Have you ever had that parenting moment when you lost your cool? I don't mean physically, of course. I mean, that moment when you lost your patience and yelled at your child; words you wish you could take back?
I have to admit, I'm guilty.
We were on night six of Murray either a) refusing to go to sleep or b) climbing into our bed in the middle of the night. We were sleep deprived and our kidneys were aching from being kicked by a four year old all night.
So much for our "no sleeping in our bed" policy. At 3 a.m., we just don't have the patience to fight it out.
Anyway.
Early one morning (very early, think 2 a.m.), I had moved Murray's mattress twice, carried ancient Nala down the stairs to go outside, carried her back up the stairs, and put Rudy out and back in. At last, I thought I would finally have a few precious hours of sleep. But, as I was finally drifting off, I heard: "Mama, I don't want to sleep here."
Oh, good grief.
I wanted to scream, "Go the blankity blank blank to sleep!" (oh, I love you Samuel L. Jackson), but I restrained myself. Instead, I muttered, "If you don't go to bed RIGHT NOW, I will call Santa and ask him not to come here on Christmas!"
Thankfully, Murray didn't hear me, but still, I really hated myself at that moment. I am the absolute meanest Mommy in the universe.
After that, I didn't sleep either.
Showing posts with label chaos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chaos. Show all posts
Child Care Providers are Angels
Daycare is closed this week. After all, child care providers deserve a vacation. Actually, especially child care providers deserve a vacation. After the morning I've had, I don't know how ours does it.
Our three year old nephew, Owen, and Murray both go to the same daycare. Their birthdays are five days apart and they're best friends (most of the time). Since I don't have class on Thursdays, it only made sense that I watch both boys. Two are easier than one - they entertain each other. Or so I thought.
So far today, we've eaten eggs and pancakes, gone on a long bike ride, painted masterpieces, played with colored bubbles (I don't recommend this), spent time in the sandbox, set up the castle complete with balls, had a snack, sung the clean up song five times, and each boy has had a bout of tears - oh wait, Murray just started up again (Owen was trying to get out of the castle and accidentally kicked him in the face). I've told them to share at least 52 times and constructed train tracks that rival Burlington Northern.
It's only 10:30, and already both boys are already battered. Owen has a bruise on his cheek because Murray whacked him with a hockey stick. Murray has a goose egg on his head because he tripped in the bathroom and somehow bonked his head on the step stool. I've called our pediatrician twice and I'm living in fear that I'll have to call again - or worse, call the ambulance.
At least they haven't peed in public like they did on Monday when my father-in-law had them.
Is it too early to put them down for a nap and pour a glass of chardonnay?
Hats off to child care providers everywhere. You are angels waiting for wings.
-MM
Our three year old nephew, Owen, and Murray both go to the same daycare. Their birthdays are five days apart and they're best friends (most of the time). Since I don't have class on Thursdays, it only made sense that I watch both boys. Two are easier than one - they entertain each other. Or so I thought.
So far today, we've eaten eggs and pancakes, gone on a long bike ride, painted masterpieces, played with colored bubbles (I don't recommend this), spent time in the sandbox, set up the castle complete with balls, had a snack, sung the clean up song five times, and each boy has had a bout of tears - oh wait, Murray just started up again (Owen was trying to get out of the castle and accidentally kicked him in the face). I've told them to share at least 52 times and constructed train tracks that rival Burlington Northern.
It's only 10:30, and already both boys are already battered. Owen has a bruise on his cheek because Murray whacked him with a hockey stick. Murray has a goose egg on his head because he tripped in the bathroom and somehow bonked his head on the step stool. I've called our pediatrician twice and I'm living in fear that I'll have to call again - or worse, call the ambulance.
At least they haven't peed in public like they did on Monday when my father-in-law had them.
Is it too early to put them down for a nap and pour a glass of chardonnay?
Hats off to child care providers everywhere. You are angels waiting for wings.
-MM
2 Kool 4 Skool
Note: I've edited this about thirty times, so please, keep in mind that if you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes, well, it is what it is -nothing new. I should put this disclaimer on every post. :)
You're probably tired of reading about my back-to-school ventures, but since today was the first day of class, I couldn't resist just one more post on the subject (at least for a while).
I have been so excited for this new chapter in my life.
Until yesterday.
I was quietly reading the Sunday paper, when out of the blue, cold fear washed over me. I ended up in a doozie of a panic, moaning, "What am I thinking?" Since my Mom isn't around for me to whine at, I did the next best thing; I called my Grandma.
As soon as I heard her voice, I promptly burst into tears. I gave her my best "oh-poor me-I'll never get this-how will I manage-my family will suffer-I will be the biggest, oldest dork in class-and I'll fail miserably" speech. She gently but firmly reminded me that I'm already a step ahead of the college game and pointed out the advantages that I have over so many others. "One day at a time", she advised. "When you've kayaked too far and think you can't make it back home, just remember, one paddle at a time. You'll get there." "Savor each day and when you have bad days (and you will), focus on the end result and what you want out of this". Such sound advice - I wish I could bottle it.
After my talk with Grandma, I felt much better. But then, those ominous hours of dark rolled around, and I found myself sleepless; so much so that I was awake most of the night imagining worst-case scenarios while I attempted to persuade my brain to take a break and rest.
I wrestled with sleep all night. Craig didn't have to wake me up this morning because I was already on the couch, scaring myself silly. When he came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed, at 6:30 a.m. and said, "It's time to get ready for school.", I wanted to reply, " No s***, Sherlock, I've been been up all night scared out of my mind." But that wouldn't have been nice, so I bit my tongue and wearily headed for the shower.
By the time we were ready to leave the house, I thought I was going to throw up. I was shaking and my legs felt like rubber. I was early for my 8:30 a.m. class, so I sat in Craig's office trembling, attempting to drink coffee without spilling it. I reminded myself how ridiculous it was to be so scared, but sometimes anxiety isn't a reasonable force to reckon with. Craig must have noticed the fear on my face, because he offered to walk me to class (I know, how sweet is that?). On the way over, he reassured me that I would be just fine and that he would help me in as many ways that he could. The guy has big shoulders (I have an amazing support system). Good thing he has a degree in math and is brilliant (although, him tutoring me has the potential to cause serious marriage trouble). As I write this, he's reading my math book with more enthusiasm than a raccoon raiding a cooler.
I arrived at my first class and waited in the hallway because there were already students in the classroom. A lady at the front of the room was talking to students that were seated, so I assumed that the class prior to mine wasn't finished. I soon discovered that she, too, was an O.T.A. (older than average) and just as scared as I. I think I'll make her my new best friend.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, despite that I had a math (sigh) quiz on the first day. It should have gone something like this:
a: Marie is not the oldest person in her math class.
b: Marie is definitely the oldest person in her other three classes.
c: Who cares?
d: Marie needs to buy stock in erasers.
d: None of the above.
e: All of the above.
Answer: E
Write this down - there will be a test.
-MM
P.S. Murray has been saying things like, "when I get 31, can I come to your college?" And, "Mom, I'm off to school to do my homework!" (while running around with my backpack) I hope this is an encouraging sign for the future.
You're probably tired of reading about my back-to-school ventures, but since today was the first day of class, I couldn't resist just one more post on the subject (at least for a while).
I have been so excited for this new chapter in my life.
Until yesterday.
I was quietly reading the Sunday paper, when out of the blue, cold fear washed over me. I ended up in a doozie of a panic, moaning, "What am I thinking?" Since my Mom isn't around for me to whine at, I did the next best thing; I called my Grandma.
As soon as I heard her voice, I promptly burst into tears. I gave her my best "oh-poor me-I'll never get this-how will I manage-my family will suffer-I will be the biggest, oldest dork in class-and I'll fail miserably" speech. She gently but firmly reminded me that I'm already a step ahead of the college game and pointed out the advantages that I have over so many others. "One day at a time", she advised. "When you've kayaked too far and think you can't make it back home, just remember, one paddle at a time. You'll get there." "Savor each day and when you have bad days (and you will), focus on the end result and what you want out of this". Such sound advice - I wish I could bottle it.
After my talk with Grandma, I felt much better. But then, those ominous hours of dark rolled around, and I found myself sleepless; so much so that I was awake most of the night imagining worst-case scenarios while I attempted to persuade my brain to take a break and rest.
I wrestled with sleep all night. Craig didn't have to wake me up this morning because I was already on the couch, scaring myself silly. When he came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed, at 6:30 a.m. and said, "It's time to get ready for school.", I wanted to reply, " No s***, Sherlock, I've been been up all night scared out of my mind." But that wouldn't have been nice, so I bit my tongue and wearily headed for the shower.
By the time we were ready to leave the house, I thought I was going to throw up. I was shaking and my legs felt like rubber. I was early for my 8:30 a.m. class, so I sat in Craig's office trembling, attempting to drink coffee without spilling it. I reminded myself how ridiculous it was to be so scared, but sometimes anxiety isn't a reasonable force to reckon with. Craig must have noticed the fear on my face, because he offered to walk me to class (I know, how sweet is that?). On the way over, he reassured me that I would be just fine and that he would help me in as many ways that he could. The guy has big shoulders (I have an amazing support system). Good thing he has a degree in math and is brilliant (although, him tutoring me has the potential to cause serious marriage trouble). As I write this, he's reading my math book with more enthusiasm than a raccoon raiding a cooler.
I arrived at my first class and waited in the hallway because there were already students in the classroom. A lady at the front of the room was talking to students that were seated, so I assumed that the class prior to mine wasn't finished. I soon discovered that she, too, was an O.T.A. (older than average) and just as scared as I. I think I'll make her my new best friend.
The rest of the day went fairly smoothly, despite that I had a math (sigh) quiz on the first day. It should have gone something like this:
a: Marie is not the oldest person in her math class.
b: Marie is definitely the oldest person in her other three classes.
c: Who cares?
d: Marie needs to buy stock in erasers.
d: None of the above.
e: All of the above.
Answer: E
Write this down - there will be a test.
-MM
P.S. Murray has been saying things like, "when I get 31, can I come to your college?" And, "Mom, I'm off to school to do my homework!" (while running around with my backpack) I hope this is an encouraging sign for the future.
Dear Nook People
Dear Barnes and Noble People From Whatever Country I Just Called,
Thank you for keeping me on hold for twenty minutes. I was able to get a lot of work done while I waited for you to answer.
I also appreciate the politeness of the customer service representative that I spoke with although I think I could have understood sign language over the phone better than I could understand what you were trying to say to me (but you probably feel the same way, so it's not really your fault).
What I don't understand is that you continually put me on hold (yes, three times, check the records) to ask the "expert of consumer management" while I patiently wait for my problem to be solved. I also don't understand that when I asked for a tracking number after the first two times of being on hold, you told me that the "expert of consumer management" declared that a confirmation number wasn't necessary, and that if my product wasn't delivered in 2-3 more days that I should call you back; again.
There are worse problems in the world than my accesorries being shipped on time. So I hope that all of you in Minot and the surrounding communities are safe, and know that you are in my prayers. God bless you.
Before I sign off for today, I have to give DH credit; after working on the yard (the only 2 times he's been home this week), he's had to cancel twice in the middle of a project to make sure that the baby birds are okay. He's had mama birds dive him twice and been yelled at a lot. Bird mamas are just like human mamas. I would do the same. The baby birds are safe, and it's number 1,543,600 of the reasons that I love this man.
Thank you for keeping me on hold for twenty minutes. I was able to get a lot of work done while I waited for you to answer.
I also appreciate the politeness of the customer service representative that I spoke with although I think I could have understood sign language over the phone better than I could understand what you were trying to say to me (but you probably feel the same way, so it's not really your fault).
What I don't understand is that you continually put me on hold (yes, three times, check the records) to ask the "expert of consumer management" while I patiently wait for my problem to be solved. I also don't understand that when I asked for a tracking number after the first two times of being on hold, you told me that the "expert of consumer management" declared that a confirmation number wasn't necessary, and that if my product wasn't delivered in 2-3 more days that I should call you back; again.
There are worse problems in the world than my accesorries being shipped on time. So I hope that all of you in Minot and the surrounding communities are safe, and know that you are in my prayers. God bless you.
Before I sign off for today, I have to give DH credit; after working on the yard (the only 2 times he's been home this week), he's had to cancel twice in the middle of a project to make sure that the baby birds are okay. He's had mama birds dive him twice and been yelled at a lot. Bird mamas are just like human mamas. I would do the same. The baby birds are safe, and it's number 1,543,600 of the reasons that I love this man.
Chin Up, Buck Up
I've had sme time to process since last Wednesday when I announced the latest hurdle. It sounds easy to move on, and sometimes, it feels that way. That's not to say I don't have my moments. Relying on my inner strength, my faith, family and friends is helping. Today was the first day that I went to the office, despite the fact that I was dreading it. I woke up this morning with an attitude of, "take names and kick a**, but Craig reminded me that it's not my style, or in my blood to do so. So I went to work with a cheery face, worked on getting organized for the people who will be taking over my work, and grinning when I wanted to cry (not that I didn't have tears when I left).
I had a quick, healthy lunch, came home, started some more house work and when I couldn't help it anymore, I called my loved ones. I feel better at the moment, and remain positive that I will continue to do so. As I've said before, keeping busy is an immense relief. By the end of the week, the majority of deep cleaning will be done and then I will focus on my creative writing course (which I need and am excited about).
As far as projects go, does anyone have advice for caring for an out of control Umbrella Tree Plant? I love it dearly, but am afraid to split and and re-pot it for fear of an untimely plant death. The poor thing is thriving, but her roots are growing out of a very large pot. Help!
The best news? I don't have to worry about missing Ellen or Oprah. If I work hard all day, I can have 2 hours of entertainment and solace until we begin our evening. LET'S DANCE!
I had a quick, healthy lunch, came home, started some more house work and when I couldn't help it anymore, I called my loved ones. I feel better at the moment, and remain positive that I will continue to do so. As I've said before, keeping busy is an immense relief. By the end of the week, the majority of deep cleaning will be done and then I will focus on my creative writing course (which I need and am excited about).
As far as projects go, does anyone have advice for caring for an out of control Umbrella Tree Plant? I love it dearly, but am afraid to split and and re-pot it for fear of an untimely plant death. The poor thing is thriving, but her roots are growing out of a very large pot. Help!
The best news? I don't have to worry about missing Ellen or Oprah. If I work hard all day, I can have 2 hours of entertainment and solace until we begin our evening. LET'S DANCE!
Get Out of My Driveway!
I was slowly backing out of my driveway, checking the mirrors, when I suddenly felt and heard a loud crunch. Keep in mind, I was Still. In. My. Own. Driveway. Anyway, I heard shouting so I got out of the truck to assess the situation. I was afraid someone was injured, but what I encountered was an extremely livid young man calling me the nastiest names you can think of, and screaming that I should bleepity-bleep learn how to drive and yelling that he was going to sell his car today. After he was finished ranting at me, he yelled at me to move forward (again in my own driveway) because he didn't have any traction. I would like to point out that our driveway (which we share with our neighbors) is as clean as driveways can get in this weather. Also, his car was not damaged, but my license plate was torn off. The point is, if he wouldn't have been driving too fast for the conditions, this wouldn't have happened.
I was immediately on defense, and mad as hell. Who does he think he is, speeding into MY driveway? I understand turning around in someones driveway, but please, please, refrain from name-calling and shouting at me. Not to mention, you really should make sure that there isn't a car parked or backing up. I was completely in my space, and not on or even near the street.
Perhaps this is truly my fault and if so, I'm sorry. I offered to give him my insurance information three times, but he refused; "Too much hassle and not worth it", he said.
The funny thing is, when Craig came out of the house (brace and all), the guy calmed down and was quite pleasant, which makes me even more angry. You have to wonder what his opinion of women is, but then again, he made it obvious. It turns out that he's a friend of our neighbors across the street.
His moral of the story is "check your* &^%$#@ mirrors. My moral of the story is to be pleasant and discuss the situation in an appropriate manner. And get the heck out of my driveway.
I was immediately on defense, and mad as hell. Who does he think he is, speeding into MY driveway? I understand turning around in someones driveway, but please, please, refrain from name-calling and shouting at me. Not to mention, you really should make sure that there isn't a car parked or backing up. I was completely in my space, and not on or even near the street.
Perhaps this is truly my fault and if so, I'm sorry. I offered to give him my insurance information three times, but he refused; "Too much hassle and not worth it", he said.
The funny thing is, when Craig came out of the house (brace and all), the guy calmed down and was quite pleasant, which makes me even more angry. You have to wonder what his opinion of women is, but then again, he made it obvious. It turns out that he's a friend of our neighbors across the street.
His moral of the story is "check your* &^%$#@ mirrors. My moral of the story is to be pleasant and discuss the situation in an appropriate manner. And get the heck out of my driveway.
"It's Nasty Weather Out There" (From the Mouths of Babes)
As I write this, we are in the midst of the worst blizzard that I've witnessed since the winter of 1997. There's a one-hundred car pile-up on I94 and visibility in the city is approximately 50 yards.
We are all home and safe, and I hope that all of you and yours are as well.
I looked out the window this morning and thought that the local meteorologists were confused about the forecast. I wasn't concerned about the weather, so I loaded up Murray, drove to daycare and arrived home with no trouble; despite the temps and wind. I ran some errands, and only an hour later, I walked to my car to find that the conditions were worse than I expected. I finished my stops and landed in a tired heap on the couch. At one-thirty, I looked outside and realized that I had better pick up Murray before the worst hit. Thirty minutes, blowing snow, and icy roads later, we arrived at home safely (seven miles round trip).
Some things I think about blizzards and the people who live here:
1: We are hearty people, and should be used to horrible conditions. I beg you, SLOW DOWN AND STOP TEXTING! If this is impossible, than please stay home.
2: If you are an employer and haven't let your staff leave, I find that absurd. Even the regional Law Enforcement is pleading for people to stay put; they can't respond to emergencies without risking their own lives.
3: For those of you who don't have a choice but to travel: Please, please drive with caution. The conditions are horrible and I would hate to hear of another accident.
As Murray said today, "It's nasty weather out there!"
Stay safe, warm, and alive,
M
We are all home and safe, and I hope that all of you and yours are as well.
I looked out the window this morning and thought that the local meteorologists were confused about the forecast. I wasn't concerned about the weather, so I loaded up Murray, drove to daycare and arrived home with no trouble; despite the temps and wind. I ran some errands, and only an hour later, I walked to my car to find that the conditions were worse than I expected. I finished my stops and landed in a tired heap on the couch. At one-thirty, I looked outside and realized that I had better pick up Murray before the worst hit. Thirty minutes, blowing snow, and icy roads later, we arrived at home safely (seven miles round trip).
Some things I think about blizzards and the people who live here:
1: We are hearty people, and should be used to horrible conditions. I beg you, SLOW DOWN AND STOP TEXTING! If this is impossible, than please stay home.
2: If you are an employer and haven't let your staff leave, I find that absurd. Even the regional Law Enforcement is pleading for people to stay put; they can't respond to emergencies without risking their own lives.
3: For those of you who don't have a choice but to travel: Please, please drive with caution. The conditions are horrible and I would hate to hear of another accident.
As Murray said today, "It's nasty weather out there!"
Stay safe, warm, and alive,
M
The World is My. . . Crab
I've been a bit crabby lately. It's no one's fault, just a simple matter of running in several directions at once. I have to calm down and take life one day at a time; eventually Craig will heal and I will sleep again. Mornings in our house have gone from routine to complete chaos. Take today, for instance. By the time I had us clean, dressed, the car warm, and out the door, I realized that the car seat needed to re-installed. It happens every time we need to have someone else pick up/drop off Murray at daycare. I don't know why I can't remember to take care of it the night before.
Craig is hanging in there, but the pain and boredom are wearing on him. He did four loads of laundry today(leaving him exhausted and in pain). Since he can't lift, I brought the clean baskets to him and he did the folding. I'm getting a pretty good laundry deal out of this mess.
Murray is, well, Murray. I miss him with these long hours, but I manage to find special moments with him in the morning and the evening. Things will settle down work-wise when the students go on break, so it won't be so many late nights until after Christmas break. I know it's for the best, and the best is all I can do.
On a final note, H family and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, Craig almost fell off the couch and broke another vertebrae when he received your "Get Better Sioux" card. That said, I laughed, and I laughed, and then I laughed some more. I'm framing the card. Murray hasn't opened his present yet, but you will be hearing from him when he does. Lastly, H family (because I know MH, you are reading), we love your card, we love you, and we wish you the very best in the weeks ahead. Thanks for the super picture. You are in our prayers.
That's all I have for now. My couch is calling (because my bed is hosting an injured, snoring man). Until next time. . .
Craig is hanging in there, but the pain and boredom are wearing on him. He did four loads of laundry today(leaving him exhausted and in pain). Since he can't lift, I brought the clean baskets to him and he did the folding. I'm getting a pretty good laundry deal out of this mess.
Murray is, well, Murray. I miss him with these long hours, but I manage to find special moments with him in the morning and the evening. Things will settle down work-wise when the students go on break, so it won't be so many late nights until after Christmas break. I know it's for the best, and the best is all I can do.
On a final note, H family and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, Craig almost fell off the couch and broke another vertebrae when he received your "Get Better Sioux" card. That said, I laughed, and I laughed, and then I laughed some more. I'm framing the card. Murray hasn't opened his present yet, but you will be hearing from him when he does. Lastly, H family (because I know MH, you are reading), we love your card, we love you, and we wish you the very best in the weeks ahead. Thanks for the super picture. You are in our prayers.
That's all I have for now. My couch is calling (because my bed is hosting an injured, snoring man). Until next time. . .
Clark Griswold - An Update
First of all, a HUGE thank you to our friends and family for the support. Your thoughts and prayers mean the world.
I arrived at the hospital this morning to find a weary Craig and the news that he would not be released today. We hope for tomorrow, but it could be Wednesday. The L1 vertebrae is broken, and 30% compressed on one side (he shrunk). This means that he'll wear a brace for 4-6 weeks; hopefully avoiding any surgery. He was measured by the nice man from Hangar, and are praying that the that the brace will arrive tomorrow. When we get home, he will need to be flat on his back for two weeks, after which time he hopes to back to work. He will only be allowed to sit up for 45 minutes at a time, and then will either stand up or lie down (flat again). I think I'll get him a cot for his office for Christmas.
I left him in the good hands of the Fink's and hope to get some housework done so that I will be organized for his homecoming. He was in good spirits (laughter, hydrocodone and strong muscle relaxers did the trick) when I left and now I hope he'll nap for awhile.
In all of the hoopla last night, Troy took Murray home so I could be with Craig. Stef had us in fits of laughter recalling the events of the evening. Apparently, he walked in the door, took his coat off, looked at Stef with a deadpan expression and said, "My Dad fell off the roof. They might shoot him." Stef changed the subject and they did the laundry. Apparently we need to have some discussion about guns. We hope to have him visit the hospital this evening, depending on how the day goes.
Again, thank you to everyone for offers of help and support. I'm as calm as I am because his injuries could have been so much worse, and I'm thankful that he will prevail.
I arrived at the hospital this morning to find a weary Craig and the news that he would not be released today. We hope for tomorrow, but it could be Wednesday. The L1 vertebrae is broken, and 30% compressed on one side (he shrunk). This means that he'll wear a brace for 4-6 weeks; hopefully avoiding any surgery. He was measured by the nice man from Hangar, and are praying that the that the brace will arrive tomorrow. When we get home, he will need to be flat on his back for two weeks, after which time he hopes to back to work. He will only be allowed to sit up for 45 minutes at a time, and then will either stand up or lie down (flat again). I think I'll get him a cot for his office for Christmas.
I left him in the good hands of the Fink's and hope to get some housework done so that I will be organized for his homecoming. He was in good spirits (laughter, hydrocodone and strong muscle relaxers did the trick) when I left and now I hope he'll nap for awhile.
In all of the hoopla last night, Troy took Murray home so I could be with Craig. Stef had us in fits of laughter recalling the events of the evening. Apparently, he walked in the door, took his coat off, looked at Stef with a deadpan expression and said, "My Dad fell off the roof. They might shoot him." Stef changed the subject and they did the laundry. Apparently we need to have some discussion about guns. We hope to have him visit the hospital this evening, depending on how the day goes.
Again, thank you to everyone for offers of help and support. I'm as calm as I am because his injuries could have been so much worse, and I'm thankful that he will prevail.
The Case of the Missing Bike
It all started on Tuesday, August 3rd. I left work at 4:30, eager to ride my bike to Weight Watchers and then get home to my family. As I headed for the bike rack, I noticed that something was missing. You guessed it: my bike. SOMEONE STOLE MY BIKE!!! In the middle of the day, no less. I was so mad I literally stomped over to the security office to report it missing. They said that they would file a report with Moorhead PD. I felt pretty violated.
After my meeting, I walked home, and when I got to the driveway, Craig asked me where my bike was. When I told him the story, he looked at me and said, "I KNEW you wouldn't lock your bike up correctly". That comment was just enough to send me over the edge. I went from mad to steaming mad.
Days go by. Friday morning, I wake up feeling like someone had stabbed me in the chest. I went to work anyway, figuring that it was Friday and soon, I'd be able to rest. At 9am, my two bosses lectured me about taking care of myself, while shoving me out the door with commands to go to the doctor. If I wouldn't have acquiesced, I think President Edna herself would have handcuffed me and taken me in. Anyway, I did as told and was diagnosed with bronchitis. I left the clinic with intentions to sleep the rest of the day away.
Ten minutes after I returned from the clinic, the office calls. "So much for rest", I thought. But it turned out to be good news: my bike had been recovered! A detective with the Fargo Police Department found my treasured Trek 3400 in Fargo at a pawn shop. The men who cut the lock (yes, cut the lock, Craig) were arrested on felony charges due to the value of the bike. It turned out that the morons had stolen a total of 14 bikes all over the city, and were pawning them for drug money. The best part? Craig finally believed that it wasn't my fault. Sheesh. I wonder if I'll always have to get the police involved to prove myself?
As I write this, my bike is safely stowed in our garage. Until I can get a U-lock, that's where it will stay. I'm not taking any more chances.
After my meeting, I walked home, and when I got to the driveway, Craig asked me where my bike was. When I told him the story, he looked at me and said, "I KNEW you wouldn't lock your bike up correctly". That comment was just enough to send me over the edge. I went from mad to steaming mad.
Days go by. Friday morning, I wake up feeling like someone had stabbed me in the chest. I went to work anyway, figuring that it was Friday and soon, I'd be able to rest. At 9am, my two bosses lectured me about taking care of myself, while shoving me out the door with commands to go to the doctor. If I wouldn't have acquiesced, I think President Edna herself would have handcuffed me and taken me in. Anyway, I did as told and was diagnosed with bronchitis. I left the clinic with intentions to sleep the rest of the day away.
Ten minutes after I returned from the clinic, the office calls. "So much for rest", I thought. But it turned out to be good news: my bike had been recovered! A detective with the Fargo Police Department found my treasured Trek 3400 in Fargo at a pawn shop. The men who cut the lock (yes, cut the lock, Craig) were arrested on felony charges due to the value of the bike. It turned out that the morons had stolen a total of 14 bikes all over the city, and were pawning them for drug money. The best part? Craig finally believed that it wasn't my fault. Sheesh. I wonder if I'll always have to get the police involved to prove myself?
As I write this, my bike is safely stowed in our garage. Until I can get a U-lock, that's where it will stay. I'm not taking any more chances.
Dum Dum or Sucker?
Last week, Murray decided that his bed was not as comfortable as ours. We let it slide when he climbed in at 5:00 am; after all, we only had one more hour to sleep (we've been getting a bit lazy regarding this situation). HUGE mistake. We quickly learned that that one extra hour was not worth the pain involved with Mur-Man in our bed. You would think we would have learned by now.
We changed tactics. We explained that he was a big boy and his big boy bed "wanted" him to sleep in it. This idea coaxed him to go to sleep, but sure enough, at 1:30am, little man was crying - make that screeching -to sleep in "mamadaddy" bed. We let him cry it out for three nights. Finally, I was so tired I resorted to bribery (Mama Stubborn + Daddy Stubborn + Murray Stubborn = Sleepless Nights) .
The next part of this story goes completely against my grain: On the fourth morning, I explained to Murray that if he went to his bed with "no crying, no whining and no getting up in the night", he could have a treat in the morning. Worked like a charm.
But (and a big but here), it worked for three nights. The first day, I didn't expect him to remember, so I didn't have a anything special on hand. At a very early hour, Murray was tapping me and asking for his "teet". We ended up letting him pick out something from the gas station (candy corn is his favorite) on the way to Lynsay's.
This brilliant bribe of mine worked until last night. Craig and Murray went grocery shopping and came home with a bag of dum-dums. The problem lies in this: Murray feels he should get a sucker every time he uses manners, washes his hands, or whatever he deems good behavior (in his world, that means a whole lot of things).
Last night we were back at square one. When Murray finally exhausted himself with the stomping/crying/screaming/begging routine, he fell asleep. But lo and behold, the witching hour arrived (midnight), and he woke up and demanded a sucker and TV.
So here we are: the TV is unplugged and the dum-dum supply is stashed.
We try so hard to raise our son with a firm hand, but I'm afraid that we are the "suckers". Who's the dum-dum? That would be us, too.
We changed tactics. We explained that he was a big boy and his big boy bed "wanted" him to sleep in it. This idea coaxed him to go to sleep, but sure enough, at 1:30am, little man was crying - make that screeching -to sleep in "mamadaddy" bed. We let him cry it out for three nights. Finally, I was so tired I resorted to bribery (Mama Stubborn + Daddy Stubborn + Murray Stubborn = Sleepless Nights) .
The next part of this story goes completely against my grain: On the fourth morning, I explained to Murray that if he went to his bed with "no crying, no whining and no getting up in the night", he could have a treat in the morning. Worked like a charm.
But (and a big but here), it worked for three nights. The first day, I didn't expect him to remember, so I didn't have a anything special on hand. At a very early hour, Murray was tapping me and asking for his "teet". We ended up letting him pick out something from the gas station (candy corn is his favorite) on the way to Lynsay's.
This brilliant bribe of mine worked until last night. Craig and Murray went grocery shopping and came home with a bag of dum-dums. The problem lies in this: Murray feels he should get a sucker every time he uses manners, washes his hands, or whatever he deems good behavior (in his world, that means a whole lot of things).
Last night we were back at square one. When Murray finally exhausted himself with the stomping/crying/screaming/begging routine, he fell asleep. But lo and behold, the witching hour arrived (midnight), and he woke up and demanded a sucker and TV.
So here we are: the TV is unplugged and the dum-dum supply is stashed.
We try so hard to raise our son with a firm hand, but I'm afraid that we are the "suckers". Who's the dum-dum? That would be us, too.
Eye-YI-YI
Is that how you spell that?????
I am completely out of the loop, too tired to think, much less write, so please bear with me.
Quick catch up: Overtime, strep throat (me last week), more overtime, Murray sick (last week), Craig misses work and volunteer activities due to Murray being sick, I work overtime on the weekend, all is well. So we think. Murray gets sick again yesterday, I'm still working my tail off so Craig can't work, now Craig is sick and I feel like a lot of dirt has hit the fan. There are a hundred other things that I am praying for and worrying about, but it's hard to get out of the box when all I can do is run, take care of sicklings, including me; run, run, work, work, and never mind anything to do with our home chores. Honestly, "Little Miss Picky" has done a complete one-eighty - I can't keep up and if you come to our house, well, so be it if it's a huge mess.
Now that I have THAT off my chest, I will tell you that I am quite happy. I love, love, love my job - although it's bad timing for me to be working so much - but some things I can do at home (said things I'm doing now, but have taken a break to post). I'm still hoping that this will turn into something permanant. GPIM is just that fantastic. I love what we do, who we do it for, and even the everyday "drudgery".
That said, I'm off to see if DH needs more ibufrofen, water or cough drops. After that, I will check Murray's temp, give myself another dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen, finish a bit more work and FINALLY, hit the hay. Tomorrow begins our billing cycle, so the more I accomplish at home, the less stressed I will be in the morning (one can dream, but still, I love it).
Please, keep reading. I promise to post more when I can. Thanks for your loyalty.
God Bless you this Easter/Passover,
Marie
I am completely out of the loop, too tired to think, much less write, so please bear with me.
Quick catch up: Overtime, strep throat (me last week), more overtime, Murray sick (last week), Craig misses work and volunteer activities due to Murray being sick, I work overtime on the weekend, all is well. So we think. Murray gets sick again yesterday, I'm still working my tail off so Craig can't work, now Craig is sick and I feel like a lot of dirt has hit the fan. There are a hundred other things that I am praying for and worrying about, but it's hard to get out of the box when all I can do is run, take care of sicklings, including me; run, run, work, work, and never mind anything to do with our home chores. Honestly, "Little Miss Picky" has done a complete one-eighty - I can't keep up and if you come to our house, well, so be it if it's a huge mess.
Now that I have THAT off my chest, I will tell you that I am quite happy. I love, love, love my job - although it's bad timing for me to be working so much - but some things I can do at home (said things I'm doing now, but have taken a break to post). I'm still hoping that this will turn into something permanant. GPIM is just that fantastic. I love what we do, who we do it for, and even the everyday "drudgery".
That said, I'm off to see if DH needs more ibufrofen, water or cough drops. After that, I will check Murray's temp, give myself another dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen, finish a bit more work and FINALLY, hit the hay. Tomorrow begins our billing cycle, so the more I accomplish at home, the less stressed I will be in the morning (one can dream, but still, I love it).
Please, keep reading. I promise to post more when I can. Thanks for your loyalty.
God Bless you this Easter/Passover,
Marie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)