Three Kid Circus

You can tell by the way I use my walk

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:25:58 -0800

NaBloPoMo #8

This entry is a total cop-out. I've got so much wonderful to report on our outing, but I'm too tired right now.

Happy Birthday to my lovely mom!

When in doubt, add music.

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 18:20:14 -0800

NaBloPoMo #7

This summer, I bought tickets on a whim to see Wicked in San Francisco. I thought it would be a fun way to celebrate my mom's birthday, so I got four tickets - one for me, one for her, one for my sister and one for a guest of my mom's choice.

When my sister's situation hit the fan, we weren't sure if we'd be able to go, but as luck would have it, we're headed into the city tomorrow for some drama and music. I mean, we've already got drama, so why not add some professionally produced drama with a great soundtrack?

We're so going to be calling each other witches all day tomorrow. Heh.

Snippets

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 21:36:33 -0800

NaBloPoMo #6

My six-year-old just spent the last hour sitting in a basket in the middle of the living room. My other two kids also wanted to sit in the basket, and when given the chance, likely would have stayed there all night, just to prevent their siblings from sitting in the basket.

How can I work this to my advantage? Would adding another basket work? Kids that put themselves in a penalty basket are a-okay with me.

laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller

I did an awkward dance of joy after discovering a hidden stash of trick or treat loot from one of the kids. And after eating two miniature boxes of Nerds, a couple of packs of Skittles and a smashed Mounds, I was pretty much ready for a nap.

Tomorrow, I swear off sugar. Or maybe not.

laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller laller

My son has joined chess club, and it is hilarious to see his brain at work memorizing the rules and the moves. I'm not that interested in chess, although it used to royally annoy me when my own mom would making horse noises while moving her knights. Now? I'm totally planning to do that to my kids, too. Nature, nurture, who cares. Comedy is comedy, people.

Episode IV

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:12:51 -0800

NaBloPoMo #5

Seriously, someone needs to slap all the Star Wars references out of my head. Must be the CPAP breathing machine that makes me identify with Darth, and the newly honed Jedi (Jen-nai?) Mind Control powers I'm busting out all over the place. All I know is I've been running around making the wookie noise, as demonstrated by these fine fellows:

Anyway, I'm just getting warmed up with the Star Wars conceit. Heh. Where was I? Ah yes... A NEW HOPE.

So, we finally met with a surgeon, who gave us the low-down on all the pathology and MRIs and sonograms and mammograms and all that stuff. We did our freaking out last week, so we were pretty calm during the appointment. Well, my sister was calm, but my mom and I were busy making bad puns and being snarky and laughing. Anyway, we came away with a better understanding of what is happening with my sister's cancer, and what all we might do about it.

Next on the agenda is a second opinion, and then, shut mah mouth and slap the chicken, surgery.

I promise not to get all Cancer Blog over here - I'm setting up another blog to keep track of some of my own impressions as we go through this process, and if she's feeling up to it, a place for my sister to brain-dump. As I've said before, this really isn't MY story to tell, and I don't think I'm entitled to share ALL the details in this space (or in any online forum, really) without my sister's express permission.

About two years ago, I announced, rather out of the blue, that I intended to go to Machu Picchu for my 40th birthday, and that I would be dragging her happy ass along with me. Let's see... she runs marathons, and I watch 12 hour episode marathons of things like Mythbusters. Who is going to be dragging whom?

Anyway, I told her at the pumpkin patch that when her treatment is concluded, we're going. And she said "You don't even like hiking." I was sort of envisioning riding donkeys. Then we could say things like "Go faster, you stupid ass!" or "Move your ass!" or "Does this ass make my ass look big?"

You know you want to come on that trip.

Patience is not MY virtue

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 22:09:17 -0800

NaBloPoMo #4

You know what I hate? Trying to get through to insurance companies, doctors, medical centers and government offices.

I have a feeling I'm going to be an expert at kicking down doors very shortly.

This means I need some new boots, I think. Or a white uniform.

HAI-YAH!

image via

Circus, Unleashed

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 22:09:22 -0800

NaBloPoMo #3

In order for me to go to my sister's doctor appointment this afternoon, I needed to find someone to watch all three of my children for several hours. As usual, I hit up my buddy Kim, who would have been delighted* to help out but was already taking on three extras for the afternoon. I quickly called another friend, Laura, who agreed to not only take my children to her home, but to do it on a split schedule - since one of hers and one of mine had afterschool activities.

When I finally arrived at her house at around 5:30 this evening, the ruckus of the combined six kids was shaking the windows. Or maybe that was just the ruckus from my three.

Laura, if you're reading this, I owe you big-time. And overtime. And a case of wine. Thanks!

*delighted = slightly deranged

A new issue every night

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 20:06:53 -0800

NaBloPoMo #2

Although I've had my CPAP machine and mask thingie for over a month now, I've only used it for about 10 nights, and most of those have been partial nights. I think I'm not smart enough to use it properly.

Remember when I first had it, I had a triangle shaped mask that covered my entire nose, which resulted in a triangle shaped rash. This was Super Pretty.

Then, I got my current gear, which is called Lady Nasal Pillows. Or maybe it is Nasal Pillows For Her. Or something like that. It's just ridiculous how much I have issues with this thing.

I mean, basically, I put on the (hawt) headgear, and the little plastic part has these two little volcano-looking things that blow air up my nose all night. Couldn't be simpler, right?

I can't quite get the headgear adjusted properly. Too loose, and the little air-blasters keep slipping around, blasting my eyeballs with air.

Too tight? Pig nose. No, really, total pig nose. That's not comfy, although it is hilarious.

Then, oh my gaaaaaah is hose issue. There is this swiveling hose that protrudes off the front of the mask, with an air escape valve on it, so basically, if I leave it flopping around, the air from the valve ricochets off of my pillow, or my comforter, or my husband (he loves it) and again, there I am with the eyeballs being blasted with air.

The manufacturers thought of this, of course, and designed a little clip for the top of the mask strap thing so you can clip the hose in an arc up over your face to the top of your head. This is also Super Pretty. I've tried to pretend that it is a scuba rebreather and I'm on an awesome mission of danger and awesomeness under the sea. I've also tried to pretend that it is astronaut space breathing umbilical stuff. That's what they call it, right?

Anyway, I'm a dork, with dried out eyeballs and a pig-nose. Try to conceal your envy.

Halloweenies

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 19:58:28 -0800

NaBloPoMo #1

Seriously, people. My kids are Hallowussies. More on that in a minute.

So, apparently some new people moved into the neighborhood in the last year or two, and they are AWESOME. I don't know who they are, but I think Kim knows. More on that in a minute, too. Basically, the new people are under the impression that our little neighborhood is full of people that would like to hang out together. I can vouch that there are people in our neighborhood that I do, indeed, enjoy hanging out with, but I'm an Internet Person. Interpret that how you will.

Anyway, last year, the New People organized a halloween costume contest and treats and a showing of that Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin movie before trick-or-treating time. This year, they created a multi-tent haunted house-type thing, and a whole bunch of people I had never seen (because they are not on the internet) but who apparently live here, too came to the common area park, all dressed up.

As I said, Kim clearly knows the New People, because her husband was one of the actors in the Tents of G-Rated Horror. After the kids had all gone through and felt the monster guts and got a glow-bracelet or whatever, Kim decided to go in and see for herself. Her husband was supposed to be in the coffin, but he was apparently hiding behind a curtain, and jumped out, and swooped her into a bent over kiss, scaring the crap out of her. Good times.

The kids ran around and acted silly until it got dark, and then we headed out for Trick-Or-Treating. Of course, my son took off like a shot, and we did pretty well for the first few houses, but about 10 houses in, my youngest decided she was done. My oldest followed suit, and even my son decided we should just head home. It was 7:30.

So, okay, look. I know I should be grateful that all three kids made it home under their own steam, and that we don't have mountains of cheap candy all over the place, but seriously? 10 houses? WHAT THE HECK?

Aren't kids supposed to go go go until they drop? I mean, how am I supposed to get all the Butterfingers and Mounds in the neighborhood without my little accomplices? It is a little pathetic. We're going to start a training program next August to get them in shape for the Big Event.

After we got home, I stripped them of their costumes, and left them in the care of my husband, so I could head over to spend the night with my sister.

We stayed up late watching some ridiculous movie (Year One) which reminded us both of our adventures as teen travelers in Japan and Australia. I'm not saying which one of us is Jack Black (*cough* me *cough*) but it was just the kind of silly we both wanted.

We also got her an iPod Touch and we're loading it up with upbeat, motivational songs. We're totally up for suggestions - will you leave your favorite feel-good, butt-kicking songs in the comments?

Little Ghouls and Boys

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 18:50:55 -0800

I'm realizing that my oldest looks more like Bootsy Collins than a White Cat, but there she is, feeling mighty awesome in her furry ensemble.

A closer look at my boy:

Life is swirly these days, with continued uncertainty about my sister's health. We met with the Nurse Navigator today, and received a giant binder of information and a book to review. We got her biopsy results, but still don't have much of an idea what it all means, since we're totally new to this. We meet with the surgeon on Tuesday of next week, and will finally hear the MRI results and what sort of treatment plan they've cooked up.

In the meantime, life doesn't slow down at all. The husband and kids have their activities, my work schedule keeps me on the rails, my friends keep me laughing and the holidays are approaching at a fast clip. It's good to be busy, and I have a feeling that whatever we hear on Tuesday will be an opportunity for us all to grow - closer, smarter, tougher.

I feel obligated to try this year

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 19:49:15 -0800

I looked up at the calendar this weekend and realized that holy craperoli, we only have a few days before Halloween. Not only are the kids' costumes not quite done yet, but we also hadn't done our annual trip to the pumpkin patch to score some seriously overpriced gourds.

Wait, are pumpkins gourds? Or squash?

Anyway, we loaded up the kids and tossed my sister into the car as well, because that's what we do around here. We load up on extra adults to give the boy a fresh audience for his prattling on.

Look how excited my sister looks! That was before she spent 40 minutes being tailed by my son, describing every possible battle scenario between two species of dinosaurs that sound suspiciously made up.

I was all - hold still! Smile! This is not too different from years past:

2008

2006

2004

Which, I think, is the very first photo I ever posted of my kids on this site. I'm suddenly seized with the urge to warble The Circle of Life.

ANYWAY.

So, my oldest and my sister found pumpkins right away. My son wandered the field, vaguely dissatisfied with all the fruits of the field, but finally settled on one. My youngest found one, she thought, but then she got stung by a bee and freaked out. As I had sent the hubs up to get a wheelbarrow to drag the pumpkins up the hill, my sister and I made an executive decision. I put her and the kids on the flatbed hayride back up the hill, and I walked up, to intercept my husband before he made it back down to the field with a wheelbarrow.

Of course, when I found my husband heading back our way, he was empty handed. It seems he had gone to the bathroom and then didn't see any wheelbarrows, so he was just bumbling around up there. Oy.

Anyway, we met up back up at the top, where the kids promptly spotted HAY MOUNTAIN. My son, he of the seasonal allergies, decided that it would be totally awesome to slide headfirst down the stacked bales. I figured he'd do it once, and get tired of it. But no, he belly-slid down that stack 900 times.

My youngest bounced her way up and down like q-bert:

While my oldest posed:

And then we paid something like $50 for 5 pumpkins, which we are going to chop up and smoke and then leave to rot. I usually just toss the seeds, but somehow, I feel obligated to do something with them this year. I don't even know what to do with them - but I'm open for suggestions!

Thanks so much for all the kind messages - my sister's got a couple of tests and appointments at the end of the week, and we expect that we'll have a much clearer picture of what we're looking at then. In the meantime, we are going to keep on keepin' on - and maybe take out some of our pent up frustration on some hapless squash.

Something tells me we'll need more than a rubber chicken.

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 14:03:49 -0800

Well, the news, such as it is, is that they did find cancerous cells. We'll know more on Monday, after she meets with the team, and schedules an MRI. She's more angry than anything right now - which is probably exactly what she needs to be.

As for me? I'm numb, and plodding ahead with positive thoughts and hopefully, helpful actions. I don't know what else I can do. Maybe a rubber chicken WOULD help.

Monday. We'll know more on Monday.

Awaiting.

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 17:33:22 -0800

Doo dee doo dee doooo

We still don't have any details about my sister, although they say tomorrow mid-day. So ahoy then, tomorrow it is. Moving right along.

Today, let's talk about my kids, because I haven't really mentioned the little dears for a while.

My oldest is 10 and a half now, and at the rate she is growing this year, I expect she will meet my height and pass it before summer. She's bright, funny, and artistic. She devours books, and has taught herself how to animate her artwork online. She's also frequently (if moderately) disrespectful, stubborn and moody. She drags her feet on her school work, and drags out her homework to painful lengths. She can be rude, and downright jerky to her siblings. She's got bershon DOWN.

I expect I've met my match. No, seriously. She's totally 10-year-old me. Except taller. Knowing ALL the words to this particular ditty, you would think I'd have the upper hand on celebrating the good and redirecting the not-so good parts of her personality and behavior, but instead I seem to missing my cues, and instead of smoothly turning her and steering her gracefully across the floor, we're fighting over the lead and stepping on each other's insteps.

We talk it to death, and offer positive reinforcement. We take away favorite activities until schoolwork is caught up, if we determine that time wasting is the culprit. We emphasize the need for respect of all others (including and especially her siblings) and try to model that.

Apparently, I'm a rude jerk sometimes, and maybe my sarcasm and sense of humor makes it seem okay to be curt with people who are our nearest and dearest. I would love to just be kind and loving and gentle, maybe like a Julie Andrews musical, where a stern face and a stick-to-it attitude are enough to redirect even the most wayward child, but alas, my Julie moments are few and far between these days.

Add to this the onrushing signs that puberty approacheth and I'm feeling like I brought a rubber chicken to a knife fight. At least rubber chickens are funny, right? And if you slap someone with one, it might temporarily stun them? (I'm so going to get shanked.)

My son is affectionate, adorable, and he never shuts up. I mean it. NEVER. He just talks and talks and talks and talks and when we ask him to stop, he doesn't. The monologue starts the second his eyes open, and continues until he falls asleep. What all could he possibly have to say? Have a listen! (if the video is hanging, turn off the HD :)

He's a talker. No, really. from mizzjenny on Vimeo.

On and on, till the break of dawn. I'm beginning to understand how my daughter might get the idea that it is okay to be rude to her siblings because I've often had to flat out tell my son that I'm no longer listening, and also to SHUT UP OMG. Like a pinball, he merely changes course but keeps up the stream of words. I'm thinking of nicknaming him Professor, because seriously, he doesn't just talk. He pontificates.

And then, my youngest. She's just a little ray of sunshine... most of the time. She's totally me in the morning - growling and squinty and not ready to greet the day cheerfully - unless it is a weekend, when she could sleep late. No, on weekends, all three kids love to bounce out of bed by 6 am. That part isn't me at all. Never mind what I said earlier.

This littlest of Laucks is a total hoot. She's very precise in her speaking, and is loving learning to memorize and recite poems and plays for her first grade class. She likes to perform in a very low, almost inaudible voice, so that those of us she is gracing with her performance are forced to lean in very close and listen very hard. This is an excellent tool in her arsenal, made more useful because we genuinely do want to hear what she's trying to say.

This, of course, contrasts with if, say, I was to whisper at my kids when I really wanted them to listen. Who could hear me over my son's non-stop monologue. And also, they genuinely do NOT want to hear what I have to say, most of the time, unless it is "yes!" or "dinner!"

Now, for the adventure segment of this rambling, no point entry...

I, alone, with no premeditation, took my three kids to get their first-ever flu shots. My mother-in-law told my husband that we needed to get it done or she couldn't sleep at night (or maybe she wasn't that dramatic, but let's pretend she was, because it makes the story better.)

With no advance planning, I tossed the kids in the car and drove to the clinic where they were doing the vaccinations. I told the kids they would be getting the up the nose mist stuff (which at this point in the proceedings, I believed to be true) and we got in line. As we made our way to the head of the line, we started to hear the wails of unhappy children getting the shots. And then we were informed that we could get the H1N1 flu-mist stuff, but they would need a shot for the regular flu. I told my oldest, thinking that she could hold herself together.

"Pssst," I said. "It sounds like you guys are going to get a shot, and the nose stuff. Don't freak out your siblings."

At which point, she burst into noisy tears and announced "MOM! YOU PROMISED WE WERE NOT GOING TO GET SHOTS!"

As Jenny on the Spot would say (although not in a sarcastic way) - this situation was made of awesome.

We finally made it to the head of the line, with my 10-year-old, almost-as-tall-as-me daughter blowing and snorting and eyes rolling like an overworked horse. I got a shot first, and then pulled my youngest onto my lap.

The lady took one look at her skinny little arms and said - let's do her leg. I worked her leggings down over her narrow hips and my son yelled "I can see your buuuuu-utt."

Then my daughter saw the needle and proceeded to freak the heck out. Between me and the injection nurse, we got her taken care of, and set her hiccuping, snivelling buns to the side. My son plopped down on the chair, and despite whining, got the shot with no problem.

Time for the big girl. She bawled "NOOOOOO" and planted her feet and leaned as hard as she could away from me, and suddenly I felt like I was wrestling an alligator. I tried to invite her into the chair, but she wasn't going. I tried to reason with her for like 20 seconds, and then decided brute force was called for, and plunked my own self down on the chair, with her trapped in my lap. After she started elbowing and clawing the air, a nice doctor came by and helped me restrain her, so she didn't punch me or the lady doing the shots.

After the shot was done, she was like, "Oh. That wasn't anything bad."

I made her apologize to the nurse, and thank the doctor for his help. Grrrr.

All three kids did the nose mist stuff with no problems (surprisingly) and then we headed to the frozen yogurt place for a little celebratory shot survival treat.

The best part? All three kids get a second dose of the nose one in 28 days, so we get to do it all again. WHEEEEE!

(At least it isn't the shots again.)

Image via

When the story isn't yours to tell

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:37:12 -0800

These last couple of weeks have been full of low-grade drama, of the mundane sort that isn't very interesting, even to those of us who are slogging through. I've held off on writing about a few things, because they weren't MY things, exactly. But it sort of dawned on me that I haven't written about anything else either.

The morning of my birthday, my sister called. She had on her "brave" voice which let me know that things weren't going exactly well. One of her two cats had been missing for over a week, and she wished me a happy birthday with a quaver in her voice.

The night before, on a hunch, she poked around bushes in the median of the road that runs in front of her house, and she found her sweet kitty had been killed by a car. Rest in peace, sweet Jakers.

Not only that, but she had found a suspicious lump in one breast, and was heading to the doctor to get it checked out. A brief comedy of errors ensued, with misplaced medical records and delayed appointments, and the resulting stress began to creep up on all of us. To take my sister's mind off of things, we went to see Whip It last weekend, and whoo boy, real life did NOT intrude on that storyline.

I mean, SHUT UP. Don't you want to put on some ripped up fishnets and hipcheck someone RIGHT NOW? (My husband is edging away from me as I type.)

I'll skip the in-between parts, but today she had a biopsy, and we'll know what's up tomorrow. I'm keeping positive thoughts, because that's sort-of my schtick. You guys do that too, okay?

In other news, I'm making the kids' halloween costumes this year oh my HELL. How did that happen? I'm a buyer, not a maker!

My oldest is going to be a white cat. She's got a white dress, a faux fur vest, a faux fur hat with built in cat ears, and we bought some faux fur to make a tail. I hope that is good enough, because I'm feeling way less than crafty.

My youngest is going to be a black widow spider. We are using a black velour track suit as a base, and then I'm fashioning extra spider legs from legwarmers. I'm knitting a spidery ruff for around her neck, and whatever you call the butt part where the silk comes out. And then I'm using felt to create the black widow hourglass for the back of her shirt.

My son? I'm totally stealing a Martha Stewart idea.

I will post photos as soon as we get the parts put together.

The last two weeks, summarized.

Sat, 10 Oct 2009 08:16:57 -0800

When I left off last time... I was on a train, headed for Greenwich, CT, in the company of my sister-in-law. We arrived to see my brother waving, and jumped in the car for the quick drive to his workplace.

My brother is a Fish Guy - he's always loved fish of all stripes. He manages the team at House of Fins - which is a very cool store. First of all - it's located in the charming town of Greenwich, which I understand is where Old Money mingles politely with New Money, but very few people have Little Money. We did a quick drive around the town and it was full of large homes, lush, rolling lawns, beautiful trees and an adorable downtown.

The store itself has every type of weird fish you can imagine - eels and giant trigger fishes and some fish that was brought up from deep water and was like $6,000. All the employees were super chipper, too - and they seemed to know about this blog OH MY GAH so, um, hi, everyone at House of Fins! I liked your store!

After a brief tour of the store, my SIL and I ran down to a deli in town to get some sandwiches. The employees all seemed shocked that my brother was planning on eating a *gasp* turkey sandwich. Apparently he only eats bagels and cream cheese, normally. It made me laugh - some things never change... my brother and food? STILL THE SAME.

After a nice lunch in the showroom side of the business, and some insider scoop on which celebrity tanks they service, we left my brother to his job, and headed out for their house.

The drive took about an hour, with the crazy afternoon traffic, but still - it was so beautiful and green and lush. I was really happy to see that they were living in such a beautiful place.

When we got up to their very cool A-frame cottage, I called home to check on the kids. Turns out, my son was still sick, and getting worse. This is where parents that travel for business (or pleasure) get stuck between a rock and a hard place. My husband was leaving on a business trip (planned after my ticket was bought, mind you) on early Sunday morning. My flight was scheduled to arrive Sunday mid-afternoon. The kids were scheduled to spend Saturday night with my parents. But NOT if they were sick.

And my kid was sick. After a little "you change your flight" and a little "No, YOU change your flight" I got on the phone and changed my departure for the next morning. I was a little bummed, but motherhood called.

We went out to eat, and had awesome hamburgers at this little red and white checked joint. Then, we passed a really relaxed and enjoyable evening playing with my brother's dog, Hippo. Hippo is possibly the cutest dog EVER. Instead of walking along behind my brother, he jumps every other step. He's just a happy little dude, and I was so glad to finally get to meet him in person.

The next morning, my brother dropped me off at JFK in time for my 9:15 am flight. As we boarded. I noticed that the flight attendents were giving each other silent looks of "OMG!" I took my seat, and looked up to see Meryl Streep was sitting across the aisle, one row up, with a friend. How hilarious, right?

Everyone was totally playing it cool, and no one bugged her, so I didn't want to be the one throwing myself across the aisle and going OMG I LOVE YOU MERYL! so I just took a few poor photos with my iPhone and stared at the side of her head for a good 15 minutes. And then I watched a bunch of Top Chef episodes.

Back at home, the family was understandably relieved to see me - and after handing over the giant lollipops and starting a load of laundry, we spent a relaxing afternoon catching up on everything.

Sunday morning, my husband left. By Sunday afternoon, I knew I was getting the cold that had felled the kids. It's allergies, I told myself. No, not the cold.

TOTALLY THE COLD.

Sore throat, aches, fever, congestion that hurt my face and made my eyes gummy... and three kids who also had it. And no help from my spouse, who was in Rhode Island or something, eating steak and watching HBO.

The week after I came home was sort of a pivotal week at my job, too - lots of unfinished bits to put the spit-polish on, and I just couldn't check out and lay in my bed and moan. I find it really hard to take a sick-day anyway, what with the kids and all. If I'm able to sit upright, I'm happier keeping my mind off of how lousy I feel by forging ahead.

On the pinnacle day of the cold, I picked up the healthish kids from school, and lay in my bed. The cat flailed down the hall with a snake in her mouth and I made the kids take care of it. I was tempted to let them eat cereal for dinner, but decided that I could have a pizza delivered. So I ordered it, and then hauled myself out of bed and to the mirror, where I discovered that Jenny sick = Nick Nolte Mugshot.

So I cleaned myself up a bit, and met the delivery lady at the gate to spare her the infestation and the dog jumping on her. The kids fell on the pizza like ravenous beasts and I went back to laying in bed.

I'm finally feeling pretty much normal, although I do have a headache and slight congestion thanks to our sycamore trees. These last two weeks aged me, though, and I had the birthday to prove it.

I started the morning of my 37th year by turning off the CPAP machine, yanking off the "nasal pillows" and swallowing my thyroid medicine, all before my feet hit the floor. My mom asked me (as she always does) if I had birthday sparkles. I did not. Nick Nolte, remember?

But I got flowers and calls and well-wishes from all corners, and by mid-morning, I had a subtle luster, if not a downright glow.

We headed out to a casual dinner at a local restaurant, and then I got a stack of new books at the book store as a gift from my husband, and all-in-all? It was a lovely birthday. Just want I wanted.

I've got about 7,000 other things to write about, and yet I have this idea in my head that I should do things in a linear fashion. First coffee. Then more blogging :)

Still crazy after all these years

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 07:48:20 -0800

Two weeks ago, I managed to cram in three parent-teacher conferences in two days, six outfits and my laptop into a carry-on approved piece of luggage, and I headed off for NYC. I attended an event that I'll detail later this weekend over on my review blog. Never one to miss an opportunity, I decided to take a few days to see my brother and sister-in-law, who live in Connecticut.

I'll say this - even with the aid of my trust iPhone maps, I still walked many blocks in the wrong direction in Manhattan on my way to meet up with them. Of course, my brother gave me the wrong address a couple of times, but it was close. By like, five blocks or so ;)

Here's what I saw when I arrived at Norma's at the Parker-Meridian.

How stinking adorable are these two? Right?

"So, what do you want to do while you're here?" they ask me.

"Uh, the kids want giant lollipops from PapaBubble, but other than that? I dunno."

We decided to get them checked into their hotel (since they planned to stay in NYC for the night to better show me the town.) We walked in a much less dramatic detoury fashion to their hotel, and got them checked in.

After my brother and I had a few indecisive moments, my sister-in-law took matters into her own hands and said, "Right. We're going to see if there are any Broadway shows you want to see, and we'll get tickets. Then, we'll take a subway, because you haven't done that yet. And we'll show you where the secret underground troll/hobo people live underground. And then we'll go get the lollipops for the kids. And then we'll go to Lush. Also? Your brother needs a new pair of shoes and maybe some pants, so maybe we'll go to Macys."

Thank goodness for people who can make plans. About the secret underground troll-hobo lair - this is something my mother speculated on while visiting NYC a few years back. Alas, we did not find any, although it sounds completely plausible, and I'm sure some native New Yorkers would know how to find them. Maybe it's on one of the tours.

Anyway - following this new schedule of events, we headed off to Times' Square. I know people walk all over in NYC, and I would probably be a svelte size 4 if I just walked everywhere, but I brought stupid shoes. At this point in the afternoon, that shoe shopping at Macys sounded pretty awesome. But I trudged on.

Oh, Times Square - you seething mass of craziness!

After seeing the 700 mile long line for show tickets, we thought maybe Mamma Mia? But I've seen the movie with Meryl Streep, so I figured we could just move along to the next event of the afternoon, and maybe catch a comedy show instead that evening.

Next up? Subway, and troll-hobos.

Apparently we got on an express train, so the stop we needed would have been a speck in the distance if my SIL didn't yank us off after a few stations. We took a cab the rest of the way to Papabubble - where I bought the kids the infamous lollipops the size of their heads.

With a good ten pounds worth of sugar in a bag, we headed back up to go shopping at Macy's. I make it sound like this was just a quick jaunt, but no, we got to walk quite a bit before we were able to get a cab. It was fun to see some of the pretty embellishments on buildings:

By this time, my feet were being total haters. They wanted new shoes. Pronto. So, we skipped LUSH and headed straight to Macys. So now I can say I went shoe shopping with my brother in NYC. He got lace up oxfords:

And so did I:

You gotta love those compressions socks.

Shoes successfully purchased, we headed off to LUSH where my sister-in-law got some lovely bath bombs and soaps and I, uh, over-powdered myself with something sparkly. Because I'm classy like that.

We got back to our hotels and agreed to meet again in about an hour, so we could all refresh ourselves before doing some "sharing the laughter."

We met up again and headed out to The Comedy Cellar, where we were told that a) we didn't actually have reservations after all and b) they were not going to serve any of us booze because my SIL didn't bring her id. Well! We can't have that!

We put ourselves on the wait list, and headed to a little bar across the street from the club. My brother and I each had a beer - and then, we each had a shot of whiskey. Because we're Irish.

And then we went back to the club, got our non-drinking table and a sympathetic server, and had a few more drinks while laughing and looking at all the people around us. I also ate some sort of hummus platter. I'm sure it was good, but since I don't normally drink, I couldn't really feel my lips.

On the cab ride back, my brother and I tee-hee'd ourselves sick, while my SIL sat between us, torn between annoyance and amusement. I slept like a log that night.

The following morning, I woke up early and caught up on work emails that had been piling up, and then lazed around until checkout time. I caught a cab to Grand Central to meet my SIL for the ride to Greenwich, CT.

We had time before the train left, so we walked through the grocery area of the station.

I am such a tourist. Heh.

Then we headed down to the train tracks. All, the smell of urine in the early afternoon. Maybe it is from the hobo trolls!

My SIL managed to look serene, even while I was hopping around taking photos.

On the train ride, we passed through Harlem, the Bronx and a few more stops before crossing into CT. At one point a drunken jerk got on and stood bobbing and weaving a few feet from us.

I tweeted: "enjoying" drunk man doing a few boxing moves while ranting about women on the train

He finally made his way to another train car. Ah, local color.

OMG, this entry is getting way too long. I'll finish up with the CT stuff this evening.