Geek. Pirate. Mom

It’s raining! There’s something about rain that brings out the little kid in me. TheBoy was kind enough to stay up long enough for me to drop the Oldest Kidlet at school in the pouring rain, while he watched the Little Kidlet at home. There was just something about dealing with the rain, the cast and two kids that just seemed like it wasn’t worth the hassle.

It took a total of fifteen minutes to drive around the block, walk my son to his class and get home. It probably would have taken less time, but we walked very slowly to the class to make sure that the cast didn’t get wet.

My mother-in-law asked me what I thought of my peek at the future. It’s true. Next year, the Little Kidlet will still be in preschool. But the year after that? Both my boys will be going to the school right around the block. On days where I don’t have errands, I will be back home only 20 minutes at most after leaving to drop off kids at school.

This has been a rough month for me. Between OK breaking his arm, and LK’s trip to the ER last night…

…what’s that? I didn’t mention that particular ER trip?

Last night, just as I was getting ready to make dinner, the Little Kidlet started coughing and started crying. When I got him to calm down, he coughed some more and said “swallowed… coin.” (No, he doesn’t say much) He kept pointing to his throat, was genuinely freaking out… so we did what you’re supposed to do and went to the ER.

In what was quite possibly the speediest ER trip ever, we were whisked back after waiting for 15 minutes and put in a bed. They took us back for xrays, and then we sat and waited. There was no sign of the coins, and the Doctor believed our story (LK did chime in enough to support the story). Her theory was that he had swallowed it, but coughed it up and was so freaked out by the whole thing he didn’t realize he’d coughed it up. We were discharged about 2 hours after we got there.

So it was a non-event. On the other hand, after my trip to the hospital in December, and the broken arm… I’m over hospitals.

At least I had this to amuse me.

Little Kidlet: Knock, knock.
Me: Who’s there.
Little Kidlet: Dinosaur.
Me: Dinosaur who?
Little Kidlet: ROOOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRR (He does a great T-Rex).

Yep. That’s what he considers a knock knock joke. He also did them for dragons, elephants and the silliest was a goldfish.

I made a holiday meal that actually was served on time. Okay, I was 15 minutes late. But that has been the closest I’ve ever been to my announced meal time. So my time management skills are getting better.

Easter is the only holiday that wasn’t spoken for when I married into this family. My mother-in-law makes Thanksgiving, a grandmother-in-law prepares Christmas Eve dinner, and Christmas is handled by my mother-in-law. While I help out on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I don’t get to set the menus. This is a family steeped in tradition.

A couple years back I started making dinner.

This year’s menu was simple. An herb roasted pork loin, roasted asparagus, homemade macaroni & cheese, a potato cake aka Pommes Anna, and a storebought cheesecake. (I made marshmallows with my boys the day before. I wasn’t about to make a cheesecake, too)

The pork loin is dead easy. 4 lb pork loin on a rack in a roasting pan. Cover w/ a mixture of 3 Tbl olive oil, 6 minced garlic cloves, 2 tsp each of chopped fresh basil, thyme and rosemary, 1 T salt. Cook at 450 degrees for 20 minutes, then reduce temp to 400 and cook for 40 minutes or until cooked through. Then remove from oven and let the meat rest another 20 minutes before slicing. (I had a jar of crushed garlic and just put in a giant spoonful. I think that’s more than 6 cloves, but we love garlic) It was delicious and considering how little fuss was involved, I think that’s earned a spot in rotation when I do cook for the family.

The potato cake didn’t quite hold together. I admit, I was lazy and didn’t use clarified butter (next time I might just buy ghee if I feel lazy). I was also lazy and used my food processor to slice the potatoes, but that was a plus, not a minus. Anyways, the potatoes were still cooked through and had a lovely flavor.

It was a great dinner. If you’ll notice, out of the whole meal, the only thing LK couldn’t have was the macaroni & cheese (yes, the potatoes were made with butter, but that doesn’t seem to bother him).

If I’d practiced making the potatoes ahead of time (since the recipe calls for flipping the pan partway through), it probably would have been ready just a little before 5! Ah well, next year.

Samantha Brick wrote a piece for the Daily Mail about how much women hate her because she’s beautiful. She wrote a previous piece for them about how she’s used sex appeal to get ahead.

She writes very plainly about how baffled she is by how mean women are to her. She’s nice, she exercises and only eats chocolate on special occassions, should she be punished for taking care of herself? Is it her fault that men offer to buy her drinks, that she gets free flowers? As the old ad went, don’t hate her because she’s beautiful.

The internet collectively told her she was wrong. She’s since whined about how unfair and cruel the internet is, and that it proves her right.

Here’s my take on this. She’s wrong. She’s wrong about the whole thing. Can the internet be cruel? Yes. But a lot of the criticism I’ve seen were people upset because she was wrong about why women dislike her.

Women don’t dislike beautiful women because they’re beautiful. They dislike beautiful women who think that beauty is the only thing that should define them. Women who rely on their looks to get what they want, flirting with men (single or attached) and not caring what anyone else thinks. Women who think they should get all that attention simply because they’re pretty.

There are probably some women who hate Angelina Jolie for being pretty, but I’m sure that the bulk of women who dislike her do so because of who they perceive her to be. They dislike her for “stealing” Brad Pitt, for seeming cold, for adopting a million children from abroad and none from the US, or for a billion other things. It isn’t because they’re jealous of her looks.

Think back to the popular girls that you knew that everyone loved to hate. Odds are it wasn’t because they were popular- it was because they were jerks about being popular and loved to taunt people who weren’t. That’s why Mean Girls wasn’t called Pretty Girls.

She probably has no idea how she comes across. If it’s anything like this piece, it’s probably quite arrogant to anyone who isn’t a man. She boasts that she gives anyone who’s made the effort with their looks a compliment. While it’s nice to be complimented on your looks, there is nothing in any of the pieces she wrote that indicates she holds anything other than appearance to be important.

Who cares if the shallow woman compliments you on your looks? Frankly, we’d all rather hear that someone liked the joke we told or the movie we recommended. Something personal. Not just that we look lovely now that we’ve made the effort.

You know who women also don’t like? Women that accept drinks and gifts from men when they’re romantically involved with someone. Women also don’t like women who use their sexuality to get ahead faster, because it undermines the women who try to prove that they’re more than just a face and a pair of breasts.

Interestingly, there was one point she brought up that I do think was a legitimate thing to discuss. It was about her wearing a similar dress as other women and being told it was inappropriate by her boss. I’ve known plenty of busty women who’ve shown only a slight bit of cleavage and been told it was scandalous, when I was showing more and was told nothing. We do sensationalize breasts and come down harder on women who are comfortable wearing a snug sweater and a tight skirt. Just look at how Christina Hendricks is criticized if she wears a dress that shows of any cleavage, but pick a smaller breasted celebrity and they can practically bare anything any nobody will mention it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the point she was making.

No, she decided that it was because her boss was jealous of her that she was told it was inappropriate. In fact, there was nothing in her piece where anyone admitted that they were jealous of her until they got to know her (which would have proved her point). Instead, every anecdote (like the one with her boss) seemed to indicate that it was the longer they knew her the more they disliked her.

My favorite comment of hers was that out here in LA she doubts that anyone would react the same way as the Brits have. I don’t think she realizes that everyone on the internet is talking about how self-centered she is. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen in Southern California. While being one of the beautiful people helps, it doesn’t guarantee that they’re happy or have real friends. People are unbelievably fake out here. They’ll smile and call you darling, then cut you down to size the moment you’ve turned away. There were celebrities I met at Disneyland that were gorgeous, but I loathed them. Why? They were the rudest, most self-absorbed people I’ve met. On the other hand, I met loads of celebrities who were warm, polite, and ranged from being not so attractive to gorgeous. I didn’t gush over their looks. Okay, if I did it was because they were gorgeous and nice. But them being nice was more important.

I’m sure Ms. Brick will think that this post is bullying because of the anonymity of the internet. But no. It’s because she would believe that even this reaction is out of jealousy. It’s easier to chalk someone’s dislike up to being jealous- it is after all what parents tell their children when other kids dislike them. When really, we just say that to make children feel better- jealousy usually has nothing to do with it.

Yes, the internet can be cruel. There will always be misogynistic responses to anything posted by a woman, as well as out and out violent reactions. But for the most part, if people are upset, there should be a grain of truth in their quickly written comments. From what I’ve found, it wasn’t her looks that people were upset about- it’s that she comes off as being an ugly person inside. If everyone has a problem with you, the problem probably isn’t them. It’s you.

So what do you think- did I get it wrong? Do you think that Ms. Brick is right that women are just petty and jealous when it comes to beauty? Let me hear it in the comments below.

I’ve come to realize that Spring Break is a lie.

Oh sure, I had Spring Break as a kid. I even went on Spring Break vacations in college.

But now, I can say that as a mother… there is no such thing as Spring Break. At least the break part of it.

The preschool and kindergarten have different weeks for Spring Break. So this week, I’ve been driving the Little Kidlet to preschool and catering to nearly every whim of the boy with the broken arm. Then, I have both the boys trying to get each other to play different games.

The Oldest Kidlet just wants to draw. Mostly, that’s all he can do- at least outside. Our driveway gets filled with more and more chalk drawings each day (tomorrow I’m going to wash the driveway so he can start fresh). But the Little Kidlet doesn’t care much for drawing. He’s a boy of action who likes to dig in the dirt- which normally his brother would do, but he’s under strict orders to keep the cast clean. (A knee high sock of mine covers the cast so that he can use the sidewalk chalk)

Then inside, I get to referee the battle for the television. A battle, which only stops for snacks and potty breaks.

And don’t get me started on the potty training. We’ve had a number of good days, and today just wasn’t one of them. LK had no intention of going beyond the one time he had- and indeed, peed on the floor literally five seconds after I asked him if he had to go and he said “No, thanks.”

Tomorrow I was excited about LK not having any school, but then I realized I’d still need to take the boys with me to go grocery shopping so that I have the food for Easter dinner. Fun times.

The only reason I even got to sit down today (and to finish up Easter basket shopping) was because my mother-in-law was home this afternoon.

Spring Break is a lie.

Well, we didn’t win the MegaMillions. Nobody in my family did- but I think it’s because a certain someone in our family was hogging all the luck.

I should backtrack a tiny bit.

Friday afternoon began the same way it always does. I picked up the Oldest Kidlet from school, and he proudly showed me all the loot he got from the Easter Egg Hunt. Including a golden egg – he hasn’t seen Willy Wonka yet, so he didn’t know how special those were. Or why I found it funny when he was throwing a fit about it saying “I want it now!”

He and his brother took the eggs out in the backyard and spent a little while hiding them and finding them. But as one might expect, a fight broke out over the Golden Egg. So I put it aside. In the span of this argument, the Oldest Kidlet got water all over him and went upstairs to change.

I was downstairs with the Little Kidlet and heard a loud thud from upstairs. Then crying, off in the distance. It sounded like our neighbors daughter, and after a moment, I knew it was the Oldest Kidlet. I sprinted up the stairs and saw that the blind was pushed aside and the window was open.

I shouted to my husband that OK went out the window (he was asleep), and ran outside to find him laying in the sideyard. In his underwear. He was screaming that he’d fallen out the window and that his arm hurt. There was no blood, and he was moving his fingers and toes as he tried to roll around.

I held him down, my brother in law called 911, and he started howling for his brother who had followed me out to see why we were all freaking out. (I should note that I went into crisis mode the second I saw there wasn’t any blood, that he was conscious and moving) “I fell out the window,” he told his brother. “Stay away from windows. Now my arm hurts me!” I sent the Little Kidlet back inside.

TheBoy brought out a blanket (the one you’ll see in the pictures below) and my purse, and I kept OK from moving as much as I could. We could hear the sirens get closer, and I kept telling him not to move.

The firemen got there first, and each looked up at the open window, then to the twisted screen and then to my son. “Holy shit,” they each said. They were stunned that he was awake and could tell them everything that happened. They put his arm in a cardboard sling, put him in a papoose (I admit I”m a little hazy on the order that happened), and carried him to the gurney. They wheeled him out to the ambulance and I hopped in with him.

They were stunned at how calm he was. He didn’t flinch when they put the IV line in, and he worried that they were going to drive too fast on his account. (This was when I realized everything would be fine. It had to be. Even though he was in pain, that is my son through and through.)

We were taken to USC Medical Center, the nearest trauma center, due to the height he fell from (the police later measured it as 17″). They did an ultrasound to check and see if he had any internal injuries, but he maintained the only thing that hurt was his arm. People came in and out and introduced themselves to me. I did my best to keep track of them.

Read More…

So the MegaMillions jackpot is up to a bazillion dollars. Okay, not that high. But it is, it’s a lot of money. I think I saw something that said that even after taxes if you take the lump sum, it’s still $250 million.

We bought a ticket.

Yesterday, a friend (Ry) tweeted that at his work everyone was figuring out what they do with all the money. I answered plainly. I’d hire a nanny so that I could write and finally finish my novels and projects. Sounds simple, but I’m driven to write. It’d make me happy.

I’d buy a smallish house, something that we’d have to fix up- big enough that the boys would each have their own room and have a guest room/office to write out of. I’d set aside money for my children’s college (to get their bachelor’s) and set up funds for them so that they’d have a head start when looking for a house. But still have to find their own way. Isn’t the journey what defines us?

I’d probably invest in my friend’s business ventures to help them find their dreams and put the rest into foundations to help other kids get to college. That’s my thought.

That much money seems terrifying to me. What a giant responsibility.

But I still have a ticket.

So… for the other hopefuls out there, what would you do? You don’t have to be responsible like me. I’d just love to hear how you’d handle a jackpot like that.

Yesterday, a friend of mine mentioned on Twitter that he had no intention of going to see Titanic in 3D. I agreed. As a 17 year old, I went to see it in theaters with a group of friends. The girls I knew had been gushing about how amazing this movie was. It was so romantic.

I was appalled.

90% of the movie’s dialogue was either “Jack” or “Rose.”

Keep in mind, I wasn’t writing regularly yet. But I read. Dozens of books a year. As a matter of fact, it bothered me so much that when I write now, I’m terrified of overusing someone’s name.

So when I replied to him on Twitter about how tired I had been as a teen of hearing Jack and Rose over and over again… I discovered that in my tweet I’d typed Jake.

I corrected myself, and was completely mortified.

My friend? He slyly replied that maybe if they’d used his name a few more times, I might have gotten it right. Well played, sir.

I’m not the only one who noticed…

I also laughed when the ship was capsizing and it went vertical, and one of the passengers fell and bounced off a few things on his way down. I still do. I… yeah, despite how much I love Kate Winslet I am just not a fan of the movie.

Have you ever made a similar gaffe on Twitter? Or is there a movie whose dialogue drives you bonkers?

Yesterday, when I picked up the Oldest Kidlet from school, he started begging me to bring Easter Eggs for their class egg-hunt “tomorrow” (or, today). As I was panicking about trying to figure out how to get the boys in and out of Target in a timely manner in the afternoon, I realized that I hadn’t heard anything about the egg hunt yet. Looking in his backpack, I found a slip announcing that it was this Friday.

Phew.

On the slip, it asked for parents to bring “pre-packaged Easter Eggs” in unopened bags. Or an unopened bag of candy and unopened Easter Egg packages that a parent volunteer will fill. Which reminded me of the note for the Valentine’s Day party that asked for store-bought cookies or snack-size packages of snacks.

I understand that they’re trying to make sure that these things are safe for kids… but isn’t this taking it too far? I was annoyed during the Valentine’s Day party because my son came home with all sorts of preservative filled treats that I wouldn’t feed him normally (in addition to the candy from his valentines that I was expecting). He had been so full of candy that he didn’t touch the food provided at the party, and brought it home with him- Cheez-its, a Capri Sun and granola bars that were made with HFCS. I’m not a health nut. I don’t ban my kids from having sweets or chips, since I love those things, too. I just try to balance things out. They get the chips with some healthy food. Or actual fruit juice instead of sugar water.

I understand the why. They wanted the convenience of individual packages and knowledge that these snacks were “safe,” but traded off any sort of nutrition for that. I couldn’t even supply actual fruit unless they were in convenience packs.

Is it so hard to ask that the Easter Eggs be filled with PACKAGES of easter candy? Why must I buy prefilled ones?

Sorry, I just miss the days when a class birthday party meant that occasionally you’d get sloppily frosted cupcakes made by a kids’ mom. (We’re asked not to bring in treats at his school for birthdays)

The preschool at the private school has sign up lists. Parents can bring in a jug of real fruit juice. There’s always a request for a fruit or vegetable. Something that makes me feel like there’s an attempt to have the parties be nutritious too.

Part of my annoyance is the nutrition factor. I guess the other is that I feel as though I’m being forced into a square peg. Two issues that really get under my skin.

Am I over-reacting, or is the school overreacting? Let me know in the comments!

Today, the first episode of Imagination Situation went live! You should go check it out. Right now. I’ll wait.

If you don’t have kids yourself, please send the video to your friends and family that do- Imagination Situation is a family webseries for parents and kids, using imagination to solve some life’s sticky situations. I’ve been so excited to share this with you- from the first time that Roby asked me what I thought of the concept, to the behind the scenes footage that was shot, and the first time I saw this episode with green screen. I honestly have been wishing that all of you could have been watching it with me.

Being so excited about this, my brain has been all over the place. So much so that when I was talking to my mom, I kept saying um. To the point where she said, “If you were a drinking game, I’d be plastered.” I’ve caught myself umming everyone, too. I’m usually not this bad.

I blame the giddiness. But I’ll gladly overuse um. I think this show’s worth it.

It’s basically been three months since my hospitalization. In that time, my blood has almost gotten back to the normal iron range (1.0 more for my hemoglobin and I am there). My cells are still tinier than they should be… but bigger than they were when I was hospitalized.

And I don’t have to go back for a few months!

Which is a relief, because his office is so disorganized. It took two attempts for this appointment. Two weeks ago, I showed up for my appointment and left after waiting for an hour without being seen. This time, I was taken back promptly, but it still took 40 minutes of sitting in the room before he talked to me.

The kicker was that the door was open slightly, so I could see into his personal office and see that yes, if he wasn’t with a patient he was doing the paperwork for their case… and also talking to a pharmaceutical rep.

As badly as his office is run, he’s a good doctor. He’s one of the few people to actually accept that I am the size I am, and that underweight for some people isn’t necessarily a major health problem for me. So for that, I’ll try to get as early an appointment I can and expect to wait.

In related news, as I was telling the Oldest Kidlet about my day today, he started in on how he had to write a personal narrative about his day. As he loves to tell anyone and everyone, a personal narrative is a true story about your day. He looked at me and asked me to tell my personal narrative.

He interrupted with this rhyming version.

“I went to the doctor. I had to wait. I was sad sad sad.
But then he said I was better, I am glad glad glad.”

I told him I might write about that. Then he looked at me. “You mean, you write personal narratives? That’s what you write? I’m going to tell my teacher on Monday that you write personal narratives for a living.”

I was so happy that he understood the concept of my blog, that it didn’t even occur to me that he’d tacked on “for a living.” Guess he has big dreams for me, too.