Like a bolt out of the blue, I've been struck. For the second time, I'm carrying a child who's a bladder kicker. I was just standing by the book case sorting through today's mail, when BLAMMO! it felt like lightning hit my bladder. What is it with these kids? Must be soccer in the genes or something, because these kids loooove to kick me right where it counts from the inside.
I've heard of getting kicked other places, mostly the ribs. Never happened to me, maybe because I carry low. The closest I get to that is a little shortness of breath from the overall expansion. Last night Frank and I were talking about buying me all new clothes after the baby is born. I said all I want is to have a regular body again, and to get the kids moving along and keep going with life, but I'm a little scared about having a flabby belly. Frank said just relax and don't worry, do exercises and eat right, and if nothing else works we'll just call Dr. Rey.
Thursday, February 7
Wednesday, February 6
For what it's worth
One little tidbit of information buzzing around lately has been on my mind tonight. It's the estimated yearly salary of what a stay-at-home mom (or dad) would earn for their work if some magical force turned it into a paying job. Something in the neighborhood of $137,000, if I remember correctly. I'm assuming that includes things like round-the-clock child care, housekeeping, and everything involved with turning babies into well-adjusted adults.
The main thing I'm working on this week, as you know, is prepping the taxes for our accountant. I've been going through bags of receipts, sorting out what we can itemize, making piles, gathering all the 1099s, 1098s, W-2s, and the you know whos. Day care, health insurance, commuting expenses, art supplies, office furniture, prescriptions... I feel like Ewan McGregor at the end of "Trainspotting" when he spouts off that list of things he's going to do to be just like you.
While I've been sorting and stacking and labeling, it has occurred to me several times that I could attempt to do the taxes myself. But when I think about doing them, I just don't see myself getting very far. For one thing, I dislike math and numbers. They throw me into a meltdown. And while I don't mind all the organizing, I can't stand keeping track of what goes where when it comes to tax rules. We also have to add NY and PA state returns into the mix. I'd love to think I could just suck it up and do them, but no. I could look at it one way and say that we're on a budget, and it doesn't make sense for me to pay someone to do something I could do myself. But in reality, that $150 is going to go a long way. It'll save me the frustration, the time, the tears, and the inevitable month of procrastination.
It's my job to set the household budget, and Frank's job to ignore it. But when tax time rolls around and he smiles and reminds me Jeff's fee is money well spent, I have to agree. It goes back to the home economics of it all. Sometimes X amount of money is just plain worth it.
The main thing I'm working on this week, as you know, is prepping the taxes for our accountant. I've been going through bags of receipts, sorting out what we can itemize, making piles, gathering all the 1099s, 1098s, W-2s, and the you know whos. Day care, health insurance, commuting expenses, art supplies, office furniture, prescriptions... I feel like Ewan McGregor at the end of "Trainspotting" when he spouts off that list of things he's going to do to be just like you.
While I've been sorting and stacking and labeling, it has occurred to me several times that I could attempt to do the taxes myself. But when I think about doing them, I just don't see myself getting very far. For one thing, I dislike math and numbers. They throw me into a meltdown. And while I don't mind all the organizing, I can't stand keeping track of what goes where when it comes to tax rules. We also have to add NY and PA state returns into the mix. I'd love to think I could just suck it up and do them, but no. I could look at it one way and say that we're on a budget, and it doesn't make sense for me to pay someone to do something I could do myself. But in reality, that $150 is going to go a long way. It'll save me the frustration, the time, the tears, and the inevitable month of procrastination.
It's my job to set the household budget, and Frank's job to ignore it. But when tax time rolls around and he smiles and reminds me Jeff's fee is money well spent, I have to agree. It goes back to the home economics of it all. Sometimes X amount of money is just plain worth it.
Tuesday, February 5
Mrs. Clean
Important note: As of last night, showers have taken their new place at the top of my list of "Things to Do at Least Every Other Day". Other items on said list are as follows: stand in the kitchen eating peanut butter sundae ice cream out of the carton; drink a can of soda; take clean dishes out of the dishwasher, refill with dirty dishes, and run again; pull baby around the house on his bulldozer; eat avocado. Thank you.
Monday, February 4
Sucking the air out
Have I ever mentioned how much I love Space Bags? They are so much fun. It's almost a game to pack stuff away. I love to put a bunch of clothes in a big bag and then put the vacuum hose on the valve and *wwwwwssssssshhhhhhhhhh* suck out the air and then act like I'm on the commercial and make a surprised face when I zip the bag open again. I don't know what takes me longer, filling up the bags or playing with them until I've had my fill and can finally set them aside to go into the attic.
One of the piles I Space Bagged today was baby boy clothes, from newborn up to whatever 12 month stuff he has outgrown. It was bittersweet. The teeny weeny blue striped socks that fit his little feet once... they seemed so tiny, like only a doll could wear them. I must have kept him busy today because he was so tired that I put him down for a short nap at 6:00. Poor kid wasn't going to make it until bed time.
So yes, Space Bags. When I ordered them I got a bunch more than I expected, and I gave some to my mom because I thought they were so cool that she just had to try them. I guess that's my version of sharing a recipe. I wish there were a similar way to pack up all the little knick knacks and piles of paper hanging around. Doing the tax stuff is forcing me to go through a year's worth of old stuff, which is nice but just taking the time to do it... ugh! Alrighty, it's almost 7:00 so I better wake the babe. I'm so tempted to let him sleep and see if he'll make it through the night. Hmm...
One of the piles I Space Bagged today was baby boy clothes, from newborn up to whatever 12 month stuff he has outgrown. It was bittersweet. The teeny weeny blue striped socks that fit his little feet once... they seemed so tiny, like only a doll could wear them. I must have kept him busy today because he was so tired that I put him down for a short nap at 6:00. Poor kid wasn't going to make it until bed time.
So yes, Space Bags. When I ordered them I got a bunch more than I expected, and I gave some to my mom because I thought they were so cool that she just had to try them. I guess that's my version of sharing a recipe. I wish there were a similar way to pack up all the little knick knacks and piles of paper hanging around. Doing the tax stuff is forcing me to go through a year's worth of old stuff, which is nice but just taking the time to do it... ugh! Alrighty, it's almost 7:00 so I better wake the babe. I'm so tempted to let him sleep and see if he'll make it through the night. Hmm...
Sunday, February 3
Flexibility
Yesterday I planned out what I was going to do today. Wake up, breakfast, grocery list, food shopping, clean old food out of fridge, get tax stuff together, and prep bills to go out for the week. I thought it would be nice to let Frank stay home and sleep since he's been working so much. But he woke up shortly after Nico and I got up, and he wanted to take us out to the Diamond Diner (which used to be in Cherry Hill but moved near us on Route 38) and then go food shopping together. What??? Really? I offered him the "get out of errands free" card and he didn't take it. Cool. I changed my plans with no problem.
Usually I get irritated when I have a change in plans. I like a good plan. I like a plan even if it's crappy, really. I'm trying to get things done around the house and it really helps if I have some idea of the order in which I should be able to get the maximum amount of work done. I also usually do something that's pretty counter-productive, which is to refuse help. Frank offers to help and I say no because I like to have things done my own way, then I complain about having to do everything myself. It's so stupid, and I have really been trying to relax a lot on that lately. Today Frank helped with the baby, changed diapers, cleaned up a pile of clothes, put away groceries, cooked, loaded the dishwasher, and took out about a month's worth of recycling. Oh and he also went into the attic to get my SpaceBags and a big bag of papers that has stuff I need to send our tax guy. It was wonderful! It was so not the day I had planned, but we all had a great time going out to breakfast and shopping together, and just getting things accomplished at home. I'm almost finished sorting out the receipts, and I even got a few things done that weren't on my original list.
After dinner I got really emotional. Here's what set me off -- I couldn't get comfortable sitting down at the dining room table. Here's what pushed me over the edge and made me start crying -- I couldn't get Nico to let me brush his teeth. So I gave up, gave him some water and a hug and a kiss and Frank took him off my hands for a minute. I went to the living room and started boo-hooing all over the place. By no means is it the end of the world, but honestly I felt like a failure. A tooth brush failure. So I got it all out of my system, sat on the sofa for a few minutes, wiped down the kitchen floor and started to get back to the tax papers. Right now I'm going to have a snack and tie up today's loose ends. At least as many as I can tie up before I'm really ready to go to sleep. Even if I don't completely finish everything, at least I feel like I accomplished a lot and found a balance between following my plan and being flexible.
Usually I get irritated when I have a change in plans. I like a good plan. I like a plan even if it's crappy, really. I'm trying to get things done around the house and it really helps if I have some idea of the order in which I should be able to get the maximum amount of work done. I also usually do something that's pretty counter-productive, which is to refuse help. Frank offers to help and I say no because I like to have things done my own way, then I complain about having to do everything myself. It's so stupid, and I have really been trying to relax a lot on that lately. Today Frank helped with the baby, changed diapers, cleaned up a pile of clothes, put away groceries, cooked, loaded the dishwasher, and took out about a month's worth of recycling. Oh and he also went into the attic to get my SpaceBags and a big bag of papers that has stuff I need to send our tax guy. It was wonderful! It was so not the day I had planned, but we all had a great time going out to breakfast and shopping together, and just getting things accomplished at home. I'm almost finished sorting out the receipts, and I even got a few things done that weren't on my original list.
After dinner I got really emotional. Here's what set me off -- I couldn't get comfortable sitting down at the dining room table. Here's what pushed me over the edge and made me start crying -- I couldn't get Nico to let me brush his teeth. So I gave up, gave him some water and a hug and a kiss and Frank took him off my hands for a minute. I went to the living room and started boo-hooing all over the place. By no means is it the end of the world, but honestly I felt like a failure. A tooth brush failure. So I got it all out of my system, sat on the sofa for a few minutes, wiped down the kitchen floor and started to get back to the tax papers. Right now I'm going to have a snack and tie up today's loose ends. At least as many as I can tie up before I'm really ready to go to sleep. Even if I don't completely finish everything, at least I feel like I accomplished a lot and found a balance between following my plan and being flexible.
Friday, February 1
Friday is the new Saturday
This week, I thought it was Friday every day. Today, I thought it was Saturday. It always makes me wonder how I even know what I'm supposed to be doing on any given day anymore. Even though I use iCal religiously to keep track of things that need doing, I always have to think a minute before I'm sure of the day. And two minutes to know the date. After the first of the month I lose track and need to count up or down from the last big event I can recall. This involves a mental picture of iCal, and hopping from square to square with my mind's eye, counting day by day. Sometimes I lose my place and have to start over.
Some Fridays I reminisce about the single life. Single meaning pre-kids, not necessarily pre-marriage since we didn't exactly follow the whole "first comes love, then comes marriage" plan. Friday was my favorite. Having the whole weekend ahead was such a great feeling. We'd do whatever was craziest on Friday night. Then sleep late on Saturday, do something semi-crazy on Saturday night, go to brunch at Robin's Nest on Sunday and spend the rest of the day doing whatever. I'd meditate, read psychology books, break out my yoga mat and do five minutes of self-invented stretches in the middle of the living room. Is that ridiculous, to put down a mat on carpet? Who knows. But it made it seem more official. Like yes, I am officially doing yoga. See my mat?
There's no way to know how I'd feel about that life if things didn't happen the way they did. I wonder if we'd have moved, if I'd still be working at the same place, or if I'd still have that hot and cold "baby fever". I'm often guilty of wasting time thinking about the what ifs and replaying situations over and over in my mind. I hate that I do that. I feel like other people think so much more clearly, and I just grind my brain thinking one thought over and over until it's replaced by another useless worry. Sometimes it's not even a thought. It could be repeating two lines of a song over and over. Like the other day I kept singing this one line from a "Wonder Pets" episode. This little worm was turning into a butterfly and the Wonder Pets were discussing, then singing about, metamorphosis. For hours I was stuck singing, "A pupae? Supa dupa!" The only thinking involved in that one was wondering how long I'd be repeating the same thing in that silly Ming Ming voice. But I can't call it a total waste, because I was smiling every time I sang it.
Some Fridays I reminisce about the single life. Single meaning pre-kids, not necessarily pre-marriage since we didn't exactly follow the whole "first comes love, then comes marriage" plan. Friday was my favorite. Having the whole weekend ahead was such a great feeling. We'd do whatever was craziest on Friday night. Then sleep late on Saturday, do something semi-crazy on Saturday night, go to brunch at Robin's Nest on Sunday and spend the rest of the day doing whatever. I'd meditate, read psychology books, break out my yoga mat and do five minutes of self-invented stretches in the middle of the living room. Is that ridiculous, to put down a mat on carpet? Who knows. But it made it seem more official. Like yes, I am officially doing yoga. See my mat?
There's no way to know how I'd feel about that life if things didn't happen the way they did. I wonder if we'd have moved, if I'd still be working at the same place, or if I'd still have that hot and cold "baby fever". I'm often guilty of wasting time thinking about the what ifs and replaying situations over and over in my mind. I hate that I do that. I feel like other people think so much more clearly, and I just grind my brain thinking one thought over and over until it's replaced by another useless worry. Sometimes it's not even a thought. It could be repeating two lines of a song over and over. Like the other day I kept singing this one line from a "Wonder Pets" episode. This little worm was turning into a butterfly and the Wonder Pets were discussing, then singing about, metamorphosis. For hours I was stuck singing, "A pupae? Supa dupa!" The only thinking involved in that one was wondering how long I'd be repeating the same thing in that silly Ming Ming voice. But I can't call it a total waste, because I was smiling every time I sang it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)