Life Goes On

OK...now that everyone's forgotten about me, here's a new post!

So my mom died last November. Don't worry, I'm not turning this blog into a pity party. Am I dealing with a lot of "stuff" since she passed away? Sure! But this isn't the place for it.

So why did I even bring it up?

No one was really prepared for my mom's death. She got really sick in late July, and it just went downhill from there. By the time we realized how it was going to end, there was about a month left in her, and partly due to the cancer, partly due to the medications, she wasn't really in her own mind. And we were all kind of in shock, disbelief and even a little denial. So nothing really happened in terms of getting her finances/estate in order. Plus I had just had a baby, and my brother had just had his first baby (well, really his wife did), so neither of us really had any time to think about stuff like that.

So most of the winter was spent preparing to put her house on the market. Because of our schedules, I wasn't able to devote as much time to this as my brother was. I basically made the hour-long trip to visit her every day of my maternity leave (she died the day before I was scheduled to return to work), so after her death, I had to tend to the family, work and life I had put on hold for her. But the other day I was finally able to make a trip to her house, without the kids or husband, to take care of some final things before the house officially went on the market.

I lived in that house from 1990-1997, but still considered it my home until I moved in with TB in 2000. And even then, I felt totally comfortable showing up at any time of the day or night, letting myself in, and making myself at home there. I'd help myself to whatever food was around, lounge on the couch, do laundry, take paper towels and toilet paper...whatever.

But now, as I let myself in through the garage by inputting the codes on the alarm, as I'd been doing for years, things were different.

My brother did a lot of work to the house. Rooms were repainted. The kitchen was completely redecorated. Cabinets were a different color and the counter was replaced with a new darker top. Half the furniture was gone, and the millions of plants that my mom had decorating every room had vanished. Photos were no longer on walls or refrigerator doors. All the things that made this place my home were no longer there.

I wasn't comfortable anymore. In fact, I was downright scared.

I was terrified that since no one lived there anymore, homeless people had invaded the house and were living in the basement.

Every sound I heard made me jump. I came very close to just turning around and leaving.

But I knew it would be a long time before I was able to return without the kids, and I couldn't get any work done with them there. So I had to stay. But I also had to make sure there were no vagrants in the basement.

I was in the bathroom off my mom's bedroom by this point. I looked around for a weapon and found this:

Because I was such a scaredy cat, I was texting back and forth with my husband and a few friends. I sent them this pic and one pointed out that the screwdriver would really go a long way should one of these homeless people have a gun. That didn't make me feel any better.

But just the fact that I now had something I could stick in their eye, should I get close enough to them, made me feel a little better. Good enough to venture downstairs to the kitchen, dining room and living room area to make sure no one was hanging out on the main floor.

You know, in case I didn't notice them on my way in.

So I made the rounds, holding my weapon out in front of me, ready to attack. I was walking around the living room when I spotted something that reminded me of my mother's fondness for sharp things, and realized that there's a weapon in every room:

There were several things that my mom "collected", and scissors were one of them. There were piles like this one in every room. Knowing this, and arming myself with two of them, I found myself brave enough to venture into the basement. Once I confirmed that I was alone in the house (except for the mice- my brother named the "big black one Stinky...because he smells...bad"), I was able to get to work.

But not until I was reunited with an old friend. Remember this creepy braid of hair from my first major hair cut just prior to 7th grade? That my daughter found and threw at me repeatedly while I squealed in disgust and my mother doubled over with laughter? 

Yeah. I found it.

Only because of my mom's disturbing attachment to it, I didn't have the heart to throw it away. So I stuck it in a jelly bean jar full of hanging file folder tabs, and it now sits on the cabinet next to my desk at home. 

Ugh. Moving on...

I did get some work done, and in the mean time, discovered this. I always knew my mom had this (I'm not sure why or how) and never had any interest in it whatsoever. But since she died, stupid little things that usually would mean nothing to me suddenly mean a lot to me and I want to keep them.

So now I have a gun.

Sure, it's just a pellet gun, or a BB gun. But it makes me feel all gangsta just the same.

Even though it's in storage now.

I'm still a thug.

Recognize.


And I carried it around the house for the remainder of the afternoon. Because it made me feel good.

Finally, I got hungry. If you know me, you know that was bound to happen, sooner rather than later. The cool thing about my mom's place was that there was always food there. But since this was no longer my mom's place, my options were limited to what was left in the freezer.

The only thing that was edible was an unopened container of Cool Whip.

Good enough for me!

But there were no spoons, forks or even knives to eat it with. So I did what any normal human being would do. I took the lid off and started licking. But since it was frozen, or maybe I just hadn't worked my tongue out in a while and it was weak (is it just me or did that sound dirty?), I wasn't getting very far.

So I squished the sides in to force the frozen cream out and stuck my face in and started taking bites. This is what that looked like:

That helped somewhat, but I still wasn't able to get all of the cool whip into my mouth. Bummer.

 As I described to a friend via text, I ended up throwing the whole container away because "It's useless to me now since I can't get my face in any deeper. Can't use my hand cuz it's holding my gun."

Any other day, that might sound weird...

FML

I'm totally a mom. That's all I am anymore. With one kid I was able to maintain at least a shred of the person I was before kids, but now with two, it's hopeless. Don't misunderstand me- I adore both my girls and wouldn't trade them for the world. If given the opportunity to go back, I'd do it all over again the exact same way. I'm merely observing how my life has changed completely.

There was a time in my life when I'd get off work, meet up with a friend at the mall, have some dinner, lose myself in some hobbies maybe, and still be able to relax and/or get some housework done at some point. These days? I'm lucky if I get a shower. Of course, some days are worse than others. Like yesterday.

I get home from work around 2:45pm most days. TB leaves and it's just me and the girls until bedtime. Since Pearl still doesn't have any type of pattern to her napping (when and if she chooses to nap), most of the afternoon is spent cleaning bottles, making formula and closely observing her to see if she's getting tired. I usually give up on the nap and try to run around 5pm, but rarely make it to the treadmill until 6:30. If I make it at all. Yesterday I wandered into the bedroom to change into my running clothes and saw our comforter on the floor. In a big pile. Ripped to shreds.



Immediately I glared at Koko, who was sitting at the end of the hallway. As if she could sense my anger, she raised her head to look at me, then lowered her head, ashamed. Since she was diagnosed with Lymes Disease (yeah, just a few days before Pearl was diagnosed with pneumonia after a fever of 104.5 that resulted in a 6-hour emergency room visit) I didn't have the heart to reprimand her. So I just left the comforter there. It's her bed now.

I changed into my running clothes and went to change Pearl's diaper before bringing her downstairs. And of course, she peed on me. And the carpet. And then as soon as I changed her outfit, she spit up all over it. Changed outfit again. Started to make the move down to the treadmill and SB announced she was hungry. Within the past 2 hours the girl had chicken nuggets, a yogurt, some crackers and a handful of candy from Valentine's Day. How could she possibly be hungry already? I made her a waffle with peanut butter so she could eat it downstairs while I ran.

Started to gather up Pearl to head to the treadmill, but by now she was crying her patented hungry cry. Press pause. Insert bottle. Then she fell asleep on me. I didn't dare move her because she needed the nap, and I know my child well enough to know that she would wake up as soon as her head hit the crib. So I sat there like a slave to my 6-month old as she slept on my lap. When she woke up of course, she needed to be changed, then proceeded to puke on herself yet again as I changed her.

By now it was around 6:30. Pearl needs to eat her cereal and solids around 7pm so she can start getting ready for bed immediately after. When she hits her wall at night, all Hell breaks loose as I frantically try to throw her into a sleep sack, fill her humidifier and stick a bottle in her mouth to top off the tank as she screams bloody murder. Not stressful at all. But 6:30 was still early enough that I could get a good 30 minutes in and still stick to her schedule.

But no, SB has to poop. She's four now, and can handle going potty on her own. But she lacks in the butt wiping skills. So I had to stick around and help her. 15 minutes later, she was good to go. (Did I mention she was the slowest pooper ever?) But not enough time for me to run.

So now I feel blah. I woke up early this morning to get a run in before work, but my ADD kicked into overdrive and I did pretty much everything but run. Not counting on getting a run tonight because I have to buy SB new tap shoes then bring her to dance class. Ugh.

Skinny Jeans

We all need a pair of skinny jeans, and babies are no exception!

Busy Mama

I guess it's partly because of the holidays, but I've been crazy busy lately! I haven't even sat at my computer at home in months, except to load up SB's "adventure game", or to pull up videos of "Where Dreams Begin" on youtube. If you've never heard that song, and you're curious about what it is, don't bother searching for it. It will stay in your head for weeks, and even cause completely different Disney princess songs to pop into your heads. I woke up this morning jamming to some song from Mulan in my head that I didn't even know I knew.

So that's my lame excuse for not being devoted lately. Although with the hiatus I took back in the fall, I guess it's only to be expected. I have 164 photos and videos on my phone right now, many of which I'd like to share with you. So I need to get to blogging!

So what have I been up to? Mostly carting SB around to dance lessons, rehearsals and recitals. She was in the Nutcracker again last weekend. Freaking adorable, no doubt. But that's not what I want to talk about right now. A few weeks ago was parents' night at dance class, where we parents were allowed into the room to sit up front and witness first hand what we are paying for. Last year I got to see SB writhe around on the floor, make funny faces in the mirror, and perform the same dance, no matter what the lesson was. I was also lucky enough to catch Anna in the act, a dear child who made my own brat look like an angel.

This year, SB was great. Her body went through the right motions, but her face was a screwed up ball of grinning cheese that shouted "Look at me, Ma!" and had all the parents and the teacher cracking up. I had forgotten my camera, but luckily had my phone, and was able to catch this priceless moment of Emma (far right, if you couldn't tell) picking her nose. Then eating it. At least it wasn't my kid!!