THE ART OF THE SCALE

Weigh-in: 263.5 I am down 2.5 lbs. That is for a total of 5 lbs. HOORAY! Now, I don’t know how “true” this was, because I didn’t have my glasses on. When I can actually see, I step on the scale, and it kind of hovers around several numbers, usually within half a lb or two, and then LOCKS on whatever number is showing after 1 second, and that’s what it decides is “the” number.

This means that if you step off, and step back on again, you might get a different number. You have to stand very still and watch and see what is going on. With no glasses on, the LED on my scale is just an unreadable blur and I just had to hold very still, wait a few seconds, and then hop off and crouch down to see what it said.

It could have been hovering around 264, or even 264.5 and then blipped down for a second when I breathed in (or out) or some tiny shift of my balance affected the reading.. I don’t know. But I DO know that when I saw the number I was very pleased, and so I am TAKING it and not asking questions 🙂

Five pounds. This is great. I have to say, that the second week has been a lot easier than the first. The impulsive urges to just pick up that muffin near the register in the cafe were nearly OVERPOWERING the first week, and the second? What muffin? Where? Didn’t even see it. Weekends are definitely harder, but saving a lot of flex points for the weekend helps a good bit.

Here’s to week three!

SCHOOL’S OPEN HOUSE

Sunday afternoon was pleasantly filled with various activities. Ethan spends “naptime” nurturing the budding architect within by shunning his bed and building all varieties of creations out of his wooden train tracks or maybe his blocks. Jocelyn sometimes sleeps, but didn’t on Sunday. I heard her over the baby monitor singing and laughing and reading books, and finally, a loud THUMP! and then the loud, crying of a toddler who was not just crying to milk out every vestage of sympathy possible, but the loud insistent wailing of someone who is actually hurt. I nearly dropped my laptop on the floor in my flight up the stairs to her room, where sure enough, she was laying on the floor, apparently having fallen while trying to climb over her bed rail.

She wasn’t TOO hurt though (probably just more scared) because when I picked her up, she said through her tears, “I want to come downstairs Mommy!” (not, “ow” or “I have a boo-boo” or “I need a band-aid” or “I FELL!!” just “I want to come downstairs!”)

Since everyone was so SOLIDLY, DECIDEDLY awake, we decided to head over to the kids’ school’s annual open house.

Ethan’s teacher told us that Ethan is very smart, and has a very strong character. She added that he tries very hard, which was all EXACTLY the right things to say to us, and we were very proud of our boy. We spent some time playing with all his favorite toys, which SURPRISINGLY, all seemed to match the transportation or architect theme. Oh, or puzzles. The boy LOVES puzzles. I was especially excited, when we sat down at a table with paper and crayons, when Ethan decided to draw “our house!” by himself, with minimal involvement from me. “First draw a line up. Then over. Then down. Now the roof. Can you draw a door? How about a window?” Whenever Ethan decides he wants a picture of something, he normally hands one of us the paper and crayon and demands that we do it for him, no matter our arguments that “we’ll help, YOU can do it!”

My baby’s first drawing of a house. Next stop, college. Sniff.

Jocelyn was quick to show us the bin filled with My Little Ponies “Here’s the mommy, and here’s the baby!” and was sweeping busily in a corner when it was time for us to go. I mentioned to her teacher how we’ve been really cracking down on any whining, “I Waaaaaant a DRIIIIIIINK!” “Ask nicely.” “May I have a drink please?” “SURE!” and was excited (and stunned, actually) to hear that she doesn’t whine too much at school. However, she does say, “LEAVE ME ALONE!” which she says at home as well. I explained that unfortuately, she got that from her brother, who says that to her entirely too often, and instructed them to definitely not tolerate that sort of attitude because we certainly don’t.

Overall, the visit to the school went well, and then we were off to our next destination, Tamara and Andrew’s, where we dropped off a crib mattress and a pack and play. “You sure you won’t need it?” Tamara asked.

“Nope. Not unless something goes dramatically astray!” I replied.

STILL AFRAID OF ANY TOILET OTHER THAN HIS OWN

Since we were in the area, we called up Ann and Kurt to see if they wanted to risk life and limb and have dinner with us and the kids. I joked that eating with the whole family will be like an additional dose of birth control. Feel the need for babies? Oh just have dinner with us, and you can stave off that feeling for easily, another 2-3 years! I don’t know how it looked to them, but the kids actually did fairly well, with Jocelyn only trying to escape from the high chair a few dozen times at the end, and Ethan behaving remarkably well. The tale of How Dinner Went might have an ENTIRELY different perspective from their side of the table of which I am totally unaware! Hee hee!

But I digress.

We drove around a bit before heading to the restaurant so as not to get there too early, and Ethan started showing concern about what was going on.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to drive around a little bit and then go to the restaurant and have dinner with Kurt and Ann. Look a caboose!”

“Yeah. Sure. Caboose. Um, I don’t want to go to the restaurant. Let’s drive around and then drive HOME.”

“Well, then we will be hungry. We’re going to have dinner at the restaurant. Don’t you want some dinner? They might have PANCAKES!”

“I don’t want dinner. I’m not getting out of the car. So THERE. Humph.”

This went on the entire (short) drive.

When we got to the restaurant Ethan REALLY started acting up. He started to pitch a fit over nothing – he wanted MOMMY to get him out of the car and not Daddy, and he wasn’t going to get out unless MOMMY got him out.. James and I were starting to get pretty testy with him until I saw how he was crossing his legs.. I thought it was to prevent James from touching the buckle (because he wanted me to get him out, not James) but then I realized what it was.

The boy had to pee, and was afraid of being forced to go to the bathroom in the restaurant’s bathroom. I tried to make it as casual as possible, and at the same time alleviate this fear, by saying, “Do you need to go potty? Maybe you could water the grass.” And sure enough, all of a sudden the attitude dropped and he and Daddy found a protected area and he did some business.

Ethan has a major phobia of strange toilets, as you can tell from all the photos I posted from vacation of Ethan’s bare buttocks while he “watered the grass”. Sometimes I try to help him push his comfort level a bit, but this time, I could tell that he was really really worried about it. Jocelyn and I went in and got a table, and when he and James arrived in the restaurant, the surly defiant attitude was gone.

I wonder how much longer before foriegn bathrooms are acceptable. Because while peeing in the bushes is (kind of) OK for a 4 year old, I think the clock is ticking on that one.

– amy conquers strange toilets with ease, is conquered by strongly scented bathrooms, alas!

ps – I’ve not forgotten about Saturday, but damn, I can only write so much (and so often) and expect you to listen, so later it will have to be.

Mystic, CT is home to a lot of touristy attractions. We arrived early one morning to go visit the Aquarium, and had a little time to spare before it opened. So we drove down to the main street, parked, and walked around a bit.

It was a stunningly beautiful day.

When we got back to the aquarium, again, we were too busy chasing after Jocelyn to be very handy with the camera. After a few hours looking at fish, we came back to the main drag and lunched at Mystic Pizza before we headed back to the yellow house for naptime.

Today is going to be an exciting day.

Today, the 4-month pregnant Tamara and I are going into DC to participate in a photo Safari. Basically we get to take photos like tourists in the National Museum of the American Indian in DC, with a professional photographer to help us learn more about our camera and how to take better pictures.

I am just so tickled I could spit.

But I won’t. You were nice enough to come to my site, so I will restrain myself. FOR YOU. MMMMWAH!

Here’s the blurb for this photography thing* in case you didn’t want to click on that link and see for yourself:

With their larger sensors, the Canon 20D and its bigger brother,the Canon 30D, SLR digital cameras have become a very popular items among serious digital photographers. This Safari will help 20D/30D users put their cameras through the paces of ISO settings, flash settings, variable white balance settings, file compression, aperture and shutter priorities, focus settings, custom settings, menu navigation tricks, exposure tricks, use of the histogram, etc. We will shoot inside and outside of the new National Museum of the American Indian.

Special exhibits at the museum pose unique challenges for the digital photographer, especially the mix of daylight and tungsten light. The eight-story high atrium is a great place to practice wide-angle photography, and the carvings and statues provide challenges for your telephoto lens.

Ooohhh. Doesn’t that sound cool? I’m going to come back knowing EVERYTHING! Well, a lot more than I know now, which is basically nothing.

So while Tamara and I learn how to be an awesome photographer, my darest dearling Linda is coming down from Long Island. She and I are going to road trip it old style (old style just means no kids in the car) to Virginia Beach to fetch some of her things from an ex. We will probably talk about the meaning of life** and many other deep things while listening to good music.

So. Yeah. Big day planned! Wish me luck! Or better, send me “stay on program!” vibes, because that will serve me better 🙂 (It’s been an excellent on program week thus far!)

* I keep refering to this photo safari thing as a “thing”. “Oh, I can’t Saturday, I have this photography thing.” It’s not a class, it’s not a seminar.. Really, I don’t know what to call it. It will have to remain a “thing”.

** FORTY-TWO!

-amy had an O.B. like that once.

I haven’t done this in a while, but today’s meetings had some good ones:

– Who’s next? Ben? What’s going on in Ben-dom?

– So what’s happening? What’s going on with that? Tell me about all the fixes you’re doing.
– I’m doing all the fixes.

– Well, Mr. X is taking another position within the organization, so it’s possible that this project will be taken over by Ms. Y–
– DOH!
(Ms. Y = troublemaker)

– I’m working on [a project] & [the client contact] needs to go back to the first grade.

– They’ve got to straighten out their paperwork, because it is a mess.
– I had an O.B. like that once.

(a minute later)

– Is it my turn? Are you finished? You done with your O.B. thing?

There are no shots of the interior, because we were too busy chasing Jocelyn from room to room while screaming, “DON’T TOUCH THAT!” and tearing out our hair. We were very grateful when the time came to strap her back into her carseat.

Gillette Castle is located in Gillette Castle State Park in East Haddam, CT. It was about 40 minutes away from our vacation house in Old Saybrook. It was built by William Hooker Gillette, who had a thing for portraying Sherlock Holmes on the stage. That is all I can tell you about him, because instead of being able to stand and listen to the nice lady who was relating all the pertinent details of the castle, James and I had to stop Jocelyn from climbing all over the roped off furniture and wiping her boogers on the beautifully tapestried walls.

One thing I do remember though (although I had to look it up to be exact), the castle was purchased by the state from his descendants, which would probably please him, because in his will, he stated his wish for the property not to fall into the hands of “some blithering saphead who has no conception of where he is or with what surrounded.”

He probably would have kicked Jocelyn out post haste.

More information can be found here.

Scene: Last night, about 9pm. Living room. I’ve been sitting in front of the TV reading blogs and finishing up my CD ripping for the last hour. James comes up from his office downstairs and flops into a chair.

James: Hi.

me: Hi.

James: Let’s not ever get divorced.

me: Ok. Good plan.

james: It’s just too much of a pain in the ass.

me: Sounds good.

me: I, Amy, take you James, as my husband for…. EVER!

James grins.

me: Now you.

james: I, James, take you amy, as my wife FOR-EEEEEVER!

I grin.

I kiss my fingertips and then leaaaannnn over. He kisses his fingertips and leaaans over and we both start making those little, “ooh can I reach without falling over?” noises until our fingertips touch and we slouch back in our respective seats.

me: Good, now we don’t have to bother with all that renewing our vows crap on our 10th anniversary.

james: Saves us some dough.

me: Yeah. Now we can just spend it on booze and wenches.

james: Amen.

CRIKEY!Astonished was I, when I read the news that Steve Irwin (The Crocodile Hunter) died a few days ago of a stingray’s barb straight to the heart. I heard on Monday, and every time I think of it, I get a little choked up. Steve was so full of personality and energy it is hard to beleive that he is really gone. Everything he did he did with such single-mindedness, and I have learned so much from his shows – and even more importantly, grown to LOVE the wild creatures he introduced to me. He loved wildlife so much, and the respect he held for animals taught me as well. His death was tragic, in that one would imagine it would come at the hands of some of the more dangerous creatures he handled.

Steve Irwin joins Jim Henson, Shel Silverstein, and (I know I’m forgetting some more) Dr. Suess in the “WHY GOD, WHY?!” category. When I think about his wife and 2 kids, tears come to my eyes.

He was on a radio talk show in the DC area a few years ago, and I only caught the tale end of it, but let’s just say, he totally KILLED, he was so awesome. A few minutes after the interview was over, the producer came in. He had talked to him a few minutes to ask him how he thought the show went, and to thank him for being on the show, etc. The DJs were astonished to hear how Steve was afraid he wasn’t “peppy” enough (can you imagine Steve Irwin not having enough energy?) and had actually gotten up a few hours before the interview (the time difference meant that it was sometime during the sleeping hours in Australia) to make sure he’d be “awake” enough to give a good interview.

Ah, crikey, I’m going to miss him.

WHY GOD, WHY?!!

CLASS NIGHTS

I spewed all Pollyanna-ish about making James’ gone-class-time to use for me, for craftiness, and really, it wasn’t a good comparison to the situation last summer. I was freaking out because I would have a Saturday with the kids, just as if it was a weekday, and I could see the whole summer droning out in front of me with a summer of all weekdays and only 1-day weekends, and I had to do something to keep it from feeling like a weekday.

That really isn’t the case here. It’s the dealing with the kids all myself that is tiring, with no buffer to keep Jocelyn from trying the bathroom door while I’m trying to pee, or going to inspect the newest creation that Ethan has built while I’m trying to get dinner on the table, or getting the jammies ready while the baths are in progress.

My plan for being crafty doesn’t really work, because it doesn’t alleviate all that, the way going on special expeditions alleviated Saturdays feeling like a weekday last summer.

So, I am taking the spirit of that post, but not the goals. I can’t really do crafty things before tehy’re in bed, not enough time, really, it’s filled with dinner, playing, tidying, baths, bedtime, etc. And after they’re in bed, that’s my time, just like any other day after they’re in bed. So while I may do crafty things in this time, I might not, the point is to make the CHOICE to not be grumpy about doing the evening routine by myself. And really, I am not, they are both old enough that it doesn’t feel like the chore it did last year. Ethan is helpful and can get into jammies and play until I’m done getting Jocelyn tucked in. The routine with a 4 year old and a 2 year old is infinitely better than with a 3 year old and a 1 year old (or younger).

SO, I’m just letting you know. Tuesdays/Thursdays, I may or may not do crafty things. Last night, I had more important things to do, like FINISHING getting my entire CD collection ripped to MP3 (i’ve been working on this all summer off and on) and getting pictures off the camera, converted to jpg, and up to flickr. YOu’ll be seeing some of our vacation pics over the next week or so.

STILL KIND OF CRAFTY

So, while I’m not dedicating Tuesday/Thursdays to craftiness, I still managed to do a cute thing for Ethan this past weekend. He has several pairs of pants that have holes in the knees but are otherwise perfectly fine, so…

MY NOSE! AHHHH MY NOSE!!

I have mentioned my super sensitive nose before. My nose is like a being unto itself. If it smells something it doesn’t like, it decides to punish me for putting it into contact with such abomination. Thus, my limited use of hairspray, and my abhorrence for the hand cream the Mary Kay lady leaves in the bathroom at work (it hasn’t been seen for sometime, thank god).

So yesterday we arrive home. It is the day the cleaning ladies come. Maybe I am just getting over my initial euphoria of having the house cleaned magically while we’re gone every 2 weeks, because I’m starting to get a little picky. I probably wouldn’t have been this picky yesterday though, if they hadn’t PUT STINKY CARPET FRESHENER POWDER on our carpets, or maybe it was just SPRAYING AIR FRESHENER EVERYWHERE, I don’t know WHAT IT WAS, but it STINKS. It REEKS of powdery floral stench ALL THROUGHOUT OUR HOUSE.

My nose is a very delicate organ. Do not accost the nose, or the nose will turn on you. This is not the first time the cleaning ladies have contaminated the air in my home, but after they had done it a few times, I called the office and requested that they not do it again. Ever. That was a month or so ago. And now they’ve done it again. I have a feeling that Jocelyn has the same delicate nasal passages that I have, because after I put her to bed, she spent the next hour coughing every 5 minutes, poor girl. Every time she coughed, I got angrier and angrier at the cleaning ladies.

Maybe it’s because of the stench that I started getting uber picky. They always leave a checklist of things they did on our kitchen table. I’m sure they go through the house, do their thing, then on their way out, whip out this sheet and quickly check off each box. Because I know they have never wiped down our kitchen cupboards. The reason I know this? Because they have cobwebs on them. I know they have never wiped down our baseboards. I know sometimes they don’t wipe all fingerprints off the woodwork and wipe off all window sills.. The reason I know this? BECAUSE THEY ARE STILL FILTHY.

I started getting all cranky about this as I was looking at their sheet, but then later i got a bit more reasonable. It’s not that I mind that they didn’t do these things, because honestly, the state we leave our house the mornings they come is probably not the best. If they didn’t have to spend time rearranging our piles of junk all throughout the house they probably WOULD have time to wipe off the cupboards, but as is, we’re only paying for X amount of hours, and if they can’t get to the baseboards without going over and charging me more, then yes. Please skip them. I’m just happy that the major things are getting done.

But really. Don’t kid yourself and try to put one over on me by checking every single box, because I’m not a dummy.

And if you put that stench in my home again, I’ll be calling up Merry Maids and dropping your ass.

– amy MY NOSE! MY NOSE!