SAHM I Am

Audrey has become quite the little helper lately, and not just in the 3-year old “Let me do it” sense.  She really has wanted to have some responsibility around this place, and I, quite frankly, couldn’t agree more.

I know this all stems from preschool and what her class calls “helping hands”.  Every day she goes, children are assigned different tasks to help out in the classroom.  Not every child gets a job every day, but when they do, they are overjoyed.  Some of their “helping hands” positions include Line Leader (self-explanatory), Milk Helper (pass out milk and napkins during snack), Snack Helper, and Zebee feeder (the pet bird).  I know there are others, but the ones I mentioned are the highest sought after positions in the class.  So far, Audrey likes being the milk helper the best. 

At home, her newest job is setting the table.  There are a couple of things about setting the table that I must admit. One, we never set the table in this house.  I usually dole out dinner on the counter and then bring it to the table.  We’re responsible for our own drinks, so I don’t set out glasses either.  Two, this idea was Audrey’s and Audrey’s alone.  So now every night we have to have a formal setting at dinner, complete with Kleenex.  We have napkins that go on our chairs and the Kleenex sets atop our plates.  Do you think we’ve been suffering from runny noses enough around here? 

Setting the table is a rather tedious process even for just three people.  You see, Audrey doesn’t take more than one item to the table at a time.  Just imagine the number of trips she has to make to bring plates, forks or spoons (I won’t let her carry the knives yet), napkins, cups, and yes, Kleenex. 

Tonight she asked for milk at dinner so I poured her little cup and she walked it over to her setting.  Then she asked if she could carry the bottles to the table.  “What bottles?” I asked her.  “The bottles you and daddy drink from” she replied.  We had beer with dinner on Tuesday night.  I told her we wouldn’t be drinking from bottles tonight and then gave her two glasses of water to set next to our place settings.  She was ecstatic to be carrying GLASSES and not just a plastic cup.

I never thought I’d get so much pleasure out of watching my little one bust her tail, but I think it’s just great.  She’s obviously picking up on things at school, she’s learning about responsibility at home, and she takes great pride in her work.  Plus, I know when she’s busy being mommy’s helper, she’s not in the other room making a mess (which she calls decorating). She sets a mean table (complete with Kleenex), but she hasn’t quite mastered the art of picking up after herself. 

I don’t know many people who love November as much as I do. Sure some like it because it means breaking out the musty sweaters, lighting the first fire in the fireplace, the beginning of the Holiday season, etc. But for me, November is about so much more; it’s all about my birthday. Some folks celebrate just their birth day, some maybe take a weekend or stretch out the week, but I have a birthday month. Am I slightly narcissistic? Yes, but follow me here. When is it ever a bad thing to celebrate being born?

I don’t have elaborate parties every year or expect lavish gifts. I just want people to acknowledge that special day and so I give them plenty of fair warning by dropping hints that November 17 is just a couple of weeks away.

Last year I turned 30 and it was, by far, the coolest birthday I have ever experienced. My husband, with the assistance of one of my best friends, went all out to deliver the most amazing November birthday yet. My birthday was on a Saturday last year and happened to fall on the day of the Milwaukee Holiday parade. When I woke up that morning I was handed a clue a la “The Amazing Race”. I had to shower and shave my legs (you’ll find out why later) and get dressed warmly. I was to look up the address on my clue to figure out where we were going, which ended up being the parade. Prior to arriving at the parade I had a clue to stop at Stone Creek Coffee where my brother and his fiancé ended up surprising me. I was then to look for the man in the yellow hat. That man turned out to be my dad. He and my mom had reserved a prime spot for us at the parade. Mid-way through the parade I received another clue to leave with Jessica and head to the next address. We spent the rest of the afternoon receiving spa treatments at Spa Roma (hence the shaved legs). At the end of our spa day, I was handed a clue that led me to the Hilton. There I checked into a room and to my surprise, my family, including Audrey were there. They had spent the day at the water park and waited for my arrival. I had just a few moments to relax before I was told to get ready for my next stop. My husband had brought me a great “going out” outfit, and was shocked to know that he even brought me a matching coat. Jess and I then ended up at Blu where the cocktail waitress handed me my final clue. On the back of each clue there was a letter and I needed to unscramble the letters to lead me to my final destination: Rock Bottom. There, in the basement, were 30 of my friends and family waiting to give me my final SURPRISE. Patrick had special drinks made in my honor, commemorative pint glasses for every guest, and then had people explain to me that he had been planning that event for more than 6 months. I knew there were a few reasons I married this guy!

In the history of all birthdays, I don’t know that anything will top that, and to be honest, I don’t need that to be topped. My 30th gave me enough memories to continue on for a very long time, but this doesn’t mean that I give every one a free pass to forget me this November!

Last night marked a very important night in our household.  The Binky Fairy finally came and took all of Audrey’s binkies away.  Yes, at 3 years and 3 months, she was still using her binky to fall asleep at night.  It was my dirty little secret, one that parents often don’t want to discuss because there always seems to be such a stigma attached to pacifier use.  However, I will justify everything by stating two things (1) Her dentist was perfectly fine with her pacifier use as long as she wasn’t using it throughout the day AND if she gave it up somewhere around her 3^rd birthday and (2) She really did only use it at night. 

About one month ago we started to discuss the Binky Fairy and how one night Audrey would have to leave all of her binkies under her pillow and the fairy would come and take them away and give them to babies who needed them.  In turn, the Binky Fairy would leave Audrey a very special gift.  I had planned on taking the binky away on Tuesday because that’s the day Shrek the Halls comes out on DVD and I thought it would be a great gift.  Audrey, as it always seems, had other plans.  She discussed the Binky Fairy with Nana yesterday as they spent the entire day together while mommy and daddy spent the day shopping.  “Nana put my binky under the pillow for tonight” she told us when we got home.  Fabulous, but there was just one issue, I had no Binky Fairy gift.  So after putting Audrey to bed last night with her 3 beloved binkies were tucked under her pillow, I ran out to K-Mart to get a gift.

I was fully prepared for the night to be horrible. I expected a battle for her to fall asleep and a battle to stay asleep, but not a darn thing happened.  It’s like the past 3 years of binky usage never existed.  This morning when she woke up, I heard her say “They’re all gone. My binkies are all gone.”  She came out of her room and looked very sad, but only because she couldn’t find the promised gift.  I walked her back in her room and pointed out the gift on her chair.  “That’s a weird sock mommy.”  It was a Christmas stocking, a Mickey and Minnie stocking to be exact.  Inside the stocking I had put Christmas ornaments that she can paint, a chocolate lollipop (out of her Halloween bag) and a card from the Binky Fairy herself. She was so proud of herself, and her daddy and I were so incredibly proud (and also a bit relieved) of what a big girl she is now.

I must admit that I’m probably a little bit sadder than I thought I would be over this.  I mean, I really wanted to get rid of the binkies, and at the same time, they were the last “baby” things that Audrey had.  Today I put them in her bin along with all the other important baby mementos, closed the lid, and started a new chapter in the life of Audrey.

On our way to preschool today, Audrey told me I was the best mommy in the whole world. Hot dang! If that isn’t a good way to start your day, I don’t know what is!  The thing of it is, I haven’t felt like the best mommy lately, but it really hasn’t been my fault.  I’ve been sick, really sick.  It’s going on almost 3 weeks and I’m still sick.  What started as just a little cough, which I thought was due to the drastic change in weather we had a few weeks back, has progressed into multiple infections. 

Last week I went to Urgent Care and was told that I had a sinus infection and a double ear infection.  The sinus infection I totally understand because I get them all the time, but the ear infection was really weird.  So I get put on antibiotics for 10 days and a decongestant and usually after a couple of days on antibiotics I feel better, but not this time.  No, this time I got worse.  I told my husband that it felt like my chest was rattling when I took a breath and my cough kept getting worse.  I went back to the doctor on Saturday and was told that I now had a bronchial infection and that I sounded completely restricted when I breathed.  After a breathing treatment and a prescription for a new antibiotic and inhaler, I was sent home and told to get some rest. HA! How could I possibly rest when I had a birthday party to attend to, trick-or-treating (we had ours on Saturday night), and a house to clean since we’d be having guests on Sunday.  Oh and not to mention the fact that my husband decided to paint our kitchen, mud room, pantry and powder room over the weekend so I was left to attend to Audrey as well.  Yep, the best mommy in the whole world couldn’t even muster the strength to play Candy Land. 

I only have one more dose left of this second antibiotic and I am thankfully starting to feel a little better.  I still hack like I’ve been smoking for 20 years and I still have no sense of taste, but I do feel like I’m on the mend. My loss of my sense of taste was confirmed by my husband last night when he asked if I had put any seasoning in my always savory pasta sauce.  To me, everything tastes the same.  The best mommy in the world made Audrey’s favorite dinner and she didn’t touch it because she said it was yucky.  Oh well, I’m sure her meal of a banana and string cheese was just fine.

I don’t exactly know what prompted Audrey to make such a grand statement, but I’m determined more than ever to get back to being healthy.  Then she’ll see just how great I really am.

The dictionary defines the word “Miracle” as “an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God.”  To my friends, Tarisa and Jeff, the definition is one word “William”.  Today is Will’s first birthday; his first birthday should have been January 7, 2009!

I clearly remember when Tarisa told me she was having a baby.  We were at Jose’s Blue Sombrero and after I spent 30 or so minutes rambling on about nothing, Tarisa told me that she “had ice cream in the freezer”.  That was a phrase that was used when we both worked at the MS Society.  Whenever someone was expecting, they brought ice cream in for the office and the receptionist would announce “There’s ice cream in the freezer.”  I was so excited for her and Jeff.  If ever someone wanted to be a mom, it was her. 

A couple months went by and then came the 19-week ultrasound.  They found out they were having a boy and that there may be some complications.  Tarisa had an incompetent cervix.  At 20 weeks her water broke and she was sent to the hospital to see if anything could be done to stop the progression of labor.  At 21 weeks, it sealed itself.  Tarisa was sent home to be on bed rest.  For 7 weeks she hung out on the couch as friends and relatives dropped by with gossip magazines, books, and pages for her to scrapbook.  I paid her two visits during this time and expected to make many more. Then came the day I called and got no answer.  The day I called, she was in labor with Will.

The birthday invitation for Will’s first birthday states “You can’t tell a hero by his size.”  This, I know, is true.  So to William Miller, Happy Birthday Mr. Miracle! Your friends and family can’t wait to see what you do next!

Audrey seems to be adjusting more and more to school.  I, on the other hand, am a little sick of it already.  Yes, I know that sounds horrible, but I’m peeved about a few things.

One, my checkbook seems to be on constant rotation.  Field trips, school pics, Scholastic Books, teacher’s wish lists, fundraisers, oh and the pricey tuition that comes with a private school.  I’m not complaining about the tuition because I knew what it was when I enrolled Audrey in the school, it just never seems to end and this is only PRESCHOOL!!!! 

Two, we received a nice little notice in our mailboxes that there were 16 confirmed cases of head lice within the elementary school (the preschool is located in a K-8 school).  Again, this happens everywhere, but I was totally not prepared to be looking through my 3-year old’s hair to look for lice.  This is a girl who whimpers and hides under the bed when I tell her it’s time to get her hair brushed.  Yes, looking for lice was pleasant.  What’s best is that when I told my husband about the situation, he said (in all seriousness) “Yuck. Doesn’t that stay with them forever?”  What the heck does he think lice is, and what’s more, are you flippin’ kidding me?  Turns out, we’re all lice free so as long as no one else in the class has it, we should be clear for now.

Three, I haven’t seen Audrey’s non-snotty nose since September, 16. I know that’s the date because she started school the week prior to that and it was the last time I saw her not wiping her nose on her shirt or worse, her arm.  Again, I know that kids are going to get the sniffles from school; fact of life.  HOWEVER, when your child has an autoimmune system disorder like mine does, it just sucks.  There’s not much more to it, and I’m not going to keep her in a bubble, it just sucks.  Did I mention the last time she had an on-going virus, that’s when her JRA reared its ugly head?  Oh, and did I also mention that she hasn’t been sleeping again and she’s complaining that her knee hurts.  The left knee is where the arthritis started and of course that’s the one she says is bothering her. You see, it kind of sucks.

I need to look on the bright side of things.  She doesn’t cry when I drop her off anymore (knocking on wood).  She has learned the days of the week and songs that I don’t know the words to. She enjoys having jobs at home (from helping hands), has taken her first field trip (the one I paid for) and got to see her first live musical and oh how momma loves a musical.  She’s making new friends and even has a play date for next week.  Most importantly, she’s getting to be a normal preschooler whether her mommy likes it or not.  I will never take that away from her, but I’m always going to be ready with a tissue and some hand sanitizer. 

Time/Date/Place

10:30 AM/Friday, October 3, 2008/Somewhere between Oconomowoc and Waukesha

Plaintiff

Miss Audrey N. Cairns

Defendant

Neighbor girl

Mediator

Niki A. Cairns

Charges

Miss Audrey N. Cairns spins a good yarn and inadvertently has accused her neighbor of not only inflicting physical pain but has somehow managed to have her “feelings hurt”

Opening Arguments

On our way to another day of running errands, I (mediator) heard a slight whimper from the back seat. I asked the Plaintiff what was wrong and she told me that her thumb was really hurting.  I asked what happened and she told me her finger was pinched.  I asked how the finger had become pinched.  She told me that her neighbor (6 year old female) had pinched her and when the Plaintiff started to cry the neighbor told her to stop crying and in turn that hurt the Plaintiff’s feelings.

Facts

*The Mediator knows exactly how the pinch occurred.  It was pinched in a DVD case when the Plaintiff was putting away a Charlie Brown movie. 

*The Plaintiff had not played with the neighbor that morning as said neighbor was at school

*If the neighbor had been the one who pinched the Plaintiff and made her cry, it is with great certainty that she would have not stated to “Stop crying”

*The Plaintiff is a bit of a drama queen and that is why she stated that her feelings were hurt

Closing Arguments

Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I implore you to find the defendant, Neighbor girl, not guilty.  I also ask that you explain to the Plaintiff that no one likes a tattle tale, especially a tattle tale who falsely accuses an innocent child of physical and emotional harm. 

The other day when Audrey was pretending to be a puppy, I said something so ridiculous that I had to stop what I was doing, sit down, and reflect for a moment.  I had gone on to the back patio to light the grill and Audrey was still inside.  For some reason I closed the sliding glass door and not just the screen door.  When I looked up, she was licking the glass door.  “Stop licking the dang door Audrey.”  “But I’m a puppy, mommy.”  “I don’t care if you’re a puppy, licking doors is disgusting.” 

It was a light bulb moment, one in which I realized I have been saying such weird things and they’re mostly at the expense of trying to keep Audrey safe and relatively germ free.  Yesterday in the tub I told her to stop eating the bubbles and then to stop licking the bathtub.  I have no idea why she licks things.  She takes her imagination one step further than I would like.  It’s fine to pretend to be an animal but there’s no way she’s going to continue to lick my face, eat food from a bowl like a dog, or lick her arms and hands like a cat does to clean itself.  I have to draw a line somewhere.

I’ve had to tell her to not pick her nose in public and have offered her a tissue instead.  I’ve had to tell her to stop discussing the size of mommy’s breasts and the fact that her dad has nipples.  I’ve said on numerous occasions “little girls don’t spit”.  We’ve had a discussion pertaining to passing gas and the fact that yes, everybody does it, but no, not everyone thinks it’s funny.

Once, when she was much smaller, I had to move her hand away from the neighbor’s dog’s rectal area.  “Don’t stick your finger in there,” I warned her.  She was running around the house one day wearing nothing but shorts.  I told her to put a shirt on but she reminded me that Mickey Mouse doesn’t wear a shirt and since she’s a method actor, she couldn’t possibly be bothered by an additional piece of clothing.    

One day I’ll look back on all of this and laugh.  Until then, I’ll continue to say “keep you your hands out of your pants”, “get that thing out of your ear”, and “Please for the Love of God, stop licking your baby doll. You’re not a mother deer cleaning a baby deer.”  Note to self, Bambi is no longer allowed to be read in this house.

The past two weeks have been rough.  The start of the school year was pretty uneventful and then I started to notice that Audrey was becoming more clingy, more anxious, more prone to crying outbursts.  It had to be the start of school, I thought.  On the 4^th day of school, last Thursday, I went to drop her off and she wouldn’t let go of my leg. I haven’t seen her cry like that in a very long time.  The teacher’s assistant assured me it would be fine and that I should just give Audrey a kiss and leave.  I drove home, very on edge. My two peaceful hours alone were anything but.  I was waiting for the phone to ring saying that I should pick Audrey up.  I debated whether I should call the teacher and ask how she was, but instead I took a shower and then sat in my living room until it was time to go get her from school.  All the while I could feel my heart slowly starting to break.

I was informed that it took her a good 5 minutes before she calmed down and then wasn’t in the best of moods the rest of the day.  She refused to paint with the other kids and started crying the moment she saw me at pick up.  My heart broke some more, but I was trying to appear strong.

Over the weekend my husband and I began to notice that she was becoming even more anxious when we went to a public place.  When we went to the store, if we all weren’t in the same aisle together, Audrey freaked out.  We went apple picking and she spent most of the time crying and wondering if we were going to leave or lose her.  Again, little pieces of my heart were breaking off.

I attempted to take her to dance class last night and we didn’t even make into the room.  She turned purple she was crying so hard.  Needless to say, I was dreading drop off today for school.  My husband and I had a talk with her at dinner about her being scared and crying and she told us that “I just cry a lot. I’m sad”. Honestly, can my heart break any more?

Drop off this morning went fine.  There was some sadness when I left, but she didn’t cry.  I know she was trying so hard not to, but I could still see that little bottom lip quiver.

This has been a summer of transition and I know it’s all taking a toll on her at once.  The move to our new house may have happened nearly 4 months ago, but she still is not completely happy here.  She tells us she wants her old house back and wants the movers to come and get her things again.  We transitioned to no nap and only resort to letting her sleep when she’s not feeling great or has gotten up to early.  I signed her up for a dance class where the parents have to leave the room, and then of course, there’s preschool.  Many 3-year olds have no trouble transitioning, but not all.  I naively thought Audrey would be the one who would jump right in and relish every second of her new found freedom. 

I try to be positive and talk myself out of feeling so guilty about all of this.  There are kids in her class her are almost an entire year older than her so I can’t compare her to them, and really, I shouldn’t try to compare her to anyone else.  But that’s what we parents do, isn’t it? 

All I want is for her to feel safe and be happy again. I hope that this is just a passing phase, and a quick passing phase, because I think if my heart breaks any more, I’m going to be the one crying at drop off.

*Just an update from this morning. When I picked her up, she was in very good spirits and told me she had a happy day and that she did not cry at all.  I know this is going to be a day-to-day thing, but at least the immense guilty feeling is slowly lifting.

Audrey and I ventured to Illinois today to spend the day with Nana (my mom) and Papa (my dad).  Papa’s birthday was today and my Oma and Opa (my grandparents) were having dinner for him.  For all non-German speaking folks, Oma and Opa are German for Grandma and Grandpa. My husband is out of town on business so I made the lovely 1 hr 20 min drive by myself.  It’s not that it’s a long drive, but it’s a drive that you really have to pay attention to.  Most of the route is through the Kettle Moraine forest, and to me, that means deer.  I am petrified of hitting a deer so I apologize to the driver’s behind me; I typically don’t drive 5 miles UNDER the speed limit.

Today was a fine family affair.  My brother, Alex, was sent home from nursing clinicals today because he wasn’t feeling well at the hospital.  Somewhere in that sentence, I detect irony.  So while Audrey played tea party and gave Nana’s stuffed animals a ride on the rocking horse, Alex, my mom, and I discussed politics.  We’re a very passionate family and even though we agree on almost everything political, we still feel the need to raise our voices when discussing the issues.  Audrey must think we’re nuts.  My mom is becoming the ultimate political guru.  Got a question about a candidate or this year’s election in general? Ask my mom, I guarantee a completely un-bias answer (total sarcasm intended).  We also talked baseball as we so often hope to do around this time of year.  When the Cubs have an excellent chance at the playoffs, we are the most die-hard fans you’ll ever meet.  When they’re not having a great year, well, there’s always next. 

A day at Nana and Papa’s, by definition, means a lot of spoiling will be involved.  Spoiling in the “Another cupcake? Okay, but only if you just eat the frosting” sense. My poor Oma slaved over a hot stove all day to make two roasts, her famous German potato dumplings, and countless other sides, only to have her dinner completely ignored by her great-granddaughter.  I know Oma really only cares about seeing Audrey and isn’t the least bit offended by the lack of consumption, but it would have been nice for Audrey to at least TRY the dumpling she helped make.

Going to Nana and Papa’s also means that Audrey is sure to learn something new.  Today it was a song involving the word “diarrhea”.  I won’t go in to any further detail only that I hope and pray that she forgets all the words by the time she goes back to school in the morning.  At least I’ll have a good defense if her teacher pulls me aside at the end of the day.  “I didn’t teach her that.  It was her Nana.” 

Overall, it was a great day.  I love spending time with my family and I know that Audrey does too.  She’s so lucky to have her great-grandparents (and one additional great-grandfather from my side and a great-grandmother from my husband’s side) as part of her life.  She is loved and adored and spoiled, and that’s just the way it should be.

Last night was a pretty slow night for tv so my husband and I decided to tune in to Fashion Rocks.  Kohl’s was one of the major sponsors of the event, and being the company man that my hubby is, we thought we’d help the ratings by suffering through the two hours.  While watching Fashion Rocks, I learned two things.  I am getting old and I am quite out of touch.

Let’s break down the show into the two titular words “FASHION” and “ROCKS”.  I am not fashionable.  I never have been and it’s not something I have ever desired to be.  I am quite comfortable in basic color tees and sweaters and jeans.  In the summer I have 5 different pairs of khaki capris.  I am as boring as it comes.  For my 30^th birthday I wore a silky black shirt that I lovingly named the “booby” shirt because I felt that’s what people would stare at all night when I wore it.  That was my one slip into the high fashion world and I was totally uncomfortable.  I am also not fashionable, because fashion really isn’t made for people like me. I’m short and stout.  The stout thing I could work on, but even when I was much thinner, clothes just never looked right on me.  I am only 5’ tall and even petite length pants are too long.  I put on a pair of sweatpants the other night and I could pull them up to my neck and bottoms rested on my ankles.  I buy some brands of capri pants that can be pulled off as regular length pants.  I don’t need to go on “What Not to Wear” because I do follow what’s in style and I shop at fairly trendy stores, I just tend to go for the same look every time.  You’d think one person could only have so many black short-sleeved tops, but you’d be mistaken.  The only things that I like that are truly fashionable are my Coach purses. They’re a guilty pleasure and they may not necessarily go with my Lands End navy blue tee and capri jeans, but they’re just so dang cute.

“Rocks” was the other focus of the show.  You must understand that I am someone who loves music. I am a singer, my dad is a drummer and my husband is an all-around musician. Music is a constant in our lives.  The thing of it is, I don’t listen to a lot of popular music these days.  I have a six-disc changer in my car and I only listen to two of the cd’s-Now That’s What I Call Shrek (music from and inspired by the Shrek movies) and The Curious George Soundtrack (featuring music by Jack Johnson).  We listen to these CD’s so often that the other day, the Shrek CD started to skip. God help us all if that disc breaks.  So although I knew most of the artists that performed last night, I didn’t know any of their songs (except for their interpretations of classics).  I was really excited when Lynyrd Skynyrd came on stage with Kid Rock.  I know all of their songs and have seen them in concert twice.  Then came a selection of Timbaland produced singers.  Who? I guess he’s the most sought after producer and I didn’t know a single one of the songs. Old and out of touch am I.  Finally at the end there was a bevy of the “most talented women in music today” singing a song about standing up to cancer.  Catchy tune, but why did I only know half of the women? I knew Carrie Underwood from American Idol and of course I know Mariah Carey and Beyonce and I even knew Mary J. Blige because that woman has never turned down a chance to sing live, ever.  Down the line I thought, who the heck is that? My husband said “That’s Miley Cyrus” and I said “Oh, Hannah Montana”.  I know her from our six-year old neighbors.  I was so proud of myself when my hubby asked “Who’s the gal in the white jeans?” I knew it was Natasha Bedingfield because her song “Pocket full of sunshine” just so happens to be on the radio on the off chance that I do have a break from Shrek and Curious George.  So as I sat there and listened to the music and watched this season’s styles, I got a sense of what my parents went through when I used to make them watch MTV with me or when they just had to let me stay up to watch New Kids on the Block on the Tonight Show.  I wonder if they felt old and out of touch too?

Did your teacher ever make you write an essay on your first day of school entitled “What I did on My Summer Vacation?” I never had to do that in any class, but it seemed to be a common theme in tv shows, comics and movies.  I think I was jealous of the kids who got to write one of these essays because I always had so much to talk about when I came back to school. As an adult, I don’t necessarily have a summer vacation, but I still did a lot with my family these past three months that’s worth writing about.

I became a certified arborist.  I’m not state certified or anything like that, but  I’ve learned about hundreds of different varieties of trees, shrubs, bushes and flowers and have helped my husband plant 11 trees, 15 shrubs and bushes and a variety of flowers as well.  So therefore, I am a certified arborist.  What once was (just 3 months ago) a barren, rock-filled yard is now a lush (and quite weedy) lawn with actual foliage.  I pulled more muscles and ached in places I didn’t know could ache with all of the planting we did, but I am so proud of us for doing it ourselves!

I taught Audrey how to hold her breath underwater and she taught herself how to swim underwater.  Though the weather wasn’t necessarily the hottest we’ve had, we did manage to frequent local pools and beaches and get as much swim time in as possible.  As a last summer hurrah, we went to The Wilderness Resort over Labor Day weekend and swam our little hearts out.  We swam so much, Audrey not only took a NAP at the hotel, but fell asleep with the tv blaring in the room at night. 

We went to church festivals, carnivals, county fairs, and rode the kiddie rides for the first time.  Audrey was finally tall enough!  We went to a Brewer’s game and did some tailgating and taught Audrey the words to “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”.  I, of course, had to teach her “Root, root, root for the Cubbies”, but that’s what this Chicago girl needed to do.  I just told her not to sing that too loud at Miller Park.

Last week, as the summer was winding down, we met Audrey’s teachers and her classmates at her new preschool.  I watched her cautiously go up to one little boy and listened proudly as she said ‘Hi, I’m Audrey. Wanna’ be my friend and build towers with me?”  She now calls Dylan her best friend, though I don’t think he actually ever answered her.  Tomorrow she starts her regular schedule at school, and though I’m looking forward to those 2 ½ hours of “me” time, I’m also a little sad to see her growing up so quickly.

On Sunday we welcomed the new season (though scientifically we’re still in summer) by apple picking at The Elegant Farmer.  We also took the Electric Railroad from the Elegant Farmer to East Troy.  We explored the square in East Troy and then treated ourselves to ice cream at the coolest (no pun intended) ice cream shop in Wisconsin, Lauber’s.  Seriously, if you have never been to this place, it is a must see. 

I’m sad to see the heat of Summer leave, but I’m looking forward to what the changes the Fall will offer, what Winter will bestow upon us, and the newness Spring will certainly surprise us with.  

Today Audrey told me that her liver hurt.  She’s had a runny nose and sore throat since Sunday and we were already in to see the pediatrician once this week so I needed to know what she meant by “her liver hurts”.  She pointed to her stomach area and said “Right here, it hurts.”  I asked if she meant her stomach and she told me again it was her liver.  She knows about her liver from The Berenstain Bears (read last week’s post-I told you everything can be learned from them!).  In “Too Much Junk Food” Brother Bear, Sister Bear and Papa get a lesson in digestion from Dr. Grizzly. There is a drawing of your digestive system including your liver.  I told Audrey that if her liver wasn’t really working, she’d be turning yellow.  She pretty much dropped it after that.

It’s no wonder that my little three-year old is a bit of a hypochondriac.  She has seen more doctors and specialists than I even knew existed.  Let’s see if I can name them all off without forgetting anyone important. She has seen a Pediatrician, Physical Therapist, Dermatologist who specialized in rare birth marks, another Dermatologist to treat the myriad of rashes she’s had, an Opthamologist, an Otolaryngologist (ENT), Orthopedist, Rheumatologist, Immunologist and a Dentist.  To her they’re just “Dr. Swanson” (pediatrician), “Dr. Murphy” (ENT), “Dr. Olson” (rheumatologist) and “Dr. Rick” (dentist).  Because she sees a specialist for just about everything, anytime something hurts, she tells me she needs to see that specific doctor (ie the cheek doctor or the knuckle doctor).  I was really surprised when she didn’t ask for the “liver doctor” today. 

I also think she gets a little of this from me.  My first job out of college was at a hospital in Chicago.  I worked as a financial aid officer for an agency that helped “self-pay” patients.  I had to actually go into the hospital rooms of all said patients and fill out paper work with them.  This meant I was exposed to everything.  In the short 7 months that I worked for the agency, I nearly succumbed to no less than 20 serious illnesses.  I’m pretty sure I had at least one type of cancer, a flesh-eating virus, and cellulitis.  I was one patient away from having a myocardial infarction (heart attack) and it’s a miracle that I didn’t suffer from a cerebrovascular accident (stroke). I had to read these diagnoses on patient’s charts daily.  I was, obviously, never cut out to be a nurse or a doctor.  I should have been hired as a writer for a medical drama like “ER” because I know almost all the lingo.  I can sit there smugly as they confuse the symptoms of gastroenteritis and acute appendicitis. 

I wasn’t suffering from a textbook case of hypochondriasis (I have a degree in Psychology and I am allowed to use such a word).  I never actually went to a doctor to tell him or her about my symptoms.  No, I just suffered in silence like the martyr I was.  I still don’t like to visit hospitals as they bring me back to a time when I was simply miserable.  I can not believe I didn’t end up having a home-birth with Audrey!

The liver pain has ceased in Audrey and she’s now just complaining that her nose hurts from all the wiping she’s had to do.  I’ll wait patiently for the next onset of unexplainable symptoms and be quick to help her with a diagnosis. 

I’m suffering from a new form of W.B. (writer’s block).  It’s not that I have nothing to write about, it’s that I have too many ideas at once.  I’ll simply refer to this as TMI.  Ever since I started blogging, and not just on Milwaukeemoms.com, I’ve always got a hundred ideas running through my head at once.  Couple that with friends and family giving suggestions, it’s always idea overload.  I write something every day and a lot of the things I write, I don’t publish.  Sometimes I write just to get something off my chest and sometimes I write because I think the public might be interested in what I have to say, and then I reread what I just wrote and scratch the whole idea.

This week alone I wrote something called “Down a Sunny Dirt Road.”  This paid homage to The Berenstain Bears.  In a nutshell, I described how every single life lesson can be supported by a Berenstain Bears book.  Think about it (go ahead take just a minute); see what I mean?  I wrote something about being alone with Audrey for 3 days since my husband has (finally) returned to traveling for work.  I wrote about how our routine changes when “the man” is out of the house.  I decided not to publish it because I really didn’t want to announce to the world that I was, indeed, alone. 

I began to write a follow up to “Slumbertime Blues”.  We have slowly decreased Audrey’s nap time and we’ve have a really great week of going to sleep easily, and sleeping later and later in the morning.  I didn’t want to emphasize it too much because I’m a bit afraid of jinxing the situation.

I was going to follow up “I’m Raising a Sailor” with an update about how we haven’t heard “S.O.B” in this house in nearly 6 weeks.  Then out of the blue Audrey got frustrated with her new hat and said “This damn hat just isn’t working for me”.  One step forward, two steps back.

I wanted to write about my desire to become a published author.  I dream of writing and selling children’s books.  I’d love to have a syndicated column in a newspaper and get to write about whatever my heart desires.  I was going to explain that my mom told me all about “The Secret” and how I should start a vision board with my goal being “Published Author”.  My reaction to that was “I hate the woman that wrote ‘The Secret’.  Nothing like becoming a millionaire by writing about common sense.”  In reality, I’m just jealous of her, but still, I refuse to read, let alone, purchase that book.  So instead of writing about how much I wanted to pursue this writing career, I sat down with Audrey one night and told her that she can be whatever she wants to be when she grows up.  I told her to never stop dreaming and that if she works really hard, she’ll be very happy in whatever path she chooses.  I asked her what she thought she might want to be when she grows up and she said “Mickey Mouse.”  Well, my friend is Prince Charming at Disneyland so there is, indeed, a chance for her to be Mickey Mouse when she grows up.

So as you can see, I was really suffering from TMI this week and for the people that asked me when I was going to update my blog, here it is.  A lot of random musings about the last six days.  I hope to put some clear and less-confusing ideas down on paper this coming week. 

We had a lot going on this week and I thought I’d take a moment to highlight the “firsts”.

*Audrey got her first pet.  I had no intention on getting her a pet, but we had a bit of a run-in at the library (very very long story) and I felt really guilty as she was bawling her eyes out in the car.  She said she wanted something to cheer her up and I know that going to the pet store always makes her happy.  We always go to “just look”, but this time she actually asked for something.  First it was a bird; not at this time.  Then, of all things, she found a chinchilla.  She knows all about Chinchillas as one time Diego rescued one.  I told her they smelled too bad; who wants a pet that smells too bad?  Then I spotted the Betta Fish. $3.99 for a pet? Box her up, or bowl her up, whatever it is that you do for a Betta.  Audrey picked out a nice bowl, pretty rocks, and the standard plastic greenage for her new found friend.  She also decided to name her “Gracie”.  She’s red with a blue and purple tail and now lives peacefully in Audrey’s room.  So far, so good with the first pet.

*We went to A La Carte at the Zoo for the first time.  We’re new zoo members and decided to go out there this morning before it got too stifling hot.  We had a great time sampling different food (I can’t resist a good falafel) and beat the crowds as we were one of the first people there.  As we were leaving around 1:30 today, there was a line of cars all along Bluemound waiting to get in.  I guess having a kid who wakes up at the crack of dawn helps sometimes.

*I have my first case of “dish pan hands”.  Remember my designer dishwasher that I’ve griped about before?  It has decided to leak.  Well of course this isn’t an easy fix; the more expensive the item, the longer you have to wait to have it repaired.  We have to wait for a Certified Bosch Technician to come out to the house and his earliest appointment is this coming Thursday.  I’ve fought every urge not to kick this dang appliance.  It mocks me as I walk by “You wanna’ write about me beeping all the time? I’ll give you something to write about.”  I’d tell it to “shut up”, but we’re still trying to watch our mouths around here.

*Finally (and this isn’t something I’m all that proud of), my husband and I were scolded by our daughter for the first time.  Patrick and I were having an argument on Saturday; well really it was a fight.  We were arguing about trees (yes trees).  Some couples argue about money, we argue about foliage.  As arguments usually are, this fight was more than about just trees.  It was really about budgets, but because the trees didn’t fit into the budget, they were the main topic.  It’s not like Audrey has never heard us argue before and we’ve occasionally yelled in front of her too, but we’ve rarely ever both yelled as much as we did this time.  Approximately 5 minutes into the argument, Audrey came out into the hallway and said “Mommy, daddy, settle down.”  We didn’t settle down right away, but then she yelled as loud as she could “Settle down! Stop it now!”  And you know what, we did.  The fight didn’t necessarily end right there, but it did cause us to lower our voices and try to talk to each other.  Which leads me to another “first” for the week, for the first time, I realized my kid’s going to be just fine.  She’s learning to stand up for herself, assert her authority, and use that little voice of hers to tell the world when she feels like something just isn’t right.  My final “first” for the week, you go little girl, you go!

“Sometimes I wonder, what I’m a gonna’ do, but there ain’t no cure for the SLUMBERtime blues.”  So what if I changed the lyrics?  I sing this song on a nightly basis.  What happened to my little girl who used to tell me she was tired and after reading a few stories and singing a couple of songs, I’d leave her in her bed and she’d drift off into a peaceful sleep?  Really, if anyone finds her, please tell her I’m patiently awaiting her return.

Our bedtime now goes something like this:

·        Tell Audrey it’s 10 minutes before pajamas

·        Remind her that it’s now 5 minutes before pajamas

·        Carry her screaming and kicking upstairs to put on her pajamas

·        Make her go to the bathroom even though she has insisted that she has “already gone”

·        Pry her mouth open to brush her teeth

·        Take a painfully long time to pick out a story even though we already know we’ll end up reading “The Disney Story Treasury”

·        Turn out lights as she crawls up into bed

·        Kneel by the side of the bed and let her know that she’s safe and that there’s nothing to be scared of

·        Kiss her goodnight and leave the room

·        Two minutes later, “Audrey go back to your bed”

·        Five minutes later, “Audrey get back in your bed”

·        Ten minutes later, “I swear to God Audrey, it’s getting late and you need to go to sleep”

·        Go into her room and sit by her bed again, sing “Silent Night” and tell her she really needs to get to sleep

·        Around 5:45 AM get woken up by a kid who is still obviously exhausted

I know it’s probably time to think about giving up her naps, but with her waking up so early and going to bed so dang late, it’s almost impossible for her not to fall asleep during the day.  I need to add it doesn’t matter what time I put her to bed. If it’s before 8, she’s still awake in her room well past 9.  If it’s 8:30, same deal.  I need her to get one solid night of sleep and then I’ll give the “no nap” thing another try, but then I’m going to complain about the fact that I don’t have my 2 ½-3 hour break during the day.  And yes, I know that those naps are very long, but again, she’s a train wreck if I try waking her early.

Does the sleeping thing ever get easier? You long for the day when they’re newborns for them to just sleep through the night.  Then you might experience the “crying it out” phase like we did around 12 months.  You go from constant napping, to a morning and afternoon nap, to one nap and then eventually no naps at all.  All the while, you’re still dog tired from the fact that sleeping doesn’t seem to be a priority for many kids.

I’m often envious when I see toddlers conked out in their strollers or lying on a lounge chair at the pool, completely oblivious to the world around them.  This has never been nor will ever be my child.  She fights sleep like Harry Potter fought He Who Must Not Be Named.  I think she’s afraid she might miss something exciting like my husband and I having a conversation about landscape beds. 

Right now I’m enjoying a little chunk of silence and she snoozes away the afternoon and preparing myself for another epic battle around 8 tonight.  I’m considering petitioning the Olympic Committee for the “bedtime fight” event to be held at the next Summer Olympics.  I’ll have enough training by that time and I’ll be sure to do American proud by bringing home the gold.  

I know, I know, another blog that doesn’t have anything to do with being a Stay-At-Home-Mom, but I’ve got something on my mind and I thought maybe if I wrote something about it, it would finally give me some peace.  Do you ever have those times where you get fixated on something so trivial and yet, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stop thinking about it?  I’m having one of those moments. 

This all started a little more than a week ago, after flipping through nearly 500 channels, I settled on “The Two Corey’s” on A&E.  For those of you unfamiliar with this “reality” show, it is based on the reemerging careers of Corey Feldman and Corey Haim who rose to stardom in the 80’s with movies such as The Lost Boys, Dream a Little Dream, and Licensed to Drive.  Corey Feldman just happens to be in one of my all-time favorite movies, Stand By Me, and Corey Haim was in another favorite, Lucas.  Both Corey’s hit a series of rough patches in their careers and both have battled drug and alcohol dependencies.  This series was supposed to be how they have come clean and reconciled their friendship, and are now hoping to gain back a little of the fame they experienced a couple of decades ago.

I’m hung up on this because I met Corey Haim in the Spring of 1996.  I was a freshman at Carthage College (prior to my transfer to UIC).  For whatever reason, a film crew decided that our campus would be a great place to film a horror movie.  The movie was called Fever Lake.  If there is anyone in the world that has seen this movie, you ought to win some sort of prize.  Corey Haim and Mario Lopez of