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Posts Tagged ‘Rollie’

You Are a Joke

Friday, February 2nd, 2007

Rollie’s latest thing, other than learning the word “Dammit” from his Grandma, is to say to people, “You are a joke.” The first time he said this to me, I even kind of had my feelings hurt. He just hadn’t said that many mean things before. I got over that, though, and explained to him that it wasn’t nice to say that to people, and that it would hurt feelings, etc. He looked at me blankly, laughed, and said, “Mama, you are a joke.”

I am so good at this job.

It seems that he picked this little gem up from (where else?) t.v. He loves the movie Cars, and in fact, it was the first movie Todd ever took him to see in the theater. (He made it about 20 minutes.) We have it on DVD. It is a pretty benign movie, rated G, but the cars race and bump into each other and say things like “You are a joke.” There is a laughably “mean” car, too.

It is scary how easy it is to imprint things upon the blanket of freshly fallen snow that is the mind of the three-year-old. They are without a single imperfection, and then language begins to assail them from every side, and suddenly, they are saying, “mama, You are a joke,” or “We’re home, dammit!”

This is a very heavy job, raising a kid. For a perfectionist, or even a failed perfectionist, it is really difficult to know that there are no A +s in parenting. Parenting involves watching the slow erosion of a perfect being into an imperfect person, and simply trying to prevent them from sliding below average into sociopath. There is no other way. It is terrifying and beautiful, and the weightiest responsibility I have ever felt.

There are small victories, though. Like getting to wipe your son’s ass after he poops in the potty. Because at least he pooped in the potty, instead of in the diaper, or in his Batman undies, or crouched under the kitchen table hiding from you.

How on Earth?

Wednesday, January 10th, 2007

Wake up. Wake Todd up to feed kids so I can clean blood that stained my inner thighs during the night. Jump in lukewarm bath to rinse, then dry off and throw on clothes. Run downstairs. Make coffee, then pack backpack and diaper bag. Drink cup of coffee, poop (I mean, shit) and then put jackets on everyone, get them to car, strap in carseats, and drive 30 minutes to Rollie’s school. Drop Rollie off. Go to local coffee shop. Drink cup of coffee. Get back in car with Tiller. 10 am meeting with todd to look at house. Leave there to go to grocery store. Go pick up Rollie, and then drive 30 minutes back home. Take kids inside, where todd serves them lunch. Unload groceries. Choke down microwave lunch. Put kids back in car. Drive to Sandy Springs for matilda’s 15 month checkup. Dr. Jeff checks her ears. Ear infection. I ask him to re-check Rollie’s ears. Ear infection. Drive back to East Atlanta, drop prescriptions off, take kids home, give them snacks. Do dishes from breakfast and lunch. Start planning dinner. Blog.

How on earth is it 5:39?

Why Cats are Superior

Tuesday, January 9th, 2007

They know when to cut their losses. When things are going kinda crappy with the offspring, they just go ahead and eat the little fuckers.

My day started with hunger, because I am dieting, and then I am not allowed to eat anything until the lady gets here to take my blood and urine for the life insurance policy we are taking out on me in case (duh) I die, which of course doesn’t give one a whole lot of incentive to fast, because what the hell are you going to get out of it, anyway. Todd is a sweetheart and got up with the kids so that I could sleep as long as possible and not have to sit around hungry. I got up at 9 a.m. (the high point of the day). I started my period.

I proceeded to drink black coffee until the nurse arrived at 10. The kids cried and whined and bugged the crap out of the nurse while she asked me about every runny nose I have ever had, and the name, number, and address of the doctor for which I saw each runny nose. She then tried to take blood from one arm, then the other, then my hand. It was awesome. I peed in a cup and there was blood in it and i had to explain to her that I was on the rag. Lovely. Did I mention she brought her own scale? It said I was 9 pounds heavier than my scale says I am. Fucking great.
Todd called to say that he wouldn’t be home for lunch. By the time the nurse left it was noon. I put lunch on for the kids. I ate my crap diet lunch. I tried to watch Antiques Roadshow while the kids ran around pushing their cars and shopping cart and couldn’t hear a thing. I shut off the t.v. and finished eating while staring out the window at a squirrel. I did the breakfast and lunch dishes, and put on dinner. I changed two poopy diapers.

Went upstairs, read to the kids, and then put them down for their naps. This consists of putting down Matilda, and then tucking Rollie in, shutting the gate, blowing kisses, asking him to please, please, please not wake Tiller because Mama will be mad, and please stay in bed, and don’t make any noise, and maybe when we get up we will watch Curious George and eat snacks, Yes, raisins, and please? And then i hope for the best.

I laid down for an hour, and I could tell Rollie wasn’t asleep, because he was talking the whole time, but it never occurred to me that he was up there taking off his diaper, putting the poop into the back of the remote control truck, and then taking little pieces and running them over with the treads of his monster truck and smushing them into the carpet, and running the truck roughshod over the books he had pulled off his shelves, which were now empty.

When I finally went up to check on him, he was standing naked at the gate, smiling at me. He went over and picked up two little pieces of poop, one in each hand, and held them out to me, palm up, as if in offering. When I opened the gate, he cheerfully walked around the corner and turned his palms over above the toilet, neatly depositing them into the bowl, then turning to me in expectation of approval.

I think he may be slightly retarded.

After that, I gave him a bath, put Batman underwear on him, and with the exception of the times when we are out, at school, napping, or sleeping, he will Goddamn be wearing them, until he is potty trained. So help me God, amen.

Pure

Wednesday, December 27th, 2006

Pure Christmas magic.

Free Santa!

Friday, December 15th, 2006

On Saturday, we took Rollie and Tiller to see Santa at St. Paul’s Methodist in Grant Park. Although I am unsure about my thoughts on God, I am sure about one thing; I love old, beautiful churches. St. Paul’s is really gorgeous, but in a lived-in, non-museum-like way. You actually feel welcome and warm when you are there.


Santa was upstairs in a back room and you had to wait in a not-too-long line to see him. The line wrapped out the door and down the stairs. Rollie and tiller were excellently-behaved, much to my surprise; I guess they were mesmerized by all of the other kids. Living in East Atlanta, I often feel cut off from other people with children, until we attend something like this Santa event. Then I realize just how many young children are living and being born here and I realize that in ten years, this will probably be a really family-friendly neighborhood, and a great place to raise kids. I sometimes wish that I had the confidence to make my children urban pioneer children, working to make the schools in this area better, but I just don’t think that is going to happen, nor do I think I am the Mom to attempt it. I just don’t want my precious little ones to be guinea pigs in an experiment that might fail. Selfish, I know, but also my decision and we are the ones responsible for their educational raisin’, as they call it here in the South.

I digress. We finally entered the Santa room, and then rounded the corner, where we could actually see Santa. He was a great-looking Santa in a traditional Santa suit with the belt and all. He had his own Santa chair and a Christmas tree and we were allowed to take pictures with the digital camera for free, which is really more in the Christmas spirit than those mall Santas. Plus, less waiting in line.

When it was our turn, Rollie hopped up in his lap without hesitation (unlike last year – tears and more tears, making for hysterically funny Santa pics) and told him what he wanted for Christmas (choochoos and cars). We snapped some pictures of them together, then threw Tiller up with them. She was surprisingly good, too, and in fact just seemed enthralled with his beard and stared at him. We had a hard time getting both of them to look at the camera, and of course, our camera acted up throughout, so the shots aren’t great. But hey! They are free!

Cheap Santas are great. Free Santas are the best.

Still No Basement Post: My Day

Thursday, December 14th, 2006

12 a.m. – Wake up to Todd shaking me, Rollie crying. Go into Rollie’s room, give him some water and vaseline for his chapped lips. Go back to bed.
3 a.m. – Rollie cries again. Complaining of his cheek hurting. Realize he probably still has the ear infection for which he has already been through two rounds of antibiotics; Give him Ibuprofen, go back to bed.
7:30 a.m. – Wake up, pee, brush teeth, put on deodorant, put hair in ponytail, pull on jeans and tee-shirt, go into Tiller’s room, pick her up, grab one diaper, one pair of jeans, one tee, one pair socks, one pair shoes. Carry all downstairs. Todd already has Rollie eating breakfast at table in pjs.
7:45 a.m. Change Tiller’s diaper, realize pants are too small, put on her teeshirt, put her in highchair, throw down Cheerios for her, open fruit cup and dump it on tray. Run upstairs to get Rollie’s school clothes and another pair of pants for Tiller.
7:55 a.m. – Kiss Todd goodbye, start coffee, bolt down breakfast bar, change Rollie’s diaper and put on his clothes, including shoes.
8 am – Pour cup of coffee, read email from Honey.
8:05 a.m. Pack Rollie’s backpack for school, pack my diaper bag for Tiller, gather starlight mints for Rollie’s teacher to use for gingerbread houses.
8:10 a.m. – Realize Quint hasn’t been let out. Let him out.
8:13 a.m. – Sit down to finish cup of coffee.
8:15 a.m. – Turn on Thomas the Tank Engine dvd so Rollie will shut the hell up about it.
8:20 a.m. – Realize Rollie has dirty diaper, then pick him up and realize he feels slightly warm. Remember ear infection suspicions. Run upstairs to get thermometer and vaseline, along with Ibuprofen, just in case.
8:22 a.m. – Take rectal temperature (always wait till after first cup of coffee), 100.9, dose with Ibuprofen and decide to send to school anyway.
8:25 a.m. Put dog in crate, turn off lights, pour coffee into travel mug, turn off coffeemaker, look at house that looks like tornado hit it and pray that buyers do not come to look at house while I am gone.
8:30 a.m. – Pick up Tiller off floor, along with shoes she has taken off, put diaper bag over shoulder, finger through keychain, put rollie’s jacket on, then his backpack, which he insists on wearing, even though we are only walking out the door and to the car, where we will have to take it off again before getting in carseat. Hit alarm, get Rollie to open door, because my hands are full with diaper bag, keys, coffee, Tiller, and Starlight mints.
8:32 a.m. – Lock door, tell Rollie to stop trying to open automatic door on van while I am trying to unlock it, put Tiller into her carseat, then walk around to strap Rollie into his.
8:33 a.m. – Put diaper back and starlight mints into passenger seat. Get in car. Start car. Get back out of car to walk around to tiller’s side of car where I left coffee sitting on roof of car. Get back in car.
8:34 a.m. – Leave neighborhood. Drive to Rollie’s school in Decatur.
9:01 a.m. – Arrive at school. Get out, get Rollie out, walk around to Tiller’s side, get her out.
9:02 a.m. – Talk to parent of child in Rollie’s class about whether I am pissed about decision to split 3 and 5 day kids into two classes.
9:03 a.m. – Drop Rollie into class. Remove backpack and jacket and help him wash hands, all while holding Tiller at the same time. Kiss Rollie goodbye.
9:10 a.m. – Drive to new primary care physician’s on N. Decatur road. Park, get Tiller and stroller out of car, put her in stroller, find doctor’s suite.
9:20 a.m. – Check in with receptionist for 9:30 a.m. appointment. Sit down and try to keep tiller occupied.
9:30 a.m. – Receptionist asks for insurance card, driver’s license, and for me to fill out new patient paperwork. Pay $40 co-pay. Attempt to fill out paperwork, while keeping 13 month old occupied in boring waiting room. Get stared down by humorless, crotchety old people. Cough a lot.
10 a.m. – Wonder if Tiller and I will grow old in waiting room of unseen doctor’s office. Watch every fucking old person in Decatur get called in before us.
10:30 a.m. – Get called back. Nurse takes temperature, pulse, bp. Tiller seems okay. Nurse leaves and shuts door.
10:45 a.m. Tiller starts crying.
10:46 a.m. Crying becomes total freakout. I take her out of stroller and walk her for 15 very long minutes, back and forth, three little steps to a length of the room. Sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Starkle Starkle Little Twink (a post unto itself), Jingle Bell Rock, and Winter Wonderland. Big yellow snot comes out of her nose and runs all over my shirt, which was dirty when I put it on this morning anyway.
11 a.m. – Realize I have to pee, that Tiller will not be falling asleep, and that I am tired of holding her. Open door in frustration to see pitying look on nurse’s face. I say i have to pee. Nurse takes Tiller while I go to bathroom, then when I come out, they are gone, so i start looking down hall. Find Tiller with nurse in a doctor’s office and they give her a bear. Nice gesture, big points for nurses, big fucking lot of good it does me, though, as I still had to wait another 25 minutes for doctor to show and by that time she had lost interest in bear and was crying again.
11:25 a.m. – Doctor comes in. Immediately likable, as he looks like real-life Santa Claus, but it becomes quickly evident that reason he made me wait one hour and 55 minutes is that he likes to talk. A lot. Doctor talks to me about symptoms, his grandchildren, get up on the table, look at ears, nose, throat, What is the little princess getting for Christmas this year?, you obviously have bronchitis, a lot of malflora (sp?), and a grungy tonsil, and back in my day, we made our own Christmas gifts. We made boomerangs, and we would cut them out of plywood, and boy, if you throw one of those up and it comes back, you don’t want to be in the way, and here is your prescription.
11:45 a.m. – Finally get out of black hole doctor’s office, get back to car, go through drive through pharmacy at kroger to drop off prescription, then drive to Rollie’s school.
12:00 a.m. – Get Tiller out of carseat. Pick up Rollie at school. Bring both back outside, strap Tiller in, then Rollie. Drive back to Kroger on N. Decatur to pick up Pharmacy. (Only bright side to day – Kroger on n. Decatur has parking spaces especially for Walkup Pharmacy, so you can walk to the window and not have to take kids out of car.) Go up. Pay for prescription. Walk back to car. Open bag and realize only one prescription was filled. Go back up to window (Praise Jesus for walkup pharmacy window and walkup pharmacy window parking!!!!). Explain to Pharmacist about two prescriptions rather than one, then wait while he searches for script. Wait while he fills script. Pay for another prescription. Go back to car.
12:15 Drive back to East Atlanta.
12:45 p.m. – Get back to house. Rollie has fallen asleep. Carry Rollie into house and put on couch. Rollie wakes up and requests pillow, blanket, Thomas dvd. Obviously doesn’t feel good. Go get screaming Tiller out of car. Bring her in and plop her on floor.
12:50 p.m. – Make pbj for Rollie, cheese toast for tiller, soup for both. Serve all of this, plus two waters (because I didn’t get to go to grocery because fucking Dr. Santa wanted to discuss handmade toys for an hour), which Rollie then proceeded to lecture me about: “Water is for snacks. Milk is for lunch and dinner.” Heat up pasta from last night for me. Bolt down. Start getting requests for blanket fixing and more dvd.
1:30 p.m. – Go to fluff Rollie’s pillow, realize he is burning up. Change both kids’ diapers, and take Rollie’s temperature – 103.9: Fucking awesome.
2:00 p.m. – Call Pediatrician for sick visit appointment. Make appointment for 3 p.m. Put poor dog in crate. Go through same rigamarole about packing shit up, minus backpack and starlight mints and coffee. Put kids in car. Drive to Sandy Springs.
2:45 pm. – Arrive for appointment. Get both kids out of car and put Tiller in stroller, then Rollie says he needs to be carried, so I carry 36 lb son while pushing 26 lb daughter in stroller. Fucking awesome.
2:50 p.m. – Check in. Go through more insurance shit, even though i have already been there twice this week for flu shots, and the week before that for ear infections, the week before that for the first of the ear infection, and the week before that for the first goddamn flu shot. Take kids to sit down. Rollie’s tylenol kicks in and he starts jumping around like his not sick at all. Tiller starts screaming because she has either been in a carseat, a highchair, or the fucking stroller all day and who the fuck can blame her?
3:30 – Finally get taken back, 30 minutes after appointment time. See nurse practitioner; ear infection still remains, and she prescribes another (3rd) antibiotic. We check out at front desk (40$ co-pay!) and head for the car.
3:45 pm. – Sit in traffic all the way back to East Atlanta, where we go to Edgewood Kroger.
4:45 p.m. – Hit Kroger right at the same time as everyone else. Drop off prescription at Pharmacy. Go do grocery shopping. Amazingly have few fights between kids sitting in the car shopping cart together. Usually, someone would have an eye gouged out or something. Go back to pick up prescription. Deer in headlights look on pharmacists’ faces. “This medicine, after insurance, is going to cost you $90 dollars.” I am speechless, and then let loose with a “holy shit.” Say excuse me to old black lady wearing “Southern Belle Chattanooga” hat. She says, “Honey, I woulda said a whole lot more than Holy shit.” I feel ya, sister. DAMN.
5:00 pm. – Pay for prescription, which of course I have to pay for at pharmacy, then still sit through checkout line to pay for groceries.
5:10 pm. – Rollie has meltdown over cheap dumptruck toys set up right by checkout counters (those fuckers!). Check out and take groceries to car. Put groceries in car, then kids.
5:15 pm. – Sit in traffic on Moreland.
5:45 pm. – get Home. Unload kids. Set Rollie up on couch with Thomas dvd and blankets. Tiller follows me around, trying to hold on to my legs while I put away groceries I unloaded from car, and while I try to put dinner on (fish sticks and frozen french fries). Cut up pear for health purposes, and nuke broccoli. Balanced meal.
6:00 p.m. Attempt to right disaster that is house, especially kitchen. Unload dishwasher, and do dishes from both lunch and breakfast. Lunch dirty dishes are still at the kitchen table where I left them when I realized Rollie had high fever. Everything looks disgusting. Cannot believe people are not trying to look at house right now, because that is just the way it usually is.
6:20 Throw kids up at table with culinary masterpiece. Sit down with glass of water and then plug in Christmas tree, so as not to want to blow brains out.
6:40 – Kids finish meal. Get them down from table, then tell Rollie to clean up. Proceed to clean up kitchen from dinner, then help Rollie clean up his toys. Take kids upstairs.
7:00 pm. Contemplate not bathing kids tonight, but then realize that really need a HazMat crew to come in and hose us down after all the doctor’s offices we have been in today. Throw kids in bathtub. Scrub them too hard and make them cry. Get Tiller out, then put her diaper and pjs on. Go back in. Get Rollie out, help him brush his teeth. Fold towels, clean up tub. Help Rollie rinse. Brush his hair. Give him Tylenol. Realize I forgot to give him golden antibiotics. Go back downstairs, measure 1 teaspoon of meds, come back upstairs to have him insist on doing it himself. He spills the whole fucking thing on the bathroom floor. Go back down to get another dose. Take dose back upstairs. Force him to take it from me, amidst vocal protest.
7:20 pm. – Get his diaper, temperature stuff, and pjs and take into Tiller’s room, where the two of them have pulled all of the socks out of her lowest drawer and are now pulling her toys out of her closet. Take his temp (101) while fending her off as she tries to get into vaseline jar, then put on his diaper and pjs.
7:30 pm. – Read duck book and Goodnight Moon to Tiller while Rollie complains that HE wants to read the duck book. Ignore him. Put her down. Thank god.
7:35 pm. Go to his room. Read four fucking longass Thomas the Tank Engine stories, while he interrupts me the whole time. Try to shortchange him out of his usual three stories. He insists on the duck book too, which he has taken from Tiller’s room and brought into his room. I start to read it, and he argues with me about the fucking number of ducks that swam over the pond and far away. he also adds fifth quack to Mother Duck’s refrain, which everyone knows is only four quacks. I humor him, because sometimes it will be over faster that way.
7:50 pm – Kiss him goodnight, turn off light, tell him to sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.
8:15 pm. – Finally sit down to eat dinner. Eat quickly. Take decongestant. P0ur glass of wine. Watch two old episodes of Supernatural.
10:30 Pour another glass of wine. Post about this stupid day, because somehow complaining about it makes me feel better.

Or maybe it’s the third glass of wine.

Rollie’s First Snow

Saturday, December 2nd, 2006

Only in Atlanta would a child’s first snow be faux. Todd, Tiller, Rollie and I headed over to the Atlantic Station California Pizza Kitchen last night for dinner, then headed out to see their huge Christmas tree and the 7 P.M. snow machine display. I really thought it would hokey, and it was, but also a little contagious. At first, Rollie didn’t like it very much and was maybe even a little scared, but I picked him up and we practiced catching snow on our tongues and shook it out of our hair, chanting “Snow head! Snow head!” at one another.

It was pretty fun to run around, chasing him around the tree in the snow. Tiller just looked sleepy. I had a coughing fit afterwards that gave me a headache.

Here’s to my cough going away soon, and to having a real snow this year.

Dear Santa

Wednesday, November 29th, 2006

Todd and I have been enjoying the advent of the Christmas holidays, because this is the first year that Rollie has really started to get the concept of Santa Claus. Although he is still a little confused. Yesterday, when we talked about it, I asked him if he knew about Santa and he said, “Yes, he comes in? And he goes into the fireplace?”

Close enough.

While we were eating Thanksgiving dinner, Rollie, Matilda, and our friend Kate’s daughter, Laura Catheryne, were running around in their diapers. (It is a laid-back family we have here.) Todd and I were telling my parents and Kate about our discussions with Rollie about writing to Santa to tell him what he wants for Christmas. Todd decided to illustrate this by example.

Todd: “Rollie, come here. Remember how we talked about writing a letter to Santa to tell him what we want for Christmas?”

Rollie [Obviously brightening at the mention of Claus:] “Yep!”

Todd: “What do you think you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

Rollie: “Pants.”

I Don’t Know What to Say

Tuesday, November 28th, 2006

That’s why I haven’t written anything this week. See, I mostly write about what I know: The little things my kids do every day that drive me crazy, or make me laugh, or make me cry; the things that make me angry about this world; the things that scare me about the future; A book or movie I enjoyed; Fun trips and events.

All of that stuff seems unbelievably small and inconsequential in the face of the death of a child. A close friend of mine lost her nephew to bacterial meningitis this past week. A mother and father lost the center of their world. A child lost a brother he will never know, much less remember. Anything I write here, even the most irrelevant little tidbit, like what shape pasta Rollie and Tiller ate for dinner, will be something that the child’s family will never be able to write about him again.

So, i have spent these last few days talking, and hugging, and kissing a little bit more than usual. I have been more forgiving, and more patient, and more lenient, and more indulgent; I have cherished.

Why don’t I do this every day? I should do this every day for the rest of my life.

Rollieism

Monday, November 20th, 2006

Rollie: “Mama, I sick.”

Me: “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Rollie: “I have a cough, bless yous, and hiccups.”