PractiGal

Why I won't be chosen mother of the year

While walking down the Avenue of the local fashionably-hip crowd, I'm reminded of my early years in western NY.  As a 20-something nerdlet, I lived in this yuppie neighborhood and walked the Avenue daily.  On this particular afternoon, I'm with my husband and son, no longer young or hip, but content just the same.

We stop so our son can pet a dog; we watch as he tries to walk a "balance beam" in front of one of the shops; we peer into windows, amazed that certain places are still in business after all these years, and we marvel at the new businesses that have set up shop.

As will happen with the under-3 crowd, we have to pick up our little one and carry him a couple of times. My husband happens to be the lucky one holding him when an allergy attack strikes the poor little guy.

Sneeze after sneeze after sneeze.

Being the prepared mother that I am, I turn to my purse so that I can come to the rescue with my travel tissue packet.

I will clean that drip in no time!

Aaachoo!

Wait a minute, I know they're here.

Aaaachooo! (very moist sneeze)

Yes, I know they're in here somewhere.

Aaaachoooo! (the sneezes become more productive by the second)

I kneel to the ground to better scrounge around in my purse with both hands, and to double over with laughter, because I cannot for the life of me find the damn tissues! And I'm not the one holding the snot-laden child, so it's especially comical to me.

Eventually, I find something to wipe the nose.

But I wonder why it took me so long to find a tissue. I mean, I only carry the essentials in my purse. (Click to biggify)

Wonder

... taken at the Strong Museum -- National Museum of Play

(from the lobby, looking into the gift shop)

An early letter to the jolly one

Dear Santa,

How's it going? I know, I haven't written lately --  I'm sorry.

OK, so it's been years and years.

Hopefully I'm writing early enough to avoid the 2006 rush.  I thought of you and the Mrs.  yesterday (I hope she's in good health), and I'm hoping you can help me out this year.

I stopped by the office yesterday to take care of a little business. I hadn't done much primping but figured I'd be able to slip in and out without running into anyone I know. On the way there, though, I noticed this pesky little recurring problem. It's embarrassing, but since this is between  just you and me, I'll tell you about it.

You know the little hairs inside your nose? I was feeling an over-abundance of them, and it was bugging the heck out of me. For a quick fix, I tried tucking them in a little bit. This would have been fine if it weren't for one little thing.

Breathing.

As you can imagine, it's not the inhaling that's the problem; I think that helps my cause. No, it's the exhaling. It sort of defeats the tuck-it-in in a pinch approach.

As luck would have it, I did run into someone I know, and we ended up having a hallway conversation. I'm sure under the flourescent office lights, the plentiful hairs were blowing in the gentle breeze I created with each breath. Great.

So, I was thinking. Wouldn't it be handy to have one of these little grooming devices tucked into my purse for just such an emergency?  I know, I'm pointing you to the deluxe turbo model, but don't you agree it's worth it to go for the blades that whirl at an impressive 6,000 RPM? Made of stainless steel with titanium cutting edges, of course, and with two super-bright white LEDs to light the area while grooming.

And it's just the right size for my Christmas stocking.

Oh, and another thing, while we're on the topic of grooming. Does this work like they say it does? Since you're Santa, I figure you know which items area decent products and which ones are junk. If it works, I'd like one of these Tweeze things too.

And while I have you on the line, you know what would be a great gift to top it all off?  How about a nice relaxing tropical vacation for my husband and me. Maybe someplace like this or this. We'd be flexible -- as long as it's a highly rated destination, with picture-perfect weather guaranteed.

Thanks, Santa. Get busy with your work-out routine, and watch your cholesterol. Tell Mrs. C. I have some great healthy recipes to share with her.

Talk to you later...

Marie

Music to my ears

Yesterday was a day of celebration. Not for jobs found, but for a full night of sleep. My son stayed in his room all night and didn't call for us, even when he woke up & cried briefly in the middle of the night.

It was a beautiful thing!

There was a prize awarded, first thing in the morning: the coveted US Postal toy truck.

There was a trip to the library to play with a Thomas the Tank Engine train table -- one of the little guy's favorite things to do.

And then? I suggested stopping for a treat on the way home.

"How about stopping at McDonald's on the way home?"  (Since he's only been there once before, I guess his reaction isn't surprising, but I loved it.)

"Want to go to McDonald's?"

He replied in song, "E-I-E-I-O!"

Breathe

Phew!!!

and

Ahhhhh!!!

These are the sounds of simultaneous relief and panic.

Hubby's "promising" job prospect turned out to be a dud.

So, I'm relieved that we won't be relocating to a part of the state where the events column in the local paper consists of a variety of Alcoholics Anonymous and Al-Anon meetings... and a couple of activities not related to alcoholics.

But at the same time, I'm starting to panic a bit. The clock is ticking on my job -- the one whose pay and benefits are very much needed in our household.

I'm kicking my search skills into overdrive and am pumping out the resumes left and right.

You'd hire me --  wouldn't you?

They DO say the darned-est things

Part of the fun of having my little tot become more verbal is that he recognizes more and more people and knows them by name.  We walk down the street; the neighbors know him by name, and he knows many of them by name, too. In fact, he's quite the socialite.

He knows my friends' names, and asks about them for hours, or even days, after seeing them. 

"Where's Kristi? Where's Rich?" 

They're probably at their house, where we left them -- five days ago.

Last week, my friend Ann stopped by to deliver the earrings I'd bought at her jewelry party. It was a quick just-passing-by visit, but for days afterward, my son asked "Where's Ann?"  Like I'd hidden her under the couch or in a closet, and we could just bring her out to play.

My friend Ann is fair-skinned, probably about 5' 6", with very blond hair. And green eyes.  She's a white woman -- there is no doubt about her Caucasian-ness.

Since seeing her last week, I've been pointing out to my little guy that one of the beautiful blankets he drags around the house was made by Ann. She lives across town, and we don't see Ann often, but we do think of her every day when we use the blanket she made. Ann's with us in that way.

Fast-forward to this morning.

There's a lawn-mower running next-door, and the little guy jumps to the window to investigate. There, behind the mower, is a very large, husky African-American man. Definitely a big man. Unquestionably, a black man.

And the little guy announces, excitedly...

"THERE's Ann!!!"

A special guest post

Hi! This is son of PractiGal here...  I'm invading my Mom's blog since I don't have one of my own yet. Hope she doesn't mind!

One of the great things about being a toddler is that you can fall asleep anywhere you want, and people think it's adorable. If you fall asleep in the car, they think it's precious. If you fall asleep while someone's holding you, they think it's so sweet...

If you've just enjoyed a popsicle and fall asleep at the dinner table, chances are good that they'll run for the cameras. They'll be kicking themselves for not having the video camera ready to go, because the still shots won't capture the snoring.

Yeah, I was snoring, face down at the dinner table. Got a problem with that?

Something makes me think this isn't the last time I'll be seeing this photo.

The joy of the boy, part 8,402

Even though my son has forgotten how to sleep through the night, I have to say -- he's at a very fun age. 2 1/2. On his way to 3, and quite different from the boy he was at 2.

His language development and personality are the things that are blowing me away. I love that we can (sometimes) have conversations now.

"It's time to get out of the sandbox and have dinner now. Let's go!"

Oh, no nank you.

-----------------------------------

"Let's go to Wegmans -- time to get in the car!"

That's a GREAT idea, Mommy!

(I really come up with original plans, huh?)

-------------------------------------

And of course, the little guy likes to try to call the shots now. Because he's 2 1/2.

A few weeks ago, he had a cold. After calling the pediatrician's office (because that's what neurotic mothers do), I was pumping even more fluids into him, and giving him a popsicle after dinner, as suggested by the nurse, to help break up the congestion. Of course, the popsicles were a big hit. We realized we could use the popsicle as a "carrot." Yes. I'm in favor of incentives/bribes when necessary.

Since I'm an advocate of containment parenting*, and I like my son to stay seated in his booster chair while eating, I realized that the popsicle may be just the thing needed to get him to cooperate and sit strapped into his seat.

"After you climb into your special seat and eat your dinner, then you can have a popsicle!"

It worked like a charm.  We had several semi-peaceful dinners, with no in-and-out of the chair and stampeding around the kitchen.

But there was an aftereffect we hadn't considered.

The little guy enjoys the popsicles so much, that he'll now climb into his booster seat, -- at any and all times of day and night -- strap himself in, and ask "Popsicle, please?" Yes. He's even tried this before eating breakfast!

Now I need an incentive to get him to stay in bed all night! The stickers and prizes aren't working.

I think he's too young to get bedtime rules just yet, but I might be giving them a try anyway to see how it goes. Because I'm tired! and I'll try just about anything for a full night's sleep!

Zzzzzzzzzzzz

----------------------------------------

*just kidding -- sort of!

From the land of the sleep-deprived

If you need a laugh today, you have to go visit Lindsay at Suburban Turmoil.  I'm still laughing! In fact, go read even if you don't need a laugh -- trust me, you'll end up laughing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Anyone watching Rock Star Supernova?

Who do you want to win tonight?

Who do you think will win?

9/11 tributes

2,996 is a tribute to the victims of 9/11.

On September 11, 2006, 2,996 volunteer bloggers will join together for a tribute to the victims of 9/11. Each person will pay tribute to a single victim.

We will honor them by remembering their lives, and not by remembering their murderers.

Thanks to the bloggers who are participating in this tribute, including those of you on my blogroll.