"How do you say, umm, pee-emm-ess?"

Gaaah. My family? Unbelievably irritating today. What, did they all get together and say, "What's the best way to drive Mommy crazy?"

And all this on a day when the world is just full of unbearable tragedy and all I can do is cry for all the sorrow and loss out there. Except when I'm crying over my family being so mean to me and trying to annoy me all day long.

All of which was not helped by the stupid State of the Union tonight, which meant that, instead of being able to kick back and watch something mindless and soothing, the husband insisted on being a responsible citizen. As if it makes a difference. Stupid lying politicians, all of them, doesn't matter what party, they are all lying liars and it doesn't matter what they say because it is all LIES.

I do not usually get like this. In fact, this is the first time in my life I have reacted like this. I get grouchy, or I get depressed, but I simply do not do simultaneous weepy and irritable. OK, a little more than irritable. In a mood to rip lips off is more like it. Or faces. Or other body parts.

Definitely other body parts.

Stupid, Stupid, STUPID! The world is full of stupidity today! And Michael lost an important part of an expensive Christmas present and, when I asked him what he'd done with the box it came in, claimed he never opened it, when I WATCHED HIM OPEN IT CHRISTMAS MORNING. But now he is saying he doesn't even remember getting it. And I HALF-KILLED MYSELF getting it for him! Which made me want to both cry and throw something at him, all at once.

Instead of which I went and told the husband how much I wanted to just curl up and cry. Which made him get a panicked look on his face and ask me to please not do that. Which is probably the only time all day that I laughed. And then I cried. And then I got mad at the husband for not understanding.

Stupid men.

Things My Children Do to Drive Me Wild #314

Breakfast Menu
Cereal
Orange Juice
Banana Bread, still warm, with butter

Which the girls do not eat, intead spending their time making loud and annoying noises to each other, then, while I am out of the room, beating each other with a brand-new loaf of white bread.

Following which, they come and complain to me that they are hungry.

When Knock-Knock Jokes Attack

Arielle and her friend Jacob have discovered knock-knock jokes. It turns out that Jacob's mom, on the days she drives them, has been trying to teach them the knock-knock joke that goes:

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Orange
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

Arielle got it; Jacob didn't. So today, on the way home from preschool, I got to be entertained by them slinging knock-knock jokes back and forth. Jacob took the lead, which meant we got this:

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Apple ... or apple tree
Apple ... or apple tree who?

Knock-knock
Who's there?
Orangeappletreedirtytelephone
Orangeappletreedirtytelephone who?

We never did reach a punchline, but the kids seemed mightily amused anyway!

Even as a baby, she was always sad.

I just found out that my little sister is an alcoholic.

It's so hard to even type that phrase.

My sister is an alcoholic.

No, that can't be true. My sister is afflicted with alcoholism. That sounds better. My bipolar sister has been self-medicating with alcohol. That's better, too.

There's just something so harsh, so permanent about saying, "My sister is an alcoholic."

I've never personally known an alcoholic, at least that I know of. I've read about AA and the twelve step program. I'm familiar with addictions of other sorts, and how they can warp a person. I can't envision my sister that way. My beautiful, graceful, intelligent, talented, compassionate, generous, sweet-natured sister.

Oh, you would not believe how beautiful this woman is. She came to visit us a few years ago. Although we'd talked on the phone many times, I hadn't seen her since her early teens, when I got married and moved across the country. When I saw her at the airport, walking down the stairs to the baggage claim, I didn't recognize her. Instead of my sister I saw this tall, slender blonde, with perfect features and a flawless complexion. She had a model's figure, but better. She was what models are airbrushed to look like, and I thought, "Wow. I bet she has to beat the men off."

And then she said my name, and her face clicked into focus. I could see the little girl there, her features inside the woman's like a hidden drawings picture.

The only flaw to her beauty lay in the scars on her wrists from her first suicide attempt, when she was in her late teens. Thick, flat lines sectioning her wrists, ugly symbols of the scars slicing through her mind. It broke my heart to see them.

I can't imagine my sister lying, manipulating, sneaking, hiding bottles, acting "Lost Weekend." And yet, she's been drinking since she was 14. It couldn't have gone on all those years without some of that sort of behavior.

But I can't reconcile that with the woman I know.

My sister has a drinking problem.

My sister is an alcoholic.

My sister is an alcoholic and will be all her life.

My smart, funny, loving little sister, who already has such a heavy burden to carry with her bipolar disorder, also has to carry the weight of an alcohol addiction.

My sister, who thinks she's ugly, who has tried to kill herself twice, who perseveres anyway, who is as beautiful inside as she is outside, is ... what?

Lost? Trapped? Desperate?

A liar? A manipulator? An addict who will sacrifice anything to get her next drink?

You have to understand: she says that the very first drink she had, left her feeling good, feeling happy. She always felt so awful and didn't know why. She wasn't diagnosed as being bipolar until a few years later. I can understand why she sought that feeling out again and again. She was probably addicted pretty quickly; addiction and alcoholism runs in our family, although we've stayed away from things like that for three generations now.

I don't know what to expect from her. I don't know what I can do to help her. So I'm sitting here, struggling to find the right words, tears pooling where my glasses sit on my cheekbones. And in my heart, a voice is crying out, "It's not fair, it's not fair, she shouldn't have to carry so much."

I am so afraid for her.

Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

Arielle has taken to lying, kind of. She doesn't tell me flat out whoppers. What she does is, when I ask her a question to which she thinks the answer might get her into trouble, she'll answer instead, "I don't know."

I first noticed this last week in the whole carpet/picture incident. Now that I think about it, it seems I've been getting the "I don't know" answer quite a bit recently, but I took it at face value, since she's never lied to me before. It was pretty obvious with the carpet, though, that she just didn't want to say.

Today, she came out of her room wearing some clothes that I had put away in the top of her closet for when she is older and taller. When I asked her where she'd gotten them from, she said (all together now), "I don't know."

So. We had a little discussion (OK, lecture) about what a lie is, and why it is a bad thing. I told her that telling me she didn't know, when she does know, is telling a lie. I explained that the consequences for lying would always be much more serious than the consequences for doing something wrong. Then I told her why I don't want her to get up in the top of her closet (I didn't know she could even reach there, much less get into the boxes! Wow, let's scare Mom, why don't we?) and told her the consequences for lying to me about going up there.

I gave her an out. If she apologizes for lying and tells me the truth, then the consequence stops and everything goes back to normal. So far, she'd rather stick to her story. Which has made for a rather miserable hour, now, with Arielle sobbing and miserable because she knows she's in trouble.

My poor sad little girl.

Suggestions would be very welcome from all of you. When did you first have to start dealing with lying from your children and how did you handle it? This is the best way I can think of to handle this, but I would be glad to hear ideas and thoughts. Because the best way I can think of, is not necessarily the best way.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it's to the doctor's office we go!

If you have a sick and very small child, here's something useful to help you figure out how much medication to give them.

Ibuprofen Dosage Chart
Acetominophen Dosage Chart

I always hated how, if you tried to look up dosing information with infant medication it would only say to ask your doctor if the child is under two. Um, yeah. So this is great! For other medications, go to Medicine Cabinet at the same site and work from there.

Why, yes, the girls are sick again. I think it's a law or something. "Jennifer's children must get sick at least twice a month. Bonus points if they manage twice a week!"

Carpet Destruction

I cannot believe what Arielle did. All I did was leave the room for a couple of minutes. I walked back in the living room to see Arielle sitting on the floor on front of the couch. She looked at me and said, "Look, Mommy! I drew a big picture!"

Yes, she had. All over the carpet.

Needless to say, I did not respond with the delight she anticipated.

Since she refused to tell me what she had drawn with (fearing the confiscation of her pen/crayon/pencil/whatever, I think) I sent her to her room, with instructions not to come out until she told me what she'd used, so that I could clean it up.

Wow, that was successful. There was much crying, but no 'fessing up.

Well, I could tell that it wasn't ink, which left either crayon, pencil or colored pencil. I checked out the Crayola site, which was less than helpful. Their directions started with "Scrape excess colored pencil off with a dull-edge knife or metal spoon."

Yes, but I'm not trying to get out melted lumps, I'm trying to clean up a DRAWING!

Everywhere I went said pretty much the same thing, unless they were talking about walls, in which case they all recommended Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (my first choice too, if it had been on the wall.) Nothing, though, about children drawing on the floor.

Am I the only mother with a child who draws on the floor? Remember the Sharpie incident? We never did get that out. It's probably still there on the carpet, annoying the current residents.

I finally took a wet washcloth, a little dishsoap, and an old toothbrush. I laid on my stomach on the carpet, wet the toothbrush in a cup of water I had near me, dipped it lightly in the soap, then scrubbed like crazy. Wiped up the soap with the washcloth and went on to the next section. We'll see how it looks after it dries.

I'll probably rent a carpet cleaner later on, to make sure I get all the soap out of the carpet and to get any last traces of whatever that I might have missed.

I cannot believe she did that. Good heavens, the child is more than old enough to know not to draw on the floor! What in the world possessed her?

To bed, to bed, says Sleepyhead.

Today I:

• Went shopping
• Came home and put the groceries away
• Baked a birthday cake
• Cleaned the house
• Did two loads of laundry
• Wrapped two presents
• Made dinner for us and two guests
• Entertained our guests
• Managed a birthday party
  
• Wrote this blog entry

I can't believe I did this much. Three months ago only one of these would have been enough to exhaust and overwhelm me. Tonight, I'm tired and yawning constantly, but it's all physical, not the complete mental and spiritual enervation I struggled with back then.

Oh, it feels so good to be tired like this. It makes me so happy not to feel like that anymore.

An Attention Deficit Post

Arielle has her first birthday party today, which has me wondering what to expect. What exactly is a mom supposed to do at a preschooler birthday party? Would I look pushy and overprotective if I stayed? Would I look selfish and uncaring if I dropped her off and left for the library? Luckily the husband is home, so I don't have to worry about what to do with Gabrielle.

*******************************

The husband and I had a date Saturday night. (A date! A date! An actual date!) I had a whole new outfit and everything (while taking Arielle to the store to pick up a present for her friend I saw they had a bunch of stuff on clearance. Hooray for $5 shirts!). Anyway, while getting ready to go out I thought of some advice for Kira:

When the husband and I were dating but not yet engaged I decided that when/if we got engaged (it was a pretty sure expectation at that point) I wanted to do something that would be useful later on in our marriage. Our sense of smell is far more powerful than we usually think about, and I knew it was a great way to bring back memories. So, I decided that I would wear only one scent throughout our engagement and honeymoon. I chose rose because I figured that was a scent that would never go competely out of style.

I have to tell you, all these years later, it has proven to be a very good decision. When I wear rose it has a tendency to make the husband feel very romantic and happy. He knows all about what I was doing back then, so sometimes he'll pick up on the scent I'm wearing and laugh about it. Other times he doesn't consciously realize what I'm doing, but he'll still react.

So that's my advice to Kira. Pick one scent and stick with it for a few months. You'll probably get sick of it (after our honeymoon I wasn't sure if I'd ever want to wear rose again!) but you'll reap the benefits down the road.

*******************************

It has been so warm here lately that I've been letting the girls go out to play not only coatless, but shoeless. It feels like spring, not the dead of winter. While I enjoy the warmth, it worries me about what the summer will bring. I'd be much happier right now if there were a couple of feet of snow on the ground.

Did you know that many fruiting plants need a certain amount of cold temperatures to produce fruit the next summer? It's called the chilling requirement and it's measured in units of an hour. One chilling unit is accomplished when the temperature is between 32F and 45F for an hour. Apple trees can require up to 1700 chilling units to bud and blossom normally. That's about 70 days.

Now you've learned something new! Aren't you glad you wasted some time reading my blog?

Childhood Foods

It was a bad day yesterday, parts of which involved:

• Finding out when I went to pay for the groceries that Gabrielle had pulled out my wallet when she got into my purse earlier that day.
• This was after an hour of enduring my daughters whining, fighting, throwing temper tantrums, running up and down the aisles, and trying to open interesting containers.
• Being told that I was given incorrect information about the job I've been asked to do at church. I don't get to work with the woman I'd like to get to know; I have to work with the woman who acts like she hates me.
• All this after getting to bed late, because Gabrielle decided not to sleep the night before, so I spent the day tired and vaguely depressed.
• And then the husband called to say he'd be getting home from work two hours late.
  

That was just the highlights. It was One of Those Days.

Which is probably why, come dinnertime, I looked at the spaghetti I made (we were going to have tacos instead, but couldn't due to the fiasco at the store) and thought, "Yuck." Instead of sauce I had a great longing for butter and grated cheddar cheese on my spaghetti, the way I used to eat it when I was a little girl.

So I did. And it was delicious.

It grossed the husband out, but that's okay. He can learn to deal with it.

This has gotten me thinking, however, about other odd things I used to eat when I was a kid. Most of these I used to love, but I haven't had them for years. I wonder if they're still as good as the spaghetti was?

Bread and Milk
I think both of my parents grew up eating this. We'd just tear up a couple of pieces of white bread in a bowl, sprinkle sugar it and pour milk over everything. Yummy. We'd beg for it all the time.

Bread and Sugar
Something my mother used to make for us when I was very small. A slice of white bread with butter on it, sprinkled with sugar. I'd never dare give this to my children. Might as well just inject them with pure adrenaline! But, oh, how we loved it. I introduced my own variation when I was about six. I'd pile raisins on half of the bread and then fold the slice in half to make a sugar and raisin sandwich.

Peanut Butter Sandwiches
My father taught us to eat these. Take another piece of white bread (white bread was very big in our house) and slather a thick layer of peanut butter over the whole thing. Then fold it in half, top to bottom. I have been teaching my daughters to eat peanut butter sandwiches this way, lately, much to the husband's bemusement. He can't understand why you'd want to fold your bread in half. Because it tastes better that way, silly!

Milk Toast
Toast a slice of bread (white, naturally) and butter it. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar over it, then put it in a bowl and pour milk over it. Oh, yummy. I can still remember the silky texture of the toast after it had soaked up the milk.

Graham Crackers and Milk
Another thing Dad would make for us. Crumble up a stack of graham crackers into a bowl and pour milk over them. Eat like cereal. A real treat and the reason my mother never bought graham crackers.

Rice Cereal
Cold, leftover rice, usually from dinner the night before. We'd eat it like cold cereal with sugar and milk. Sometimes we'd put cinnamon in it too. Another dish we'd beg for, to the point that sometimes Mom would make rice expressly for our breakfasts.

While most of these could have been eaten for breakfast, they rarely were. They were things we were given when we were hungry between meals, or when we were sick (the milk toast). Some of them my parents ate when they were kids, some of them (like the spaghetti) came about because of weird eating quirks when we were kids. (I refused to have sauce on my spaghetti.)

Which leads me to this question. What did you eat when you were a kid? Mustard on your waffles? Hot sauce on your ice cream? And do you ever eat it now?

Lose weight drinking delicious, frothy, chocolate milkshakes!

I lost a filling a while ago and when I went to the dentist he said that there was no point in trying to save the tooth; I should get it pulled instead of getting it filled again.

All of which means I spent 24 hours last week on a liquid diet.

Wow. How do people do this on a long term basis? My body just refused to believe something that wasn't chewable was food. I spent the whole time starved.

I tried doing Slimfast when I was younger, but it never worked for me for exactly this reason. I'd have one glass of the stuff and still feel hungry. I'd wind up having a second glass and then a third before I felt anything other than ravenous. Needless to say, that seemed like a bad idea. Not exactly low calorie when you're drinking the stuff at that rate!

Yeah, this only served to reinforce my opinion that the best way for me to lose weight is to eat. I need volume. I need fiber. I need something I can sink my teeth into. Whole grains, lots of veggies, plenty of fruit, nutrient dense stuff. Because anything less and I might just as well try the candy bar diet.

Note to self: More Cyberchase. Less Disney.

My little girl is growing up, and it's hilarious.

One of Arielle's schoolmates lives near us, so his mom and I take turns driving them. Naturally, the kids have become good friends, but Arielle (who loves everyone she meets with all of her little heart) has become especially attached to Jacob. The last time Arielle was dropped off, Jacob's Mom shared with me the following exchange between the two of them.

Arielle: "Jacob, I love you!"

No response

Arielle: "Jacob, I love you!"

Jacob (said, I am told, with a certain amount of impatience): "I know."

Today, the conversation was continued.

Arielle: "Jacob, I love you!"

Jacob (muttering): "I know."

Short pause

Arielle (said in a decidly flirtatious tone): "How do I look?"

Jacob ignores her, concentrating on the papers he is bringing home from school.

Arielle (all but batting her eyes): "How do I look?"

Still no response from Jacob.

Arielle (laying the back of her hand against her cheek): "How do I look?"

Jacob (resignedly): "Fine."

We pull into Jacob's driveway and I hop out to open his door.

Arielle: "Jacob! Give me a hug and a kiss!" (This is from sending Daddy off to work with a hug and a kiss every day. That has gradually extended to the rest of the family, so that now everyone needs a hug and a kiss whenever they will be out of sight for more than a few minutes. Obviously Jacob is now a member of the family!)

Jacob works on his seat buckle, ignoring Arielle.

Arielle (arms stretched out to Jacob): "Jacob! Hug and a kiss!"

Jacob: Runs off past his mother, through his front door, where he disappears from sight.

Mommies: Trying very hard to stifle their laughter.

Bless her pure, honest, loving little heart.

Mom the Teacher

I just love having Tivo! We've been using it constantly and having a blast doing so. Right now, the girls are watching The Magic Schoolbus, which I've got on a Season Pass. It's so nice when things are easy!

There are really only two shows that I'll try to make sure the girls watch. The Magic Schoolbus and Cyberchase are both educational and entertaining. Cyberchase is Arielle's favorite of all shows, which just thrills me down to the ground. She has picked up simple math concepts from it already, but what I really like the most about it is that it presents math as a familiar and useful tool, easy to learn and easy to use. I don't intend to let my girls get the mental block about math that I had when I was a kid.

And then, Magic Schoolbus, well, that's just full of everything. To the girls it's just entertaining, but I figure they're picking up a familiarity with concepts, at the very least, if not an actual understanding of the subjects covered.

I've been interested to observe, lately, how much Arielle has started reaching out to learn more and more about the world around her. She's really made a cognitive leap, and it's been fun. She keeps asking the "why" questions, but they've become a little more focused and she listens for more than just a simple one sentence answer. I'm starting to feel like I'm homeschooling, trying to explain things like autumn and stars.

It makes me grateful that I've always enjoyed learning. Because I went out and got the answer to my questions, I'm in a position to answer all of her questions.

It's the most thorough workout of my education I've ever had and I'm enjoying it.

A New Year.

This has been a good year. Oh, sure it's had its hard times, but looking back at where we were at this time last year, life is much better.

Last year at this time, we hadn't had any money for Christmas. We didn't have any money for the rent, and the money we were counting on didn't show up by the first, like I'd counted on. Luckily the first was a holiday, so I went by the property manager's office and stuck the check under the door. They wouldn't get it until the 2nd, but at least I could claim I'd paid it on time and we wouldn't get penalized. Most hopefully, the money we were waiting for would come in on the 2nd and by the time they took our check to the bank, the other money would be waiting and the check wouldn't bounce.

This year, we didn't have to think twice about paying rent, and not only did we get to have Christmas, we had enough extra to buy some blankets and sheets in an after-Christmas sale.

Last year at this time Michael was in the middle of refusing to do anything related to school. He was swearing at me, using threats and his considerable size to try to frighten everyone into doing what he wanted them to do, and hitting Arielle every time she was near him and my back was turned. He lied constantly. I was seriously considering leaving my marriage in an attempt to keep him from hurting the girls.

This year, Michael has grown up a lot. He's still a handful sometimes, but we are seeing increasingly pleasant behavior from him and he's making a real effort to do well in school. He's willing to negotiate with us when we need to establish limits on his behavior and if he doesn't get what he wants is more likely to shrug and say, "Oh well," than to spit at people and threaten to hurt them. I cannot say what a relief that is.

Last year at this time I was so deeply depressed that I couldn't even write anymore. I felt like an animal in a trap, so desperate to escape that I would have sacrificed anything to be free. And it was going to get much worse in the coming months.

This year, I feel much better. I'm not sure if I'm over the depression yet, but I can laugh again, and think, and plan and do things. I have to be careful not to overdo because I find that it's all too easy to use up a day's worth of energy with an hour or two or hard effort or excitement. I have to be careful to write down anything I want to remember, because my memory isn't what it used to be. But, when I look back at those dark times last summer, when I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to keep from hurting myself, I can't really understand how I could have felt that way. Now, if a bad thing happens, suicide is not my first thought. Because trouble is temporary and there's always a solution on the other side.

All you have to do is hold your breath and hang on.