Sunday, January 23, 2011

Back to the Gym!

One of the things we had to give up when we moved a few months back was our gym memberships. We had to give them up because where we were going was not a national chain, it was just a Racquet Ball club outside DC that happened to have some other classes. It's location was good for my Darling Husband because it was halfway between his work and home, and thus very convenient for him. I used to go to the gym almost every day, granted it was a 15 min drive in good traffic, but the people were nice and they knew my kids (read: fewer freak outs).

After the shenanigans of last week it occurred to me that if I didn't get back to the gym soon, or find another outlet, I would be losing my mind in short order. So after a week of talking it over, and finally conveying to DH just how nuts I was going, he told me to go and get us signed up. Yay! I could now go workout at any time of the day!
So after signing away the equivalent of a weeks worth of groceries every month, I was ready to get started. It was then that I remembered I'd left my workout gear in my car. My 12 degree car. Just long enough for everything to become totally chilled. No big deal, I think, I'll run and warm up in no time. Which I did.

After an hour or so of work I decided it was time to head out, while I could still walk with some dignity, and go home. As I get to the parking lot and hit the clicker to unlock the car I notice that the lights are very dim. Hoping it was just my eyes I get in and try to start it. . .click, click, click. You guessed it, DEAD. So I head back inside to call DH and AAA to get a jump. I pull out my trusty cell phone and call AAA. I'm so busy telling the guy what happened that I almost fail to notice the 'beep, beep, beep' that occasionally cuts the guy off when all of a sudden, CLICK. My cell dies too! (There is a happy ending to all this, I promise).

Luckily for me the AAA guy has the where with all to remember that I tell him the name of my gym and where it's located. As I'm sitting in the lobby wondering what to do next he calls back on the main phone to tell me that my issue has been passed on to a wrecker and that he should be there within the hour. For once, the wrecker is there about 25 min after my call and another 20 after that finds me home.

And I thought I'd be able to relax with my trip to the gym ; )

Friday, January 21, 2011

Ahh, no more bowl.

Well it looks like everyone is over whatever it was that was making them sick. I remembered later in the day that I forgot about one of the bright spots of the whole sickness thing. Moose actually learned to tell me he needed the bowl before be threw up! It was usually preceded by some crying and burping, but he only missed the bowl once. I'm calling that a victory. Needless to say he got much comforting and praise, along with a few back rubs to make him feel better.

After all that going on at home I was in need of some quiet time of my own. As I don't know where the nearest yarn store is (nor do I think it's open past 7pm) and I don't have a gym membership, I headed to the bookstore! I know it sounds totally lame, but there is something so relaxing about checking out the imported magazines, flipping through illustrated books on 19Th century fashion or Elizabethan political drama, all while not having to stop anyone from chewing on anything inappropriate. As a young teenager (before dating. . .) I used to walk to the bookstore near my Mom's house and stay there for hours, I think I liked the quiet of the place.

I think escaping from our kids is one of the things that can make us appreciate and enjoy them more. When I usually escape it's after they've gone to bed, so they've been running a muck and bouncing off the walls since Daddy came home and I'm usually hurrying through bedtime in an effort to get out the door faster. Then I come home and check on them and they are sleeping, sweet and quiet in their beds, looking like little cherubs. I know it sounds cliche but sometimes those moments make it all worth while.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Sick Days

I remember when I was a kid, I'd almost look forward to sick days. I'd get to lay in bed and not really be bothered by anyone, unless it was Mom coming in to check my temperature. I'd get to read or watch movies and sleep to my hearts content. Little did I know that I should have been taking better advantage of these Free Days than I already did.

Our Moose has been sick since very early on Tuesday morning, when I was woken up by him crying some time around 3am. Turned out he'd lost his dinner and had a fever. . . an hour and a half later I was finally back in bed hoping to grab another couple hours before Munchkin woke up. Somehow my Dear Husband managed to sleep through me getting up, cleaning up and getting back into bed; I'm not quite sure how that works but when I figure it out I'll let all the other Mom's know. The rest of Tuesday was spent monitoring his temperature and making sure that he got all the sleep he needed. To add more joy to the week, Munchkin appears to be about to cut some more teeth, so she is in need of the occasional dose of Tylenol and much wiping of her hands due to their great taste.

I think this is just a symptom of this being Moose's first year in school. He loves his classroom and teachers, as well as the nursery in Church. They say that the child who shares nothing else will share his germs, and while he'll occasionally share toys, he seems to be collecting germs this year. Oh well. I have hopes that we'll only be dealing with this phenomenon for the next few years (we still have to get Munchkin into and out of Preschool) before the kids immune system is about to fight off most things.

I do remember the first time that Liam brought home a cold from Nursery and passed it to me, I called my Mom to ask how I was supposed to deal with everything and be sick. Her response with a laugh was "Didn't you know, Mommies don't get sick!"

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

So. . . This is me

OK, after reading an article written by a very cynical woman, although she was very funny, I though it would be nice to put the thoughts of a Mormon Mommy outside of Utah out there for people to see.

I did not grow up in Utah, nor have I ever lived there (nor do I want to). I grew up in the Midwest, Detroit, and now live in a suburb of Chicago. I did not get married at 19, but after I graduated from college, and I'm not all about having the Mormon Dozen children. I love my 2 children, and that's all we're having unless my husband decides to become pregnant. I'm not bashing those that decide to have lots of children, if they can handle it and stay sane more power to them. I just know I could not do it and survive. I don't really sew, I've only canned things a couple times and I'm not the worlds best cook, although when it comes to things containing butter and sugar I think I have a gift. My tastes in fashion also swing a little left of the Typical Molly. In the last 4 years I don't know how many colors of hair I've had, nor how many different styles, and I feel no particular affinity for the Abercrombie/Aeropostale looks that some of my Mommy contemporaries favor. Again I'm not judging, that stuff is just not for me. I don't really do crafts either, although I have been known to knit the occasional pair of socks or baby blanket.

What makes me similar to some other MM's out there is that I am a stay at home Mom. In this part of the country that makes me a little odd, in the DC area that we were in previously I was nothing short of a freak. When people outside the Church would find out that that's what I did, it pretty much stopped the conversation. I had no business ties and was therefore not much use to some people. There was the occasional woman who would put on a fake smile and say "oh, I bet that's so nice for you. . ." The disgust in their voices just masked by touches of faked sweetness when I'd tell them about my kids.

Speaking of my kids, Liam and Quinn, they are in short, the Moose and the Munchkin. Moose is 3 1/2 and could pass for 5, he's taller than at least half of his class and looks like a blond version of his Daddy. Munchkin is quite the opposite, she came into this life small and is still that way. People are astonished to hear that she is almost 14 months, she looks closer to 6 months than a year, and has dark hair and skin like Daddy. When she was born the nurse looked at me and said "Honey, if you want a child that looks like you, I think you're going to have to go for number 3". I'm thinking that's OK, as long as the kids look like one parent, we're good.