So not that I am offended at all or anything, but the Parents Association of C’s preschool is apparently looking for a new member to replace an outgoing parent. I’ve had three different mommies tell me they have been approached to take the position but turned down the job. No one has approached me to ask if I wanted to join. After I volunteered to organize the best. spring. carnival. ever.

Perhaps it wasn’t actually the best. spring. carnival. ever. and people were just being nice. Perhaps I am actually a lousy person to work for or was too bitchy about the whole thing. Perhaps no one actually wants me and my children in attendance at their meetings. But I bring coffee! And sometimes donuts! Goldfish for the kids!

And now that all these people have TOLD me that they have turned it down, if someone actually asked me to join, I would know that I was the bottom of the barrel pick. “Oh, I guess we’ll have to ask that J-E girl. I mean, who else is there?” I’m being petty, aren’t I? I mean, who cares if one gets invited to join the PTA, right? The whole point of stepping off the career track was to not get caught up in such things anymore. So why do I feel like I am back in high school gym standing against the wall praying that I’m not the last person picked?


Overheard at bedtime

C: “Mommy, I know all about shows.”

Mommy: “You do? What kind of shows?”

C: “TV shows of course. I know some are live and some are corded. The live ones are nice because you get surprised by what is going to be on next, and because you have a hard time turning the TV off if I ask to watch another show with a please. But the corded ones are nice because I know what the answers are and I can stop them to go pee. But with Tivo, we can even pause the live ones to pee. Except at Nana’s. I think we need to get Nana a Tivo. For Maine. So I can pee when watching TV.”

Mommy: (trying very hard not to laugh): “We’ll have to take that up with Nana. Not everyone thinks through their television viewing options quite so thoroughly.”

C: “They should you know, watching TV is a very serious thing.”

Sleep, sleep, you’ve gotta go to sleep right now*

It’s been a while since I have subjected y’all to a sleep post. But things have not improved much over here, in fact things have gotten much, much worse, which I really didn’t think possible. It now takes about an hour and a half to get A to sleep at night, she then gets up for two to three hours in the middle of the night, and wakes up around 5am for the day. Oh, and she hasn’t napped in a week. So let’s do the math, shall we? 9pm to 5am, eight hours. Minus two equals, FIVE HOURS. My not quite two year old is functioning on FIVE HOURS (or less) of sleep a night. It’s just. not. pretty. For anyone.

So last night after we finally got her down, I dug out my sleep books. Between the two kids, I’m pretty sure I have owned every sleep book known to man. After some skimming, I cobbled together a personalized sleep plan taking into account the fact that A is not in a crib and can open every door and child gate in the house but is not yet old enough to really understand “sleep rules” and reward charts.

At her first wake up at 11:30pm, I implemented phase one: Return and Ignore. Every time A got out of bed I picked her up and plopped her back in without saying a word. No yelling, no singing, no wheedling, nothing. She got out of bed 169 times. I counted. My upper arms are killing me right now. BUT she finally went to sleep. And stayed asleep until 6 this morning.

Today I implement phase two: Pavlov’s Timer. At naptime and bedtime, a timer will get set. A can have as many books or songs or rocks or snuggles as she wants before the timer goes off. Once it dings, she gets a hug and a kiss and we switch over to Return and Ignore.

We’ll see how this goes. I feel better already with five hours of almost uninterrupted sleep under my belt. I’m not, however, holding out any grand hopes. Everything with A seems to work beautifully until she has enough time to think it through and figure out what is really happening. But if I could just get a week of decent sleep under my belt, I might have enough energy and patience to try, try again.

*In the spirit of Gina’s Pointless Points Trivia game, ten thousand points for anyone (besides Nana and Auntie M) who can name that tune (without Googling).

Overheard in the middle of the night

A was up frequently last night, again. As she threw a temper tantrum in the hall at 3am because I wouldn’t open the gate and let her downstairs to the playroom, C woke up and wandered out into the hallway. He totally ignored A’s fit, and said to me in a very stern voice “Mommy, you HAVE to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a VERY busy day and you need your sleep. I don’t want to have to listen to your whining if you are over tired.” He then turned around and went back to bed.

It (almost) made up for the fact that I was not in fact getting any rest. I guess he does listen to me after all…

Old Houses

Jennifer asked what the best thing about living in a house built before 1800 was. The answer is pretty easy – the character. We have beamed ceilings in our kitchen and family room, original pumpkin pine floorboards in the dining room and C’s room. When you walk in our front door, it is clearly unlike any other house in town. The house has been added onto and added onto, so it rambles a bit, and there is a secret staircase from the kitchen to C’s room, which has been hidden so he doesn’t discover that there is a way downstairs that doesn’t involve trooping past our room.

I grew up in old homes. To me, they have character, history, a hidden story to be discovered. They are also drafty, expensive to maintain, and dark. And as much as I love the character and intrigue of our current house, the chill that constantly permeates it and the lack of sunlight in almost all rooms, wore me down. Plus, we are short a bedroom, really two bedrooms, as when C gets a bit taller he won’t be able to stand upright in his room because of the gables.

We spent the better part of last year trying to find our house again, with more light, more rooms, and better insulation. It doesn’t actually exist, however, so we settled on a 1939 colonial. And while it meets all of my criteria, sunlight, bedrooms everyone can stand up in, and decent insulation, it is, well, a bit dull. Being a standard colonial, it is a box. There is no ramble to it, no secrets to discover, no hint of times past. Basically it looks like every other house in town.

So we will be leaving our charming old house, assuming we can sell it, but it makes me sad. I have a feeling that if it comes back on the market once the kids are grown M and I would probably buy it again in a heartbeat. But for now, we will let someone else enjoy the mystery, intrigue, and personal relationship with the local plumber.

If I can figure out how to use M’s new camera, I’ll try to post some pics of the old house for you. Plus, I have to show off how nice it looks as the house has never looked this good since the day we moved in. Not that anyone is coming to see it. But they might! Someday!

Blah blah blah and yadda yadda yadda

Since y’all don’t seem to be a source of blog fodder today (can’t blame you, clearly I can’t think of much to write about these days my life is so. damn. boring.), I’m going to subject you to a boring collection of random bullets.

1) No one seems to be interested in looking at a house built in 1771. I can’t understand why…it IS well maintained. I’m getting a bit (OK, a lot) hysterical over the fact that there is no traffic through my home of anxious home buyers. I’m seriously considering standing out on the street with a sign reading “If you lived here, you would be home already.”

2) There is a serious lack of sleep in our house right now. The cats aren’t even sleeping well. Making everyone, including the cats, a real pleasure to be around. Both A and C have spent the bulk of the day crying.

3) I have a sore throat. I’m unclear whether it is the allergies I developed in college rearing their ugly head again, or whether I am getting A’s cold. Either way, my throat hurts and it’s not helping my mood any. On the upside, I haven’t been able to yell much, and discovered that the low “Stop that right. now.” voice works almost as well. For the moment anyway.

4) I discovered that the Y’s childcare program has at least a year and a half wait list. Which got me thinking that really, I should get C and A on that wait list just in case I suddenly decide to go back to work. Or in case our house doesn’t sell and we go bankrupt and I have to go back to work. I go through the motions of thinking about going back to work about once every six months or so, this time the whole house thing has me seriously considering what on earth I am qualified to do these days besides wiping noses and making grilled cheese. And apparently I’m no longer qualified to make grilled cheese as both my children turned their noses up at it today.

5) A just pooped for the fourth time today and I just can’t face changing another poopy diaper. The child needs to learn to use the potty. Just as soon as we sell the house. I can’t continue with the potty training process while trying to keep the house clean 24/7.

6) The house next door has been under construction for almost exactly a year. And it looks like they still have a very long way to go. I am making a mental note to never ever use this construction firm. They were supposed to be done in November, I kid you not. I feel almost as bad for the neighbors as I do for myself. But not quite because both their kids are potty trained and they have the childcare thing under control.

7) It’s bath night. I hate bath night. If C hadn’t gone swimming, and if both children didn’t have sunblock on, I would skip it. But I guess that would mean I would just have to do it tomorrow. But hey, I’m the queen of procrastination.

8) Speaking of baths, Blues Clues is over and I’m starting the bedtime proceedings ridiculously early tonight. Wish me luck.

You would think that after a weekend away I would feel a little less run down and whiny, but I think it actually made me realize just how sleep deprived I really am and how much I miss the old me.

Readers Choice Part Deux

Because I’m crazed with the move and M’s travel schedule, I can’t think of anything non-move or stress related to blog about. So instead of boring you with my tales of woe, I’m throwing open the doors again and inviting all of you to make the big decision for me. I’ve gotten some new readers since the last round, so please feel free to jump in with your pressing questions.

Come on, you’ve got to have something you want to know….

Just for curiosity’s sake

Would the person who arrived at my blog on a search for “Starbucks and Corriedales” enlighten me as to what the two might possibly have in common? I’m mighty curious now. I’ve spent the last several minutes thinking about it and just can’t find the connection….I might have to go do the search myself and see what I am missing.

Rain Rain Go Away

No one wants to go looking at houses in the rain. And I don’t want to keep shleping my children out of the house for the few people who do.

Plus, our yard, she gets a bit damp if there is too much rain. And while our basement is generally bone dry, there was the matter of the flood right after we moved in (26 inches of water. I kid you not.). And while the problem that caused the flood was fixed, I still have massive anxiety when it starts raining. Especially when a potential buyer could be inspecting my basement when the waters flood in…

So rain rain, go away, please stay away until another day.

Weekend Highlights

So the spa vacation on the beach, well, it poured. All weekend. So much for the visions of reading on the beach. But some quick highlights from the rest of the trip….

1) Me. Naked on massage table. Loud fire alarm. I knew there was a reason I should have put my underwear in my robe pocket. Nuff said.

2) Me. Naked on massage table. Knock knock. “Pssst. You have the wrong person. This one wanted the aromatherapy massage, not the vitamin mud treatment.” I THOUGHT the lotion smelled, well, not very nice.

3) Ring ring. “You know how we stopped at the gas station to wait while you figured out why your check engine light was on? Yeah, well, now our car won’t start.”

At least I wasn’t woken five times a night by hysterical children. And I will have great stories to tell for years to come.