Week in Review

Time to bring back Mom's Tolerability Index.

Only 4 boxes of Franzia?

It's been one helluva week and I'm so glad it's over. There were so many ups and downs, some days felt like the best day ever -- and also the worst imaginable -- all within a 24-hour span.

Some of our low-lights include:

• Mad Dog's 3-day bout with the runs.
• The death of a beloved grade school teacher of mine.
• Super stressful workdays and overscheduled weeknights.
• Crowbar's insomnia.
• Crowbar's constant whining and crying (from said insomnia).
• Computer problems that make it impossible to check Facebook without the whole system crashing.

Some of our highlights include:

• The best reports we've ever gotten at Mad Dog and The Deuce's parent teacher conferences.
• News that Crowbar has finally stopped spitting at daycare. (Woo hoo!)
• A hard-won "atta-girl" from a senior VP at work.
• Pride (for the first time in a long time) in my check book balance.
• Reconnecting with a few friends from high school.

So it should be no surprise that we broke out a couple boxes of wine this week, alternately drowning sorrows and toasting accomplishments.

Here's to the weekend!

Who's Shaggy now?

Forgot to water the Chia Pet this week...

Little known fact: I heart Alec Baldwin.

I have a secret thing for Alec Baldwin.

I know. It's weird. But allow me to explain:

It's not about him as a person. It's more about the characters he plays. I love Jack Donaghy on 30 Rock and whenever he's on SNL (which is quite often), I'm glued. And those weird Hulu commercials... I even like those for some reason.

It's inexplicable.

Just when I didn't think anything could top his SNL classic character Pete Schweddy (who bakes schweddy balls), along comes this little gem:



Thank you Mr. Baldwin. Thank you very much.

This ain't no party. This ain't no disco. This ain't no fooling around.

I'm pretty sure I'm sending my kids to school and not a rave everyday. Though some days, I'm forced to question what exactly they're doing there.

Last week Friday, my kids, like others across the country, commemorated Valentine's Day with a class party. I did it when I was a kid and I'm pretty sure anyone reading this blog did too.

I remember how much Valentine's Day rocked. We'd decorate our mailboxes - old shoe or cereal boxes covered with red and pink construction paper - and we'd hand out little paper cards and conversation hearts. And, if we were lucky, some one's mom would make cupcakes.

Well, friends. Things have changed a bit. When I picked up the kids last Friday, they talked a mile a minute, gushing over the day's events.

Here's The Deuce's account:

Oh, Mom, it was great. We decorated our mailboxes (check) and handed out our Valentines (check). Then we at red cupcakes (check) and dipped little marshmallows in a chocolate fountain. (Wah?!)

Yes, you heard me. Chocolate fountain. At a grade school. That's new, I thought.

I wanted one of these babies for the wedding, but forget it. It's not special anymore.

The following week, Mad Dog bounced into the car and announced they'd had a laser light show that day.

Yeah, we went into the gym and the turned out the lights and played music and lasers flashed all around. We danced and danced.

Really? Did they pass out pacifiers and balloons full of nitrous oxide too?

Eventually after some additional probing, I learned the laser show was part of a science unit - though I remained skeptical until she could prove she'd actually learned something about lasers.

I couldn't say the word laser without doing the Dr. Evil air quotie thing.

Mad Dog rolled her eyes and proceeded to educate me about lasers.

Lasers are coherent light beams that remains the same size from the point it's produced to the very end of the beam.

Oh, and they can't kill people like on Star Wars.

Yes sir. It's nice to see that my tax dollars are being put to good use.

Been a little busy lately...

I realize it's been a while since my last post. Before you accuse me of being a slacker, let me assure you I had a good reason.

Two words: chest tube.

It would seem that last week sometime, one of my beloved's lungs spontaneously collapsed. Yeah, it deflated like a balloon. And when lungs spontaneously deflate (even a little bit) they don't reinflate on their own.

No sir. You need the help of a chest tube and a vacuum pump. Think Capri Sun juice pouch and vacuum cleaner. While his cardiac thoracic surgeon might take issue with my gross oversimplification, honestly, I'm really not that far off.


So, Thursday night, I rushed Mark to the ER with chest pains. Thinking he was having a heart attack, they took him immediately - even before the lady with the horrifying head wound. When they escorted me back to see him, he was hooked up to all sorts of probes and sensors. A nurse was asking him questions.

Full name?
Date of birth?
Address?
Emergency contact?

He dutifully answered each question and when she got to emergency contact, he looked at me and smiled as he gave my name and cell number. I took his hand, careful to not disturb his IV.

She continued.

Allergies to medications?
Insurance carrier?
Marital status?

She robotically read the options:

Single, divorced, married, widowed?

Mark looked at me as he answered: Single.

I leaned over and pointed to her clipboard.

Change the emergency contact to his mother, will ya?

I looked at Mark and winked.

Hey man! He said, defensively. There wasn't an option for engaged!

The nurse giggled nervously, unsure at first if we were joking or not. She quickly plowed through the remaining questions and left.

Mark spent a few days in the hospital and is now back home recovering. It was a pretty frightening experience to say the least. When you have a medical scare like that, it really makes you appreciate your loved ones more than ever.

In the end, Mark was discharged on Valentine's Day. When I got him home, I gently wrapped my arms around him to give him a little hug. It was barely even a hug actually. I was too worried about hurting him.

Mark assured me that he'd never turn down my hugs and as I gingerly reached my arms around him, he pulled me closer, tighter. And as I settled my head on his chest in perfect bliss, he made a loud THHHHHPPPPPPPT sound (like a balloon deflating).

Freak.

But that's why I love him so much.

I feel the earth move under my feet. I feel the skies tumbling down, a-tumbling down.

Aside from Mad Dog's affinity for the word pie hole - and inability to grasp why she can't say it at school, the girl has a knack for calling things like she sees them. Without tact.

Last night, as I walked into her room to say goodnight, she says:

I could feel you coming.

Huh?

Yeah, I could feel it. The ground was shaking.

Shaking.

Yeah, vibrations. The ground shakes when you walk.

Normally, I'd like someone to feel that the earth moves when I'm around. But from an 8 year old, this is not a compliment.

A Day in the Life - Part 2

Every Saturday, I post a weekly menu. The purpose is twofold:

1. To get my sh*t together.
2. To get the kids off my back.

Without the week's menu in plain sight, the kids are constantly asking me, "What's for dinner?" (They're the kind if kids who will ask what's for dinner Thursday night while they're eating breakfast Tuesday morning.)

Often, they'll share feedback in the form of erasing something on the list and replacing it with an option they find more appealing.

This past week, Sunday night's planned dinner was replaced by a trip to "McDonals." Spelling error aside, it made me chuckle. Also of note is the fact that the grocery list was modified to include ice cream, wip cream (sic), turtle shell (she meant Magic Shell) and cookies.

Without a word, I made some edits to the modified lists:

Oh, and if you're wondering about the quote of the week, it's my way to impart a little useful advice without necessarily beating them over the heads with it.

Thus far, it's been effective. Nobody's petted anything suspect - at least not recently.

Birthday fun.

Yesterday was my birthday. I share my special day with an elite bunch - former President Ronald Reagan and Axl Rose from the rock band Guns N Roses. Still, yesterday the fun was all mine.

I learned that 36 has perks. Not only is it the 20th anniversary of my sweet 16, but now I can legally date someone half my age. It was also pointed out to me that now I'm in my late 30's, to which I didn't know if I should cry or deck the person who told me. (I chose to deck him.)

All that aside, yesterday, I got my birthday wish: To get together and have a fun dinner with people I love.

We went our local Buca di Beppo and got the table in the kitchen, which was noisy, boisterous and fun. Add in a giant bottle of Chianti and humongous family-style portions, and we had a blast.

Here's a photo recap:

Crowbar (forefront) blocking an otherwise nice shot of Mad Dog, Grandma and Grandpa B., and The Deuce. The sign above their heads reads in Italian, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen." (Story of my life.)

Mad Dog, doing her best Flavor Flav impression...

...and then teaching Grandma B. the "Whatever, Major Loser" hand gesture. (It's all the rage with third graders these days.)

The Deuce enjoys a somewhat more civilized evening, sipping her kiddie cocktail from a wine glass. (Just like her mother.)

Grandma Judy and my baby brother share of love of caprese salad and fashionable eye wear...

...all the while Mark and I smooched in the corner. Actually, that's not true. I was too busy chugging wine and demanding tiramisu.

In the end, I got my tiramisu, plus a gigantic serving of birthday cake. It was the best birthday ever.

A Day in the Life.

Scene: 6 a.m. on a school day. I'm trying to wake up Mad Dog and The Deuce to get them ready for school.

Good morning, girls. It's time to wake up.

(Groans.)

C'mon. Let's go. It's time to get crackin'.

Moooommmm. Can't we sleep in?

Sorry, but no.

It's not fair! My friends get to sleep in past nine.

I find that unlikely. School starts at 8:30.

Why can't I be home schooled? Then I could sleep in longer.

Honey, you do NOT want to be home schooled. Because then, you'd only get as smart as I am and I owe it to you to give you a better shot at life.

(Giggles.)