Tomorrow the kids are off school and we are busting out of this joint. We're headed to my parents' house, then the Children's Museum in Tacoma, then we'll lunch at a restaurant I get to review for Trekaroo - hey, did I tell you I'm writing [totally inane, somewhat useless] reviews over at this lovely family travel website? FANCY! Sort of. It's not like they're flying me to Paris. (Carrie, could you work on that?) It's kinda fun, though I've totally run out of things to write about. Must go on a trip soon!
We're staying the night with my folks and heading up to Port Angeles in the morning for my nephew's birthday party. And can I just say: I HATE DRIVING TO PORT ANGELES. I'm sorry All Of My Family Who Live Up There, but I do. It's just so... PACIFIC NORTHWESTY. That stretch between the Hood Canal and Sequim? Does anyone live out there? Is it just a million square miles of FOREST? Populated by nothing but Weyerhaeuser propaganda signs?
Actually I think I hate driving up there because when I was little MY cousins lived in Port Angeles too and I swear it took, like, nine hundred hours to get to my uncle's house. One of the first times I went back as an adult I was totally fantastically shocked at how close it was from Seattle - that ferry ride cuts out SO MUCH DRIVING! However! Catching the ferry on the Saturday morning of Memorial Day Weekend? I am not so foolish! So we're going to stay with my parents the night before, drive up with them, and take the ferry HOME. Much better. Especially since I bet my parents will take all the kids in THEIR van. EXCELLENT PLANNING, SELF!
Anyway, have you even HEARD of Port Angeles? I remember wearing a Port Angeles t-shirt in 5th or 6th grade on the Italian military base (because I was THAT stylish) and being made fun of because it's LOS Angeles, not PORT Angeles, who's ever heard of PORT Angeles. I would like to swat that boy on the back of his head with a hardbound copy of Twilight. Harrumph.
But it's funny - my brother and SIL up there would rather eat glass than live in or near SEATTLE. Actually I think I'm really the only one in my family who's totally committed to High Density Living. Not that the rest of them live out in the woods or whatever (and not that where I live right now, on the far northern edge of Seattle proper, is particularly hard core city living), but where they can take it or leave it, I must have it. Not just because Phillip's job is in the city and all our friends are here. There is definitely something about the fact that at age 18, after years of feeling like I didn't belong, I fell in deep monogamous love with this city. To leave it sounds... like changing ME. Or something. I don't know. I can be a bit overdramatic.
I remember my first couple of years living here - my only other family member in town was my aunt, and she would pick me up at the dorms and take me to movies or out to dinner or to her house or whatever and I would just be in AWE of her navigational skills. I knew Seattle wasn't a huge city, but it was so much MORE than anywhere I'd ever lived and every neighborhood was far away and new and strange to me. I couldn't imagine a time when I would know my way around. But now I do! And I am still so happy about that in my own warped head. Almost every time I drive north across the ship canal bridge I hear my aunt say, "Nearly every building you see over there is part of UW," and I now I know what those buildings ARE.
I just really LOVE THIS PLACE, is what I'm saying.
Nearly all of Phillip's business trips, back when he was business tripping, were to Atlanta. I can say that now, I think. So much so that we talked (just a little bit) about MOVING to Atlanta. If he'd wanted to stay at that job and move up and go far, all that, then yeah, moving to Atlanta would have to happen. And because I love and support Phillip, I could contemplate it. How nice for me that he didn't want to stay at that job, eh?! (Not that we discussed it for more than 10 minutes anyway.)
The only other place we've talked about is San Francisco, also because of a job. I think I would like San Francisco? That seems possible in a way that Atlanta doesn't? But still. No, for a whole bunch of reasons.
There was a job that had potential for living overseas. I think I would do that. Maybe. Depending. That's different - we'd come back. (Right?)
But anyway, Port Angeles, yes, nice place, very scenic, mountains and water and forests and lakes and that Dungeness Spit - all lovely. Not enough traffic for me, though. (HAR HAR. That was for my dad, who hates traffic more than anyone else in the world hates traffic. He hates traffic as much as he loves Harry Potter. That's a lot, people.)
THE END
Ever since Jack came down with pneumonia in MARCH, at least one person in our family has been sick. I think Molly is the only one who hasn't had coughing fits at night or gone through a box of Kleenex in one afternoon. Phillip had to go to the doctor THREE TIMES before he finally started to get better and I found myself at the doctor this morning. I wouldn't have gone - I can't remember the last time I went to the doctor for something unrelated to having babies - but after watching Phillip go through what was definitely more than a man cold, I was worried.
I'm fine, of course, just coughing, just a virus. Ho hum. The best thing to come out of this is a text from Phillip promising to be home by 5:30 with take out dinner for the kids. Excellent.
There are plenty of not so great things, however, and most of those have to do with Not Feeling Up To It. I don't know if it's because it's the end of the year or we're all hacking up our lungs or what, but I am no longer okay with the complicated drop off pick up schedule. Suddenly I am OVER IT. I am DONE. I don't WANT to go out for another time killer coffee and treat. At the beginning of the school year I looked at it as something to power through and survive. Somewhere in the middle I MIGHT have started to enjoy it. We got into a rythym, you know, and found "our" coffee shops and developed a not-very-routine routine. But it needs to be done now. I am finished. I am tired. I AM READY FOR THE NEXT THING NOOOOOOW.
Did I tell you that I took Molly to the early kindergarten entrance thing? Quick review: Molly was born one day past the kindergarten cut off date. Kids born in the eight weeks after the cut off date are eligible for early entrance testing so I signed her up and paid the $90 fee and shlepped her to a morning of assessments. I have absolutely no idea what went on - all the parents stayed in the lunchroom while the kids went to classrooms, and then immediately disappeared as soon as the kids were back with their parents. So! If she "passes" we get a date with a school psychologist for one more test, then apparently they tell us if she gets to go to school in the fall. I've heard this could happen, like, the day before school starts. Fun times!
Even though it's not for sure, I can't think of a single reason why Molly wouldn't be admitted and I am beginning to dream about September. Not because my kids are so horrible and I'm dreaming about school starting before summer vacation even starts, I'm just already in love with my LIFE come September. Jack and Molly at the same school, on the same schedule, with the same notifications and lunches and picture days and fundraiser days and BE STILL MY HEART! Drop them both off at 8:45 and pick up at 3:00 and whatever I want in between. Just one baby to work with, no naps and drive times to coordinate, I am swooning, people. Weak-kneed.
I feel senioritisy about things I have no business feeling senioritisy about. Especially being someone who is way past her senioritis days. Can I just blame the time of year?
Oh AND? Deck demo starts next week after Memorial Day. More fun times!
So, uh, how many of you have emergency kits? Oooh, next question: what is IN an emergency kit?
Phillip and I are discussing emergency kits, escape routes, meeting up plans, all sorts of distasteful things as we watch the Moore, OK coverage. I say, "Thank God we're building deck stairs because we don't have an exit route from the second floor." Phillip says, "I think my car has lots of water in the back, but I need to put more in the van." I say, "Should I make everyone a little backpack of extra clothes and snacks and a space blanket? And... other stuff?" Phillip says, "If something happens when I'm at work and I can't reach you, first I'll look for you here, then I'll look here, then I'll look here." Then we stare at the TV a little longer.
For a while I sat in on a bunch of meetings where we tried to figure out how to disaster-prepare the church. It was even more important as the church is the largest gathering space in that neighborhood and would likely be a shelter and headquarters for response teams. It was totally overwhelming - not the best feeling for someone on the planning team, I know, but I had a hard time wrapping my brain around so many responsibilities and contingencies. At such a time I think I would only be big enough for three responsibilities: Jackson, Molly, and Emma.
Phillip and I need to figure out a plan for our family. I've been thinking about it for a while. Extra food and water in the garage. Batteries. Flashlights. Radios. What else? I had to make a little emergency kit for Molly's preschool. Extra clothes, a space blanket, a few snacks, a "comforting letter". When my brother returned from Hurricane Katrina relief with the National Guard, he stocked up all the proper survivalist supplies, bought a few guns. We will not be doing that. But we should do something. Say the next earthquake takes out a bridge? Or we find out North Korea can reach Seattle? Or my friend's parents are right and the rapture is going to happen any day now? WHO KNOWS?
I'm looking at this website: http://makeitthrough.org/
Ugh, this is such a terrible thing to think about. Much like making a WILL, which we haven't done EITHER. (I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.)
Tonight I'm just super thankful that when Jack asks me what the news is talking about I can truthfully say, "Don't worry, that doesn't happen here."
I'm so sorry, Oklahoma.
Even though I could positively karate kick every single person who feels compelled to tell me that my baby doesn't look like much of a baby anymore, they're right. At some point in the last few weeks Emma Cheung morphed into the next version of herself. She's not two yet, but for all the whining and demanding and temper having and sheer personality getting thrown around, she might as well be. And it's as I suspected - there's a loud, assertive, charming little extrovert inside that kid and I admit it, I'm a little intimidated.
I thought my other kids were full of personality at this age too, but I think they were personalities I understood a bit better. Maybe a little more like my own, or easily handled. I see a lot of myself in Jack, and Molly is a sweet, soft, delicious little spoonful of girly whipped cream. Or maybe it's because I'm familiar with them, I know what to expect, and Emma's self is suddenly exploding all over the house. Even Jack and Molly seemed stunned by the force at times, unthinkingly handing over a toy or snack, immediately giving in, yielding to the emotional noise that is their baby sister.
Just this last week she's begun to choose walking - a drunken stumble, really - over scooting, and she's high on the experience. "LOOK AT ME!" her face says, as if she started walking at 9 months instead of 20. She talks. Constantly. Repeats everything we say. Yells it. And if she can't form the words she emits this awful mind-numbing "Eh-ehhhh!" until we figure out what she wants. She is sweet and darling and cuddly and loving until the instant she is not, and then she is furious, offended, indignant, and spilling white hot tears of HOW COULD YOU?!?!?!
And while she is still very clingy and attached to me, she has absolutely no fear diving (literally) into her siblings' games and toys and carefully structured pillow forts. Aren't all of these things here for her own amusement? Including the older siblings? Is not this entire house and everything within it simply existing for her own personal enjoyment?
I feel sorry for my kids sometimes, having as they do a mother obsessed with Myers-Briggs and enneagrams and birth order and various other personality theories and assessments. I don't WANT to assign them traits and characteristics before they can pronounce "enneagram" but dudes, if Emma Cheung doesn't have YOUNGEST CHILD oozing out of every pore. I see it in action every day. She studies Jack and Molly, she takes note of what gets a laugh, and she'll do those things over and over again. She REMEMBERS those things, weeks and weeks after they happen. I'm afraid she'll be playing "steal Mommy's napkin" for laughs until she's thirty-five. Even at not quite two she's the ham in this family, though admittedly she doesn't have much competition. I fear for this child, growing up the lone noisy extrovert in a family of rule followers. But see - I'm doing it again. Who knows what she'll be like! Who knows what the other kids will be like! I don't blame her for capitalizing on being Super Cute Funny Baby Sister, a role I've often envied.
I think of all the times growing up when I swore to myself that if I ever had kids I would be FAIR! And EQUAL! And I would remember how old the oldest was when she got to shave her legs and not even CONSIDER letting the youngest do it until she was AT LEAST the age the oldest WAS etc. etc. etc. But I cannot fathom a time when Emma won't be my BABY and so much younger than her siblings and therefore needing special treatment and attention. HORRIBLE! But even Jack and Molly fall into this line of thinking, getting irritated when people would try to get Emma to stand on her own and walk, taking over, protectively grabbing Emma's hands and barking, "SHE CAN'T WALK."
How am I encouraging Jack in his "oldest" role and Emma in her "youngest"? How am I neglecting Molly as the "forgotten middle"?
It is such a BIZARRE and AMAZING thing to have three brand new never-seen-before individuals living in your house. Where you're observing every minute detail, recording many of those details in a BLOG for heaven's sake. WHO ARE THEY? More importantly, HOW AM I SCREWING THEM UP?
So, heads up, I have a serious amount of war links, even for me.
Have you heard of Irena Sendler? I hadn't either. Shame on me. What a courageous, amazing woman.
My father, the good Nazi. I just... Where did I get this link from? I forget. This story just broke my heart. The father wasn't just any old garden variety Nazi, he was a MONSTER, but it was hard to totally fault and blame and condemn the son for making so many excuses. Especially maybe because the father was so terrible. Despite his denials, it's telling to see the effects the father had on the son who never knew him.
This story is just flat out crazypants. An Auschwitz Survivor Searches For His Twin On Facebook. I KNOW. Holy crap. They were one of Dr. Mengele's experiments.
I am fascinated by the story of Ryan Fogle, the CIA agent found out in Moscow. The details are bizarre, but according to this story about spies in our history, he's in good company.
North Korea isn't fighting a war (yet?) but I feel like this story about North Korean orphans fits in the category. This is awful, just like every other story that comes out of there. I've been debating picking up that newish book on FDR and the Jews, and every time I read about North Korea I can't help thinking WHAT SHOULD WE BE DOING ABOUT THIS? Fifty years from now is someone going to write a book about the US and how we knew what was going on and did nothing? UGH.
All righty! That heavy enough? Here's a "this book is totally overrated" review of The Great Gatsby on Vulture. Excellent. I totally want to see the movie, though, because is there anything more glamorous than 1920s fashion? NO. And 1920s fashion as depicted by Baz Luhrmann? SWOON.
Wikipedia's Women Problem. Discuss.
50 Shades of Draper. SERIOUSLY. I love this show, I really really do, I love how it's a chapter of a novel for me to dissect each week, but this was the first episode where I just needed something good. Simply good. Like Burt whatshisname falling in love with Joanie and they get married happily ever after and CAN SOMETHING HAPPY PLEASE HAPPEN OMG.
When I was out doing the kindergarten and preschool rounds this morning my old boss from 10-ish years ago popped up on my cell phone. I worked for him 3? 4? years? I should know this. And when I moved on I stayed in the same industry so I saw him often, plus he was, by then, kind of like your crotchety uncle who is secretly a big fat softie inside and gives you a giant check for high school graduation.
It was just him and me and his dog in our tiny downtown office. He was a lobbyist and flew around and talked on the phone; I did absolutely everything else. He once yelled at me (like my DAD yelling at me, which is TERRIBLE) for getting his flight reservations wrong. Like, I was terrified to go to work the next day. He's been suspicious of Phillip ever since he didn't give me an engagement ring (LONG STORY!), but he went to my wedding, has met all my children, writes to me every Christmas, and takes me out to lunch when he's in town. But I haven't talked to him in forever. And he didn't leave a message. And he called TWICE. eep!
Anyway, when I got home I had an email from him inviting me to an industry lunch we used to go to every year, where I once won a giant television in a raffle (he paid for my raffle tickets). I am at once touched, delighted, and horrified. WHAT? No. I am not going to that lunch. Even as his now mid-thirties all-grown-up-now former assistant who can pay for her own raffle tickets this time, thankyouverymuch.
There are just SO MANY THINGS I regret from that time, it would just be SO... I don't know! He implied that most of "the old gang" would be there, so a lot of the Important and Not So Important People I used to work with and talk to and I always felt so SUBSERVIENT to them, so insignificant and dumb and unpretty and a total utter failure at the Schmoozing that happens at those events.
I worked super hard. Especially after I messed up those plane tickets, man. I didn't always have a lot to do there (or at my next job), but I tried my absolute hardest to get everything right the first time, to be the quickest, most efficient, most reliable, on-top-of-everything Girl Friday. And I think I succeeded, for the most part. I knew I was lacking in social graces, I knew I was easily intimidated, I knew my looks didn't exactly recommend me (this was an old boys' club, sigh), and I was just SO AWARE of being BELOW everyone else. (This is long before I knew I was a Three on the Enneagram, obvs. IT EXPLAINS SO MUCH!) So I made myself, in every way I knew how, indispensable. Like, that's what was going to make me valuable.
All of those people were SO kind to me. Some of them wrote me recommendations, some of them got me work other places, many of them gave me advice. The industry, which never interested me, was full of really tremendous, generous (and fun loving) people. When I look back I can see them affirming me, inviting me into their groups, treating me like a grown up, but I don't ever remember thinking I WAS a grown up, equal to them in any way. And to think about seeing all of them again? Errrr...
No, I think I will go. I think I will go because I love my old boss and it'd be a good time and it's a fundraiser for a great organization and because I know that ultimately all my old insecurities were bigger in my head than they were in real life. I'll go because I think it'd be fun to actually see some of those people again and while they may loom large in my memories I most likely occupy negative space in theirs.
Besides, even if I was a very anxious, uptight, all-business 20 something, I like myself much more as a 30 something. I am more than happy in my job. I am more creative, more productive, more comfortable, more ME than I ever was working with that crowd. I have three kids, I have a sense of humor, I know now that I'm worth getting to know.
If nothing else, maybe I'll win another TV.
I'm anxious, Internet. Let's talk this out.
(Oh wait. Before that, Jack's birthday was lovely and so was Mother's Day. I have an excellent family. Blessed all around. Kids even halfway pleasant.)
So anyway. This has been going on for a few days and seems to be increasing. It was triggered, I know, by an unbloggable yet mostly insignificant thing, just something that reminded me of something else. It's nothing I have to deal with or think about it any way NOW (really, truly, trust me), but I am ANYWAY. Sort of a nice summary of my anxiety stuff: let's obsess over things that are over/pointless/not real/not worth obsessing about!
Other things that are not helping:
Things that ARE helping
OKAY I WROTE IT OUT, now I'm going to eat spoonfuls of peanut butter and watch Mad Men. Obvs this is a healthy way to cope.
You guys, I am stress-eating all the things. Right now it's watermelon, but earlier it was about five Fiber One Brownies in a row. I am getting LOTS of fiber, folks.
I don't feel like I'm doing a good job in ANY area of my life right now and that's pretty much the worst feeling. Like Jack's birthday? I have pretty much taped his celebration together. I know the grandparents don't care. I know Jack certainly doesn't care. (I have a present, cake, and water balloons, so I think he's good to go.) But *I* care. I LIKE parties. I LIKE going out of my way. I LIKE making a big deal of things. I LIKE putting all the elements together. But for whatever reason I just do not have it in me to throw a color-coordinated heavily-themed shindig this year. I KNOW THIS IS OKAY. I AM STILL FRUSTRATED.
(Where Thirty Something Me has improved over Twenty Something Me is that she knows when to give up. See: yesterday's post where I decided in advance that Nothing Will Get Done On Babysitting Days. Or the moment I realized I could BUY something for Jack's class treat instead of making those Pinterest brownies that look like Legos.)
I'm allowing too much TV and too much sugar. I'm a fairly useless wife. My house... just don't look too closely.The deck stairs thing is still not figured out. I have a million things to return and a million things to buy and I keep forgetting that stupid library book. Do I even know where that library book IS? My work ethic has mainly been directed towards my front yard (which is ALMOST looking awesome) and reading books that prevent me from making dinner on time. ...or any dinner at all.
(But WORTH IT. A hundred thumbs up for Eleanor & Park. Swoon.)
I know this is just a Feeling that will Pass, but man, it SUCKS in the meantime. Phillip worked from home today and when I returned from my various drop offs and shopping trips and gas filling I flounced into the office and brain-vomited all over him. "TOO MANY THINGS ON MY PLATE," I shouted at him, although I can't be sure, I was talking so fast I might not have been speaking English.
When you're a Three (THERE SHE GOES AGAIN!) and you feel valued for what you DO, it is a stinky sucky feeling when you realize: hey, I'm doing a SHODDY JOB OF EVERYTHING.
There's this new apartment building nearish my house, one of those huge complexes with commercial space underneath, and I keep wondering how big one of those spaces might be, what the rent is, would it have a kitchen?
Even though Katie and I are seemingly light years away from opening our own bakery. For one thing, Katie just recently got a job. (MAKING PIE.) And for another, we have very small children. One of whom has been High Needs since birth, another who has only become a clingy separation-anxious mess in the last month or two. I guess I have those two other kids, but they're a breeze compared to the babies.
And I'm babysitting my niece once a week now. I have been ready and willing to do so since she was born, I'm DELIGHTED to spend extra time with her, and one of my great hopes is that she and Emma will be good friends.
So the first time was two weeks ago and THANK GOD my mom was here. I came down with the worst cold I've had in forever and I could barely take care of my own kids let alone Lil Miss FPC. I basically laid face down on the couch while my sainted mother did all the work.
Last week my BIL took the day off - no babysitting for me!
THIS week I am back on the schedule and my mom is not going to be here. Fortunately I am feeling much better. Unfortunately Lil Miss FPC is going through an even clingier than usual phase. Fortunately I am prepared with an Ergo, a Baby FPC-friendly agenda, sunshine, and many many cheese cubes. Unfortunately Miss EJ is making me crazy with the clingy. Fortunately I still have my double stroller! Unfortunately EJ isn't particularly fond of being within striking distance of her cousin. Fortunately I've already informed my sister that I may take up day drinking and she was cool with it.
We'll see, right? I think the largest part of the battle, for me, is just making it abundantly clear to myself that I will get nothing done on Thursday except keep one big girl and two smaller ones fed, clean, dry, and reasonably happy. (If Baby FPC chooses to sob all day long that's just going to be her own fault.) There will be no digging in the yard, no folding clothes, no brilliant blog posts written, at least not between the school day hours when I have Baby FPC. (And let's be honest, it's not like I'm cleaning bathrooms or doing dishes on the other days anyway.)
AND THAT'S FINE. It really is. So many days I want to feel responsible for nothing else except keeping everyone alive and now I get to do that on a regular basis! But I know it's going to be rough, at least until Baby FPC either lightens up or resigns herself to spending a few hours with her horrid aunt once a week. Katie and Baby FPC were just here this afternoon and there was shrieking and howling when Katie got up and went across the ROOM. This does not bode well for the person staying with Baby FPC when Katie is across TOWN.
She better bring me some pie.
Anyway, all of that to say: how in the WORLD are the two of us going to find the time and energy to open a BUSINESS? We always knew it was kind of crazypants, but hanging out with our two babies today it felt like triple crazypants. Not that they'll be this way forever, but will there ever be a time when we feel like we HAVE time? I have no idea. A lot of the grand ideas are fleshed out (as fleshed out as they can be at this point) so a lot of the initial excitement has waned. I already know what we're going to serve. I already know what I want it to look like. There's not a whole lot left to imagine. But who knows when we'll be able to start making it REAL.
It was 84 degrees in Seattle today. Instead of working like a dog in my front yard during Emma's nap, I grabbed the Agatha Christie I stole from my sister's house, made myself a Peach Oatmeal Smoothie in my craptastic personal-size blender, and sat on my deck for a good long while. Am now lobster-colored. WORTH IT.
It's one of those evenings where I'm all, "Shoot, all that stuff I put on my calendar a couple weeks ago is happening, like, all at once, PASS THE MEDICATION." Dentist appointments, swim lessons, dinner parties, a certain almost-six-year-old's birthday... ack. Oh, and the deck stairs and slide. I was supposed to get my final numbers on Friday, but of course that didn't happen. I just sent a cheery little email to the contractor, subtext being, "HURRY UP, DUDE."
Anyway... things are getting all different again? Like EJ is now this clingy, uber-attached, easily pissed off little thing? Right now she's screaming bloody murder because when I took her out of her high chair (where she was happily coloring) I just... PUT HER DOWN. Standing. On the floor. Next to nothing. AND THEN I WALKED AWAY. HOW DARE I.
She spent a few minutes standing there shrieking, then another few minutes shrieking at Jack as he tried to help her walk to the living room (SHE'S TRYING TO MAKE A POINT, STOP HELPING HER), and then a few overly dramatic minutes falling to her knees, then getting back up, then falling, then getting back up. All the while screaming. BECAUSE HOW DARE I.
But look - she's over it! Time for EJ to get used to being one of the Cheung kids, which means finding other things to do while your mother gives all her attention to the internet.
THAT, anyway, is why I haven't exactly been utilizing that Y membership. The kids are doing swim lessons there and we've gone a few times for the rec swim, but tomorrow morning IDEALLY I would head to the Y directly after kindergarten drop off, stick the girls in childcare and use the treadmill until it's time for Molly's lesson. But I'm totally nervous to leave Emma there. I wasn't the first time. I felt okay about trying again, but she's gotten WORSE. All my best friends have to do is look at her and she starts crying. So it just sounds STRESSFUL to try and leave her there. Right now. I don't know.
Maybe that's part of the whole "season" thing. This is not the season of consistently working out while one's daughter cheerfully plays in the amazing babylicious playroom.