A Southerner Deals with Frost

for your amusement, here's the content of my email to ToolMan this morning in reply to how he has potentially found a battery for my uber-wagon.


"hey that is really great about the battery for my car. I agree one of those has to be the right one.

I miss my fancy-garaged VW. This morning it was 25 and the Excursion was frosted over. I did get the Excursion to crank but it was not making any heat fast (meaning in like 15 sec) and the wipers were ineffective at the frost. I did not think I could scrape without a ladder and it was already 7:35 by this point.

I got the garden hose out to put some water on it (I did not think it was cold enough to crack the windows so I decided to go for it.) A little water came out of the hose but then the hose quit flowing. Then I realized that I forgot to leave the wipers on, and now it was ICED over and I had no more water... before it just seemed like I did not have good visibility, now I really didn't. I ended up taking mom's car which we had put in the garage and telling her to check the hose in case I turned it the wrong way and not righty-tighty and it was still on when it thaws later... "

Color with Me

You Are a Yellow Crayon

Your world is colored with happy, warm, fun colors. You have a thoughtful and wise way about you. Some people might even consider you a genius. Charming and eloquent, you are able to get people to do things your way. While you seem spontaneous and free wheeling, you are calculating to the extreme. Your color wheel opposite is purple. You both are charismatic leaders, but purple people act like you have no depth.

What Color Crayon Are You?

I Hate February

It's like Debbie Downer has attacked my blog!!

No other month of the year blows as much as this one. My normally manageable job goes into chaos overload. I have no idea why this happens in the spring semester and not the fall, but it does, and it does it annually.

Since I am the low person on my priority totem pole most of my needs go unmet. I think that is the lot of moms and parents in general, but I have not been doing this all that long, and I have not figured out any sort of balance.

Here's a list of some of the things that I don't have time to do:

1. Dentist appt. rescheduled 2x, finally called them and said "I'll call you when anyone with a pulse can keep CRB when I am not at work and your office is open."
2. Go to the mall and pick up my contact lens. My six month supply ran out in December... jeez ... and my eyes hurt.
3. Get my haircut. Last hair cut, first week in September.
4. Get my hair colored. Last professionally done March 21, 2007, just in time for my Grandmother's funeral. What a positive memory.
5. Buy some makeup. I'm out, and I have been out. I have a few hundred people who look at me every Tuesday & Thursday. Again this would be a trip to the mall where the stroller would have to cease rolling forward for at least a few minutes, so for me this is an impossible task.
6. Buy some clothes. When ToolMan brings it up you know I am not exaggerating my needs, or trying to follow InStyle trends. I have bought things that did not come as mail order about 3 times since CRB was born, and two of those occasions were for Christmas parties. Thankfully my maternity clothes don't fit, but my pre-CRB wardrobe is pretty pathetic, as I have not bought a lot of clothes in recent years because I was always hoping to be pregnant.
7. Exercise
8. Relax

On a positive note, at least the dreadful month of February is the shortest month of the year.

Debbie would like to add "but it is a day longer this year!"

My Celebrity Soulmate

Stacy of Vader's mom always finds the best quizzes, so when I saw that she had found a new one, I rushed to check it out. This one is a lot like those quizzes from YM magazine (you know the magazine girls read before Seventeen) so I was thrilled!

I know you are dying to see my match, so without further ado:




Take the Quiz



Don't you know Meredith is fuming!!

Rehab

Unlike Amy Winehouse or Britney Spears, nobody's trying to make me go to rehab. I guess the absence of drug use and the lack of alcohol abuse is keeping me out. But I would like to go. I have no idea what I would work on, but Eric Clapton's Crossroads at Antigua looks beautiful. I could talk about how I had to cut back on my C-section medicine gradually after taking it a bit too long, and how I know there are exactly two pills left. But I am thinking that is not what they mean by needing to go to rehab.

I am the sort of person who feels that it is a moral failing to complain. No one is sick, no one is dying, we don't have storm damage, but things are hard. Here's some snippets of what I remember from the week.

Last week started out O.K. enough, at church with CRB in the nursery. Due to all the sickness, ages 1-3 were together in one room. Yikes! And they were using the room that faces the playground, showcased through the large picture windows, but they won't actually go to the playground. CRB will end up screaming. Prediction: met.

Later that night I took CRB to the grocery so ToolMan could clean the carpets without CRB's assistance. Driving by the front of the store I did not see any carts with cars. As my whole plan was to entertain him but not actually shop, I circled the lot to find said kind of cart, 10+ deep in the cart return. Parking as I do uphill and far away from the cart return and other vehicles, I toted CRB with me and somehow managed to move the almost dozen carts away, freeing the car cart for our use. Ouch, is that my shoulder? Yes. Is this going to be a problem? You betcha.

I don't remember Monday. Will that count as a blackout for enrollment purposes?

Tuesday was a long day but it was made longer by an impromptu dinner engagement for ToolMan. He brought Newks home for me as a peace offering, since I actually had a dinner plan that got wacked. I think this is the evening where I began to use the heating pad with the 40 foot extension cord so that I could still move around but try to keep heat on my shoulder to loosen it up. Flashback to law school and exam prep and the inception of the heating pad with 40 foot cord.

Wednesday escapes me too. Somewhere in there I did some grading and I got ready for class Thursday. Still not great for me, but probably too productive for rehab eligibility.

Thursday was a low point. ToolMan was headed out of town for a meeting, and I had a day full of class. In my 8 a.m. class, I started feeling light-headed but I pressed on. After class, while answering student project questions, I began to notice I was gasping. Flashback to the doctor's a few weeks ago when the result of my test indicated that my asthma was not well controlled, and I say to the learned Dr. D. "but I haven't needed my inhaler in months, I do not even know where it is" and "did you see how high my pulmonary test indicated my lung function was? I am fine!" I tried to call ToolMan but I did not get him, so facing those 60 college faces still checking out Facebook on their laptops and/or playing Sudoku on their iPhones, I announced "talk to your neighbor" and "I will be back shortly" and I left the room. I headed to my co-worker's office to look for her purse to see if she had her son's inhaler in it. No joy. I tried to relax, spending a few minutes talking to our student worker receptionist, hoping that relaxing would be enough. Back in class, I decided to tell them my problem, you know in case I fell out on the floor, like I was a guest star on House. In retrospect, my triggers were 1) high amounts of stress 2) taking the diesel Excursion so my beautiful hand-chamoised car would stay clean and 3) low temperatures. Thankfully, I made it through the day, feeling better around 2 p.m., but part of me wished I had to go home sick.

Friday ToolMan worked from home so as to help me with CRB. In the afternoon, I wrote an exam from scratch for my Legal and Ethical Issues in Computing class. That evening I slept through Ocean's Thirteen once it seemed to be the same as Eleven.

Saturday, again no idea what happened for the most part. I went to Target to try to buy food, baby gifts, clothes for CRB, and some sort of toy organizer for the playroom a.k.a. The Room that Was Once the Dog's. The result? CRB thinks it is great fun to dump out the bins and then climb the organizer, but his new 12 month sized outfit fits my skinny boy perfectly with room to grown. The person behind me in line got most of my food, as it was not in my car or on my receipt. Mission: Mostly Unaccomplished.

Saturday night I decided no more flexeril or whatever it is called. I'd rather hurt than feel this out of the loop, plus my breathing is still the pits.

So here I am Sunday night, heating pad and all. I am not sure what it is that I want or need to be different. This stage with CRB is just hard.

Laps Around the Lathe

Super, Fat Tuesday

On Christmas day, CRB amused his relatives by showing his expertise with the ear thermometer. He got it out of my purse, turned it on, stuck it in his ear, pressed the button, and then "read" the screen for his temperature. He did this over and over impressing the relatives and of course his mama.

Last week, I broke down and finally went to the doctor for my sinus problem. CRB tagged along (wait that makes it sound like he went willingly, or cooperatively...) to my appointment. When the nurse took my blood pressure I was absolutely shocked that it was 90/60, because the whole time CRB was intent on grabbing the puffer. Earlier in the visit he almost managed to turn off the nurse's PC (in order to free Elmo I am sure) when we were doing my pulmonary test. S0 though I felt stressed, I guess my numbers did not show it.

A few minutes later, Dr. D began to examine me, listening to my breathing, looking in my ears and throat. CRB was mesmerized. He stood still, and took it all in.

Over the weekend, I bought him a Fisher-Price medical kit. I did this not to cultivate an aspiring cardiologist or reproductive endocrinologist, but to get him something to play with that was NOT something to throw or make noise. The item said 3+ as the pieces looked to be large enough not to be a choking hazard I bought it anyway. I expected complete rejection, and that I would be adding another item to the closet of Toys Not Right for CRB.

The doctor kit has not changed much from the one my friend had in the 70s. The basic contents are the same. I have to admit that I was disappointed when I could not hear my heartbeat with the new stethoscope. ToolMan informed me that it never worked, and I must have just had a good imagination "back in the day." The thermometer now displays a "digital read out " and the whole thing is contained in an aqua colored sack instead of the molded plastic case.

We spent a lot of Sunday playing doctor and vet (thanks Colin!) and we checked out many of the stuffed animals. This afternoon when I arrived home, it was not that surprising when our Nanny said "He has played with this all day. He gets mad if you don't really put the bloodpressure cuff on your arm." He loves to ride around in the Diego car, wearing the stethoscope, ready to make the next house call.

Many, many people constantly tell me how smart CRB is. I say this NOT to brag but to try to state my problem. I am very resistant to agree with them. I have no problem agreeing that he is cute, or social dynamo, but one cannot get me to agree to more than that. Usually I joke and say "Regardless, I still think he will work as a Wal-Mart greeter."

I just don't want to be one of THOSE moms. I find it very irritating when people say that their 18 month old old can subtract, and my irritation is not because I am feeling competitive with those mommies ;-)

CRB does not talk as much or as clearly as most children that I have been around. My parents are full of stories about my (early) talking. ToolMan's mom has a piece of paper with all the letters of the alphabet, and next to the appropriate letters, all the words that ToolMan knew at 16 months. It's a baby lexicon, truly.

CRB talks but I do not understand most of it. I thought that only twins made up their own language. He constantly makes lots of sounds, mostly beginning with the BU, BA, BE. Today, Hannah our 9 year old neighbor said "He just repeated you, he said Thank You!" I did not hear him say anything actually, I was just trying to make sure he did not fall off his new trike. Similarly, my mom is constantly translating RockBaby to English for me. Perhaps it's that I am not listening closely, but I would still expect to be able to understand more of the time than I do.

Maybe he is smart, I don't know. If he is, we cannot take credit for it. If he is polite toddler and teenager, pat me on the back then, because his mama is behind that.

Physicist Richard Feynman's mother has been quoted as saying "If Richard is the smartest man in the world, God help the world!"