Friday afternoon: Lucy starts complaining about ear pain, and I start giving her topical antibiotic drops we keep on hand for just-in-case situations.
Saturday afternoon: Lucy starts oozing strange things out of her ear. I start biting my nails, wondering if we could make it to Monday when the pediatrician opens.
Sunday morning: At about 2:30am, Lucy starts screaming and turns into a crazy person. No amount of Motrin or snuggles can calm her down, and I wake up Matt. He takes one look at her, looks at me, and says "She's got to go to the ER."
Sunday 4am: I try to convince Lucy she can leave the house in her nightgown. She's not having it.
"I must get dressed Mommy." she says. "I must wear a dress."
20 minutes later, she's in her Lilly Pulitizer dress (Costco, people!), with her sandals ( because Crocs wouldn't match). She did agree to not have her hair done, which is when I knew she wasn't feeling well.
The night staff at Matt's hospital were overjoyed to see her little highness, and she charmed the pants off all of the scrub nurses until they decided to irrigate her ears with warm saline. It took two of us to hold her Lilly Pulitizer self down.
Two hours later, they tell us she perforated her ear drum. (Ouch!) She's on some pretty strong antibiotics, and now we're headed back to the Ear Nose and Throat surgeon. Good times. Good, good times.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Sliding Doors
Did you guys ever see that Gywneth Paltrow movie where she jumps between 2 different versions of the same life? In one, she has long hair and is mousy and shy, and the other Gwyneth sports a sassy short haircut and has bigger cajones? I was thinking about this yesterday when playing with George.
At the fundraising auction when we got him, I was bidding against this other guy across the room. He was well over six feet, in excellent shape- and looked exactly like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. He was related to the people hosting the auction, and had met George the night before and had fallen in love.
After I got my hands on the puppy, he came up to talk to me and I apologized for outbidding him. That's when he told me what George's life would have been like. He was going to call the dog Primo- and turn him into a hunting dog. I have visions of George, cavorting through marshlands with a duck in his mouth, and sleeping in front of a fireplace while he chews on somebody's wellies.
Instead, he lays down on the ground while my 2 year old feeds him kibble out of her hand. She holds the water bowl up to his face so he does not have to be bothered with bending down. He has a little stuffed duck we bought him at Costco that he trots around with- the closest thing he will ever see to hunting in this household. He poops on our patio, directly on the shuffleboard deck the previous owners painted there for some weekend fun. He's scared of grass, which makes me wonder how successful Primo the hunter would have been.
At the fundraising auction when we got him, I was bidding against this other guy across the room. He was well over six feet, in excellent shape- and looked exactly like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. He was related to the people hosting the auction, and had met George the night before and had fallen in love.
After I got my hands on the puppy, he came up to talk to me and I apologized for outbidding him. That's when he told me what George's life would have been like. He was going to call the dog Primo- and turn him into a hunting dog. I have visions of George, cavorting through marshlands with a duck in his mouth, and sleeping in front of a fireplace while he chews on somebody's wellies.
Instead, he lays down on the ground while my 2 year old feeds him kibble out of her hand. She holds the water bowl up to his face so he does not have to be bothered with bending down. He has a little stuffed duck we bought him at Costco that he trots around with- the closest thing he will ever see to hunting in this household. He poops on our patio, directly on the shuffleboard deck the previous owners painted there for some weekend fun. He's scared of grass, which makes me wonder how successful Primo the hunter would have been.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Am Happy
Just finalized arrangements to go back to Houston for a brief stint this fall. Plan? See our long lost friends, shop till we drop at the annual Nutcracker and go see Madonna! I'm sure I will manage to sneak in a cocktail or two.....
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Happiest Place on Earth
Political rant over. Back to talk about poopie and cute kid musings.
I got a bit fed up with all of my puppy, unpack house and work duties and decided to play hooky on Tuesday. Annie got a free pass to try out an extra activity (because they ABANDONED her from her regularly scheduled class- but don't get me started) so Lucy and I were left with much of a whole day to ourselves.
After we dropped Annie off at her class and left a homing device in her Ladybug lunchbox should they lose her again, I stopped Lucy in the hallway of school.
"Hey! Want to know where we're going today?" I ask my two year old who usually doesn't like "Mommy/Lucy" days and misses her sister more than Lance Armstrong misses his non-soccer ball.
"Starbucks?" she asks, in a resigned tone.
Nope. 30 minutes later we were entering the Magic Kingdom- for a half day of stolen Mickey pleasure that felt naughty and exhilerating at the same time. We scooted over to the new Finding Nemo ride- and I figured if the line wait was less than an hour we were in. 45 minutes later we boarded our yellow submarine, and all I have to say is "eh." It was ok.
We did Dumbo. We did the carousel. We hugged Goofy and talked puppy shop talk with Pluto. (He did not poop in front of us, thank God). We oogled over princess dresses. We had a lovely lunch together. My eyes kept watering- cherishing this special time with my little one and feeling guilty that the rest of the family wasn't with us.
"Lucy? I'm so glad I get to spend the day with you." I said, as I squeezed her hand outside Cinderella's castle.
"I'm so glad I get to spend time with the princesses." she replies.
She definitely knows her priorities.
I got a bit fed up with all of my puppy, unpack house and work duties and decided to play hooky on Tuesday. Annie got a free pass to try out an extra activity (because they ABANDONED her from her regularly scheduled class- but don't get me started) so Lucy and I were left with much of a whole day to ourselves.
After we dropped Annie off at her class and left a homing device in her Ladybug lunchbox should they lose her again, I stopped Lucy in the hallway of school.
"Hey! Want to know where we're going today?" I ask my two year old who usually doesn't like "Mommy/Lucy" days and misses her sister more than Lance Armstrong misses his non-soccer ball.
"Starbucks?" she asks, in a resigned tone.
Nope. 30 minutes later we were entering the Magic Kingdom- for a half day of stolen Mickey pleasure that felt naughty and exhilerating at the same time. We scooted over to the new Finding Nemo ride- and I figured if the line wait was less than an hour we were in. 45 minutes later we boarded our yellow submarine, and all I have to say is "eh." It was ok.
We did Dumbo. We did the carousel. We hugged Goofy and talked puppy shop talk with Pluto. (He did not poop in front of us, thank God). We oogled over princess dresses. We had a lovely lunch together. My eyes kept watering- cherishing this special time with my little one and feeling guilty that the rest of the family wasn't with us.
"Lucy? I'm so glad I get to spend the day with you." I said, as I squeezed her hand outside Cinderella's castle.
"I'm so glad I get to spend time with the princesses." she replies.
She definitely knows her priorities.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Warning! Post About Sex & Politics Below!
Thank you Theresa for sending this my way.....
Dear Friends:
We may have thought we wanted a woman on a national political ticket, but the joke has really been on us, hasn't it? Are you as sick in your stomach as I am at the thought of Sarah Palin as Vice President of the United States?
Since Palin gave her speech accepting the Republican nomination for the Vice Presidency, Barack Obama's campaign has raised over $10 million dollars. Some of you may already be supporting the Obama campaign financially; others of you may still be recovering from the primaries. So, if you feel you can't support the Obama campaign financially, may I suggest the following fiendishly brilliant alternative?
Make a $5 minimum donation to Planned Parenthood. In Sarah Palin's name. A Planned Parenthood donation is tax deductible, while a political donation isn't.
And here's the good part: when you make a donation to PP in her name, they'll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in her honor.
Here's the link to the Planned Parenthood website
https://secure.ga0.org/02/pp10000_inhonor
You'll need to fill in the address to let PP know where to send the 'in Sarah Palin's honor' card. Use the address for the McCain campaign headquarters:
McCain for President/Sarah Palin
1235 S. Clark Street
1st Floor
Arlington , VA 22202
Dear Friends:
We may have thought we wanted a woman on a national political ticket, but the joke has really been on us, hasn't it? Are you as sick in your stomach as I am at the thought of Sarah Palin as Vice President of the United States?
Since Palin gave her speech accepting the Republican nomination for the Vice Presidency, Barack Obama's campaign has raised over $10 million dollars. Some of you may already be supporting the Obama campaign financially; others of you may still be recovering from the primaries. So, if you feel you can't support the Obama campaign financially, may I suggest the following fiendishly brilliant alternative?
Make a $5 minimum donation to Planned Parenthood. In Sarah Palin's name. A Planned Parenthood donation is tax deductible, while a political donation isn't.
And here's the good part: when you make a donation to PP in her name, they'll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in her honor.
Here's the link to the Planned Parenthood website
https://secure.ga0.org/02/pp10000_inhonor
You'll need to fill in the address to let PP know where to send the 'in Sarah Palin's honor' card. Use the address for the McCain campaign headquarters:
McCain for President/Sarah Palin
1235 S. Clark Street
1st Floor
Arlington , VA 22202
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Taco Mesa
There is this shack of a Mexican place in Newport Beach that serves up the best food you can imagine. We were introduced to this place in college- when Matt and I came to UC Irvine to visit a couple of high school friends that were going to school there. (One guy lived in a college sponsored trailer park of sorts- kind of like bohemian college living that had been overtaken by wild, fluffy rabbits). We've gone back to this place countless times. I've sat at a table outside, (always freezing, nevermind what time of year) and contemplated graduating from college, having them cater my wedding, eating one last meal before moving to New York, celebrating the end of Annie's first day at Disney. When I lived in Los Angeles, we would get a craving for this place and hightail it on the freeway at 10:00 at night. It's that good.
Now, we live 20 minutes away. We went there for dinner last night- and as always, I ordered some vegetarian nachos with cojita cheese and asked for some blackened shrimp to be thrown on top. I still forget to bring a sweater, and now I forget to bring one for my girls too. I always wonder if I'm sitting in the same exact chair as that girl from college did so many years ago. She'd be the one eating the nachos with shrimp.
Now, we live 20 minutes away. We went there for dinner last night- and as always, I ordered some vegetarian nachos with cojita cheese and asked for some blackened shrimp to be thrown on top. I still forget to bring a sweater, and now I forget to bring one for my girls too. I always wonder if I'm sitting in the same exact chair as that girl from college did so many years ago. She'd be the one eating the nachos with shrimp.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Oh Poop.
The other night we were watching the sunset, and Annie says, "Hey! Look! God is painting the sky orange!" I say this not to make you puke, but because it was just so sincere, and I want to remember it.
I do not want to remember this puppy continually taking poops on my living room floor. He shits about half his body weight daily. All of the puppy training advice is all "ignore the bad things, just reward the good." I find it hard to stop seizing in displeasure when he leaves his presents in the midst of my unfurnished bowling alley of a living room. But then, ten minutes later, he's stealing someone's shoes to chew on, and trotting around with his ears perched and waving his tail, and you are suckered in by his contagious cuteness. Puppies do that to you.
The house still doesn't feel like home yet. We've got all of the boxes emptied (for the most part) but nothing's where it should go, and nothing is hung on the walls, and furniture is in undecided places. Usually I jump in and get down to business- but maybe it's the poopie living rooms, or my daily commute on 3 freeways, or starting a new job, or missing my Houston friends- but I'm slow to the get-go with this one. It's a bit overwhelming.
I'm currently reading "An American Wife" and wondering if Laura Bush has read it? How weird to have a book inspired by you. I already like it much more then "Prep." Still not really cooking. I made chicken fajitas tonight, and you would have thought my family was eating lobster. Poor deprived souls.
I do not want to remember this puppy continually taking poops on my living room floor. He shits about half his body weight daily. All of the puppy training advice is all "ignore the bad things, just reward the good." I find it hard to stop seizing in displeasure when he leaves his presents in the midst of my unfurnished bowling alley of a living room. But then, ten minutes later, he's stealing someone's shoes to chew on, and trotting around with his ears perched and waving his tail, and you are suckered in by his contagious cuteness. Puppies do that to you.
The house still doesn't feel like home yet. We've got all of the boxes emptied (for the most part) but nothing's where it should go, and nothing is hung on the walls, and furniture is in undecided places. Usually I jump in and get down to business- but maybe it's the poopie living rooms, or my daily commute on 3 freeways, or starting a new job, or missing my Houston friends- but I'm slow to the get-go with this one. It's a bit overwhelming.
I'm currently reading "An American Wife" and wondering if Laura Bush has read it? How weird to have a book inspired by you. I already like it much more then "Prep." Still not really cooking. I made chicken fajitas tonight, and you would have thought my family was eating lobster. Poor deprived souls.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Face It
Recently, I joined the whole Facebook thing. Exactly nine minutes after signing up, I was contacted by a large group of people I went to high school with that I have not talked to for years. A few days after that, I heard from folks from my very first job after college. This week, a girl I knew from drama stuff when I lived in Hawaii found me. Facebook is like a virtual reunion tour.
I think it's cool and all- but there are days where I forget to check it. My husband, however, does not. He thinks Facebook is cheesy, and would never be caught dead with having his picture posted and updating his whereabouts. However, this does not stop him from using my log on and checking people out all the live long day.
Moving update: we're down to the last 20 boxes or so, and are pretty sure some stuff is missing. Like one of the cushions for our couch. Two patio chair cushions. Two Persian rugs. Two lamps. One sportscoat and half of our drinking glasses. Oh yeah- someone made off with our train table too. Somewhere there is a Thomas the Train fan sitting on one couch cushion, drinking out of Target-ware and wearing a Brooks Brothers jacket. Weird shit, I tell you.
In other news: went to yet another fundraising gala last night. (Did NOT come home with puppy). I feel like such a poser at these things- and marvel at how well put together most of the women are. As for me, I was in my dress, cleaning up dog poop and pee off our living room floor minutes before leaving. I didn't have time to change out my purse, and felt like a Class A dork as I trudged along, hiding my crocodile backpack. I did manage to get stinky drunk on Tommy Bahama rum and umpteen glasses of wine. Nothing says good times more than puking up fois gras at 4:30am. And yes! I did see my first Real Housewife of Orange County! It was a moment, I tell you.
I think it's cool and all- but there are days where I forget to check it. My husband, however, does not. He thinks Facebook is cheesy, and would never be caught dead with having his picture posted and updating his whereabouts. However, this does not stop him from using my log on and checking people out all the live long day.
Moving update: we're down to the last 20 boxes or so, and are pretty sure some stuff is missing. Like one of the cushions for our couch. Two patio chair cushions. Two Persian rugs. Two lamps. One sportscoat and half of our drinking glasses. Oh yeah- someone made off with our train table too. Somewhere there is a Thomas the Train fan sitting on one couch cushion, drinking out of Target-ware and wearing a Brooks Brothers jacket. Weird shit, I tell you.
In other news: went to yet another fundraising gala last night. (Did NOT come home with puppy). I feel like such a poser at these things- and marvel at how well put together most of the women are. As for me, I was in my dress, cleaning up dog poop and pee off our living room floor minutes before leaving. I didn't have time to change out my purse, and felt like a Class A dork as I trudged along, hiding my crocodile backpack. I did manage to get stinky drunk on Tommy Bahama rum and umpteen glasses of wine. Nothing says good times more than puking up fois gras at 4:30am. And yes! I did see my first Real Housewife of Orange County! It was a moment, I tell you.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Houston?
Just want to offer this up to the cyberspace that any of my old pals, should they be stuck on an expressway somewhere- that I'm only 23 hours away, and have plenty of space (ahem! I'll move some boxes!) and a dog that hopefully won't pee on your bed. Seriously!
We could while away the hurricane at Disneyland. I'm just saying.
We could while away the hurricane at Disneyland. I'm just saying.
I unpack, therefore I am.
I am here. I am currently stealing wireless internet from my new, friendly neighbors. I am living my life on freeways, commuting to a preschool that I'm not sure I really like. I am working. I am cleaning up oodles of dog poop. I am living out of boxes. I am still looking for the box with our phone in it. I am not cooking. I am certainly not pretty. But I am here.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Pinkalicious
As typical for my life, I hired a painter today, and gave myself 3 hours to pick paint colors for our bedrooms. Luckily, I had a color we used a few years ago for our room- so that was one room down. Next up: I promised Lucy the ultimate of all Pinkalicious rooms. She's getting big fat awning stripes of 2 different pink colors. Do you know how hard it is to pick a good pink? It's scarily easy to make it look like a Barbie massacre, or Minnie Mouse vomit. Swallowing my amateur designer pride, I called in Lucy and asked her which pink she liked best. Of course, it's called Ballerina. So, one order of Ballerina with a bit of Fairy Dust in for good measure- coming right up tomorrow at 8am!
I just re-read this and realized that this is the most boring post ever. My apologies. My life is consumed with small details right now... like picking paint colors, forwarding mail, putting curses on moving trucks that think it's ok to deliver ONE FRICKIN day outside of their window, waiting for washing machines to be delivered. I almost started crying tears of joy when the cable guy called today and asked if it would be ok if he showed up 2 hours early. God bless him.
In other news, my kids are handling school like troopers. My little one completely freaked out in the parking lot our first day when she realized her best little friend in Houston wasn't going to be there. They've moved Annie around to try a couple of different classes, and through all of the change, it reminds me how resilient these guys are. Their bedtime routine is completely shot to hell, but they are hanging in there.
I just re-read this and realized that this is the most boring post ever. My apologies. My life is consumed with small details right now... like picking paint colors, forwarding mail, putting curses on moving trucks that think it's ok to deliver ONE FRICKIN day outside of their window, waiting for washing machines to be delivered. I almost started crying tears of joy when the cable guy called today and asked if it would be ok if he showed up 2 hours early. God bless him.
In other news, my kids are handling school like troopers. My little one completely freaked out in the parking lot our first day when she realized her best little friend in Houston wasn't going to be there. They've moved Annie around to try a couple of different classes, and through all of the change, it reminds me how resilient these guys are. Their bedtime routine is completely shot to hell, but they are hanging in there.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Sun Will Come Out?
This day drained me.
It started off with an early wake up call- George had to go outside.
After cleaning up his mess in the backyard, feeding him and packing up his crate and 1,000 items I have managed to buy this dog in the last week- I dropped him off at my little brother's for the week.
I miss him.
After that, I headed back to my folks' house, filled my van to the brim with suitcases and crap- and drove like a bat out of hell to Matt's aunt's house- an hour away.
Got the kids settled, did 2 hours of work and then did a conference call with an account where we scored a major deal that leaves me with more work than I can imagine.
Dumped kids in car and hoofed it over to our new house for a final walk through. Kids added to the joy by completely freaking out and scaring my kid-less realtor.
Drove back and changed my clothes to drive 45 minutes in rush hour to Back To School Night. Realized halfway through the drive that my breath smells like George's. Not good.
Attended Back to School night and tried not to freak out over not sending Annie to kindergarten this year.
Went out for quick bite to eat with hubby.
Wandered aisles of Whole Foods at 9:30pm to find random things to pack for lunchboxes.
Came home, try and convince my kids to sleep, do laundry, unpack and do one more bit of work. Figured out that this is the seventh time this summer we have unpacked our suitcases. That's seven strange beds and seven different locations where my kids refuse to sleep unless they are partially laying on top of me.
Wondered if my life would ever feel normal again. Not sure.
It started off with an early wake up call- George had to go outside.
After cleaning up his mess in the backyard, feeding him and packing up his crate and 1,000 items I have managed to buy this dog in the last week- I dropped him off at my little brother's for the week.
I miss him.
After that, I headed back to my folks' house, filled my van to the brim with suitcases and crap- and drove like a bat out of hell to Matt's aunt's house- an hour away.
Got the kids settled, did 2 hours of work and then did a conference call with an account where we scored a major deal that leaves me with more work than I can imagine.
Dumped kids in car and hoofed it over to our new house for a final walk through. Kids added to the joy by completely freaking out and scaring my kid-less realtor.
Drove back and changed my clothes to drive 45 minutes in rush hour to Back To School Night. Realized halfway through the drive that my breath smells like George's. Not good.
Attended Back to School night and tried not to freak out over not sending Annie to kindergarten this year.
Went out for quick bite to eat with hubby.
Wandered aisles of Whole Foods at 9:30pm to find random things to pack for lunchboxes.
Came home, try and convince my kids to sleep, do laundry, unpack and do one more bit of work. Figured out that this is the seventh time this summer we have unpacked our suitcases. That's seven strange beds and seven different locations where my kids refuse to sleep unless they are partially laying on top of me.
Wondered if my life would ever feel normal again. Not sure.
Nomads
I'm packing our suitcases again today. I am so sick of packing suitcases, and loading cars, and convincing kids to sleep in strange beds. It almost makes me excited to unpack the thousands of boxes that will soon be arriving.
We've been crashing at my parents' house for the last five days. Matt stayed behind to work, and we have missed him. My folks have an easy house to stay in- lots of new exciting toys, sugar cereal and a pool in their backyard. They've been very kind about my George, and welcomed him with open arms. Unfortunately, school starts tomorrow, and my parents' house is just too far away.
Luckily, Matt's aunt said we could stay with her, so off we go- to another house to crash and make a mess of until our stuff arrives. The logistics of this whole thing is starting to wear- I spent most of my Labor Day weekend researching washers, dryers ad fridges- and can quote you Consumer Reports verbatim.
Gotta go pack the car. This is getting old... yes indeedy.
We've been crashing at my parents' house for the last five days. Matt stayed behind to work, and we have missed him. My folks have an easy house to stay in- lots of new exciting toys, sugar cereal and a pool in their backyard. They've been very kind about my George, and welcomed him with open arms. Unfortunately, school starts tomorrow, and my parents' house is just too far away.
Luckily, Matt's aunt said we could stay with her, so off we go- to another house to crash and make a mess of until our stuff arrives. The logistics of this whole thing is starting to wear- I spent most of my Labor Day weekend researching washers, dryers ad fridges- and can quote you Consumer Reports verbatim.
Gotta go pack the car. This is getting old... yes indeedy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)