In the words of the venerable Tom Waits, "You know the story. Here it comes again."
Today
6:15 - Wake up.
6:30 - Make Wolfgang's lunch because he forgot to do it last night.
6:30 - Help Gunther pack his football gear.
6:40 - Get ready for work.
6:40 - Say goodbye to Wolfgang, remind him of today's afterschool schedule.
6:45 - Supervise the walking & feeding of the dogs.
7:00 - Wake up Otto, help him choose picture day clothes, fix his hair.
7:15 - Say goodbye to Gunther, remind him of today's afterschool schedule.
7:45 - Remember that I need the minivan today. Switch David's briefcase to my car.
7:50 - Pack the minivan with football gear, the saxophone, my lunch.
8:00 - Get Otto on the bus, remind him of today's afterschool schedule.
8:02 - Call Gramps to remind him that I'm bringing over Gunther's football gear.
8:10 - Drop off saxophone at Gunther's school.
8:15 - Drop off the football gear at Grammy and Gramps'.
8:20 - Call a friend on the way to work - it's been forever since I called.
8:35 - Feel good. Feel real good. The family is dispatched. Everyone has everything they need and knows everything they need to know to keep our world running smoothly. And who made it all happen? Who got everything done? Yes, that'd be me.
8:35 - Arrive at work. Realize that I left my laptop at home. I am useless without it.
And there you have it.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
With a little help from my neighbors ... please ...
My kids must really stink. They must smell so bad that if they were to get in your car, you'd be hard pressed to ever remove the stench.
Or maybe it's our minivan that stinks. Maybe it smells so bad that if your child was to ride in it to school, he'd have his own personal PigPen cloud and have to be sent to the nurse to be disinfected.
Or maybe it's not the smell of the vehicle but the speed at which it is driven. Maybe I drive so fast and so recklessly that if you were to let your child get into the car with me, you'd wish you'd called that phone number on the TV for some of that Gerber baby life insurance.
It's got to be one of these three things. Why else would parents be so damned resistant to carpooling?
They'd rather make 4 trips back and forth to the school in the span of an hour to accommodate all their kids' events than share a ride with the Wallachs.
They'd rather wake up at an ungodly hour on Sunday morning to drive their kid to a football game across the state - just to get there and have nothing to do for an hour in the rain before the game starts and the rest of the family arrives - than share a ride with the Wallachs.
They'd rather have 3 cars leave our street at the same time every morning to go to the same place to drop kids off - only to turn right around and come back home - than share a ride with the Wallachs.
I don't get it. We waste time and gas. We get frazzled and rush from one thing to the other. It really could be much easier if parents would only let it.
But, no. Maybe they feel that they must always be present and involved in their kids' lives. Maybe they are so kidcentric that they think they owe it to their kids to shuttle them around. Or maybe they don't want to look like they can't manage this life they've created.
Either that, or we really do stink.
Or maybe it's our minivan that stinks. Maybe it smells so bad that if your child was to ride in it to school, he'd have his own personal PigPen cloud and have to be sent to the nurse to be disinfected.
Or maybe it's not the smell of the vehicle but the speed at which it is driven. Maybe I drive so fast and so recklessly that if you were to let your child get into the car with me, you'd wish you'd called that phone number on the TV for some of that Gerber baby life insurance.
It's got to be one of these three things. Why else would parents be so damned resistant to carpooling?
They'd rather make 4 trips back and forth to the school in the span of an hour to accommodate all their kids' events than share a ride with the Wallachs.
They'd rather wake up at an ungodly hour on Sunday morning to drive their kid to a football game across the state - just to get there and have nothing to do for an hour in the rain before the game starts and the rest of the family arrives - than share a ride with the Wallachs.
They'd rather have 3 cars leave our street at the same time every morning to go to the same place to drop kids off - only to turn right around and come back home - than share a ride with the Wallachs.
I don't get it. We waste time and gas. We get frazzled and rush from one thing to the other. It really could be much easier if parents would only let it.
But, no. Maybe they feel that they must always be present and involved in their kids' lives. Maybe they are so kidcentric that they think they owe it to their kids to shuttle them around. Or maybe they don't want to look like they can't manage this life they've created.
Either that, or we really do stink.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thank goodness I'm not a nail biter
It's taken two rounds of steroids, two tubes of Cortizone 10, two tubes of Zanfel, one bottle of Caladryl and 1/2 a package of Benadryl, but I think I'm finally over the hump with this poison ivy.
For a while, I was good about the scratching, and I resisted. Toward the end here, though, I gave in, especially to those late night, in bed, self-satisfying indulges.
A highlight was last Sunday, when I sat on the front stoop with my friend Claudia and David. While we sipped our Chianti, I discovered that the edge of the concrete stair was the perfect thing for scratching the back of my knees. Ahhh, heaven.
But now I'm done. And, except for the scabs, the bruising and the screwed up menstrual cycle (the last two I attribute to the steriods), I'm as good as new.
I can't help but wonder what's next.
For a while, I was good about the scratching, and I resisted. Toward the end here, though, I gave in, especially to those late night, in bed, self-satisfying indulges.
A highlight was last Sunday, when I sat on the front stoop with my friend Claudia and David. While we sipped our Chianti, I discovered that the edge of the concrete stair was the perfect thing for scratching the back of my knees. Ahhh, heaven.
But now I'm done. And, except for the scabs, the bruising and the screwed up menstrual cycle (the last two I attribute to the steriods), I'm as good as new.
I can't help but wonder what's next.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
No good deed
Okay, so this is bittersweet:
This is not:
I just called the doctor asking for a prescription of oral steroids. I'm itching in places I don't think I can treat topically.
This is not:
I just called the doctor asking for a prescription of oral steroids. I'm itching in places I don't think I can treat topically.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
I ain't no stinkin' horse
So, I've started running again. After two months of an absolutely sedentary existence, I put on my running shoes and all my running gear (which, btw, fits a bit tighter than I remember) and hit the road.
Friday I ran 2 miles at a pathetically slow pace. Today, I ran those same two miles at an only slightly less pathetic pace. But, pathetic or not, both runs felt pretty good. I've found that all the long-distance running I did for the 1/2 marathon this past spring has paid off. My body now seems to have some muscle memory for running, and it just goes. Not very fast, but at least without much drama.
Tomorrow morning, Wolfgang is going to run the 5k portion of the New Haven Road Race. At one point - before the pneumonia knocked me on my ass - I was planning to run the 20k, or 13 miles. It was going to be part of my training for the November 1 NYC marathon. Alas, the two-month battle with pneumonia caused me to abandon my plans to run the marathon. At this point, it would be a virtual impossibility for me to do the necessary training to survive 26.2 miles.
Still, Wolfgang was encouraging me to run the 5k tomorrow. Not really with him, since he'd finish in half the time, but just to enjoy the running experience.
I was all in. I could run 3 miles and not have a pneumonia relapse. I'd just go slow. It'd all be good.
Until I looked at the racing brochure and realized that, as a woman of over 150 pounds, I'd fall into the category of a "Clydesdale."
There's only so much that one woman can take.
I will NOT be racing tomorrow.
(I googled "woman running" to find a picture for this post, and here's what I found. They're easily over 150 pounds, and they don't look like clydesdales. So there.)
Friday I ran 2 miles at a pathetically slow pace. Today, I ran those same two miles at an only slightly less pathetic pace. But, pathetic or not, both runs felt pretty good. I've found that all the long-distance running I did for the 1/2 marathon this past spring has paid off. My body now seems to have some muscle memory for running, and it just goes. Not very fast, but at least without much drama.
Tomorrow morning, Wolfgang is going to run the 5k portion of the New Haven Road Race. At one point - before the pneumonia knocked me on my ass - I was planning to run the 20k, or 13 miles. It was going to be part of my training for the November 1 NYC marathon. Alas, the two-month battle with pneumonia caused me to abandon my plans to run the marathon. At this point, it would be a virtual impossibility for me to do the necessary training to survive 26.2 miles.
Still, Wolfgang was encouraging me to run the 5k tomorrow. Not really with him, since he'd finish in half the time, but just to enjoy the running experience.
I was all in. I could run 3 miles and not have a pneumonia relapse. I'd just go slow. It'd all be good.
Until I looked at the racing brochure and realized that, as a woman of over 150 pounds, I'd fall into the category of a "Clydesdale."
There's only so much that one woman can take.
I will NOT be racing tomorrow.
(I googled "woman running" to find a picture for this post, and here's what I found. They're easily over 150 pounds, and they don't look like clydesdales. So there.)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Out of house and home
Here's what our three sons brought to lunch and consumed today:
2 peanut butter sandwiches
2 ham sandwiches
1 salami sandwich
5 oreo cookies
2 containers of mandarin oranges
1 bowl of yogurt & honey
2 containers of sliced cucumbers
2 fiber one bars
3 thick slices of banana bread
It's disgusting and it's exhausting, because, despite a trip to Costco, an afternoon baking, trips to the local produce stand, the local Italian market and the grocery store, they'll be out of options by mid-week.
And they'll be hungry.
2 peanut butter sandwiches
2 ham sandwiches
1 salami sandwich
5 oreo cookies
2 containers of mandarin oranges
1 bowl of yogurt & honey
2 containers of sliced cucumbers
2 fiber one bars
3 thick slices of banana bread
It's disgusting and it's exhausting, because, despite a trip to Costco, an afternoon baking, trips to the local produce stand, the local Italian market and the grocery store, they'll be out of options by mid-week.
And they'll be hungry.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Rubber Duck Legacy
It almost seems exploitive to write about it. More mileage out of the rubber duck? Yes, it's true.
For those of you who don't know the story, here's the initial confession.
Here's the evidence:
Here's today's collection:
Here's what Wolfgang wrote THREE YEARS LATER on his first-day-of-high school get-to-know-you questionaire:
Q: What would your parents say about you?
A: Don't decapitate my rubber ducks.
For those of you who don't know the story, here's the initial confession.
Here's the evidence:
Here's today's collection:
Here's what Wolfgang wrote THREE YEARS LATER on his first-day-of-high school get-to-know-you questionaire:
Q: What would your parents say about you?
A: Don't decapitate my rubber ducks.
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