"L"

While I was home this week, I had the good fortune of spending time with a friend of mine. It was 7:30 in the morning and I was pondering going to the local Meijer or WalMart to let my daughter run around the aisles because I knew my Mom wouldn't be up to seeing us until late morning. As I loaded my kids in the car, my cell phone rang. It was my friend, wondering what I was up to. When I told her of my plan, she told me to come out to her house and have some coffee and let Baby Girl play with some toys. I was so grateful to get the offer and happily accepted.

My friend happens to be the daughter of my birth mother. I guess most people would say that she is my sister. Or maybe half-sister since we are sure we have different fathers. While I haven't had any discussions with her as to how we should refer to each other, I like thinking of her as my friend who happens to be my birth sister.

When my parents adopted me the welfare department had told them that my birthmother had been married with a bunch of kids. Apparently the father would leave for long stretches of time and then come back, beat up the mother, etc. Allegedly, I was one of the byproducts of this. Later in life, I found out who my birthmother was and contacted her to receive information on my medical history. I really wasn't interested in meeting her, but I was curious about the possibility of siblings being out there. My birthmother lived 30 minutes from where I grew up so my husband and I visited the local library where she lived on one of our trips home. I looked up yearbooks to see if there were any kids with the same last name (it's not a very common name, so I was reasonably sure that someone with the same last name would be related to my birthmother). I found one girl. She was four years older than I was. I photocopied her photo out of the yearbook and looked for others but never found any.

Over the years I thought about trying to contact this girl, but I was much too afraid. I worried that she might be close to her mother and that my contacting her would be very traumatic. I imagined it turning into a horrible Jerry Springer episode in my head, so I left it alone. Then, a couple of years ago I was on Classmates.com and was looking around. For kicks, I put in L's name and she popped up. I think she had her email address listed for something on there, so I wrote it down and thought I might email her someday. Months later I wrote her a simple email asking her if her mother was "X". I still don't remember what possessed me to do that. The next day I received an email with the question, "Why do you want to know?" I suddenly felt a lot of fear. What right did I have to do this and possibly mess up a couple of lives. So I didn't answer her back.

Almost a year later, I got an email from her:

Hello MisfitHausfrau-

Almost a year ago you wrote, wanting to know if my mother's name was X. I emailed you back wanting to know why. However, I never heard from you.

Every once in a while, during this past year, I'd think about your email and wonder, so..... Yes, my mother's name is X.

Now, I've answered your question, please answer mine. Why do you ask?

L

I absolutely flipped out and called my best friend and asked her what I should do. She didn't think it was such a good idea to tell her everything at once. I told her that I felt I should just tell her and be done with it. So I did. And then she wrote me back.

Hi -

First, I want to thank you for not using that "unsend" button in your
initial email! When I received your first email, back in September, I had a
feeling I knew what it was about. I don't know why I answered the way I
did. Scared, being careful, maybe? I am sorry. It was what I was hoping
for for quite a while.

As far as I know, my mother still has no idea that I know anything about her
pregnancy/adoption. I don't think that I am ready (nor she) to face that
wrath. I really can't remember how long I've known, but when you have a
mother (unlike your very understanding adoptive parent's) who is not
forthcoming with information from her past, there wasn't a whole lot I could
do about finding siblings. At this point, you probably know more about
X's past than I do. This whole story is so confusing, I don't even
know where to begin or that you even want to hear it.

I do know that it was a very happy day for me when, who I call my "granny",
let slip that I have siblings (yes, that's plural). I always thought that I
was an only child, now I've got siblings. It was a wonderful secret that I
kept between myself and my husband for a long time. I've often wonder who
they were, what they would be like. However, even with the internet,
without anything to go on, there was no where to go. I'm having a hard time
comprehending that I had a sibling living one county away from me for so
many years and didn't know it!

I'll give you a few facts about me (I would like a few more about you, too,
please) and then we/you/me can decide what we want to do from here. You
already know my name. X was not wed at the time she had me, either.
I was born in April, 19xx, so I am your older sister.

Please don't ever be sorry about writing that first email, I'm not.


Hopefully, I'll hear from you soon.


Sincerely,

L

So now, for over a year, we have been getting to know each other. L is fantastic. It has been such an interesting case study in Nature vs. Nurture. My sister and I have always been complete and total opposites. I am constantly amazed with the things that "L" and I have in common, be it ideologies, favorite books, our love of the occasional menthol cigarette, you name it. It has also been interesting to meet someone who shares the same genes. I found out that I am Irish instead of Scottish, twins run in the family and that "L" and I are quite tall (we're 5'5") compared to the rest of the family. People who aren't adopted take resemblences for granted.

While I like spending time with her I constantly worry that "X" will find out and that it will destroy their mother-daughter relationship. I don't know that L worries about it as much as I do. I also feel bad that she hasn't been able to tell anyone about me except for her husband because it would apparently rock her family's world as none of them know about me (apparently "X" was very good at hiding pregnancies!) So for now, we are carrying on a friendship and are helping each other fit pieces into a strange family puzzle.

Going Home

I am back from my adventures in Indiana. I decided to go home for a couple of days with the girls so that I could check up on my mother and give her a chance to spend some time with the kids. I am sure you are probably thinking why I would choose to go on a 5 hour drive one way with two kids when I can't even manage to go to the store with them. Well, driving to Indiana is the easy part. I simply hand my older daughter the personal DVD player (she understands it is for long car rides only--not a trip to Target) and allow her brain to rot by watching five straight hours of Dora and Barney. I don't hear a peep out of her unless she asks for a granola bar or water. The baby is easy to predict. I know I can get to the north side of Indianapolis which is roughly the half-way point before she starts to cry and I need to give her a bottle or feed her.

And so we went. The drive there was uneventful. Since I was getting to LaPorte around the girls' nap time, my friend Lorrie had invited me to use her place so the girls could sleep since no one would be home and I couldn't check into the hotel until after 3PM. PERFECT! We got there and were getting settled in for naps when Lorrie and the kids came home. Baby Girl's head almost exploded with glee as she LOVES her friends Emily and Adam. Alas, no naps for the kids.

After a couple of hours there, I needed to get things packed so that we could stop by my mom's for a short visit. I hauled the pack & play and the blow-up Dora bed up the stairs and to the car. Sweating profusely, I went back in the house to collect my kids. Hmmm, it seems that one of Baby Girl's new red shoes is missing. And I mean missing. We tore the house apart for a half an hour. No shoe. Normally, I would have just gone out to the car and gotten another pair. But guess what? I didn't PACK any other shoes becuase I was trying to be efficient and not overpack. OK, well, she can walk to the car wearing one shoe. Wait, no she can't, it is starting to RAIN!

After our jaunt to the Payless, we stopped by to see Busia (that's Polish for Grandma.) We were only going to stay for a few minutes because trips to my mother's apartment must be carefully orchestrated so that we do not stay too long and tire her out.

I guess I need to explain a few things about my mother. She is almost 65 going on 110. After years of depression, alcoholism, smoking, crankiness and just flat out abuse of her body, she is now a very sick woman. She has taken a severe downturn since my father died nearly 5 years ago. She can only take visits in small doses as they tire her out immensely. She refuses to live with my sister or me. She is a very proud woman who doesn't want to bother anyone. She also vividly remembers the day my father's mother just "showed up" to our house and lived with us for 7 years or so. They were the worst years of her life and she doesn't want history to repeat itself. While I understand that, the difference between that situation and ours is that my husband and I are on the same page concerning her and actually WANT her to live with us. This woman has been so sick throughout the years that she didn't make it to my wedding, my vow renewal, or the births of my children. She has only travelled to see us once in the 14 years we have been together and that was while my father was still alive. Now, she is too sickly to really leave her apartment much, but isn't sick enough for assisted living.

At any rate, we showed up to Busia's apartment. Now, she has known for three weeks that we were coming. While I wasn't expecting a baby-proofed living room, I certainly wasn't expecting piles of bills, HUGE scissors, rubber bands and paper clips on the floor and lit candles within easy reach of both kids. Mind you, her desk is PRISTINE. Before I could say, "Hi Mom!" Baby Girl was holding the scissors like Chucky and Peaches was on her back, gnawing a Chapstick. Then my mother decided that since she had a good day, that she should test the limits by wrestling with Baby Girl. After the wrestling match, I helped my mother up and tucked her in on the couch so she could sleep for the night. It was 4:30.

Later, the girls and I checked in to the Hampton Inn outside of town. The girls were exhausted, so I put Peaches in the hotel-issued Pack & Play, and took Baby Girl and some books and walked to the lobby to wait out the screaming fit. I am sure many of you are thinking that I broke at least five laws by leaving her in the room by herself, but I could hear her quite well (as could the employees and people who were checking in) from the lobby, so I knew she was fine. Later, Baby Girl and I went back in the room and whispered stories and fell asleep at around 8:30. The rest of the night proved much more difficult as Peaches HATED the Pack & Play and screamed out every hour on the hour until I put her in bed with me. Then she screamed out every 2 hours. By 5:30 we were up and ready to Rock & Roll.

Long and boring story short, I decided yesterday afternoon that I needed to drive home then instead of tonight so that the girls and I could get some sleep. When we finally got back to Busia's yesterday (at 11AM since she said she was "tired" from the previous 30 minute visit,) I knew that she wouldn't be able to handle us there for very long and I couldn't bear to go back to the hotel. My mother keeps a small footstool near the couch where she sleeps that houses her glasses, remote control, her ashtray and cigarettes, her coffee cup and some medication. While I was in the bathroom, Peaches managed to get into all of it by dumping the ashtray and the remote control into my mother's coffee cup because my mom was too weak to move her. It was time to go home.

So, if you do the math, we had a 10 hour drive and 2 1/2 hours of visiting. I felt really bad about it--especially when I called her this morning at 10:00 AM and she was still asleep. From yesterday afternoon.

Wait Wait! I forgot. I've had to put Baby Girl in time out 5 times today because she repeatedly said the words, "Shit" and "Dammit" all day long, thanks to Busia's potty mouth. Busia also dropped the F-Bomb a couple of times but I don't think baby Girl heard it!

What I Like About My New Tri-State Area

The people have spoken and Hausfrau has listened. It is only fair that I also write about what I am liking about my new home--especially if there is even a REMOTE chance that SoNotMartha and her family are coming to live here. Which they aren't. Mark my words, they will be moving to a certain foreign country that will remain nameless.

At any rate, there is a lot to like about the OH/IN/KY area. I haven't ventured out all that much as I now have two chilluns and just showering and getting to Target is an amazing accomplishment most days. However, I haven't been a complete hermit. Here are some things I like in no particular order.

1. I like my neighborhood. While the people may be quite churchy and are determined to have us joing SOME christian religious establishment, they are all sincerely nice. Except for the people right next door. I think the dude is holding his wife and child hostage. He is the only one who leaves his house and the blinds have NEVER been open in the 6 months we have lived her. At any rate, people take a lot of pride in their lawns and I am relatively certain that we need not worry about an el camino ending up on cinder blocks in someone's driveway, thanks to the powerful Homeowner's Association.

2. I like Jungle Jim's International Market. I mentioned in my previous post that I call it the "Freakshow of Food." It's true. This place is the vision of a guy named Jim (shocker, I'm sure). He had a fruit stand back in the 70's and built it over the years into a more than 200,000 sq. foot store with food from every corner in the world. Need some fufu flour for your plantains? Jungle Jim's got it! Need a smoked pig's head? Aww, yeah--got that too! Apparently people drive hours to go there to get a taste of their homeland. He has been slowly adding on to the place so that there is a Starbucks, and a bunch of other stores and restaurants going in. He is also the largest wine retailer in the state. They have cooking classes, they've got it ALL--including a monorail that he is building around the perimeter o fhis gargantuan building.

3. The Newport Aquarium ROCKS! It is, by far, the best aquarium I have had the fortune to see. The glass tunnels in which fish and sharks swim around and over you as you walk through them are amazing! My favorite section is the Jellyfish Gallery. It looks like a museum room with a tremendous chandalier and the coolest crushed velvet seating in the middle. Around the room are tanks that have gold picture frames, as if the swimming jellyfish are artwork. It has tranquil music piped in and has quite the calming effect.

4. I like Brown County, Indiana. The Northeast has nothing on Brown County when it comes to autumn! Nashville, Indiana is a small artist community that is great to stroll around. The hiking at Brown County State Park is also great.

5. I like Bloomington, Indiana. It's nice only being a couple of hours from my former alma mater, Indiana University. While I try really hard to not appear to be some pathetic old fogey trying to relive my college years (they were the best years of my life), it's hard to not feel nostalgic when we have a beer at Nick's or walk the beautiful campus.

6. I loves me some Skyline Chili. Cincinnati-style chili is unlike any type of chili you'll ever have. The secret to the chili is that it has cinammon in it, among some other secret spices. Sounds strange, but it is dee-licious! And then, as if it couldn't get any better, the chili is put on top of spaghetti and then topped with cheese. That, is called a "three-way" (insert porn music here.) They also have "four-way" and "five-way" but I have no idea what those are.

7. I like Sharon Woods. Cincinnati has an impressive parks system. Sharon Woods is the largest, I believe. I love it the most because it has a shaded playground. Roll your eyes if you must, but I happen to have two of the pastiest children in Ohio. My daughter can't play on our swingset in the backyard unless it's cloudy day. It's worth the 25 minute drive.

8. Finally, I like the fact that every Kroger, Meijer and Target I frequent has a Starbucks in it. Since I am not going to have a chance to go to a freestanding location anytime soon, it's nice to pick up a venti skim latte before I pick up some formula and diapers. Now, if we could just get a Restoration Hardware and an Ikea for Christ Sakes...

Things I Miss About the Tri-State Area

It's hard to believe that we left New Jersey six months ago. We came to the Midwest for several reasons. Being geographically closer to our families was the main priority, although I was expecting we would end up in Chicago. Cincinnati was never on our radar when my husband started interviewing with other companies. But, here we are, and everything is OK. The cost of living here is FANTASTIC. We never would have been able to afford living in New Jersey with two kids, a mortgage and $8K+/year in property tax for a 3 bedroom 1960's rancher with both of us working full time. Hell, we can't even afford to buy BACK our old rancher--even if my husband got a triple promotion to come back.

All in all, we know we have made the right decision in being here. And while I usually had something to complain about when I lived in New Jersey, (who DOESN'T have stuff to complain about in New Jersey--it's what they DO!!!) I have come to really miss some things from the NY/PA/NJ area. These are in no particular order.

1. I miss Wegman's. Wegman's is the Mecca of Grocery Stores. I first learned of Wegman's when we lived in Pittsburgh and I visited SNMartha when she moved to Western New York. Every single time we visited SNMartha and SNMartha's husband, we would get up early before we would head back home, and drive to Wegman's where we would wander the aisles in absolute awe of what a grocery store could be. I had never seen so many beautiful foods and beautiful things in which to cook the beautiful foods. Fortunately, Cincinnati is home of Jungle Jim's which I refer to as the Freakshow of Food. It is equally amazing, so I think I'm going to be OK.

2. I miss Princeton, NJ. We lived 15 minutes from the campus and we were always there. Our daughter started walking in earnest on the campus lawns. She also suffered her first knee scrape there. We miss parking our car on Nassau St. on a beautiful Sunday morning in the spring or autumn and walking from one end of the campus to the other. The shops were quaint, and the Gap and the Banana Republic near the campus ALWAYS had better stuff than the other Gaps in the area (I am easily pleased.) My husband and I had many a beer and meal at Triumph Brewing Company as well.

3. I miss shopping in New York. Who wouldn't? I miss Barney's. It's not like I went there often, but I loved going in there. Pearl River Market in SOHO was one of my favorite stores. I am grateful they have a website so I can continue to buy adorable shoes for my daughters, but it isn't quite the same. Century 21 is a fantastic discount department store. Unfortunately, the website doesn't have shopping on it. I miss Fishs Eddy . Crate and Barrel has nothing on them when it comes to cool dishes! Lastly, I miss Bigelow Chemists. Being a products junkie, my needs were always met (I'm a whore for pretty packaging!). Again, I am glad I can get my Bigelow toner online or at Bath and Body works, but it isn't quite the same!

4. I miss taking the train into the city. I always felt like a kid going on an adventure when I rode the train. Sure, there were drunks and the occasional smelly person riding it, but that was half the fun! I especially loved riding the train during morning rush hour and watching men shave while reading the paper and the women applying their war paint.

5. I miss the subway. I remember first riding the subway as a kid when I would come to New York to stay with my cousin in the summer. I felt so overwhelmed by the people, the oppressive heat and the smells, but I loved every minute of it.

6. I miss Manville, NJ. If any of you are from New Jersey, you might be scratching your head on this one. Manville was named after the Johns-Manville Company, which manufactured asbestos products there. May not sound so great, but the plant closed many years ago and it is cleaned up. What I miss about Manville was the three Polish grocery stores. I didn't have to suffer through Mrs. T's pierogies and Hillshire Farms smoked sausage because I could get my share of REAL Polish Food. Spending holidays in New Jersey without my family was bearable because of that food!

7. I miss my old backyard and my pool. Sure, the 30 deer in my backyard, complete with their shit was annoying, but it was a small price to pay.

8. I miss the Short Hills Mall. That is a locale that is PRIME for people watching. I was never there when there wasn't a miniature doggie or two wearing diamond tiaras, their owners also bejeweled and coiffed. My husband and I definitely brought the income level demographic down when we went there, but it was great fun.

9. I miss Lambertville, NJ/New Hope, PA. These two quaint towns are seperated by the Delaware River. Both towns possess fantastic little restaurants, eclectic shops and pricey antique stores. Walking around there was a great way we spent many a Sunday afternoon.

10. I miss Thai Chef Restaurant in Somerville, NJ. Somerville was home to three Thai restaurants, which was unusual considering the town's size. The pad thai and the spring rolls ROCKED, as did their sushi (yes, I said sushi.)

11. I miss Mrs. Chow's in Montgomery, NJ. I am a creature of habit when it comes to eating Chinese Food. I eat Crab Rangoon with Cashew Chicken or Pepper Beef. That's it. Mrs. Chow's ALWAYS made my Cashew Chicken the way I like it--with Cashews and Chicken. That's it. Most Chinese restaurants would sneak a veggie into it, but they don't. My meal always contained equal amounts of cashews and chicken. YUM!

12. I miss Michelle Lorie's Cheescakes in Trenton. It was worth it to drive through the hood for these cheesecakes. My friend Nicole turned me on to them and I found my car frequently veering in the direction of that bakery. They were probably the best cheescakes I have ever eaten.

There are so many other things I miss, like the Staten Island Ferry and Central Park (saw a great Wilco concert there.) If you are ever in the NJ/NY/PA area and spot any of these places, stop by and tell em Hausfrau sent ya!!!

The Relatives Are Coming! The Relatives Are Coming!

I have come to realize that there are different types of house cleaning. There is the typical cleaning one does to their home on a periodic/weekly/monthly basis, where all of the things in the center of a room are cleaned and general pick-up takes place. Everything that doesn't have a place gets thrown in the closet. There is the type of cleaning one does when friends are coming to stay a night or two where it is a little more involved. A window might get washed, slipcovers may get washed since one of the friends is allergic to dogs, etc. And, again, things that don't have a place get thrown in a closet. Then there is the kind of cleaning one does when family comes to visit.

My Aunt and Uncle are coming to stay for a few days. I love them a lot and I am thrilled that they are coming to see us. My family is quite small and dying. Those of us who are around are all over the country and we are not at all close. Unless it's a funeral, we don't see each other. I think the last time I saw my Aunt and Uncle was 2 1/2 years ago when my daughter was christened. Someone in the family came up with the bright idea of combining my daughter's baptism weekend with a memorial service for my deceased grandmother, whose burial plot was finally getting a gravestone. To be honest, I wouldn't recognize my younger cousins if they came up to me on a street and TOLD me that we were related. Sad, but true.

At any rate, my Aunt and Uncle are coming! I must clean!

Now, we have only lived in this house for six months and the house itself is only three years old. How dirty could it be? WELL, it is. Two children, two perpetually shedding dogs and a husband create the perfect recipe for filth. But I am also scrubbing things that I didn't think I would scrub until spring, like the blinds that I cleaned the month we moved in (they were GROSS), the baseboards, the kitchen cabinets (I've managed to have coffee or worse drip down on every cabinet. WTF?!) I don't know what I am going through all this work to impress them. I don't do it for my mother-in-law now that we are two hours apart, but I did used to clean like a Banshee when we were 4 states away. What's worse, I am organizing closets. Hadn't planned on it. But I am. Let's be honest, a friend wouldn't go poking around in closets, bathroom cabinets or desk drawers. You know your family will.

I called my Mom to find out what my Aunt and Uncle's eating habits were because they told me that they didn't want us going to any trouble for them. My Mom informed me that they eat breakfast at precisely 8AM, eat a snack (coffee cake or sweets) at 10AM, eat lunch precisely at Noon, eat more sweets at 2PM, eat dinner at 5PM on the nose (they are in their 60's), and then they eat ice cream in the evening. She also told me that my aunt is a very picky eater and will probably not like anything I make. Fabulous. I will work on plying her with candy, brownies and apple cake for the duration of her visit.

I am trying to plan a reasonable amount of things to do without taxing my Uncle as lots of walking is very painful for him due to circulation problems. However, there is only so much "visiting" I can take. Especially when I know that 95% of the conversation is going to be about my mother and how I need to take charge of her life, kidnap her and force her to live with me since she isn't doing such a hot job taking care of herself or her affairs. I am currently compiling a list of topics that I can use when the conversation goes to politics, religion or my mother. Any suggestions are welcome.

Well, I'm off to polish the silver!!!

Eight Months Old!!

I cannot believe you are 8 months old today. It seems like it was yesterday that I was in a hospital bed, hanging out, reading magazines and waiting for the Pitosin to kick in. So much has happened since then!

I've Been Tagged

Hmmm, M&Co. tagged me. I haven't been tagged in years!

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

Oh, yeah--The skies are going to open up ANY MINUTE and rain like it has never rained before.

Well, I am so late in actually doing this so I won't be tagging anyone. Feel free to do it if you like!

Live, Nude Girl

My daughter has spent a large percentage of the summer naked. There have been days when she started off with no clothes and eventually put something on. Other days, she would start off clothed and gradually removed every stitch. I haven't been too concerned. I remember my friend Jen's daughter Anna liked being naked around that age and she outgrew it. Baby Girl has only streaked in the front yard once and I caught her before the neighbors could pick up the phone and report us. She is happy to wear clothes to go outside or go shopping, so it isn't as though she has dropped trou at Kroger. If anything, it makes the whole potty training thing easier because I am not wrestling her to get her jeans and diapers off in time for her to go. It is also saving a little bit of laundry which is always a huge help. She loves being naked and I love that she isn't hung up on her body. There will be plenty of time for that.

My husband, however, is another story. I noticed lately that he comes home, sees her naked and tells her to put some clothes on. She always obeys, and she goes back to what she is doing. We have a rule that we don't contradict the other parent in front of the kids, so I keep meaning to talk to him about it, but I forget as there are thousands of other random thoughts swirling around my head at any given moment.

Last night, my husband came home for a half hour before having to go back out for a dinner. Baby Girl had been naked the entire day with the exception of the diaper she wore during her nap. He saw her dancing naked in the front of the television and had a distressed look on his face.

"Hey, will you talk to some of your friends and find out if they have problems with their daughters being naked all the time?"

I just sort of looked at him.

"Honey, kids do this all the time. It's just a phase. She likes wearing dresses as much as she likes being naked. It's no biggie."

He just sort of shook his head and walked away. I wanted to talk more, but Peaches was chewing on an extension cord, so I had to tend to her and he left for his dinner.

I've decided to sit down and talk about it tonight and try to put his fears to rest. At first, I thought he might be grossed out by the thought of her rolling around on furniture naked (which I don't let her do.) But I quickly realized that wasn't the problem because he asked me to find out if our friend's DAUGHTERS do the same thing. He thinks she is going to leave home at 16, work a stint at the Shake Shack and then move on to a career in porn.

It's good that he cares. His concern will come in quite handy when she tries to get away with wearing one of her friend's hoopie outfits when she gets older. But in the meantime, I hope to help him to relax about the whole thing. Besides, it's going to get cold soon--she'll get dressed. We may have a nudist, but she's no dummy.

Thanksgiving anyone?

Since going back on Weight Watchers, I have really come to appreciate the foods I desperately miss, as I am currently on my diet of vegetables, diet coke and oxygen. That said, there are only 60ish days until Thanksgiving, so I haven't a moment to lose! Let's plan!!!!

See, I am an Irish Girl, adopted into a Polish Family. As an honoray Polack, I HAVE to be able to cook, or they might think there is something seriously wrong with me (I just KNEW there was something that wasnt right with her...") Easter and Christmas Eve Dinners are critical for proving one's worthiness in a Polish Family. While I love making pierogies, mushroom soup, kluski, haluski, etc, I LIVE FOR THANKSGIVING!

This Thanksgiving is going to be a drastic change for me. My husband and I have managed to get out of having Thanksgiving with our relatives for 12 years. The reason? We got married the day before Thanksgiving and we have always insisted that we go away for our anniversary. It didn't matter that Thanksgiving is a different day every year. It was just understood and no one gave us grief for it. Instead, we have had the good fortune of having Thanksgiving with various friends all these years. And it has been AWESOME! No stress, no family fistfights. Just lots of drinking, eating, laughing and belching. We have enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner in our various apartments, our friends' home in Virginia, a cabin in Pennsylvania, a cabin with a hot tub in Maryland, you get the picture. This year, my husband has decided that it would be rude if we didn't invite his family here since we live only two hours away from them.

WHOA.

It's not that I don't like his family--quite the opposite. It's just that it's going to be weird. I now suddenly worry that my food will be deemed too fancy because it isn't out of a can (except for the canned cranberry sauce--yum!). Whenever we have hosted Thanksgiving, I have always gotten in touch with friends to go over the menu. I have always felt it is important to have dishes that they love in addition to my own. "Mashed potatoes with parsnips you said? Sounds great. I will make those plus MY kind with cream cheese, garlic and heavy whipping cream!" or "Pumpkin pie? Certainly. I will also make two of my sweet potato bourbon pies..." If the food item was something they wanted to prepare themselves, so much the better! I think the bottom line is that I am a Thanksgiving control freak. I want everything to go well, but I ultimately want it to go my way.

A Husband's Family Thanksgiving also means little drinking because it isn't appreciated (unlike a holiday with my mother in which her morning coffee is spiked with bourbon at 5AM.) I am ashamed to admit that I don't think I have actually been completely sober for the past 12 Thanksgivings (except for the 2 in which I was pregnant and all bitched-up). Those dinners are some of the best I have ever eaten. What if they were actually figments of my drunken imagination and my food really tastes like dog crap? What if last year's Organically Fed Free Range Turkey wasn't as succulent as I remember, but because I was pregnant, my hormones led me to believe that it WASN'T cardboard? Now what do I do?

It just seems to early to get hives on my chest over a silly meal. But they're there.

I am off to do some reconnaissance work. I saw that there is a turkey farm down the road and I want to find the best one before someone else gets it. Tonight, I will start planning my menu...

The "F" Word Pity Party

Today, I admit defeat. I have failed miserably. I have managed to completely lose all control in my life and I am not sure how to get it back.

It all started when I had to call my boss and tell her that I cannot do my "So Easy a Monkey Could do it From My Home Office" job for awhile. I felt like a fool. My "Oh My God You're Paying Me Too Much Money" job is a sweet gig that allows me to work a few hours a week from home, based on projects my old employer from New Jersey might have. I can make the same money I did in New Jersey (I would make 1/2 of that here. AND I would have to commute, pay for daycare, etc.) However, I have not been very good at it because of the children. There, I said it. It is all their fault.

I am a recruiter by trade. I like what I do, I think I do a fairly decent job of it most of the time. I just had no idea how difficult a job such as recruiting can be when one has two children who make sure to scream EVERY SINGLE TIME I AM ON THE PHONE. There are only so many times one can apologize to a prospective candidate for a screaming child. They are always very nice, but it does get annoying. Especially for recent college graduates. I am trying to relate to them as a recruiter. It's a little hard to do that when they can hear, "Mommy, I go poopie in my panties. Get off the phone and change me."

Unfortunately, it isn't as simple as moving to another room. They just follow me. If I close a door, Baby Girl beats it down. If I work during naptime, I can still hear them on the second floor as the acoustics are FABULOUS in my house. What is even worse is that I can hear them scream even louder when I am in the basement. And they sleep on the second floor. If I am posting jobs online, Baby Girl comes in and tries to type on the keyboard and play with the mouse. A gentle nudging out the door doesn't do it. I have to forcibly drag her out of the room, and then she hauls off and hits me. Then the real fun begins. I haul her up the stairs and throw her (sort of) into her room and shut the door. Bloodcurdling screaming then begins from not just one child, but the baby too! But, I can't find the baby. That's because she is under the desk pulling all of the cords out of the surge protector and now the computer is off. Doing the work at night is not an option right now as my daughter has decided to be afraid of the dark and scream at the top of her lungs for up to 2 hours a night. What was once a fun job that put a few shekels in my pocket and made me feel like I DID something is something I can't even manage. Fortunately, my boss is terrified of children and could hear my daughter say, "Mommy, I bite Peaches. Hard," when we were on the phone today. She told me to call her when I feel that things are holding up well enough for me to come back. She is wonderful, but I am mortified.

But it doesn't just stop there. I have found that I can't manage to keep the checkbook balanced. How hard is that?! According to my calculations, we are -$45 until my husband gets paid tomorrow. According to the bank, we have boatloads of dough. WTF?! Sure, a good problem to have perhaps, but a problem nonetheless. Because I have the attention span of a gnat, I can't figure out my mistake. I am ruining dinners I used to make all the time, I have managed to ruin several loads of whites of late. I am going to the gym at 5 fucking 45 AM every Monday, Wednesday and Friday and not dropping a pound. I can't keep the house clean and I can't make my kids consistently happy. I feel as though I have no abilities to do anything productive except yell at my kids and I have no passion left in me for anything except the occasional television show. The most exciting thing that happened yesterday was that I found out that Scott Baio is going to be on Arrested Development as the Attorney Bob Loblaw. Just so you are aware, Scott Baio is going to be my third husband, should I dump the one I have and then dump my second husband, John Cusack. Say Bob Loblaw three times really fast and you will see why Arrested Development is one of the funniest shows ever. See what I mean? I am excited about a STUPID television show and nothing else. I need to make real friends here, but I really don't want to. I like the ones I have. I realize that isn't practical, but it's just how I feel. Unfortunately, my friends are a minimum of 4 1/2 hours away and as far away as 18 hours away, so it isn't like I can just hop in the car and go see them when I need to get some fresh air.

I'm not really looking for advice, I just want to put this out there so that in a week, or a month or a year I can read this and chide myself for being such a self-absorbed jackass.

A Present!!!

Thursday, Baby Girl and I went to get the mail. When we opened the front door, a package was on our porch.

"What is it, Mommy? Is it a present for me?"

"Well, Sweetie, the box is addressed to me, so it might be for someone else in the house."

Secretly, I know darn well that the box is for Baby Girl. I just don't want her to go through life thinking that every box that comes to the house is for her. Which, in fact, they have been since December of 2002. The box was from my friend Erin , who is an Acting Coach and Director Extraordinaire. I admire her talents (many) and her wit (sharp) and her ability to be a snake charmer with children. While Erin is perfectly suited in her field, I could just as easily envision her opening up "Auntie Erin's Fabulous Daycare." The rooms would all be purple with stars on the walls, and there would be entire rooms with dress-up clothes for make believe. She would have incredble productions of Hamlet or Carousel or Spamalot performed by 2 and 3 year olds and they would be the talk of the town. I have a feeling that if I had 1/8th of Erin's abilities, my child would never be bored with me.

Once I got the box open, there was a cute little bunny for Peaches and a FABULOUS unicorn get-up for Baby Girl. She insisted on immediately wearing it and screamed, "I'M A HORSIE! I AM A HORSIE!" After I explained to her the differences between a unicorn and a horse, she informed me that her name was Dora (of course) and she was a unicorn and was going to go have some adventures. She spent all day wearing it and enjoyed prancing around.

She was quite proud and couldn't wait to show it to Daddy when he got home. She has since worn it to two banks, the grocery store, and Old Navy. She also insisted on wearing it when we took Peaches to the doctor, but opted at the last minute to remove it before going in. Her favorite way of wearing it is in the buff. That in of itself is not so surprising since she is now our resident Lady Godiva. The thank you card cannot be getting to Erin fast enough!!!!

Potty Training Part Deux

Well, the potty training is moving right along. I have reduced the number of M&M's to four per pee and make Baby Girl sit on the potty quite a while so that she is not eating an entire daily diet of M&Ms. She got mad when I initially told her she gets 4 instead of 5. Now, I tell her she gets "Quatro" instead of "four" and she is PSYCHED! She has had no pee accidents since the weekend, so I think that's good.

Here's the dilemna: I think I have totally freaked her out about pooping. The last time she pooped in her pants (Monday) it was, by far, the worst ever! I MAY have freaked out a little bit. Not much, but I think she is now afraid to poop. And it is all my fault. Baby Girl eats a lot of fruit every day, so I am quite surprised that she hasn't done the deed since Monday. She has always been a regular child, if you know what I mean. I have asked her if she needs to go but she always says no.

A friend of mine suggested that I go to the Dollar Store and buy a bunch of 6 for $1 toys, wrap them in tissue paper and put them in a bowl. Then, everytime she poops on the potty, she will get one. The idea is that she gets excited about the surprise and it will eventually steer her away from food rewards. Well, I don't need to go to the Dollar Store. When we moved here, we kept half of her toys in the basement because I thought she had way too much stuff. I figure I will find all the small stuff and wrap it up. She has long forgotten these toys anyway.

I thought I would pump her up this morning about the whole pooping thing. I need to leave the house this morning as we haven't left since Sunday and I just KNOW that if there is pooping to occur, it WILL be at the Super Target.

"Hey Baby Girl, do you need to go poop on the potty?"

"No thank you, Mommy."

"Well, guess what, when you poop on the potty, you are going to get a surprise!"

"A SURPRISE?!?!?! Is it candy?"

"No."

"Is it applesauce?"

"No."

"Is it PUDDING?"

"No."

"Is it butter? I love butter!"

Monday Bitch and Moan

I need to spend a couple of minutes whining about how horrible potty training is. I read all the books and have read other people's blogs and have been so excited about the wonderful ideas presented. That is, until I have tried to incorporate them in my home.

After weeks of offering dolls, tatoos, stickers, candy, juice, a pony and a car I finally just shut off the television. I told my daughter that if she peed on the potty she would get 5 M&Ms and could watch some TV. The first few days SUUUUUUCKED, particularly in the mornings. Because she had no television to watch, she suddenly thought I would be her sole source of entertainment. Au Contraire, mon Frere! However, the lightbulb has popped on and she is all about peeing in order to suck down some M&Ms and watch her Noggin. She has also gotten quite sly. She will pee 3 drops and demand her M&Ms and then go back 4-5 more times in 10 minutes. I have now reduced her amount of M&Ms to 4 per pee which has made her quite annoyed, but still fairly compliant.

I am still offering her exciting prizes if she poops on the potty, but she will have none of it. She is also crapping in her panties and NOT TELLING ME. My favorite is when she flat out denies it. I thought I would be saving money on baby wipes while she potty trains, but I am using no less than 40 when she poops the panties. Ugggghhhhh. What is really hilarious is that my husband has no concept of what it is like to change poopy panties as opposed to a poopy diaper. He practically fainted yesterday when I asked him to rinse out a pair of poop-stained underwear and then throw it in a bleach bucket I have in the mud room. AND THERE WAS HARDLY ANYTHING ON THEM!! I had already done the gross part. Sheesh!

Other than that, there is nothing new to report. Sunday we went to Kings Island which is a huge amusement park here in Cincinnati. They had it open this weekend for the company my husband works for which was quite nice. It is truly amazing all the crap one packs just to go on a day trip for two little girls. The backpack had diapers, wipes, extra panties for Baby Girl(the whole potty training crap), extra clothes for Baby Girl (should she shit herself and all), raisins, formula, two bottles, water, crackers, something with peanut butter (in case Baby Girl experiences a protein crash), crayons and paper for the 20 minute drive, sunscreen, two hats, and M&Ms (in case Baby Girl pees on a public potty). I distinctly remember my mom bringing nothing but bologna sandwiches, apples and the back of her hand whenever we went anywhere. Oh how times have changed.

I'm done bitching now. Move along.

A Sure Sign That That My Internet Shopping and EBaying Must Stop

My daughter and I were in the playroom this morning putting together puzzles when we realized there were many pieces missing. She got on her telephone and said the following:

"Hello, Brown Man. We missin loffa loffa puzzo pieces. Can you bring some in your twuck? OK Bye."

Under the Category "I Can't Even Make This Stuff Up"

So, I just got off the phone with the Eagle Tee Golf Course. My Husband dropped his golf clubs off at the clubhouse last night after he hit a bucket of balls.


"Yeah, Ma'am?" I just wanted to let you know that your husband's golf bag is full of cow shit in the bottom of it." NOTE: This is a DIRECT QUOTE!

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah. It's full of cow shit so we have it outside on account that it smells so bad."

At this point, I am laughing out of sheer embarassment and wonder.

"Um, do you mean it's on the bottom of the bag?"

"NO. It's INSIDE the bag. Do you live on a farm of somethin'?"

"Uh, no." (More embarassed laughter) "We certainly DON'T live on a farm. Don't you think it would be a bit difficult for a cow to do that in a golf bag?"

"Well, Ma'am, I'm just calling to let you know that it smells bad."

"I'll be sure to let my husband know."

On Being Pretty-ful

I took this picture of my daughter this morning after she yelled, "I'm pretty-ful!" I wanted to capture this moment of happiness for her.

When she announced that she was pretty-ful I have to admit, I got a little teary. I am so proud to have a daughter who has a lot of sass and confidence. While she is certainly a handful most days, it is my hope that this confidence will prevail during the really tough teenage years and continue through adulthood . I am also somewhat envious of her confidence. I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't filled with some sort of self-doubt and loathing for some feature or aspect of myself that I possess. I would imagine I had it when I was her age.

All Aboard!

Well, I have come down from my vacation high and am back at my job as conductor of the crazy train. So far, Baby Girl hasn't noticed that she is not going to school anymore. It probably helps that I have no intentions of driving past the school for the next six months. We'll see how that goes.

Vacation was an absolute blast. This was the first year in the four years we have gone to the shore that it didn't rain once and it wasn't 300 degrees. The kids had a wonderful time, I got to see my friends' new BEEEYOUTIFUL baby and my husband came out ahead playing poker. I even got some errands done while I was there. For starters, I was in need of a pedicure, so my girlfriends and I went out for an afternoon of pampering. We did the same thing last year and had a wonderful time. What's not to like when one is sitting in the "Princess 2000" Pedicure Lounger with feet soaking in herbal infused warm water and reading magazines?! Ahhhhh. I even had the same woman do my feet as last year (not that she remembered). The reason I remember is that she is a dead ringer for Carmella Soprano--no shit. I have been so tempted over the past two summers to ask her if she is related to Edie Falco, but I am too afraid. I mean, what if she is her sister and is BITTER that she's not making the big bucks instead of sloughing 4 inches of callouses off of my gnarly dogs? It's better not to know.

I am a creature of habit with my pedicures. This means that I only like French Pedicures. So, I handed Carmella the white polish and happily opened my magazine. We shared a few pleasantries here and there, but for the most part, I was enjoying my magazine. It wasn't until she was done that I realized my mistake:

No, those aren't Chicklets glued to my toes. That is the polish. I am so used to going to salons where English is the 3rd or 4th language, that when you hand a person white nail polish, you are going to get a french pedicure. I didn't think I had to actually TELL her that I wanted one. My mistake. However, I didn't have time to have her change it because I had a haircut scheduled upstairs. So I ran upstairs to get a haircut while my girlfriends sat on their "Princess 2000" loungers waiting for their toes to dry.

There is nothing quite like a scalp massage by the shampoo girl at a salon. I have never been able to replicate it on myself, so I always enjoy it when someone else washes my hair. After that was done, I was directed to "Katie's chair." Katie took me by surprise. She was quite loud, messy and wore fake Ugg boots with her too tight denim mini skirt. I have learned to not judge a book by it's cover, so I sat back, preparing to be dazzled.

Instead, I heard "OH MY GOD! DID YOU KNOW YOU HAVE SEVERE PSORIASIS ON YOUR SCALP?!?!?"

At that moment, time stood still in the salon. Sure, I had noticed a couple of flakes here and there over the past few weeks, but I thought it was dandruff and I was using all kinds of fancy products to get rid of it. Because she was combing my scalp off, GOBS and GOBS of flakes were on the top of my head. Everyone around her stopped what they were doing and turned around. I tried to sink lower in my chair, but it didn't matter. The damage was done.

"You need to go see a dermatologist right away to get rid of this!' Oh God, look at it! Look at how it is collecting on my comb. See it? SEE IT?!"

"Wow! It's pretty unusual to have psoriasis on your crown. Usually it is on the back side of your head. WOW!"

I couldn't believe that my friends downstairs couldn't hear her shrieking about my flakes. I wanted to die. Keep in mind, all of this happened before she even asked me what I wanted done. I told her to just cut up to my longest layer, which took her two minutes. What was even worse was that she refused to blow dry my hair because that would make it worse. Hmmm, what's worse, exactly...parading through a very busy salon to get my friends from the first floor with flakes the size of dimes on my wet head or blowing my head dry and letting me deal with my problem later while I still had a shred of dignity? Needless to say, I ran downstairs and said to my friends, "Can we please go NOW?!" Thankfully, we ran to the nearest bar and had drinks and I soon forgot about my hair trauma.

Oh, yeah. Enough about me for a minute. Here are pictures of the girls at the beach.



















OK, now back to me! I have a date tomorrow night with my husband!!!! YIPPEE! We have not had an evening without children since the week before Peaches was born 7 months ago. I have secured a sitter and we will be going someplace fabulous.

Here is the problem with going someplace fabulous. I have nothing fabulous to wear. My wardrobe is solely from the Target/Old Navy Spitup Collection and I haven't the ability nor patience to buy something nice. Oh yeah, did I mention that I am a virtual WHALE from living la vida loca while at the beach?! A trip to a store would reduce me to tears for sure! I should probably cancel the reservation and convince my husband that going to Skyline Chili or Denny's will be just the ticket for our romatic night out.

The bigger problem is trying to figure out what we will talk about. We haven't had a meaningful discussion in months that wasn't interrupted by:
"Iwantdinner.Franklin'sonnext. Scoo Mee Mommy, I poopied. Iwantdinner. Iwantagooutsideandslide/swing. Iwantapaint." See my dilemna?

I am taking suggestions for interesting topics for Husband and I to discuss while eating. Please feel free to give me some ideas. I prefer that they not pertain to our children, our finances, sports, Katrina or the food we are eating.

Thanks for your help!!!

Vacation Confessional

"Forgive me Weight Watchers Counselor, but I have eaten," I whispered.

"Go on my chubby child," she gently prodded.

"I, uh, gained some weight while I was on vacation at the shore," I confessed.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, just pick yourself up and start again!" she cried.

"Well," I sighed, "it seems that I gained six pounds."

"SIX POUNDS?!?!?" she bellowed. "Holy guacomole! How is it possible that you gained nearly a pound a day on your vacation?!"

"Well, it's not like I meant to gain that weight, Sister Skinnypants. It just, um, happened," I stammered.

"You are full of beans. Or maybe lard! Were you lying down the entire 8 days or did you indulge in ANY physical activity?" she asked.

"Oh, I was totally active!!! I walked up a huge dune to get to the beach a couple of times and schlepped a bunch of crap and my kids, so I guess that counts. "

"Anything else?"

I did LOTS of 12 oz. curls and I got a pedicure and a haircut! Oh, yeah--I went shopping too!" I exclaimed.

"What a bunch of Poppycock! That isn't much exercise! Surely you did something else?!"

"Uh, I guess not."

"I'm assuming you used your 35 weekly bonus points, then?" she asked.

"I believe I used my weekly 35 bonus points each of the 8 days, so I don't think I can use any for the next couple of months, right?" I asked.

"That would be correct! Pray tell, how much food did you EAT?!"

"Well, Your Most Holy Thinness, I thought I started off the vacation OK, but we were staying in a house with 6 other people and there were things there that I normally don't eat."

"Like what?" she queried.

"For starters, there were Pringles there. Plain. Yummy. Pringles," I said.

"Did you forget that they make reduced fat Pringles?" she asked.

"Not at all! As a matter of fact, when I did the grocery shopping with my friends, I even bought a can. But when it came time for me to eat them, they were gone. I think someone accidently ate them."

"Well, a few Pringles does not 6 pounds make. What else happened last week?"

"One night, Stevo made steaks as big as our heads, but I only ate half of one, so I guess that isn't so bad. I had sauteed scallops and shrimp too! The men in the house also prepared breakfast meats every morning like Taylor Pork Roll and bacon." I said, salivating at the memory.

"What is a Taylor Pork Roll?" she asked.

"Well, it's a favorite in Philly and New Jersey. It's a pork product of sorts that is quite yummy. I have never actually looked at the label because I didn't want to not enjoy it," I confessed.

"I see. Well, what else did you eat to put on that kind of weight?"

"Well, I will confess that my downfall was the sweets. Normally, I am not a big sweets person, but I throw it all away when I stay with these guys at the beach house. I ate Hershey Bars and Devil Dogs and Yodels and Funny Bones and Kandy Kakes --"

"What on Earth are you talking about?" she asked, horrified. "Didn't you remember the Weight Watcher Credo, "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels? Didn't you keep a sandwich bag of carrots or broccoli with you at all times? What about Rice Cakes or a fat free yogurt?! Did you lose your mind?"

"Are ya kiddin' me? Have you ever TASTED a Devil Dog or a Funny Bone? You would have lost your mind too!" I huffed. "Don't even get me started on the ice cream!"

"Am I to assume that you didn't eat your Weight Watcher 2 point ice cream treats or a Skinny Cow ice cream bar?" she asked.

"I am embarrased to say that you assume correctly. I ate nearly an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Karamel Sutra in addition to other flavors of ice cream almost every evening.

"Did a fruit or vegetable even touch your lips the entire time you were on vacation?"

"Do potato chips or ketchup count?" I queried.

"Hardly!" she yelled.

What is my penance, oh Savior of the Salad Bar?" I trembled.

"Well, Husky Hausfrau, you need to injest 20 2-liters of seltzer water and about 10 lbs. of carrots before you are back to your old self. See that this doesn't happen again!"

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied.

Have a great week!" she trilled.

Reality Kicked My Ass

Absolutely nothing funny or mildly amusing happened today. Don't get me wrong--the kids were great and I got work done around the house, but I watched way too much hurricane coverage on television. And cried. I then checked in with a friend of mine who just moved to Birmingham, AL and has family in New Orleans. She wrote back to say that her sister-in-law and her children are on their way up to stay with them indefinitely. They have no idea if they even have a house to go back to. Her in-laws both work in different hospitals in the New Orleans area. They also don't know if they have a home left. They are both at their hospitals working and trying to salvage what they can. The ex-brother in-law and his new family have not been heard from since Sunday and they are very worried. I then tried to get through to some friends who live in Gulfport, MS but the phones have been down so there is no way to know how they are. Jeff is in the Coast Guard so I would imagine that he is up to his hairline in search and rescue.

I went online and sent a donation and cried some more after I saw footage of children on the balcony of an apartment needing to be rescued. This time, Baby Girl caught me crying and became very upset. She has only seen me cry one other time and I doubt she remembers it. It was about a week before Peaches was born. The cleaning lady had not been gone 15 minutes when I discovered white footprints throughout the house. I followed them to the nursery where I found her "cooking" with all of the baby products we had received as gifts. There was a huge pile of paste on the floor comprised of baby powder, balmex, baby oil, baby lotion and baby bath gel. She claimed she was making pizza. I started to sob hysterically because I had just spent $75 for Agathe to clean my house.

After Baby Girl caught me crying today, she started to cry because I scared her. I then tried to explain that there was a big storm and lots of rain and wind, and then I realized-- she is 2 1/2--I'm going to scare her even more. I changed the subject by offering her Scooby Snacks and all was well. Later as I was fixing dinner the local news indicated that my county's Sheriff's Department had semi trucks 15 minutes from my house and they were taking donations and driving them to Mississippi. So I packed up the girls and went to Kroger and bought as much drinking water, diapers and baby wipes that would fit in the back of my Xterra and took it to the hurricane relief site. I explained to Baby Girl that there were babies far away that needed help and that they needed diapers and water. While she seemed to understand, she didn't seem upset, which was good. She was very excited at the prospect of seeing Police Officers.

So, for a couple of minutes I felt a little better. The television is off for the rest of the day.

The Calm Before the Storm

Today is a sad day for me. It really shouldn't be, but it is. Today is the last day Baby Girl will be in daycare. It is a day I knew would eventually come, but I hoped it never would.

Anyone who reads my blog knows that I love my girls. I worked full time 6 weeks after Baby Girl was born (fear of Corporate Employer firing me--another story, another day). At any rate, Baby Girl has been in daycare since she was a wee one. Even after I left Corporate Employer and started working part time for Nice Employer, she was in daycare three days a week. After the birth of Peaches, we figured we should keep her schedule for a couple of reasons. We had just rocked her world with the new sister AND we were moving across country a couple of months later and we didn't want her to think we were pulling out the rug from under her. After we moved to Ohio, we decided that she still should go three days a week here.

Baby Girl has really flourished. She adores going to "school" and seeing her teachers, "Miss Amanda and Miss Sara." She talks about her friends and sings all kinds of songs in English and Spanish. Her time at daycare has allowed me to bond with Peaches, which has been wonderful.

There are just two problems. Number One, daycare is expensive. Since I am no longer bringing in the dough I used to, this daycare scenario has been an expensive luxury. While I have been so grateful to be able to do it, I would much rather use this money to fund other things, like college funds and my mutual fund. The other problem is that Baby Girl is completely incapable of playing by herself. I am certain that daycare has something to do with this. She is stimulated and played with for 7-9 straight hours every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. The days she is home with me are REALLY TOUGH. She doesn't care that I have work to do or another baby to care for. She is constantly wanting me to play with her and flies off the handle if I have to say no. While I certainly love playing with her, I don't feel that it is my sole duty to be her constant entertainer. I am hoping that by being home full time, she will eventually learn to entertain herself. I also know that eventually the girls will learn to play together(or fight) once Peaches gets a little older.

So, I put a pretty dress on Baby Girl this morning and took her to school with Peaches in tow. I said goodbye to Miss Amanda, who started to cry. Baby Girl, of course has no idea what is going on. All she knows is that Mommy brought cupcakes to school and she is going to have them for morning snack. Later this morning, Peaches and I are going to enjoy our last day of "freedom" by going to the mall--something we have not done alone in a long time.

I guess starting tomorrow, I'll have to be a real full time parent like most everyone else.

While You Were Out

Dear Husband,

I am hoping that you are well and enjoying your conference. Things here are going fairly well, but I wanted to give you a rundown of a couple of things you have missed since Saturday since I am sure I will forget to tell you this when you get home late late Thursday.

Peaches cut her first tooth. Figures, doesn't it? She's only been teething for 3 months. She wouldn't allow me to take a photo of her mouth, so you are just going to have to trust me that the tooth is indeed in her mouth.









Baby Girl is under the impression that she lives in a Nudist Colony. While she will agree to wear a "pretty dress" out in public, she refused all clothing and diapers when at home Saturday and Sunday. You would think that this is a great sign for the ol' potty training. Not so much. She did agree to wear underwear this morning for a brief period of time as seen here.

Oh, right--the mess in the living room. Bet you're curious about that. I have decided that I am not going to clean it up until we leave for vacation on Friday. Baby Girl has decided to go on strike, so I am following suit. The rest of the house is spotless. No, really it is.

Peaches has a rug burn on her belly. No, it isn't from crawling. I happened to see Baby Girl grabbing Peaches by the ankles and dragging her across the livingroom yesterday afternoon. I could also hear Baby Girl muttering, "Dammit Peaches, stop touching that. I don't like that." I was laughing too hard at the spectacle to actually step in and parent. Mea Culpa.

I didn't get much sleep last night. It wasn't because of Peaches--she slept until 5:30. Rather, I let my imagination take over when I tried to sleep and I suddenly had it in my head that I was going to have a stroke or a heart attack in my sleep and die, and then no one would find us until Thursday because that is when your mother is coming, but then she won't be able to get in the house because we keep forgetting to give her a key. I thought that I would feel better if I let the dogs sleep with me, but I thought better of it. I've heard that your pet will eat you if you die. When I relayed this to So Not Martha she told me that I should probably speak to her psychiatrist husband and that she'll make sure he calls me tonight. She did say she now feels so much better about her own irrational thoughts because hers aren't nearly as twisted. I guess that's something.

Baby Girl has spent the better part of Monday Morning announcing at full volume, "ALL ABOARD THE CRAZY TRAIN. CHOO CHOO!!!!" Keep in mind she is buck naked.

We had a very succesful shopping trip at Target on Monday. Baby Girl wore panties and didn't pee or poo in them while we were out. She did, however, take a fancy to the cashier so she lifted her dress, twirled her nipples and said "I'm wearing panties." Just what a pimply-faced 19 year old wants to see. I guess she has moved on from doing her floor shows exclusively for her Godfather Jeff.



Oh, Oh--I am saving the best news for last. I got some very exciting news this morning. Apparently, we are going to be RICH!!!!!!! See the email I got below from our newest best friend--Edward James!!!

Date:	Mon, 29 Aug 2005 16:43:12 +0300
From:	"edward james"
Subject:	Dear Hopkins,

Dear Hopkins,

I am Mr.Edward James, I work with the Standard Credit Union Bank Abidjan Cote d'ivoire as an account officer in the Treasury/Credit Control Unit. I came to know you in privatesearch for a reliable and reputable person to handle this confidential transaction,which involve the transfer of a huge sum of money into a foriegn accountrequiring maximum confidence.

THE NATURE OF THE PROPOSITION/TRANSACTION:

A foreigner by name Engineer Lungi Hopkins who is a marine engineer by profession,until his death some times ago, does his and banking transaction with us at Standard Credit Union Bank, and had a closing balance as at the end of January 2003,which is worth $15,000,000.00 dollers ( fifteen million united state dollers)I was his personal account officer and since he deposited this money with us in the year 2003, a single paying or withdrawal was never made by him. We where instructed by my late client that the money be kept and secured in a security and finance firm because it was less expensive to keep and secure the funds in the security. This was done for him according to his instructions.

Surprisingly, for Two years since this money was kept in the security and finance firm nothing has being heard from him, not until I was informed about his death with evidence when I decided to call to the number he once gave to me, of which several attempts has been made earlier but all was in vain. Our bank now expected his Next of Kin to come forward as a sole beneficiary to his assets with the bank. As his personal account officer valuable efforts has being made by me for more than one year to get in touch with any of my late client family or relatives without any success.

It is because of the percieved impossibility of being able to locate any of my late client Next of Kin(He had no wife, Children or Relative that is known to me ).Based on this, I secretly seek advice from a fellow colleague who has being in banking for about 14 years now about this issue of my late client , he made me understand that things like this do happen and at the end of the day the chairman and board of directors of the bank will declare the funds as ''Unclaimed'' and subsequently divert it for thier personal use. In order to avert this negetive development,I now seek your permission to have you stand as the Next of Kin to my late client, so that the funds will be released and paid into your account as the beneficiary's Next of Kin.

As soon as I recieve an acknowledgement of your acceptance, I will furnish you with the necessary modalities of the transaction. I assure you that this transcaction is 100% risk free, When this business is completed and the funds is already in your account,the money will be shared on a 50-50 basis.

Regards.
Mr Edward James

Kisses,
Misfit Hausfrau

The Lonely Traveller and the One Left Behind

My husband left yesterday afternoon for a conference in Washington DC and will be gone until late Thursday night. I hate it when that happens! It's not as though it happens often--he travels just once or twice a year. I'm not upset that I am alone here with the kids for all of those days either. We will be just fine and will be doing all sorts of stuff to stay busy until he returns. I guess I hate to see him go because A) I really like hanging out with my husband and B) I don't like being the one left behind even if it is to go to Home Depot and look at router bits.

When my husband was in graduate school in Pittsburgh, I had positions with two different companies that required a significant amount of travel. One job required me to fly to Raleigh, NC every other Monday and return that Friday. It was hardly a glamorous job and I grew bored with the same hotel and the same sit-down chain restaurant diet, but I didn't see him much anyway, so it worked. Then I joined another company that required a lot of travel to different places around the country. Some months I would travel once, some months I travelled 3 out of the 4 weeks. Again, it wasn't glamorous. I wasn't staying at W Manhatten like my friend Laura does for her buying job. I was typically at a Hampton Inn or maybe a Marriott in Davenport Iowa, Charlotte, or Florence, AL. But at the end of the day, I always felt that what I was doing was marginally important for the company and was proud to represent them wherever I was sent. And while I called my husband everyday and really missed him, I was the one who wasn't left behind, so the travel didn't seem so bad.

So when the shoe is one the other foot, I am really unhappy about it. But I shouldn't be. This week, my husband will be surrounded by thousands of people in his field, but since they are Chemists, you can be assured that 85% of them are complete science geeks who have virtually no outside interests and tremendously overblown egos. My husband will be spending the majority of his off time going to a baseball game, running, drinking a beer or going to the Spy Museum alone. Many of these people believe that cutting loose is having 1 watered down lite beer and talking about quantum physics or whatever their specialty may be. For most of us, that would be Snooze Fest 2005.

My husband called me last night after he had eaten dinner. He had planned on eating at his hotel but he quickly discovered that his wardrobe was not appropriate for the restaurant. This surprised him as his room is a dump and his window has a view of an airconditioning unit for another room. Instead, he walked to Capital City Brewing Company, a fantastic brew pub we used to go to when we lived in Maryland. When he got there, he went up to the bar and was completely surrounded by Chemists, including a Chemistry Historian (who knew?) who tried to start up a conversation with him. He said he suddenly experienced a deja vu. He remembered a magical Saturday many years ago in which we spent the afternoon with our friends Peter and Jennifer. At the time, we each had boxers and they were playing in the back of our car that was parked outside. The dogs were having a blast romping around and we were having a blast drinking. He remembered people coming up to us and asking about our dogs and raving about how cute they were. Mercury and McBain always got attention wherever we would go so it was no surprise that people were approaching us. Corey got extremely choked up by the memory because Peter, Mercury and McBain all left this world at different times, and much too soon a few years later. He told me he left the bar and sat at a table by the window with his beer and his memories.

Cast Your Vote Here For the "World's Crappiest Mom 2005"

Hi. My Name is Misfit Hausfrau and I need your vote so that I can be crowned "World's Crappiest Mother 2005." I never dreamed that I could actually qualify for this esteemed award because I don't beat my kids, I feed them when they are hungry and I hug and kiss them a lot. After reading the rule book, however, I found out I qualified because I have no regard for my baby's hygiene. I realized that I haven't bathed Peaches since Wednesday. Of last week.

One could argue that I don't have much of a chance to win because I DO wipe her face, hands, feet and under her 12 chins after each and every meal. I also wipe her butt at least six times a day. However, she is starting to emit a not-so-fresh-baby smell. I guess you could say she has Baby Odor (BO). Her ears are also very yellow. Like corn. Maybe it is corn. No, no, I haven't fed her corn yet--whew!

One could also argue that her Baptism on Sunday counts as a bath. Not so. Father Jamie merely poured water on her forehead and nary a drop went elsewhere. Then he put this greasy holy oil on her forehaed, so that cancels it out.

What should put me over the top in the voting is that I am sitting here eating my "Light Ruffles" and blogging about it as opposed to getting off my ass and bathing her.

Vote early and often. I thank you for your support.

All's Well That Ends Well

We have returned from our baptism odyssey. It was a fantastic weekend. The weather was great, the girls were really good and my Mom hadn't been so healthy looking and vibrant in more than two years. We forgot to have someone take pictures of the event with our camera, so as soon as someone sends me some photos of the blessed day I will post some.

And now, I am back, trudging through the mundane. Our neighborhood is having a community garage sale this Friday and Saturday, so I am rummaging through my house to find things to sell.

It's not hard.

We have so much great stuff that just isn't right for our new home. For example, we haven't a single tree in our yard (weep), so there is no point in owning three yard rakes, two push brooms, and a tree trimmer. We have countless sets of curtains from the old house that are too small for the windows in our new house. I briefly considered using the curtains to make outfits for the girls but I kept hearing the soundtrack to "The Sound Of Music" in my head and thought better of it. Besides, my sewing skills are sorely lacking and the girls would turn out looking more like hobos than this or this .

We are selling all of our 200+ cd's (we moved everything to our I-Pod), an original Apple I-Book, the dining room chandalier that came with the house (we brought our old one), strollers (how many do we really need?) and our two dog backpacks. Yes, you read that correctly. When we were young and childless, we used to do things like travel the country with our dogs. And we bought them backpacks so that they could carry their own poo-bags, water and dogfood.

While I was pricing things last night, someone actually came up the driveway and asked to look around.

Three Days Early.

Since she was a neighbor and was a grandmotherly type, I didn't say no. She ended up buying some crap and didn't even haggle me. She even came back with her 7 year old grandson and showed him the stereo we are selling. I had no problem with it. The more I sell now, the less I have to deal with this crap on Friday since my husband will be at work and I will have to haul all of it into the driveway myself. I figure that two days of annoyance and then donating the rest is easier than dealing with Ebay, though not as profitable.

So if you happen to be in Cincinnati this weekend, feel free to stop by! Wish me luck!!!

I am Screwed

So, having a six month old is pretty easy, right? You can lay them down and go to the bathroom, or take a shower, or eat and be assured that they will pretty much be in the same spot where you left them. While I didn't write stuff down in the 3 "Record Your Baby's First Year" books we got for Baby Girl, I am pretty sure that's how things went down. Baby Girl was no trouble at all.






Right. A week ago, Peaches started pushing herself up and bringing her knees under her and making very tentative crawling motions. I wasn't too concerned, I mean, she won't even sit up yet and she doesn't have any teeth, so I figured it was a fluke. Then a couple of days ago, she started doing this half-crawl/half roll maneuver that they teach in the military so that she could get things she shouldn't (Baby Girl's toys). This morning at playgroup she crawled from one end of the living room to the other. In front of witnesses. It is now all very real. Shit.

This leaves me with no choice. If she feels she is old enough to suck on her toes and crawl around like a maniac at 6 months, then it is time for her to earn her keep. She will now be wearing pants with Swiffer wipe clothes attached to them with velcro. She can start keeping the floors clean. If it was good enough for her sister, it is good enough for her. Damn.

I'm BAAAAAAAACCCCKKKK

Well, that was certainly a pleasant six days! My husband and I rewarded ourselves yesterday by barely speaking while our kids napped (in order to enjoy the silence), ate huge steak dinners (I lost another 2.4 lbs.) and watched "Sideways." During my kid's naps in the afternoon, I succumbed to a guilty pleasure of mine--a Bollywood movie! Well, it was "Bride and Prejudice," a Bollywood-esqe flick by the same director who did "Bend it like Beckham" (another one of my favorites!) Recently, I found out that a couple of my girlfriends dragged their husbands to see "Bride and Prejudice." After seeing it, I can't believe that their penises didn't fall off and that they didn't develop breasts while watching it--it was THAT girlie!!! Now I understand why they were so mad to have to sit through it! It was FABULOUS! I made my husband thank me for not making him watch it.

If you never have, you really should rent a Bollywood film. It is the only type of movie you are going to see where men will be in the middle of an intense battle, when all of the sudden, brightly dressed maidens will suddenly appear and start dancing in the middle of the battlefield. The men will toss their weapons aside and join them in the gaiety. And all the while, there is a struggle between a man and a woman who never should have met, much less fallen in love... The plots are always predictable, I can never understand the words to their songs, but I can't stop myself from watching them.

My movie watching was a great escape for me so that I didn't have to think about my next Hausfrau Family Fistfight, which is coming up this weekend--My Daughter's Baptism!!!!!!!!! In Indiana!!!!!!!I'll See the Same Family Members Who Just Left!!!!!!!And More Relatives!!!!!!Who Are Always Mad at Someone!!!!! At least I will have some friends who will be there to witness the hilarity that is my family.

Serenity Now!

I have spent the weekend doing deep breathing exercises and seeking my inner serenity. Why do you ask? My sister is coming for a visit!!!!

Yes, yes, I love my sister--I'll get that out of the way for all of you strangers who might find this offensive. But anyone who knows me and my life knows that a visit with my sister is always stressful. And weird. And far too long. Suffice it to say I will have a lot of material to entertain one and all after she leaves. In just 123 short hours.

It doesn't matter that she isn't even here yet--I am still counting down.

On the plus side of this, I will certainly lose more weight this week as I will be going to the gym EVERY SINGLE NIGHT!

Stay tuned...

Friday Night Dance Party

My favorite thing about Friday nights is the dance party we have after dinner. Baby Girl calls it "Party Dance." Here, she is dancing to House of Pain's, "Jump Around."

















Still photos simply don't give her Wonderbread dance moves justice!














Party Dance Rocks!

A Sure Sign that the Apocalypse is Upon Us

Check this out

The King's English (Or Lack Thereof)

Recently, my husband and I had the following conversation over dinner:

"Blah blah blahblahblah, and then we blah blah blah. I coulda went there instead." said my husband.

"You mean 'could have gone...'" I said.

"Coulda WENT," he insisted with an evil smile.

"Why won't you say that phrase properly?" I ask.

Husband shrugged his shoulders.

"How do you expect to get promoted into middle management if you say that at work? Oh My GOD, you don't actually say that at work do you?"

Again, shoulders shrug.

"Do you hate me?" I ask, near tears.

"COULDA WENT" sends chills up my spine each and EVERY SINGLE time I hear my husband say it. I want to wash his mouth out with soap. The only other word that makes me react as violently is the "C" word. I have been hearing "Coulda went" at least twice a week for 14 years. I am sometimes unsure as to how much longer I can take this incredibly intelligent man butchering the English language with this simple phrase.

You see, I am not a very smart girl. My husband, on the other hand, is BRILLIANT. He has a PhD in Chemistry and he creates drugs for mankind. When he isn't trying to save the world one medication at a time, he dazzles people with all sorts of Simpson's trivia, drinks beer and can discuss a myriad of topics with just about anyone. Pretty much the only thing I have going for me is that I am a fairly articulate speaker (I can edit too, but who cares?!) OK, there was a period of time when I said "like" and "um" WAY TOO MUCH, but I worked through it.

I said nothing for the first ten or so years we were together. I didn't want to appear rude or be critical of the man I love. I also didn't want my husband to start bringing up my faults, bad habits and idiosyncrasies that number in the hundreds. But after listening to it all those years, this verbal faux pas and his seasonal sniffling (particularly when we are in a car together for long road trips) started sending me into hissy fits of biblical proportions.

Recently, I discovered this blog . After reading about this tortured woman's life I decided that I really don't have any problems with my husband and that I just need to shut the Hell up.

Where I was in 1994

Well, Susan and SoNotMartha wanted to know where I was and what I was doing in 1994. After reading SNM's post, I was confused and then she realized that she had actually written of 1993 (silly girl, do it again!)

Well, in August of 1994, my husband and I had almost been married for a year and we still hadn't had a fight. The reason we never fought was that we had SEPERATE BANK ACCOUNTS!!!!!!

The Chemist and I had been in Ellicott City, Maryland (near Baltimore) for about two months. He had accepted a chemist position with WR Grace. We lived in the richest county in Maryland and we were DEFINITELY bringing down the average! We lived in a dumpy apartment complex, but we didn't care. While we missed the friends we had in St. Louis, we were glad to be gone.

ATTENTION TO ANY CURRENT OR FORMER ST. LOUIS RESIDENT WHO MAY BE READING THIS:St. Louis is a lovely town ( I even went back when SNM got married)--I just wished I lived in the lovely part. I lived in a part of town that was very, uh, "White and Proud." What also didn't help the city's cause was that we witnessed a gang scuffle at the St. Louis Arch. Nothing like a couple of guns being waved around to make me want to leave and never come back. We had been there with my husband's parents and grandmother for Christ Sakes! They couldn't wait until we left?????

It had been a rough 18 months in St Louis for us, particularly me. While we were there, I had struggled to find a job in my field. As a matter of fact, there was only one publishing company in St. Louis at the time. I interviewed with them SIX TIMES for six different editorial assistant positions. I turned them down when they asked me to come a seventh time--I couldn't take the thought of being rejected yet again. My asthma was, at times, debilitating because of the climate and the huge floods that had occured while we were there. And my job? The particular Olive Garden that employed me was a petri dish of booze, cigarettes, gossip, hooking up and the white trashiest customers I had ever encountered (come to think of it, I am not sure that I ever waited on a minority). I started off at the restaurant an enthusiastic, fresh-faced country girl who had moved to the big city. I was excited to be there and LOVED everyone--customers included. After about a month, I was being pulled aside by the manager on duty because I was rolling my eyes and getting caught because of all of the mirrors in the restaurant.

"But Doug, that entire table just ordered plain spaghetti and a bottle of ketchup! You would have rolled your eyes too!"

It was a relief that the GM liked me and promoted me to the bar. Shlepping Old Fashions and Margaritas was a much better gig.

Anywhoo, back to Maryland. I really liked it. It was great living 45 minutes from Washington DC and 20 minutes from Baltimore. The weekends were filled with touristy activities and oppressive heat and I loved it. The weekdays were what was tough. I was interviewing like crazy for editing jobs in DC and Baltimore, but getting nowhere. I couldn't afford to take the jobs offered because they paid peanuts and wouldn't cover commuting expenses. I had been determined to not wait on another table when we moved there, but bills were coming up due.

After realizing one afternoon that I knew the plots of three soap operas running at the same time, I decided I'd better get a job. Any job. I poured through the classifieds and found an ad for a temporary agency that needed someone to do office work. That was how I ended up in a career in Human Resources. It is also how I ended up meeting one of my dearest friends Jen, who was my boss at that job.

So by the end of that summer, our life there was starting to take shape. I was even more excited because our good friends Laura and Frank were moving there too for their jobs. We referred them to the same shitty apartment complex we lived in and life was good (not sure if she ever forgave me for the apartment thing--they had VERY SMELLY NEIGHBORS!!!!!!)

So that was what was going on in my life at that time. OK, who's next?

And All is Well With the World

WHEW! Dora is on at it's appointed time! Now, SoNotMartha and I can breathe a collective sigh of relief. There WILL be naps at 1:30!!!

Oh, What My Life Has Become

About this time three years ago, I was probably negotiating a $90K salary with a candidate to join my fabulous company and open a new store in New Jersey (or Wichita, or Portland, Maine, or Indianapolis). I was probably in conference calls with a District Manager or two discussing succession planning and salary budgets for the following year. I am sure I was stressing over an extremely hard-to-staff market ( I covered New Jersey to Kansas minus the south). At some point, I was probably making travel arrangements to help out with a mass hire in some market. I helped set up temporary housing for a Manager who was moving from Oregon to the Philly area. I know I was studying my Excel spreadsheest so that I would be prepared to discuss my hires for the year, where they came from and the cost per hire at our weekly meeting. I also studied the statistics of my colleagues to be reassured that I still had more hires than they did for the year, so I could stay employed another day. I am sure I was telephone interviewing some prospective candidates that evening until 10PM under the watchful glare of my husband.

This morning, I am in a panic because Noggin changed the show schedule this morning and Dora the Explorer was on at 7AM instead of 1PM. I am uncertain as to what the repercussions may be since Baby Girl is very comfortable with her TV viewing lineup the way it is. I even went to the Noggin website to see how other shows would be impacted. Their schedule shows no changes yet nothing is right! I wasn't this worried when we changed to daylight savings time. Better turn off tv...