Keeping it real

Disclaimer: This blog post is not for the faint of heart.  Though if you are a female reader, you've likely been through something like this before (though perhaps not handled quite as ridiculously.)

Saturday morning I drove over to my sister Beth's house to meet Laura, our girlfriend.  We were all going to drive to Chicago for our friend Stephanie's birthday.  We were in Laura's car, on the way to pick up Jenny, our fourth when I made an unpleasant discovery. "Oh boy..."
"What?" My sister asked, turning around.
"Shit."
"What?"
"Dammit."
She kept staring at me, so I continued. "I bled through my pants." I had my period and it was day two. Day two is the worst.  "Oh, help! Someone give me a napkin or something so I can stop the flow! Argh! It's like I'm hemorrhaging!"
"I'm sorry!" Beth cried. "I have nothing. Laura?"
"Look in the glove box", Laura said glancing back at me sympathetically."
"Nothing."
"Dammit!"  I looked around but couldn't find anything but my hat and mittens. I sure wasn't using those.  Then I grabbed the cardboard cozy off my Starbucks cup.  I folded it.  And stuffed it down my pants.
My sister laughed. 
"I have to stop the flow!" I said.
When we finally got to Jenny's, I made small talk with her father-in-law while Beth and Laura used the two bathrooms. Why did I let them go ahead of me?!  I blabbed about our ride to Jenny's father-in-law and he laughed. All the while I was thinking, 'let me into that bathroom before this mess gets any worse!
Finally I went in and got the cardboard out of my underwear and inspected the damage. My jeans were soaked through. "Oh this is terrible!" I said with dismay.  Loudly apparently because I heard Beth through the door.
"You can wash them out here and borrow some of Jenny's pants maybe?"
I washed them out as best I could in the sink.  Looking around that there were no errant drops of blood anywhere to scare Jenny's father-in-law.
Then I went into Jenny's bathroom and found the hair dryer.  I could hear the girls in the kitchen.  "Do I hear the hairdryer?  What's Alie doing?"  They all know I don't dry my hair.  All three of them came in to find me with hair dryer down my pants.
"Hello." I said.
They all burst into laughter.
Later that night, when we returned to Stephanie's apartment from the bar and I was changing out of the new pair of pants that I bought in Andersonville to replace my soiled ones for the night, I overheard Beth and Laura in the spare bedroom.  Beth was telling Laura that they could share a bed if she didn't hog it.
"You're an asshole!" Laura said.
"No I'm not!" Beth replied. "I'm just keeping it real.

Me too.  I hope you weren't offended by this tale.  And if you are female and this is a familiar story, I hope you took some solace in knowing that someone else suffered such a fate.  And told about it. Just keeping it real.



Badger Blog

I am not really a football fan.  Okay, I'm not at ALL a football fan.  Honestly, I think it takes up WAY too many days of the week.  Isn't all day Sunday enough?  Suddenly winter comes and football runs the weekend.  What is the deal?  And then it's playoffs and now football gets Sunday and Saturday?  Also the occasional Thursday night. Then college football too? COME on!

Saturday night I went to celebrate the birthday of one of my dearest friends.  My sister and I and two of our girlfriends went to Chicago.  Our old roommate met us too.  It was a wonderful reunion.  We danced to Madonna and Janet Jackson and Pink and Prince and Lady Gaga and Rick Springfield too (which is wierd.)
My sister and our friend Laura dissapeared from our bar for a while though.  58 minutes to be exact. (I set the stopwatch on my phone).  Know where they went? TO A SPORTS BAR TO WATCH FOOBALL!!! Jocks.  Don't worry though, they came back and we had a lovely time. 

In honor of football, even though I don't like it, I have attached two Badger-related photos.  The first: I made my mother-in-law, Mary, a Badger shirt for Christmas.  Look how cute it looks on her!  I'm proud.

The second? Well, we watched the Rose Bowl at my sister's house and their TV is really big and I was having a great time taking pictures of myself "with" the players and coaches on the screen.  Here's my favorite.  Me and Bielema having a little conference.  Know what I'm saying? "Hey, Bielema, you guys are doing fine.  It's okay if you lose, know why?  Because its just a F$%*ing GAME!!!!

Oh, football.

White glove delivery

Well, Tad and I have a new television.  We were talking for months about throwing away our television, and now we suddenly have a new one. I have no idea how this happened.

It has been a debacle from start to finish. But now it is there. And set up. And pretty nice.

It started when we went to Best Buy. We went straight to the flat screens when we got there and I pointed to the least expensive one.  

"Get that one." I said.

"Well..." Tad said slowly, "Look at that one ($239) compared to that one ($399).  See how different the picture quality is?"

"Yeah, but when we get it home, there won't be another TV next to it so we'll never know that there's one with better quality!"

Tad understood my logic, but didn't necessarily agree with it.

So I hung with the kids and left Tad in charge of picking a TV. This was not going to be the quick in-out I anticipated.  I should have known.  The man stands in the tea aisle at the grocery store contemplating which tea to buy for twenty minutes so you can imagine how long he might take picking out an expensive piece of electronics.  We were at Best Buy for 70 minutes and left without a TV.

After lots of hours of research, he finally chose and ordered one on Amazon (We had a gift certificate from my parents) white glove delivery.

I imagined white glove delivery as two men in tuxedos, towels draped over their arms, coming in all fancy-like asking "Where shall we place your television, madame".  They would shine it up with a clean handkerchief and offer to brew me some tea before they left.  Tad told me white glove delivery is that they deliver, unpack, set up, and haul away debris.  No tuxedos, but still pretty fancy.

So when the TV came, I was ready. But he just asked me where to put the box, put it down and left. 

Whaaa???

Perhaps I should have been more assertive.  "Where are the white gloves?!" I should have demanded.  But he seemed in such a hurry, and after I signed, he left.

That night, Tad and I tried to understand how to put the stupid thing on its stand and got irritated with each other, the children clamoring for attention and us not giving it properly.  (Tad was annoyed with me--rightfully so, says my mom--because I didn't request the unpacking and set up that was supposed to happen.  I was annoyed with him because I want him to see merriment in putting things together, but he usually is very serious about it--my mom saw my point too)  I always think of the time my mom and I were trying to move a heavy table down into the basement and got the giggles.  "Don't make me laugh!" she cried, weakened and we both collapsed on the basement stairs, in a fit of laughter, unable to move with the weight of the table above us.  Why can't Tad get the giggles with me, I ask you?!!!  But, I digress.  During this arduous process, I was trying to make dinner in between holding up this enormous TV and Tad trying to make sense of the wordless instructions....  

"I still love you."  Tad said, "Even though I'm really annoyed with you."

"Hmph." I hmphed.  "I'm annoyed with you too."

"I know." Tad smiled.

We called over our neighbor Brian who has saved us from the following (but not limited to): a broken furnace, pine cones in our heat duct, a basement flood, and now, a TV assembly.  He helped Tad and it was together immediately. 

"What would we do without you?" I asked Brian.

"I don't know." He grinned.

Well, its done. It's put together. And it gives us not only TV but Netflix, Pandora, Youtube and lots lots more.  It's pretty cool.  But man alive, it was hard to get to this point.

So much for the white gloves.

Under siege

I remember the day that Lucy was born. Holding her in my arms, marvelling at how quickly and easily she got the hang of nursing.  Thinking, I have a daughter.  What a joy.  And make no mistake, it is.  BUT.

BUT...  It seems as though we love each other more than one can imagine loving another. And we want to strangle each other more than one can imagine...

So last night, Lucy and I picked out today's outfit together. We have started this as a nighttime routine to avoid the morning meltdowns.  I have let go of any possibility of her matching. At. All.  She chose a red shirt and a pink short sleeve dress and red and black polka dot tights and a Badger t-shirt to go on top of it all.  I actually had to counsel Tad last night before bed about how her outfit needed to be put together.  So she'd be warm, first of all. And so that the proper layers were under the proper layers.  If they are not, Lucy comes to me, pained expression on her face, wriggling her body and says "I'm TIGHT!!!" 

She came down this morning all dressed and then when I told her how cute she looked, and her daddy pointed out that we were both wearing dresses, Lucy said, "Mommy, put a t-shirt on over yours!"
"Oh, I am happy the way I am, Lucy, but thank you for the idea."  I said.
"Well then I don't want to WEAR my Go Badgers shirt!" She cried. 
"But honey", I say, "I thought you wanted to wear that shirt today since Grandpa and Nana are picking you up" (Grandpa and Nana are die-hard Badger fans)
"I changed my mind" she said. "I can change my mind!"   I wish I could convey in this blog post how exactly she sounded.  Also, I taught her this notion of mind-changing to empower her.  And back in my face it goes!
Tad gave me a look to say, 'it doesn't matter'.  And it doesn't.
So I help her off with her t-shirt and she's satisfied.  Wearing a rainbow flowered pajama top underneath a pink dress with red and black polka-dot tights.  Whatever.

Then comes breakfast.

I made toast with cinnamon sugar and bowls of cereal for both kids.  Lucy comes marching in the kitchen with her plate.  "Is this the butter that I like or that Coen likes?" she demands, stressing the 'I' and the 'Coen' with extreme dramatics.  Coen has recently declared that he only likes the sweet cream spread made by Trader Joes and he does not like 'I can't believe its not butter' kind.  I am happy to indulge since he eats all his vegetables and generally does not complain about food.  Lucy decided that she only likes the latter brand.  This morning, I spread both with the sweet cream.  Back to Lucy's question.
"Yours has the kind you like and Coen has the kind he likes" I lie.  I swear she really has no preference; she's just mimicking her brother.
Lucy goes back to the table and returns to the kitchen a moment later.
"Mommy!" She says with her arms crossed angrily.  "This is NOT the kind that I like. I tasted it with my finger and it is NOT the kind that I like. It is the kind that COEN likes!"
Wow, maybe she really does have a preference. 
I have the fridge open, getting my own breakfast ready.  I sigh. "Lucy, that is your breakfast. You may eat it or not. But I am not making something new."
Lucy grabs a tub of strawberry cream cheese.  "This is what I want on my toast."
"Well, I will make you some with that tomorrow."
Lucy takes the tub defiantly and marches away. 
When I come to the table she looks at me, trying to entice a stand off, holding her cream cheese.
Daddy comes to the rescue. "Lucy, go get a kid knife and I'll help you spread that on."
Now why didn't I think of that?  Oh, perhaps because my every move this morning has been challenged (loudly) by a four-year-old.
She gets a butter knife and spreads thick layers of the stuff on top of her already buttered toast.  And eats, smiling (smugly). 
Urg...

But you know what? When I left for work, Lucy was hiding on her daddy so he couldn't ask her to get her coat on.  I say, "Can I have a hug goodbye?" Lucy unearths herself from her pillows.  "Only you can find me Mommy." She says, conspiratorially and drops her voice to a whisper.  "So I can hug and kiss you." I look into her big brown eyes.  And I love her more than I can possibly imagine.

What a Wonderful Winter Week

The week after Christmas was jam-packed with fun activities and outings for my family. Now that I'm back at work, I feel it's time to reminisce.  I missed my kids yesterday after being with them for 12 straight days.  I guess even Lucy had a tough time.  She cried in the late morning saying, "I want my mommy." Luckily, her Daddy works at her school and her teacher brought her to his classroom for a quick hug. It doesn't get much better than that.  Anyway, our week:

Monday:  Play date at the neighbors. The big boys played football outside and the little boys (and girl--mine) colored and ate snacks inside.  Funny thing that happened?  I was just talking to Tad about how our boy is so sensitive we aren't sure if he could even handle a brother.  During the football game, he made his friend's lip bleed accidentally when he tackled him.  My sweet Coen cried and cried because of how bad he felt.  Yep...he's better off with a sister.

Tuesday: We dropped our kids off at our friend Natalie's and she watched them for three and a half hours while Tad and I went shopping at my favorite re-sale shop: Re-Threads, ate an Indian lunch buffet at Majaraja, and went for a brisk walk to Alterra for some afternoon coffee.  Then we picked up the kids and took them to Best Buy.  Funny thing that happened? My children don't play video games on a computer or a TV, let alone a system.  Watching them play Wii was hilarious.  They were waving the controller around and jumping excitedly.  It was just the preview screen that they though they were controlling.

Wednesday: We went to the Milwaukee Public Museum with Tad's good friend Erik and his niece Ellen and daughter Natalie.  Funny thing that happened?  All of us observed three beetles in a pile-up.  Of course Tad, Erik, Ellen and I knew what they were really doing but the children were making unbeknownst-to-them-inappropriate commentary that was very entertaining. Then Tad did some voice over for the actions in his best Ringo Starr impression.

Thursday: I went out to Sussex to an indoor playground called Flabbergast.  I met a friend of mine who I have known since I was five years old.  She and I bonded on the teeter totter on the kindergarten playground and have been friends ever since. Our kids played on the bounce house equipment and had a wonderful time while we caught up.  It was so great to see her. We haven't seen each other in a couple years but we could easily pick up immediately where we left off like no time had passed at all.
Then in the afternoon, Natalie dropped her kids off and we returned the favor so she and her husband could go out for an afternoon lunch date.  Funny thing that happened? Lucy and Siri set up their dinner table under the mistletoe and spent much of dinner making kissy faces at everyone in between bites of noodles.

Friday: We had a playdate at our house with the neighbors.  That was also gingerbread house day and Tecmo Bowl night.  I gave Coen my old discman and he was up until past 10:00 p.m. listening to the Beatles. Funny thing that happened?  In the afternoon, Coen brought out my guitar and played interpretive music while Lucy acted it out.  He played scary music and she hid under the cushions, sad music and she pretended to cry, fast music and she ran around the house.  It was good fun. The whole week was good fun.  I hope yours was too.

My polar opposites

My children are sooooo different.  It is sometimes almost laughable.

In the morning, Coen just puts on whatever clothing has been set out for him. If he chooses his own, its the same shirt for as many days as his dad would let him wear it.  Lucy is extremely particular about what she wears. If I want her to wear something, she's definitely NOT going to wear it.  In fact, yesterday, I found a pair of pants I wanted her to wear and said. "Hmm...well, you shouldn't wear these today!" Guess which pants she wore.

At mealtime, Coen tastes whatever is one his plate.  He eats things like spinach with balsamic vinaigrette, sushi, lentil soup, etc...  If I so much as put a carrot or a piece of broccoli on Lucy's plate, she waves her hand in front of her face in disgusted fashion and removes it from her plate instantly. The only way I can get her to eat any fruit or vegetable is if it is in smoothie or sauce form, very cleverly disguised. 

When we have guests, Coen is immediately interested in talking to them, to even a first time visitor, he will launch into a dissertation on his life and times without hesitation.  Lucy hides behind me, sometimes holding my hand for up to 60 minutes into the time that the stranger is in our house.  Once comfortable however, Coen will settle into some kind of independent play, writing down meticulously each of his Pokemon card names onto sheets and sheets of paper. Lucy will let loose, hamming it up by doing crazy dances or performances, making everyone laugh.

At night, Coen goes to bed after much talking and discussing and asking us "What should I think about?" He usually calls downstairs several times before finally settling down with concerns about the following day or claims that he can't sleep or he's "thinking about something he doesn't want to think about."  Lucy on the other hand, goes to bed immediately with her stories and lullaby.  She likes to give me a kiss on each cheek, my nose and forehead followed by a huge hug. Most nights, that's the last we hear from her until the morning.

When dawn does come, Coen has to be dragged out of bed, turning his light back off and crawling back under his covers several times before he slowly and grudgingly puts his clothes on (whatever we picked out).  Lucy pops up with a smile on her face and quickly jumps out of bed, ready to get dressed (after much deliberation of course)

Both my children are wonderful, beautiful, kind, funny and loving souls.  I love the way they cuddle in together in moments of peace, and even the differing ways they express anger (Coen with tears, Lucy with a shriek that would hurt the strongest of ears and often a few things thrown).  I also love the way they are different. 

I better go, right now both my very different children are looking at me and claiming boredom!

Happy New Year

I do love New Year's Eve.  Back when Tad and I first had Coen, and tried the going out thing...we realized that it's way more fun to stay in.  So at our house, we celebrate with an afternoon snack of baked brie, a cheese and cracker plate, fruit and bubbly juice (kid soda).  We all get dressed up--Coen and Tad wore ties. Lucy wanted to be "Baby New Year's older brother" and I put on an antique dress that I love.

We toast all the things that we loved most about the year past.  Our family decided on:
1. That Tad, Coen and Lucy ALL go to Highland Community School every day
2. That Tad became a Montessori teacher this year
3. That Lucy started school this year AND stopped using diapers
4. That Coen was in his first play this year and discovered the Beatles
5. That Alie has made some really great changes in her life.

Then the kids get to eat their absolute favorite dinner--Kid Cuisine.  These are like TV dinners for kids.  We ring in the British New Year at 6:30 (creative licence) and blow horns and yell out the front door.

After the children go to bed, Tad moves the table into the living room where the Christmas lights make things look pretty and we light candles and have a date in our own house. 

I made Indian food.

And then Tad and I stay up late and re-read two letters we wrote each other when we were falling in love (when I lived in Estonia and he in Madison).  And then every year we make lists of our top five albums (desert island music) and the five songs of the year and defining moments with each member of our family and compare them against years past. 

And this year, we were a little grumpy, all of us...Tad had stayed up until 4:00 am with friends; I was dealing with hormones, the kids stayed up way too late the night before...but at one point, when I was starting to get frustrated and almost suggested we wait for tomorrow to celebrate, Tad grabbed me and said in my ear--"It doesn't have to be perfect. It's still our New Year."

And it was.