Stand In

Someone asked me if Corey will be home for Christmas. He will not. I miss him, but I am happy for him.

He's gone to the dark side. I mean, he got a job at WalMart. It's his first job ever. Orientation is Tuesday. Feeling more cautious than optimistic, but I don't tell him that. I hope it works out.

Last year at Thanksgiving and Christmas, we not only spent time with my mom and Corey, but also had my niece Sarah join us. Her parents had moved from the L.A. area up to Oregon. She stayed to finish her first year of college and be outstanding in another play. Sarah is a rapid-fire talker, but she brought a sense of calm, peace and love to the holidays last year that we'd missed out on the two years prior.

Last Thursday evening she boarded a plane and headed up to Oregon to join her parents. I miss her, but I am also happy for her. And my brother and his wife.

Christmas this year is going to be different. Madelyn really gets it this year, and she has pulled Fynnie along with her into the excitement.

Letters to Santa were written last weekend and mailed... sent to Santa... posted in my office space. I love that they have each asked for one gift (a frog and a baby) no matter how many times they have been asked. After watching a video of a mommy friend's Santa visit with her kids, and seeing how many times Santa asked, "And what else?" I realized we won't be attempting Santa photos this year.

We are excited about the gift shopping and the cookie baking and spending time with family. Cutting down our Christmas tree and all the steps that lead to decorating it have filled this weekend.

But at the near back of my mind is the longing for what won't be.

Corey cannot yet come home for the holidays.

Sarah is home, even though she's so far away.

This past Wednesday evening I missed a call. The message was from Rosemary, the coordinator of the exchange student program we participated in last year. Does it seem longer ago to you, too? In her message she said that she needed a replacement host family for a young girl from Japan. For a week in January. Unlike the program with Chinese students, this girl would only need to be in school one morning; she would spend the rest of her time with us.

I looked at my work calendar for that week in January. Booked solid, but with fun activities and field trips with my middle school program, I thought this would actually work out nicely. I'd have the coolest experience for any of the students.

Tom agreed that we could do it and I called back.

"Oh, not January 21, December 21. I'm sorry, did I say January?" Rosemary was a little frazzled.

And so the universe has sent me a stand in for Christmas this year. Someone who may very well have the same wide-eyed wonder as both of our girls at all the lights, decorations and presents.

All we know about her at the moment is her name and that she is somewhere between 13 and 17 years old.

And all she knows about her host family is our names, ages and that we all have curly hair.

Oh, and Rosemary was kind enough not to mention before showing up for the home inspection that she now takes a photo of the family. So that tank with a shelf bra that is a great alternative to flopping all over the place, but doesn't really keep the girls up where they belong? Probably scaring Yui out of getting on a plane in a few days.

Poor thing.

But, as Grandma Margaret suggested kindly, "She'll think you're so much prettier when she meets you in person."

Thank you, Grandma Margaret.

*Sigh*

Skipping Around

Despite a backlog of partially written posts, I'm going straight to this past Friday. Cuz I'm wild and crazy like that, that's why.

Friday was our fifth wedding anniversary, or what I consider our five year + five and a half anniversary. Just think, next year the number of years we'll be married will exceed the number of years we were together before all hell broke loose and he had to snap me up! Unlike previous years, when getting ready for our date or weekend away was fun and relaxing, this day was chaotic.

I got in the shower about 45 minutes before we were supposed to leave. As I was shaving up to there (okay, my knees, but let's just be glad I got to shave at all, 'kay?), I could hear the kids over the monitor in Madelyn's room. Specifically I could hear Fynn crying, Mad fussing and Corey, after 35 seconds of dealing with it, saying, "Mom, I know you're busy but I need you."

Sometimes I wish we had a 2-way speaker system. Sometimes it's good we do not.

Getting dressed, the girls ready and the car loaded with people and things took about an hour.  The good news? I was able to wear pants I have only dared to try on since getting pregnant with Mad. And they have these stupid obnoxious "cute" little button details on the waist that I was finally able to tighten back up. My ass may still be fat and jiggly, but I'm making headway.

The major delay at the end was Mad's repeated refusal to use the potty even though she was doing the pee pee dance and didn't want a diaper for the long car ride down to Grandma's. After she finally went and tried to get away with three M & M's for her success, we got out of the house. It was a few minutes after we were supposed to be at my dad's.

I dropped Corey at Mom's and headed to Dad's ("Grandma's house," according to Mad). While carrying Fynn in the carrier, the diaper bag and Mad's jacket, and helping Mad, who had tripped, I managed to tweak my shoulder. The only thing that could have made things worse by then would have been hot, humid weather. Thankfully it was low 50's and I wasn't starting to glisten or smell like a rhino.

My dad and Margaret gave us our anniversary present. It was a card with a note saying that the gift for five years is wood, and wood comes from trees and paper is also made from trees, so it's wood. And they gave us an amount of money that was suspiciously similar to the loan they'd offered two nights before so we could be sure to buy Christmas presents for the kids. (What's that? I didn't tell you how my employer has now decided that they aren't paying half of my pay for the time I'm taking after my maternity leave ended? Or how they decided to take it all out of the only check I'll get between now and Christmas? Reader's Digest version is that, after I expressed to them quite clearly that they put the original plan in writing and that I've been having stress-induced palpitations as we try to prepare for the next in a series of financial hits because of their antics, they compromised, so we will not be destitute for Christmas. Angry and bitter with them, yes, but there will be presents and love amongst mi familia.)

Tom and I went to a Peruvian restaurant we haven't been to since Mad arrived. Dinner was fabulous. We started and finished with beef empanadas and the best chimichurri sauce. Seriously. There's one left over in my fridge right now and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. I'd eat it, but I'm pretty sure Tom wants it. Although, he did eat most of the other one... hmm...

Anyway, the food was excellent, wine was just as good as I remembered and the conversation never lagged. Considering Tom and I were wiped out before leaving on our date, that's impressive. Or maybe it was the wine.

From what I can tell, Peruvian time moves much more slowly. So dinner was nearly a two hour affair. It's always like that at this place, but the food is definitely worth it. However, it meant that our second plan for the night, seeing a current movie in an actual theater, was no longer an option. It was, like, 8:35 people! And the next time our movie started was over an hour later. Add in the time for the movie, getting the girls, nursing Fynn before leaving, getting Corey and the schlep home and that was not happening.

We headed to a bookstore with a coffee shop, where we bought a few books for the kids and some hot drinks. As we sipped our drinks I gazed lovingly into Tom's bleary red eyes. No, it wasn't too much wine. It was 10:00 at night. Almost. I suggested we call it a night. Tom resisted until I mentioned we still had to get the girls and Corey and drive an hour home. We dashed to the car.

While I was nursing Fynn before leaving, my dad gave me one more present that night. He told me he'd had a dream about my biological father, Russ, someone I haven't spoken with in seven or eight years now. In his dream Dad asked him what he was thinking with the choices he'd made and did he have any idea what he was giving up? Most people only get one father, and a lot of people get mediocre to crappy to absentee fathers. I don't even know how I got so lucky.

By the time we got home last night it was about 12:30. Fynn wanted to nurse again, so I sat here and cuddled her in the dark. Tom crawled into bed. We talked for a minute and he told me I looked nice tonight. And then he fell asleep. Forty-five minutes later I joined him. It's not exactly the big shebang I think we'd envisioned for our fifth anniversary even as recently as last year. But it was fun and loving. Last year we made a baby and this year I got to eat a meal with two hands and without someone standing over me holding the baby while they "wait for me to finish." I'll take it.

Argh! and Yea!

I have been attempting to add photos to a pending post since Sunday night.  Still only extremely limited success (and none of the cute ones).  I'm hoping my cries for help are the reason "image uploads" is going to be serviced tomorrow.  In the meantime, here is a random sampling of my life:


I set up my phone so I can send posts to Blogger, but there must be a step I'm missing.


This has been stuck in my head for a week (I kind of like it):

Potty training is going very well.  I gave up the ridiculous idea that changing Mad's diaper while she's laying down will confuse her or I'm failing to reinforce that she's not a baby anymore. So, no more poopy hands for Mama.  Whoever thought of using a timer to make kids go to the potty is a fricken genius.  I'd kiss him or her on the mouth!  And realizing that I can use my cell phone alarm instead of the oven timer (thereby not having to rest Fynn's perpetually nursing body on the stove so I can make the ringing stop) makes me a freaking genius, too!  (At least to me.)  Mad's been telling me when she needs to go during nap time and overnight.  I mostly make it to her in time, but she's diapered then, so it's not as urgent.  She's getting good at telling me when she needs to go the rest of the day, too.  As I'm getting a sense of her timing, we are not living our entire mornings in 10 minute increments.  This is great!  However, when I offered to let her wear panties while we took Brother to school, she declined.


My friend with the lung situation has been tested four different ways.  One shows a borderline cancer score (6-10 typically means cancer; she got a 6).  However, a biopsy shows that there are no lesions.  It's not exactly a clean bill of health.  The doctor wanted to do another procedure, but the test results weren't close enough to 100% reliable for L, so she declined.  She'll go through another PET scan in two months to see if it's grown.  There are so many things to say or think about a friend in this situation.  I think I know how I'd handle much of it.  For one thing, I'd want to know as much as possible.  The opposite is true for her.  No googling, no super-involved conversations with the doctor.  Her philosophy is that everything she ever felt like she wouldn't be able to survive has happened, with this being the big one (if it is, indeed, the big one), but she's survived everything else.  Why not this, too, right?


In odd news that I probably shouldn't be mentioning, tomorrow would be my 20th anniversary if I'd stayed married the first time.  I cannot imagine still being married to him.  I have felt exactly that way since we agreed to divorce.  Yet every year at this time I feel a mental countdown.  I have no idea where he's at, if he's still married to wife number three (or was it four?  I couldn't keep track), or even if he's still alive.  I am glad we're not in contact, but I would tolerate him and be decent if he were part of Corey's life.  Fricken jackass.


Over the past 24 hours or so we've had some spectacular thunder and lightning.  Tom, Fynn and I sat upstairs in our bedroom watching (well, Fynnie nursed... is it possible that she's starting her next growth spurt so early?!?).  The strangest thing to me was the lack of heavy winds during most of it.  The gentle breeze made it possible to sit here with the window open.... until all of a sudden the storm got serious.  Wind, rain, hail.  Little chilly until Tom could close the window.  I'm so glad we have wireless Internet or I'd be stuck playing solitaire on my phone tonight while Tom and Fynn sleep.


I don't remember mentioning, but I have scheduled my tubal.  Two weeks from this Friday.  I'm good with the decision again.  Really, I always have been; I realized it while talking to my doctor.  I'll be 40 in the spring.  As I said to the doc, "There's room in the house.  There isn't room in the budget or the calendar."  Or the car.  Corey barely fits back there with the girls.  It's good we've gone so many places as a family, but if this continues, we'll have to get a bigger car.


There is still a slim chance we can make it to Chicago for Christmas, because the state still owes me money.  If nothing else unexpected happens, the money I'll get through PFL may be enough to do a slightly shorter trip.


Let's end with some good news.  I got my statement today showing that my check will be this month will only be a few hundred dollars short.  Compared to last month, I feel rich!

The Best Parts of Christmas

A meaty bone

Getting steetoohs

And sharing them with Daddy

A bone and a bed?!?  Can it be Christmas every day?

Chillaxing

Staying in touch with the ones you love

Merry Christmas To Meee

Corey is a typical 15-year-old boy in some regards. For example, his room is a complete freaking disaster about 95% of the time. (Again, I say, never, NEVER give a teen boy a room with a bathroom.) So when it comes to birthdays and Christmas... or any gift giving situation, really, we look for experiences instead of things that will end up on his floor, regardless of how cool they were 15 minutes ago.


This year we were going to focus on his interest in seeing plays. However, I stumbled upon something even better. I knew it was something he would love. I didn't realize it would be something I would love just as much.


What is it, you ask?


Why nothing less than a personal chef coming into our home (today!... now!) to teach Corey and a friend how to prepare a meal. After much emailing back and forth between myself and Jeremy (who looks like he's one or two years older than Corey, but who has, in fact, classical French training), and after surreptitiously gathering information from Corey ("Hey Corey... I know you like a lot of different kinds of food. What would you say is something you don't like?" "Um... probably anything spicy. I don't like if things are too spicy"), the menu was determined:

• Mixed Greens with a creamy Dijon vinaigrette
• Creamy Polenta in a browned butter and sage
• Sauteed Mushrooms in a white wine sauce
• Braised short ribs in a red wine reduction
• Chocolate Pudding Cakes

Jeremy asked, "Sound good?" Well, yeah! Especially since you asked how many people you, Corey and Richard will be cooking for! I kind of figured that they would cook and then enjoy the fruits of their labor. Who knew I'd get to, too?
And what will it cost us? Groceries, $50 for the lesson and an afternoon of scrubbing up around here. A fricken bargain!
The first thing they did was talk about why one does not need... in fact, shouldn't... cook everything on the highest temperature (thank you!). Oh, and once they get the meat braising, the guys are all heading over to the Claremont Farmer's Market and then to the groc for anything they couldn't get there.
Even more exciting, Jeremy has spent the past 15-20 minutes working on knife skills with Corey and Richard. Of course, someone had to loose a fingertip, and it was Richard, so he's got the blue glove of shame upon his hand to protect himself from any future willy-nillyness.
I will let you all know how it goes... and how it tastes (sure smells good already). I'll have to imagine how the cakes taste, because I'm still nursing and I still can't have chocolate. Mad got a rash the one time I did dare to give it a try.