Like candy to my soul

I was sitting at a stoplight when 'Crash' by the Dave Matthews Band came on the radio. I heard this song for the first time on a mix tape a high school friend made for me - she was a freshman in college, I was a high school senior, and we were hanging out over Christmas break. Also on this mix tape: the Indigo Girls, Ani DiFranco, Sinead O'Connor... it was a very influential mix tape. 

The light changed and I realized I was hearing the lyrics for the first time. I know the words, like a lot of people Of My Era, but I hadn't really heard them and I found myself thinking my my Dave, you're making me blush. 

And for some reason I flashed back to the moment a few years ago when I happened to be standing next to Dave Matthews at a church-sponsored toddler gym morning while he chatted with a friend of mine. Out of context (though what would the right context be? A CD cover?) he looked to be just another exhausted parent wrangling a two- or three-year-old, a person to be pitied just like the rest of us. But I heard the whisperings of the other moms, realized exactly who it was talking to my friend, and became tongue tied. You are famous, I thought. I am a stranger to you, but you are not a stranger to me.

Listening to this song was now intimate, almost uncomfortable. The Dave Matthews at the toddler gym had struck me as quiet and unassuming, and here he was crooning these innuendo-ish things over my car radio. And I wondered if he knew, if he ever thought about it. Does he walk into a grocery store and feel known? Does he visit a toddler play gym and understand the moms there will have heard his deepest thoughts? How does that make him feel? When he drives his car and hears his own music on the radio, does he look into the cars passing by and wonders if his own heartbreak touches them in some way? I thought these things as I drove, and in those moments I felt that Dave Matthews was a very brave soul.

But lately, and who knows why, I am consumed with wanting to be Dave Matthews. I am drawn to what he does, what all artists do. I feel called to it, like I am not living my whole life, I am not fully who God made me to be, unless I also reveal a truth in some highly vulnerable, highly public way. And then I think get over yourself, Maggie and go on with the rest of my day, making food and cleaning up spills and changing diapers and wishing for Phillip to get home. 

I have a great fear that I will never get my truths out. I don't even know what these truths are. But I don't intend to sing or paint or dance them, they need to be written out and (this is important) read. I dread that part and crave it at the same time. This is just a vague floaty feeling inside me, the nebulous gas of whatever it is I should be doing with this life. 

This is why I ate cookie dough for dinner SHUT UP

A few days ago I was whining on Twitter, as I do, about dealing with the big kids. I think the word I used on Twitter was 'discipline' but I think a better word might be "making them act right." You know what I'm talking about. It's not like they're being NASTY or MEAN or whatever, they're just being twerps! I don't ENJOY repeating myself nine thousand times a day, you know? They're loud, they're wild, they get all "but where's my DWINK, MOMMY?" like "how dare you go about your day while I am sitting here just a tidge thirsty, HMM?"

I was reminded of this today when I went to put EJ down for her nap. (For something like the fifth time, let it be noted.) I thought: hey! Instead of yelling at the kids to be quiet WHILE I'm holding the baby, why don't I yell at them AHEAD OF TIME? Smartness! 

So I cornered them in the living room, used my Very Important Mommy Voice, and told them I needed them to be quiet while I tried to get Emma to sleep. They nodded their heads which is universal for I Understand You, unless you are a three- or four-year-old, in which case it translates to, "Get out of our hair, woman." 

I went to wrap up the baby and get her down and I swear, not TWO MINUTES LATER, someone is standing right outside the bedroom door, sobbing. Sobbing! And you know, these kids have lived in my house some years now. They can't possibly believe that at this point I'm going to literally drop the baby and come running to their aid on account of a little sobbing, especially sobbing that is happening DIRECTLY AFTER I tell them to NOT DO THINGS LIKE SOB FTLOG! 

(Note: no one was HURT. No one was on FIRE. No one was BLEEDING. No one had anything to SOB ABOUT, TRUST ME.)

So I pulled the door open a bit with my foot and gave the offender (JACK) the biggest meanest scariest look I could muster and Gestured Angrily so that he'd LEAVE. 

And he did! Lovely! (Well not without 1) a Terribly Wounded Look and 2) more sobbing). I went back to putting the baby to sleep and then! Not THIRTY SECONDS LATER! Molly starts shouting, "NO! NO JACKSUN! NO!" And there was running! And all sorts of LOUDNESS GAAAAHHHH!!! I had to do my whole Angry Look/Angry Gesture thing ALL OVER AGAIN and this time it was LESS EFFECTIVE and I also suspect they didn't even NOTICE but I still had a baby in my arms SOOOO...

It's just TYPICAL. Typical afternoon in the Cheung household. BLARGH! Emma was so tired it was a snap to put her down (for five minutes anyway) and then I ordered the big kids downstairs. AWAY WITH YOU! I shouted. BE GONE! GO AWAY FROM ME! YOU ARE MAKING ME CRAAAAAAZEEEEEE!!!

They went downstairs with (you guessed it) more Wounded Looks and Crying and OH COME ON. I'm a softie but I'm not THAT big a softie. I threw myself across the sofa and relished the five minutes of quiet I'd get before someone started to sob downstairs and beg me to come wipe their butts or get a Kleenex or MOLLY PUSHED ME or whatever was going to come next. 

But they were quiet! And you KNOW I used the resulting many minutes to get important stuff done, like browse Pinterest. I was so happy! And then Emma woke up. 

And then LAAAATER... I realized that those kids were being AWFULLY QUIET. Like, SUSPICIOUSLY QUIET. I yelled from upstairs to see what was up, but no one answered. I'm not proud to say that I then IGNORED the quiet for a while longer. I mean, I am not one to look a quiet horse in the mouth. But then I started to get nervous. Had someone drugged my children in my absence? Did they eat some sort of magical quiet piece of lint? Secretly let themselves into the backyard? Got stuck in the utility closet? 

I went downstairs to investigate and BOTH KIDS are IN THEIR BEDS ASLEEP. It was 4:30 PM.

(The next thing that happened is Phillip called to tell me he'd be an late. THE END.)

Austerity measures

Over the weekend, slightly terrified by what I was seeing on the credit card statement, I instituted a handful of Austerity Measures for the Cheung Household. One of the biggest budget offenders is Going Out For Lunch and instead of throwing a little hissy fit about it (because you know it is not ME going out for lunch) I decided I would try to help a dude out. And that meant cooking. 

My husband is not big on, say, sandwiches. When he deigns to make himself a sandwich, which he only does after determining that there is nothing left in the house, he stacks it super high, Dagwood-style, so much so that one package of deli meat produces MAYBE two sandwiches. And then he complains about having to slice cheese. SUCH A BABY ABOUT THE SANDWICHES. 

No, what Phillip wants to eat is Leftovers. And I... hate leftovers. There are very VERY few things I want to eat the next day, I almost never want to take my food home from a restaurant, and it never occurs to me to make so much food that we have leftovers on PURPOSE. I am the person who LIKES sandwiches. Actually, just give me a loaf of bread. Maybe a cup of yogurt. And I'm good! Cooking is for high maintenance people!

My poor husband, huh? Now his MOM would spend her entire weekend making all sorts of nice Chinese dishes and she'd put four or five cups of rice in the rice cooker and he'd be set for the week. But Phillip chose to marry a white girl who cannot stirfry beef to save her life. IT'S HIS OWN FAULT. 

But I thought I would TRY, you know? I make this [ridiculously easy] baked pasta thing that he likes, so I thought I would put that together this afternoon and he could bring it for lunches. Then it ALSO occurred to me that I knew how to make something else that leftovers well - fried rice. I don't make GREAT fried rice, but even amateur fried rice is yummy. So I went grocery shopping with Leftovers in mind and set out the ingredients and felt better about the whole austerity thing. 

The kids stayed with Phillip's parents this weekend [there was a local Chinese school performance for Chinese New Year - Jack and Molly were smitten - am I going to have to send them to Chinese school? - A POST FOR ANOTHER DAY] and P's parents only planned to stay a few minutes when they brought them home. But! Phillip was busy trying to attach his new television (SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE. WE NEED THE AUSTERITY MEASURES.) to the wall and I was trying to not look because THAT IS MY WALL. Anyway, it ended up that MIL hung out with the kids and FIL helped Phillip hang the TV and then I decided to suck it up and just ASK my MIL how she makes her fried rice. Because MIL's fried rice? Like everything else she makes? DELICIOUS. 

Turns out the only difference between my fried rice and MIL's is, well, SHE makes hers. That somehow infuses the tasty magic? I don't know. And then without me suggesting it or implying it or anything, MIL waltzes into my kitchen and takes over the fried rice-making. After they left Phillip asked me if I was okay with that and I was all, "IT WAS THE BEST THING THAT HAPPENED ALL WEEKEND."

So now I have a giant vat of fried rice in my fridge in addition to a giant pan of baked penne and I have high hopes for the budget. Is this a problem/issue/item of concern in your house? How do you combat the siren call of the lunchtime Indian buffet on 4th avenue? 

 

 

Friday Reads & Recommends

I read The Fault In Our Stars because I always do what the rest of the internet does. Also I like John Green. Everyone's already given their two cents about this book, so I'll just say that while I agreed with the main criticism of the book (SUPER precocious rings-false-ish dialogue from one character) that's kind of John Green's THING and I happen to really LIKE that thing and I can only hope to make a reader care about my characters the way John Green makes you care about his. (For the record, Tiny Cooper is my favorite John Green character, no one will surpass him, the end, Amen.)

I also read Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me by Mindy Kaling aaaand, eh. Parts of it were cute. Most of the time I was all, really? You're 32 and you're writing what amounts to your memoirs? But she's funny on Twitter and the topics of her best tweets are the topics of her best chapters: best friends. I wanted to love her book, but mostly I just thought it would be awesome to be her friend. Which is probably a better thing to say about someone in the long run.

My Kindle just downloaded Amy Welborn's new book (I always forget when I preorder things!) and I'm half excited to read it, half dreading it because I will probably cry and I'm just not into crying books these days. (THE FAULT IN OUR STARS, I AM LOOKING AT YOU.)

(I thought my Kindle Fire was dead, but Phillip figured out how to fix it. On tonight's list of recommends: husbands who are handy with electronicky things.)

Oh you guys, as I'm writing this Emma is lounging across Phillip and gazing me adoringly. Like, if you looked up Gazes Adoringly in the dictionary you would see Emma and me. I LOVE THIS BABY!

I also wanted to send you guys Ursula's way - Ursula is my fantastic fabulous neighbor and she could really use some support from the interwebs. Today she wrote about the similarities between being pregnant and having cancer: "5. Timing: Apparently, both of us will be rid of our tumors in about 7 months. I get to take mine home." Oh, Ursula. I need to bring you some cookies.

In other news, Ye Ye gave the kids ten dollar bills in red envelopes for Chinese New Year. Today I wanted to go to BabiesRUs to buy Emma some crib bedding and I told them they could buy a toy (or whatever they wanted) with their Chinese New Year money. WHAT A PROCESS. Of course the toys at BabiesRUs are pretty, you know, BABYISH, and eventually I suggested Molly pick out a dress instead ("I WANT A DWESS! A PINK DWESS!") but Jack found toy cars that change color under hot or cold water. AAAAAND that is what my kids have been doing all afternoon: standing on stepstools in front of the bathroom sink, dunking cars in cups of water and making a giant mess. Cars that change color gets a big fat recommend tonight. Wahoo!

 

 

This post should be read with a growl

Today was half-decent until... it wasn't anymore. I don't know what turned. It happens, though. Sometimes I'll be powering through a thoroughly average day and BOOM. My ability to parent mysteriously and instantly disappears and I become a raving loony woman, dangling from the end of a very frayed rope. 

The plan was to treadmill the minute Phillip came home, but instead I threw myself on the couch and just SAT. I don't do that. I mean, I find OTHER ways to transfer child-wrangling responsibility. I'll make it look like I'm super busy cleaning the kitchen or finishing dinner or whoops, look at this huge pile of laundry I need to fold RIGHT NOW. I don't really SIT. But I sat tonight and when my sister and brother-in-law came over a bit later I was still sitting there and BIL, who speaks only when absolutely necessary, said, "YOU look TIRED."

And now I am STILL not treadmilling, I am eyeing the internet grouchily and chowing down on a bag of Valentine candy I meant to sprinkle in a package to friends in Hawaii. (A package I meant to send for Christmas, mind you. CHRISTMAS.)

I don't feel like I have a good reason to be grouchy, but whatever, I'm going with it. I've even made a short list of Things, When Combined, Produce A Grouchy Me:

• When the kids are playing, but the playing is interspersed with bouts of sobbing (the girl) or whining (the boy) at five minute intervals, most requiring parental intervention, at which point they realize it's them against me and go back to being horribly loud (yet happy)
• The contractor came to talk to me about my staircase and that was okay, but he told me that a grand total redesign/rebuild of the upstairs bathroom would cost me 30-40K HA HA HA.
• I am really down about the baby weight today, even though I keep telling myself I've lost nearly 20 pounds since she was born (it's not helping) (not like NOT treadmilling is helping either)
• When I started talking to Jack about kindergarten and he said, "How come I'm not going to go to the kindergarten in the big building? [at his current school]" and I felt REALLY SAD.
• I bought this new workbook thing for Molly and I to do while Jack is in school and it sucks. 
• My calves are sore. WHY ARE MY CALVES SORE?
• Why are my calves sore even BEFORE I have attempted to do the Shred post-Emma? 
• Every time I clean the kitchen it gets messy again.
• And! I feel like all I ever do is yell at my kids to BE QUIET YOUR SISTER IS SLEEPING!!!

But here is a list of reasons why I have no business feeling grouchy:

• I started planning a trip to Hawaii for our ten-year anniversary next year. 
• I am super excited about all the wedding and baby stuff going on with my sisters.
• EJ is not necessarily sleeping longer stretches, but she's getting SO much easier to put down I can barely believe it. On occasion she will even fall asleep on her own!
• It will be relatively easy and affordable to build a staircase down to the backyard. And I have an awesome contractor dude.
• I'm going to Portland in a few weeks for a college ministry retreat - I get to pray behind the scenes with some really gifted people and I am SO SUPER EXCITED. My parents are going to take the big kids and Phillip and Emma are going to come with me and just hang out on the sidelines and I am SO GRATEFUL because otherwise I don't think I'd go. 
• Carrie sent me a really beautiful note about what I write on this stupid website and it really made my day, by which I mean it ruined my eye makeup.
• My mother spent about eight hours on the phone with me discussing my large scale what-I-want-to-do-with-my-house plans. She takes my kids AND she indulges me. 

So. There you go. SUCK IT UP, ME!

I'll try sucking it up for a bit, and when that inevitably fails I think I'll go buy some fabric on Etsy. My curtain "headboard" needs to get itself DONE. There's nothing like spending a little money to cure the grouchy.

If wishes were dollar bills

Tomorrow morning the dude who ripped out my fireplace is coming out to give me an estimate on a staircase between the deck and the backyard. Yes, that's right, we have a deck with no access to the yard. Well, unless you want to pitch yourself over the side and land in the lavender bushes. (DIE, LAVENDER BUSHES!)

There are a LOT of weirdo things about this house. That middle-of-the-living-room fireplace was only the beginning. The deck with no stairs... well, maybe the person who designed the house didn't have kids and didn't see how useful this would be (especially in a house where all the living space is UPstairs.) But the bathrooms are bizarre. There is a bathroom on each floor, but you can access each bathroom from a hallway AND a bedroom. This isn't a big deal downstairs, but upstairs guests use a bathroom with a door going into the master bedroom. I don't really have any issues with not having my Super Special Private Bathroom, but I do think that's a weird arrangement. Also the actual BATHROOM is laid out weird, where there's a pocket door to close off the toilet from the rest of the bathroom, but instead of a sink across from the toilet (and then we could keep the pocket door closed when guests are over and essentially have a "guest bath") the SHOWER is across from the toilet. And then there's the downstairs bedroom (where the kids sleep) that is so far off in the corner it's practically a separate wing... I just think the whole place has a strange layout and I'm STILL sort of unhappy with how we have kids sleeping downstairs and us sleeping upstairs. 

THAT SAID. There are things I absolutely love about this house - huge windows, tons of space, tons of FLEXIBLE space, tons of storage, and the "architectually interesting" weirdnesses at least make it DIFFERENT. Which I like. The people who lived here before made very few personal marks on the house, at least as far as I can tell, which means it's been really easy to make it MINE. I mean, they did paint the entire living room a pistachio green, but we took care of that in a hurry. 

Of course I still think about all the things I want to change. So! If money were no option...

Kitchen Remodel. OH YES. We have a sort of galley kitchen, where there are two long counters facing each other, but there are no walls so it's all open, and one end houses the fridge and wall ovens. The lack of wall cabinets is slightly annoying, but otherwise I'm not sure I would change the LAYOUT of the kitchen. I think it works pretty well and there's tons of counter space. But I would rip out these white cupboards with oak trim and take a sledgehammer to the awful AWFUL! gray tile counters. I have nothing against tile but I have MAJOR issues with stuff getting stuck in tile GROUT. HATE. So we'd replace the white cabinets with different white cabinets, I'm not sure what style. I really like those cottagey white kitchens with cupboards that have glass doors, but I don't think that would fit the style of the rest of the house. So I don't know. But we'd redo the floors, buy a much bigger fridge, install TWO wall ovens (am a fan of the wall oven!), get a different sink, and MAYBE put another counter along the blank all at the end, forming a U shape. Right now there are tile counters with a bar above on each side - those are butcher blocks. I'm not sure about those. Do I like butcher block? I don't like the color of these, but I think I like the idea. I don't know. Estimated cost: Nine Frillion Dollars. 

Bathroom OVERHAUL. I'd like to somehow create a tiny powder room and a master bathroom, but I don't think there's enough room in the current bathroom. So we either have to add space, build out somehow, or turn the closet into a bathroom or SOMETHING. I'd like to have a separate tub and shower and that requires ROOM.  I have no idea. I need an architect. Also a money tree. 

Floors. We still have a hole in the rug. We are probably going to have the hole for a loooong time. Eventually the plan is to replace the carpet in the living room and hallway and extend it into Emma's room (currently Pergo floors) and MAYBE replace the carpet in the master bedroom so everything matches. The dining room would get hardwoods. No one cares about downstairs, but the flooring situation down there (tile entry, carpeted bedrooms, linoleum bathroom and laundry room, industrial carpet in the playroom) is uniformly hideous.

Backyard. This is all me. I have to figure out where my garden is going this year. I also want someone to come build me a swingset. 

Built in bookcases. We decided we couldn't do these ourselves (cobbled together from Ikea Billy bookcases) because the wall is huge and there wasn't enough variety in the Billy options. But one day it might be real super nice to have custom cabinetry along that wall. 

A total redesign downstairs. I don't understand the layout down there AT ALL. I'm FINE with it, but if I could I WOULD change up the entire thing. I feel like there's a ton of wasted space. Chances of this happening: only when I win the lottery. And even then it would still be easier to move.

Actually, the chances of ANY of this happening in the short term is laughable. Ha ha! But I still think about it. I still pin pictures of kitchens on Pinterest. I think I would do the upstairs bathroom first. It's the thing I'm most conscious of when people visit. Some people act like they're invading my private bathroom, others I just want to make sure don't wander into my bedroom. Not a huge deal, but it's the thing that bugs me most right now. Then again, when I was talking about this with friends, one of them said she'd do the kitchen first. But see, even if the kitchen is out of date and not cute and my biggest cookie sheet won't fit in the oven, it still WORKS. It's FINE. It's mainly cosmetic. 

What would you do first if it were your house? What is the thing you're dying to change?!

 

School Shmool

I KNOW you've all been waiting for the Where To Send Jack To Kindergarten Update. DON'T LIE. 

Let's recap!

Jack is currently going to the Pre-K program at the Catholic school 2 blocks away. We'll call this Catholic school and parish St. Close. 

I have mixed feelings about this program. I am not TERRIBLY impressed with what he does in school. I am FAR from a rah rah four-year-olds should be doing proofs! and writing five paragraph papers! type of person. But the stuff he brings home makes me think he's not being particularly, ah, challenged. That said, I am WAY more annoyed by the fact that they do not paint in Pre-K. THERE IS NO PAINTING! What is preschool for if not to make adult-approved messes?! 

But you all know I decided not to do much about it. He's happy there and I'm too busy re-napping a baby to do much about it. Whatever. Molly will probably go somewhere else. 

So here are our Kindergarten Options: 

Kindergarten at St. Close. I have heard nothing but glowing review after glowing review about St. Close and DUDE, it is TWO BLOCKS AWAY. 

Kindergarten at St. Far, aka Our Current Parish. Not SUPER far away, but farther away than I care to chauffeur children twice a day. 

Neighborhood School. Low-ish test scores and 70% free lunch, but 1) close and 2) a teacher I know who used to work there RAVED about it when I asked. 

K-8 Option School. We would have to apply and get selected in a lottery, but I really like the idea of skipping the whole middle school thing. 

ALL of these options are good ones. I would be okay with my kid going to any of these schools. I am (was!) in the position of deciding which one would be BEST. 

SOOOOO. I pretty much thought St. Close was a given. I really did. It's a CATHOLIC SCHOOL TWO BLOCKS AWAY. How great is that! 

However! In order to get the parishioner rate we have to, you know, become parishioners. Phillip was SUPER not excited about switching churches. I was gung ho if I felt that St. Close was the right school for Jack. But I never felt strongly enough about it. And then I started doing the math and HOLY GEE Catholic school is expensive. For us it's in the realm of Affordable, But Say Goodbye To Your European Vacay In Three Years. And maybe I SHOULD say goodbye? But doing Other Stuff is kind of important to me and again, I just didn't feel STRONGLY enough about Catholic schools. I WISH I DID. Really! But FOR ME there are enough cons to my Catholic school choices to not make the $$$ worthwhile, especially since I'm not completely convinced that the academics are that much better. And even if they WERE... I don't know. 

Then I went to the open house for St. Far and yes, I was just there to find a reason to cross it off my list. I ADMIT IT. But for a while there I was SUPER IMPRESSED and ready to sell a kidney and start up a carpool and everything. Loved it! Loved everything! Until I visited the kindergarten classroom and saw a sad dreary room filled with very quiet five-year-olds sitting in rows practicing handwriting... and, well, I am the woman upset because my kid is not getting to paint in preschool. HE BETTER GET TO PAINT IN KINDERGARTEN. It just wasn't the kind of classroom I want for my kid's first year of Real School, which is really too bad because seriously, everything else was awesome. 

What I like (or think I like) about Catholic school: 

• It's churchy! Phillip and I have been loving the churchy stuff. Jack has learned prayers and stories and all sorts of things that we just find PRECIOUS and WONDERFUL.
• Small community of super involved (and, as far as I can tell, super cool) parents.
• They aren't doing some of the curriculum things my mother, aka Professional Teacher Consultant Person, disapproves of in public schools.  
• I like the idea of being part of a church/school community

Things I don't like (or think I don't like) about Catholic school:

• All the fundraising. WHICH I WOULD DO. OBVS. But dude, I feel the pressure and I am only a half-committed Pre-K parent.
• It's PRIVATE. This connotes unpleasant things for me. St. Close is better than St. Far, as St. Far is in a wealthy neighborhood, but still. Diversity means a lot of things. 
• Only one class per grade (at these two schools at least) so you're with the same group of kids up to 8th grade and no option for another teacher.
• (Which means the same group of parents. HRRMM.)
• Sending three kids to Catholic school would probably require me working full time. Aaaaand, I don't know about that.

SO! Let's look at the public schools!

Well, Ursula The Neighbor went to the option school open house and found out that 1) it is fabulous and we totally want our kids to go there except 2) they probably can't because the school board just passed a measure, like, THE NIGHT BEFORE, saying that the second tie breaker in the lottery (after siblings) is living within a certain distance from the school. We are out of range. So the option schools are, as far as I can tell, essentially neighborhood schools. YAY OPTIONS!

Which leaves the neighborhood school. The one I know the least about. 

A friend's husband taught there for a few years and he seriously had nothing but wonderful things to say about it. About the principal and the other teachers and what resources they have BECAUSE they have a high free lunch percentage and oh yeah he would totally send his kids there. That said a lot to me. 

(Also full day kindergarten is free when the free lunch thing is so high. Score.)

I THINK I AM OKAY WITH THIS. I think what I mostly feel is some sort of disappointment in myself for not making the effort for Catholic school. I feel like I SHOULD be making the effort. I am, after all, an Involved Catholic Parent, so I should be doing The Right Thing and sending my kid to Catholic school. I'm not sure WHY I don't feel strongly BUT I JUST DON'T. Blargh!

Maybe it's because Phillip and I are regular ole public school graduates with an above average interest in Church and PLENTY of people who went to Catholic school are no longer Catholic. So it's not that I think Catholic school is going to make or keep my kids Catholic. It's abundantly clear to me that there are good teachers and bad at every school, so I'm not completely convinced about one school being better than the other. I think low test scores have more to say about economics. I think the likelihood of Classmates I'd Want My Kids To Be Friends With is probably higher at a Catholic school, but again, I'm not a big fan of Sheltering. (Maybe I should be? GAH. DON'T KNOW.)

We COULD swing it. We just... don't feel like we need to. I guess. Also, I've been totally sold on every option thus far, so I await the kindergarten open house at the neighborhood school with excitement. SELL ME, NEIGHBORHOOD SCHOOL! 

In which I take super good news and turn it into a sob story about my pants size

I ran on my treadmill every day last week. I was feeling proud of myself until my future BIL was telling me tonight that he ran 13 miles today, just for kicks. And for you locals, his route (HIS USUAL ROUTE, BTW) took him from Wallingford, through the U District, down through Ravenna, up to the cemetery behind U Village (SO 13 MILES OF HILLS), then past Metropolitan Market and down to Sand Point, then into Montlake and along Pacific by UW, then up 15th to 45th, up to freaking NINETY-NINE, and THEN, if it's a WEEKEND, he throws in a jaunt around Green Lake. But if it's a week day he just goes home. SLACKER. 

Of course, most of you stopped reading at Future BIL and YES I HAVE PERMISSION TO TELL YOU MY SISTER IS GETTING MARRIEEEEEEED!!! (Hence the Pinterest board some of you have asked me about!) 

So there you have my Ultimate Weight Loss Goal: LOSE BABY WEIGHT BY SISTER'S WEDDING. 

This is not the FPC, by the way. (For you Skimmers, the FPC is my OTHER sister. Take notes!) The FPC is already married. BUT SHE IS HAVING A BABEEEEEEE!!!! EEEEEEEEEE!!!

I KNOW. There has been a LOT of Pinning lately. 

The FPC is due in May. I do not feel I have to lose any weight by THAT date. But the wedding date is mid-July and GOSHDARNIT I will be fitting into my old pants by mid-July. OR ELSE!

Last night I saw that I have worn my Fat Pants/Early Pregnancy Pants/Then Fat Pants Again so much that I have worn out the inner thighs and crotch. There are HOLES DOWN THERE, Internet. It's true that I've worn those pants through at least two pregnancies, BUT STILL. 

I'm at this really miserable point where maternity pants are no longer an option and my Fattest Pants give me Saggy Butt, but my OLD PANTS are SO FAR from fitting that if I even TRY I have to schedule a therapy appointment. I may have to actually go and BUY PANTS. WAH.

I've lost 16 pounds since I started keeping track. I have 9 to go before I hit my pre-Molly weight and 14 before I hit my pre-Emma weight. I don't doubt that I can do this, but it's taking me a lot longer than it did last time, for various reasons, and I think I am OKAY WITH THAT, but I am still worried about the PANTS SITUATION. 

It also did not help that Future BIL brought CAKE. Bah.

But I'm starting to think, like... what if I DIDN'T lose the weight? I mean, I WANT TO and I WILL but there's this [GOOD] thing where I don't feel like my entire world revolves around this weight loss project (probably why it's going slower this time!) Like sometimes I think: maybe Hot By Thirty was as good as it was going to get for me, skinny-wise, and instead of feeling bereft and morose, I feel sort of... okay with it. Does that make any sense at all? It's not like I want to stay where I am or whatever, and it's not even that losing weight isn't as IMPORTANT... It's more like I am thinking that some day I will be 40 and 50 and 60 and I would rather be a WISE mother than a SKINNY one. Blargh. Will have to expound on this some other time.

Hot oil treatments

So I got, like, six or seven emails from You People, all confessing your Yelling As Of Late. Don't worry, I won't tell. But I am thinking maybe we should form a support group? Or something? 

I have hopped on my treadmill every day this week. I know that's not a LOT, but it actually feels like a pretty huge accomplishment right now. I even used the treadmill yesterday, in the afternoon because I had a church meeting last night and I knew I wouldn't have time when Phillip got home. Of course, I was only on there 16 minutes before Jack reported a baby crying upstairs, but I figure that is still 16 minutes when I was not parked on my butt in front of the television. 

(People I am obsessed with a show called Homeland, starring Angela Chase and some vaguely creepy dude who gives me the heebie jeebies. Phillip has already seen the entire season which irks me to NO END and also makes it IMPERATIVE that I see every episode STAT.)

Also! A lot of you suggested a babysitter or a mother's helper type person. At first I was all, "Harrumph." But then I thought about it a little more. I have actually thought about it off and on for a WHILE now, but I was never sure how I might actually make such a thing happen. I mean, most of the time that feels wrong! I am a SAHM! What else am I doing?! But then I get over myself and worry about other things, more legitimate things, like can I PAY a babysitter once a week and who would this babysitter even BE?

But I have an idea in mind. Specifically I have a Person and a Rate of Pay in mind and it might be a few weeks before I can advance my idea and tell you about it, but there is at least a POSSIBILITY and also THANK YOU because I needed someone else to say, "Yeah, you should totally do that, and also it is TOTALLY OKAY TO DO THAT."

As for the JOB aspect... I think I have mentioned a time or two that I am not at ALL inclined towards Work or Career or Earning My Own Living or any of those grown up responsible things. I mean, I did before I had kids, but not because I WANTED TO or because I was GOOD AT ANYTHING. And I happen to feel the same way now. There are a small number of things I like to do that someone ALSO might pay me to do. But I would need more schooling or more experience blah blah blah. So a career type thing is definitely on hold. If I even want one. But a JOB... I HAVE thought about this. Like at one point my church was looking for a part timer and I thought HEY THAT WOULD BE PERFECT. Except, seriously, every time I start to think about a part time job or browse Craigslist or something like that, I have this overwhelming sense of not now. And I don't THINK that's just my inherent laziness speaking. 

ANYWAY. 

Here. I will tell you a funny story about today. 

So my friend comes over this morning and our kids are playing so nicely together and her baby is only two weeks older than MY baby and we were having SUCH a nice time. Then the kids got hungry and I started making the obligatory mac n' cheese (and not the organic kind either, only the best stuff when you visit the Cheungs!) and I decided I would go All Out and make lunch for the grown ups too. I was SUPER PROUD of myself for even having food to offer. Anyway, I had to make honey mustard dressing, which SOUNDS like a lot of work for someone who hates to cook, but is actually NOT a lot of work and tastes SO MUCH BETTER. 

So I'm making the dressing and maybe I spilled a teaspoon or so of olive oil. And I resolved to clean it up later. And of course forgot, because I like to clean as much as I like to cook. 

Anyway, later I am helping clean up before our friends go home and catch sight of my daughter and gee, she's looking particularly urchin-ish. Like, filthy. Like, I didn't just give her a bath this morning. WTH?

So I say, "Molly? Did you put something in your hair?"

"No."

"MOLLY."

"No, I didn't."

"Molly, DID YOU PUT SOMETHING IN YOUR HAIR?"

"..."

"..."

"...I put that stuff you were making."

"The stuff I was making?"

"The stuff you were making."

"Can you show me the stuff?"

"..."

"In the kitchen? We're going in the kitchen? OHHHH."

So yeah, my kid wiped up the olive oil and put it IN HER HAIR. This is either totally digusting or she's into super-advanced-for-her-age beauty treatments. 

The look I'm going for lately is HAGGARD

I have a very simple goal as a mom, at least this stage of being a mom, and that is Do Not Be Angry All The Time. You'd think this wouldn't be too hard to achieve, what with my having perfectly delightful children, the fact that I just got home from a weekend in pure sunshine, and also the fact that I am not a particularly angry person. I mean, unless you are my husband with a penchant for leaving socks in my living room, it takes a lot to get me angry. The screamy, foot-stampy, ragey angry. 

But where I am not particularly angry, I am decidedly and terribly selfish, and what I'm mainly selfish about is my time. I got things to do, Internet, and God help the preschoolers who get in my way. 

Emma... Emma is a baby, and therefore gets a pass. Sort of. I mean, I get angry at her too, but I'm grown up enough to realize that it is not EMMA'S fault she is a baby and cannot get her own pacifier. But I regret to say that I am rarely grown up enough around the older kids. The older kids who waltzed into my room at 6:30 this morning and, when I informed them they were not to come upstairs before 7 and to go play in their room until breakfast was ready, did indeed go back downstairs, but only to whine me to death over the monitor. 

(I went and took a shower to avoid the whining. But when Jack realized I was avoiding him, he took it upon himself to march into the bathroom and inform me that "Molly poked my eye" and it was a fleet of ANGELS that prevented his mother from dropkicking him out of the bathroom and into the nearest lake.)

In my defense, a lot of this is their fault. For some reason lately they are whinier than usual - and this started before I went on my trip, so you can't say they're punishing me for having a good time this weekend. And they whine about EVERYTHING. Snacks, their clothes, their toys, quiet time, dinner, lunch, breakfast, wanting to see friends, wanting to see Grandma, and I would add 'wanting to go outside' in there except yesterday, which was very nice out, I suggested they play outside and Jack said, "No, the sun will hurt my eyes."

They're also mean and nasty to each other, stealing toys, bursting into manipulative tears, chasing, playing keep away, and, in Molly's case, smacking her brother about the head on numerous occasions. I remember fighting with my own brother and I ACUTELY remember my own parents not caring AT ALL who did what first, so I feel like I should treat my own children with the respect my parents could not afford me - HAR HAR HAR, sorry, I couldn't finish that sentence without LAUGHING. The fact of the matter is that I do not care who did what first, you still have to clean up the @#$(%@& Tinker Toys. AND DO IT NOW!

There is also a particular someone still wetting her pants, often when she is in trouble, and I wish I had more sympathy for that. I really really REALLY wish I had more sympathy for that. But the "tired of cleaning it up" pretty much outweighs everything else and it is getting OLD.

I don't condemn myself for the occasional (okay, frequent) yell about cleaning up and eat your food and put on your clothes, FTLOG! But lately I am crossing a line. Not just with yelling, more like a temperament thing. I feel like more often I am gratuitously yelling and flailing and lecturing and gesticulating, not because it's productive but because it FEELS GOOD. I am mad about something and they are the nearest targets. 

I struggle SO MUCH with wanting to do other things besides Be A Parent. I want to write blog posts - I want to WRITE. I want to work on the Blathering website so that 1) I am not embarrassed to put my name on it when it goes live and 2) because it's something REAL and UN-MESS-UP-ABLE by my children! I want to paint my cabinet and decorate my bedroom and sometimes I even want to clean! I want to pay bills and cook dinner in peace and yeah, I want to surf Pinterest without some small person in my ear telling me his sister won't give him the flashlight. I mean, I am already NOT SLEEPING and FIXING YOU FOOD and WIPING YOUR BUTTS and MEDIATING YOUR STUPID LITTLE ARGUMENTS ALL THE LIVELONG DAY. Give me my Pinterest!

Clearly I was not cut out for this motherhood gig. 

It's not that I think I should suffer all of this in peace, or break up fights with a smile on my face, or get my value out of the glorious meals I cook and crafts I do with the kids. I just sort of think I could maybe NOT be so pissed off about it all the time. I mean, sometimes I'm not! But right now is not one of those times. Right now I am looking for jobs on Craigslist and thinking about grad school - not to get away from the kids or away from my life; I think I'm doing it because I don't want JUST THIS to be my life. 

Does that make sense?

Does it also make sense that I WANT this to be my life right now? And that I'm so GRATEFUL this is my life? Or does that, combined with the rest of this post, make me sound Crazy as well as Mad?

I need to get a pair of people ready for preschool and (gulp) the Preschool Playdate. I have to get Emma up and fed. I have to clean up the kitchen. I have to get the preschool snack ready and find the backpack and also my keys and if my reward for confessing all these sins to the Internet is that I get to do these things WITHOUT anyone whining at me for anything, I will consider it all worthwhile.