Where's my head?

At my husband's bachelor party, my husband came home with a bowling ball chained to his ankle. It was pretty funny. My name was painted on it with bright nail polish. The rule was: Keep it (not on your ankle!) until the next wedding. We were able to drag it out of the garage and pass it along about a year later when another couple from the same circle was married. I got nail polish remover and took off my name and put the next bride's name in its place. Ya gotta have a sense of humor, right?
But now I'm thinking I should follow the bowling ball's trail: I should put it on myself. Just to slow me down a little.
Doc told me Tuesday to take it easy after I'd been pretty sick for a few days -- and as I'm watching my friends drop like flies from flus, colds and the like, I really should pay attention. But I coached basketball Tuesday instead. OK, they're little girls, but I got quite the head rush at one point and had to sit down and say, "WHOA!" But I guess my adrenaline got going, I was fine for the rest of the game.
Against orders I worked a half day yesterday then went home "to rest." I made soup. Then I made spaghetti for dinner. Nothing really taxing, but as soon as the kids were all eating, I had to go lie down again. Did I learn? Nope. Went to the store and to a PTO meeting.
Today I'm moving at about 75 percent capacity, and completely empathizing with friends who are in earlier stages of recuperation. I still have a busy schedule, but keeping as low-key as I possibly can. But how possible is that for us moms?
A friend diagnosed with the flu after a few days in bed is on the mend after taking antibiotics, and very wisely said she's not even going to go downstairs today. "If I see what condition my house is in, I'll start cleaning, and I know I really need to rest," she said. Smart move. Wish I did that for a little while longer myself!

Snugglin' with my blankie

How shocked are we when our "tireless" bods give in? After sick kids last week, I was all set for a weekend of cleaning up and getting things back in order. Noooooo, not happening. What I thought was a minor cold and scratchy throat kept me in bed all day Saturday. "Just need a little rest," I said to myself. Even tried to do some grocery shopping in the afternoon but had to give up with just the basics. Sunday I was worse. I didn't want to wait any longer, I was pretty sure I needed antibiotics, the leftover kid medicine wasn't looking very effective and I just wanted to get better. So we hit the E.R. "Bronchitis," said the doctor. "You should skip work tomorrow and Tuesday definitely, you're going to be too tired. And Wednesday's iffy." Ha! Wednesday? I'll be doing cartwheels by Wednesday! Well, it's Tuesday night, and this is the first time I've felt up to blogging. I haven't been sick with anything that's kept me out of sorts for this long -- four days now, no longer contagious but just so damn tired! -- and I'm starting to doubt my abilities tomorrow. Went for a follow up with my doctor today and he said, "You need a few more days at home." Pshaw, I thought, and defiantly went out and had my hair done. Not too much effort to sit in a salon chair. So I'm thinking I can make it through a salon appointment, I can make it through work. Ha. I have the attention span of a flash cube. "You're probably not up to coaching," the doc said. But then I found out he thought I coached high school, and gave me a pass on the running-clock 3rd & 4th grade girls game tonite, as I promised to just sit there.
Now, it's a half hour before game-time, and I'm looking at my blanket and pillow, thinking how nice it's going to be to climb right in there when I get home. Dinner revived me. I did get my appetite back -- it went missing, which really freaked me out. I LOVE to eat. But I'm sure I met my Weight Watchers' goal this week. And then some.
But I'd rather be out, running around like crazy, staring at a second slice of pizza, then later, staring at a third and wondering if I should, staying up till 11 p.m. cleaning and making lunches, going for a walk or jog long before 7 a.m. then coming home and getting the household running, working, activity-chasing and the like. How much worse is being sick, knowing how many people depend on us to get them here and there, helping them with homework, playing games with them or just curling up and watching a movie or TV show? I can't stand being sick. Last week, when my kids were sick, I wrote, "I can't wait for the weekend" as I was anxiously waiting for them to get better. Boy, did I not know what I was in for!

White Snow, Bright Snow, School Anyway

So, four kids, three home, one very unhappy one in school. The high school was closed. The preschool was closed. The grammar school my daughters attend was open. But one was still too sick. The stomping on the floor by her sister at 7:45 indicated her annoyance with being the only one who had to dress up and go out. But the roads were clear enough, the school is maybe 1/3 of a mile away, and we had such a delayed opening in September, because of construction, I'm just hoping enough kids came in today to make a quorum, or whatever it is that makes the day "count" as having a full school day. Do they just have to be open or do they have to have a percentage of kids? I think so, but I'm not sure.
Looking out the window here at work, I'm thinking I'd rather be at home, curled up watching TV too. Wouldn't we all? There's nothing like a gray, snowy day to make busy people -- kids and adults -- want to stay home and relax. Or have a snowball fight, followed by hot chocolate. I feel for my one daughter, the lone school-goer. I'll remind her I went too, not that it'll help!

Am I asking too much?

I've learned over the years to only give the kids one or two tasks at a time -- their attention span only allows for that, giving them too many instructions usually results in all of them being forgotten as soon as they embark on their way to the first task. So, I try to ask them to do one thing at a time. Do your homework. Homework done? Take a shower. All clean? Make sure your backpack is packed and ready. All done? Put away your clean clothes. And so it goes.
It's easy to do in the evenings while I'm cleaning up after dinner and getting lunches readied for morning. In the morning rush to get ready for school, it's a different story. And I often ask them to multitask, but they're little tasks! They do them every morning! Why do they forget?
This is something I'll bet every mom has experienced -- and it happened again today with my 8-year-old. "Time to wake up and get dressed!" That's usually my first mistake. Waking up is a job in itself, I've discovered. Getting dressed must require a completely different section of the brain that isn't turned on until your child is awake and has started playing with the toys in her room. "GET DRESSED!" Ok, now I've brought back the one-task-at-a-time rule. "Come downstairs for breakfast." I'm beginning to understand my daughter's task rules. When she's downstairs, it's "Eat your breakfast." We're moving along here, one task at a time. Then, as I'm putting her lunchbox into her backpack, I sometimes make a second mistake, as I did today.
"Go upstairs, brush your teeth and put your shoes and socks on, then come back down." WHOA! Four, count 'em, four tasks ("come back down" is directed by another area of the brain, I'm assuming). It just doesn't work. Now, combining Go-upstairs with any of the others is OK. Inevitably, like today, I'll go up five minutes later and find her playing again. "Did you brush your teeth?" I asked. "No, but I got my shoes and socks on," she answered. She also forgot the "Come back down" task. And once again, we didn't leave as early as I'd hoped, but we made it out the door and to school on time.

Here we go again

When you've got multiple kids, you get multiple kids sick -- and not all at the same time, not all to the same degree, and in my case this week, not all the same sickness. And after observing others in the waiting room at the pediatrician's office (everybody coming in remarked at how crowded the parking lot was), it's everything, and everywhere. People had stomach bugs, sinus problems, chest colds and hacking coughs. Don't you love this time of year?
At our house, it started first with the "big kid." My husband came home hacking on Friday, said he got sick, and pretty much stayed like that over the weekend. I told the kids to steer clear, he went to the doctor Monday and got on a regimen of antibiotics. But my daughter started coughing Sunday, then heavy chest congestion and fever kicked in. My son started Monday with head congestion and nausea, then his fever kicked in. I took the two of them to the pediatrician today. I'm sure my boss was thrilled --- it was a looooong visit. But if their dad wasn't home and on antibiotics himself, I'd have to take time off anyway, so at least I'm somewhat productive.
They've got some similar things, some different, and all at different times. So I've got a notepad for the two kids -- the "big kid" can figure out his own med sched. I'm keeping track of who took ibuprofen when, who took a decongestant when, when the last nebulizer treatment was, and if anybody has taken acetaminophen if fever kicked back up before he or she could take ibuprofen again. We've got thermometers at the ready, garbage cans by beds and a "stay away" clause for the two healthy children. Although they don't seem to "get it," I have to keep reminding my younger daughter to stay away from her little brother -- they're attached at the hip -- and the teenager asked to bring friends over for the afternoon and couldn't understand why the answer was no.
I can't wait for the weekend to get here.

Once you become a mom, is there ever ANY time when you're not multitasking? It hit me this weekend, I'm never doing just one thing anymore. If I'm cleaning the kitchen, I'm also doing laundry. If I'm reading the paper, I'm also watching the news for national updates. I don't watch TV anymore without having something -- maybe a section of the paper that didn't need my immediate attention -- to read at the same time. If I'm running to the store, I usually combine that with another errand that needs doing. Even when I go walking for a few miles in the morning, if it's on a workday, I listen to 101.5 instead of my songs to keep up on what's in the day's news to prepare for work.
I remember growing up, my mom would leave our abandoned stuff on the stairs -- meant for us to take back upstairs when we headed that way -- and we'd just walk right past it every time. It drove my mother nuts. Now, I never go upstairs without looking for something that has to go up, and I never go downstairs without looking around for something that has to go back to the kitchen or to the laundry room. And when I leave my kids' stuff on the stairs -- and even when I remind them to take that stuff up when they head toward their rooms -- it's inevitably still there when I head up later. Paybacks are a you-know-what.
This Saturday morning, I realized how overblown my dependence is on the ability to multitask. I wanted to walk for a few miles for exercise, then looked at the pile of cardboard that I didn't put out on recycling day because it was so windy, so I gathered that up and carried a huge armload of it to the recycling center two blocks away. Then, I was heading out to the Raceway Mall for an hour to help out with the jerseyshoremoms.com booth set up there, and I brought my two girls, figuring I'd let them spend their good-report-card earnings there.
In between taking kids here and there I tackled the housework.
I need a clone.

It only lasts so long ...

While sometimes it's a relief when your child outgrows something, say, biting, there are other times that you get kind of sad when they outgrow certain rituals. My 4-year-old had his "good-bye" ritual on days when I took him to the sitter. I'd ask for a hug and kiss, and he'd ignore me, but watch me out of the corner of his eye. When I started heading toward the door, he'd come flying toward me, saying "Hug and Kiss! Hug and Kiss!!" I loved it. I even started playing it up, acting sad when he wouldn't hug me when I asked, and slinking toward the door until he came running after me. Slowly, he's starting to lose interest. Now he doesn't wait for me to start toward the door anymore ... he just stops to give me a hug and kiss before running to play with his friends.
Today, I left him with his grandmother, who came to spend the day with him, while I took his sisters to school. He insisted on a hug and kiss before I left. I came back home to ready myself for work, and was there for another half hour. When I was ready to leave, I said to him, "Come here and give me a hug and a kiss!"
"I already did!" he answered. Sigh. Only one to a customer per day, I suppose.

I can't begin to imagine what parents of Dr. Jose Romillo's patients must be going through right now. The state Department of Health is suggesting that all patients vaccinated by him between 1999 and now should be revaccinated as soon as possible.
Romillo is under investigation for possibly administering expired or ineffective vaccines, and they investigators say they can't tell by his records which children have been effectively vaccinated.
I couldn't stand getting my children vaccinated the first time! And not just because they screamed, that was lousy enough. But because you get that nervousness about any type of reaction that could occur. When they all got through their early childhood shots, I breathed a sigh of relief that it was over until they need a booster at 14.
Three of my kids got vaccines during those years. If someone told me we had to start over, I'd go ballistic.
I wonder if there's a blood test that can determine whether these children have the protections these vaccines should have given them? When I had my first child, I was told during one of the bloodwork sessions that I was not immune to German measles. I distinctly remember the whole "rubella umbrella" stuff from the 1970s when I got my shot for that. (I remember shots because I HATED getting them, so much so that I remember once getting the other kids in the waiting room at Dr. Cannon's office riled up because I was a little older, and absolutely freaking out about how much it was going to hurt) when I got my shot for that. But I was told that a lot of people in my age group who were vaccinated in elementary school were found to not be immune in later years. That's why the chicken pox vaccine made me nervous. Will it "last"?
Then there are the concerns over mercury, or the possible ties to autism.
I really feel for the parents down there. If this guy is found guilty, I hope he goes away for life.

Where's the *%$&in' cat?

So I THOUGHT I had it together this morning. I was up, showered and dressed and ready to go long before 8 this morning. I had an 8:30 appointment for our 7-year-old cat, Mo, at the veterinarian, so I figured I'd drop the girls off at school, bring my little guy with me to the vet (his school is closed this week) then drop him off at the sitter, bring the cat home and make it to work by 9.
Ha! When the kids are all in line, the cat throws me off! Go figure.
She's way overdue for her shots ... so much so, it took us a half hour to find her carrier. We got it out last night, and I should have covered it up. She spotted it in the bathroom this morning (where I hid it last nite -- it's the best place to corner her and get her into it because she can't run and hide) and I hadn't seen her since, but I figured she was in her favorite sleeping spot in the back of our closet, so I didn't worry.
I got the kids in the warmed-up car in the carport, all buckled with backpacks and lunches ready to go shortly after 8:15. I told them to stay put for one minute, I'd be right back with the cat. But I couldn't find her. After 5 minutes, I gave up, drove the girls to school, went back into the house with my son and searched the house. I finally found her hiding underneath a footstool. She tried to run but I caught her just before she scooted under a bed. I flew into the bathroom with her and got her, hissing away, into the carrier. Then she started howling. Too bad!
Now it's after 8:30, we get to the vets close to 8:45, but we've missed our appointment. Doc sees us quickly after the 8:45 appointment ended shortly after 9, and we skedaddled. "Our cat is MAD!" my 4-year-old proclaimed to those in the waiting room. She was. I wasn't too chipper myself. Soooooo, I didn't make it into the office until well after 9:30. What can you do? The best laid plans of mice and men and mommies can get pounced on by a single cat.

Survivor: Mom

I got this e-mail suggesting the next "Survivor" series, passed along to me by my good friend Mary. It says it all, it's one every Mom will get a kick out of -- and nod with appreciation. The only thing it leaves out is ... the full- or part-time jobs many of us have!

ENJOY!

---------------- SURVIVOR --------- ----
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids each for six weeks.
Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist
appointment and a haircut appointment.
He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the
Urgent Care.
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house,
planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with
jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to read a book and then pray with the children each
night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and
comb their hair by 7:00 am.
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name.
Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance. The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

Hearts and flowers and basketball

Down in the cafeteria here, the radio station played a commercial that started out: "Don't you wish Valentine's Day was everyday?" "NOOOOO!" answered a coworker getting her salad. Another coworker added that there's one more thing to add to a busy mom's workweek -- making sure Valentine's Day cards are filled out, especially with younger children who can't yet sign their names. Augh. A romantic dinner with the husband? Not on my agenda this week. As a matter of fact, I have to coach on the big day. Whatever's in the crock pot will have to do, and champagne and flowers aren't in the budget.
We never made a big deal over Valentine's Day before we were married ... maybe dinner and a card. It wasn't a big thing for either of us, and in those days when we weren't paying out for sitters, camp and other activities for four kids, we ate out a lot. Feb. 14 was an excuse to go out for a long night out -- an hour at the bar waiting for a table, an hour at dinner, maybe an hour out after that at a club.
I can see this Valentine's Day: my husband will pick up one child from the sitter's and the other two from their afternoon activities, checking in with me via cell phone asking what to do next. If I've crock-potted, dinner will be ready. Otherwise, I'll tell him to make spaghetti and to tell the girls to put on their basketball uniforms. I'll fly out of work at 5:40, pick the girls up and head to our game. An hour later, we'll head home. Maybe, just maybe, we'll watch a movie. If the house is reasonably clean.
Our next romantic Valentine's Day? I'm predicting 2022 ... after the last one's off to college.

Who's cuter?

I thought I had more time ... at basketball last night, I spotted my third-grader chatting with a boy in the bleachers. This morning, I asked her who he was. "Who?" she asked. "That boy you were talking to in the bleachers last night." Silence. "Well?" Then, "Mah-ahm! He's just a boy in my class! He's NOT a boyfriend."
Oooookay. Guess I hit a nerve.
My little guy has a girlfriend -- he has since he was 2. He'll flat out tell you, she's his girlfriend. I give it another year -- I think "cooties" and the like become epidemic in kindergarten. Apparently they're inoculated by third grade.
Last week, the kids and I were at a club we belong to and I was chatting with my friend Dianne when my third-grader came up to us and asked, "Whacha talking about?" I couldn't resist: "Boys!" was my answer. "Are you playing the 'Who's Cuter' game?" she asked. "Yup, Look at those two guys against the wall. Who's cuter?" She studied them for a moment, said "Neither!" then flounced away.
The guys, seeing our reaction, asked what we were laughing about. They were only slightly insulted until I mentioned 8-year-old girls generally don't think balding, middle-aged guys are cute. Wow, did that make matters worse.
I've learned to not use the "B" word in the future. Oh, the male ego.

There goes February ...

I've always kept busy, I like my life that way ... but I think I'm going to "overdo" it in February, at least mentally, trying to fit it all in. Just missed out on five days of work, three days last week and two this week, for jury duty. I got into the jury on my first expedition outside the jury assembly room, and it was a criminal case, so we were there awhile. My conclusion? We all watch way too much TV -- C.S.I., the Forensic Files, that kinda stuff. In a way it's good, we understand more than ever. In another way, it's not so good, we expect DNA to be flying around anywhere.
Anyhow, it's over, so I finally hit the doctor's office because I can't take the neck, back and shoulder aches I've been dealing with for 5 weeks since a fall I took while chasing my runaway 4-year-old. Turns out it's not long-term -- 4 weeks of physical therapy, 3 times a week should be enough to work the muscles back to normal and I'll be good as new. Or good as middle aged. Now I've got to fit that in, with work (will have to stay late as often as possible to make up hours), school schedules, basketball (I'm the coach, gotta be there), piano lessons, guitar, ballet, I think my little guy has a multiday soccer clinic and my daughters have the school Variety Show. Oh and there's Rainbow Girls. Plus I have tickets to a Seton Hall game on a weeknight.
March 2 is the St. Patrick's Day Parade. By then, a bunch of the things should be over with -- therapy, variety show, basketball and the soccer clinic. Amen.

Giants fever can be kinda stinky!

Was that the greatest Superbowl or what? My friend Erika said she thought it was boring. Blasphemy! But she's a Dallas fan, she doesn't know the death grip I felt in my stomach throughout the game. One score by either side controlled the outcome. It was so cool. And the play of the night -- Eli's escape from a third-down sack to throw for a first-down -- is making me smile all day. I've reviewed it with coworkers several times already.
My kids aren't really football fans, but my 10-year-old got enthusiastic last week, apparently Giants fever was spreading through the school faster than the stomach flu. Everyone was wearing Giants jerseys on Friday, she wore mine. It's a little big, but as I looked at the kids running into school, it was a common fashion problem that day. When she got home, my daughter said she wanted to wear it the whole weekend. She slept in it Friday night, wore it again Saturday (I did make her change her other clothes), then wore it to bed Saturday night. Sunday morning, as I sent her to take a shower before CCD, I demanded the shirt back. She could put it back on, but only after I washed it. I promised that if the outcome of the Superbowl hinged on her wearing clothes for three days straight, that was fine, as long as there was a little laundering.
It's funny, though. We're superstitious creatures. I called my brother to borrow one of his jerseys since my daughter had mine. My little guy was wearing his Shockey jersey, my younger daughter had on a Giants T-shirt. That might not be superstitious, but this is: a friend describing his Superbowl plans talked about how he and his wife were going to another friend's house. That friend had hosted parties for the last few games, and although it was someone else's turn to invite their group over, they decided to keep going to the one house where they witnessed the other Giants victories. "I don't want the responsibility of a loss on us!" he said.
Good thing. Manning might've been sacked if they moved the party! Fortunately, my daughter's clean clothes didn't result in any bad luck either!

Rejection!!!!!

I'm on jury duty this week, so there was no time for blogging. But I caught this item on ESPN's Sports Center this week and it cracked me up. I think I saw them show it at least four times in the hour-long program. Seems a little boy spotted himself and the little girl next to him on the overhead monitor, so he planted one on her for the camera. She wanted none of it, and let him know that. It's adorable, check it out:
ESPN on-camera kiss