twice this season and it’s only December 4th.

And that, my friends, makes me smile.

3.  The holiday season also means holiday music, and it means the return to the airwaves of my favorite artist of all time.

Karen Carpenter.

Oh, I enjoy many other artists and my top 10 is crowded with at least 20, but Karen Carpenter has always, always, always been my favorite single recording artist.

Her voice is so smooth and clear.

I love her songs that aren’t Christmas songs, but you never hear them, randomly, on the radio.

So, this is the time of year I get to just roll around in that mellow voice every time I turn on the tunes.

I remember watching the Karen Carpenter story when I was a kid and just being devastated that she had this amazing gift and still wasn’t happy with herself and thinking what an incredible tragedy it was.

My parents had all of the Carpenter’s albums, so even as a kid she was my favorite.

Karen Carpenter…the sound of the season for me.

4.  My new favorite commerical is the AT&T Mobile Share commercial where the two brothers are sitting on their bed, talking about how they want iPads to do math, and how they don’t have to have expensive data plans with AT&T Mobile Share.

They are talking loudly, right next to the vent so their parents can hear them downstairs, but when we get a glimpse downstairs, the parents are playing on the iPads they bought the boys, but they have earbuds in so they can’t hear the boys.

I just love when siblings band together for nefarious purposes.

Unless they are my kids, of course.

Ah, who am I kidding…I love when the monkeys band together, even if it’s for nefarious purposes.

Siblings getting along is ALWAYS a good thing.

5.  Speaking of siblings getting along, let me share with you the monkeys’ new favorite reading place.

Oh, I’m sorry…let me shed some light on the scene.

Yes…my children now want to spend all of their time reading in the laundry room, watching the laundry in the new washer and dryer.

They cannot get enough of watching the washer fill with water and the clothes spinning, and then watching them flop around in the dryer.

It won’t last forever and eventually, they will go back to reading on the couch or on their beds, and not stuffed into plastic laundry baskets on a cold, stone floor in the tiniest space in the house.

But for now…it’s darn cute.

6.  Kim’s wedding.

It was a wonderful weekend.

Time spent with friends, watching two people who are head over heels in love with each other commit to spending the rest of their lives together.

Really, really hard to beat.

The weekend was wonderful and the wedding itself was a blast.

I love to dance.

Seriously love to dance.

And, when I’m at a wedding, I dance my feet off.

However, when I’m with Kim, Erin, and Michaela…I’m freer.

There’s something about letting loose with the people you have known your entire life.

And, to do so while celebrating something so special?

So. Much. Fun.

It was just a great weekend and now Kim and Ryan are off to Hawaii and hopefully spending two weeks doing absolutely nothing.

7.  Speaking of Kim’s wedding, Ryan’s brother was the Best Man and made a beautiful toast.

He gave them some advice about being married, and he finished with (I won’t have the words exactly right, but it was along these lines) “Let her choose what to watch on television, let him hold the remote…scratch each others’ backs…laugh at each others’ jokes…be each others’ best friend…because at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

As he finished, we toasted the happy couple and Real Man and I looked at each other and both had tears in our eyes.

I’m a lucky, lucky woman.

I’m married to a man who will trade his French Onion soup with mine if his has more cheese because he knows how much I love the cheese.

I’m married to a man who will watch “New Girl” with me every week, despite his general distaste for Zooey Deschanel.

I’m married to a man who will spend his day off putting up the Christmas tree and stockings because he knows how much I love to have the decorations up early and he wants to surprise me when I walk in the door after an extra long day of teaching and parent conferences.

I’m married to a man who suffered through the early years of our marriage, when I was still figuring out how to cook things other than white rice with cheddar cheese melted in it, with a smile.

I’m married to a man who texts me in the middle of the day to say “I love your laugh.  I was just thinking about it and it made me smile.”

I’m married to a man who will rub my feet when his feet hurt, who will scratch my back when his back itches, and will give me the covers, even when he is cold.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again.

I count my blessings every day, because I am a lucky, lucky woman.