Baby Poop and Business Suits

An Epiphany

As far back as I can remember, I've always had a thing for older men - but it has puzzled me as to why. I've never understood.

But, yesterday, my husband Jeremy, called me to the computer. He sat in the computer chair, and I stood behind him as we watched together, and after a few moments, he squirmed in pain - and I realized I was gripping his shoulder with a tightening clench that could draw blood. I was so excited I wanted to yelp, and yet, I felt weak in the knees.

After all of these years, I now realize why:

Dr. Jones.

Oh, Doctor Jones! (Dabbing my brow with a hankie).

Indiana!!!

Career, and Community

So my "real life" friends are already aware of this, so if you're reading this, real life friends, just know that yes, I acknowledge the fact that this is old news to you.

But, all you fake or pretend people in my computer, I have some news: I have quit my job and started my own business.

Whoopee!!! I'm nuts!!!

Allow me to direct you to this link over here in the right column above my Flickr photos that says "Richmond Creative" (or just click here). That's my business. What this means is, I'm working out of my home for now. Sure, I'll still be busy and want to rip my face off due to stress sometimes, but, now, I've got

FREEDOM.

and I will be the head honcho, so I will make all of the

DECISIONS.

and the work I will do will be creative, and great, and beautiful, and what I enjoy, and I will be

HAPPY.

and maybe,   just maybe, if all goes as planned, this business could be successful, and I could make some

MONEY.

It's been a couple weeks that I've been home working on getting this project up and running and I am very, very happy. Everybody else living in the state of Michigan is disgusted with the snowy, cold weather - and at the moment they seem to hate everyone and everything. Grumpy bunch of shivering, pale skinned Michigan people, they are. But me? I'm just smiling. (My husband, on the other hand, is supportive, but ready for me to SHOW HIM THE MONEY.)

"I'm starting a business damn it! Lay off, man!" I say. "The money will come!" (I hope..??)

Speaking of money - as you may have noticed, I'm testing out the Google Ad thing. Up until just recently, I had decided not to bother with ads on this blog. I was fine with my blog being my hobby and that was that. But, times have changed and I thought I'd give the ads a try. I've even had an advertiser contact me about putting their ad on my blog, and we're currently giving it a test run. That would explain the ad you see in the upper left hand corner. (I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say that, but I'm just saying.) If I can make enough money sporting ads on this blog to pay for my monthly typepad fee, then groovy. If I can make a little more than that, I'll be ecstatic.

As you've probably gathered, I feel that, overall, life seems pretty darn good right now.

I'm loving being a mom more than ever... and raising a little boy is turning out to be quite a wonder and a joy. More about that topic will come in a future blog post. I'm spending a bit more time with my kids - again, "flexibility" - it's a wonderful thing -  Kyra's in preschool four mornings a week, and she and Niko are now going to day care just one day a week for now. My mother, or "GrammaNanny" as I've nicknamed her, is going to help out a day or two a week on top of my daycare to give me some time to focus on my work and go to meetings, etc.

So, I'm still a part-time worker, full time momma.

Love it.

I couldn't wish for anything more.  Okay, okay, so I wouldn't mind a new Volvo XC90, personal yoga instructor, and new wardrobe. And a new body. Still a tall one, just a new one. That's it.

Other happenings I should mention... I am heading up a civic movement in my small town aimed to turn our struggling community around and promote positive change and entrepreneurship... and what started out as a simple idea between myself and some friends has turned into quite a big, fantastic, exciting project. I'm planning on posting a website soon - I'll keep you, my imaginary friends in the computer, posted.

Last summer, I organized a music event in the downtown where I live and it seemed to be a huge success (see the Viva Brady Street event poster and news article on my Richmond Creative website portfolio...), and so, we're planning on making it an annual event. Move over, Austin City Limits Music Festival!!! Viva Brady is gonna be HOT! HOT! HOT! (Oh, and speaking of music festivals and HOT! HOT! HOT! Jeremy and I went to Austin, TX, for ACL last fall, too. It was there I fell in love with Devotchka, and a few other fabulous acts. This all happened during my blogging lapse. Oopsie Daisy. Sorry bout' that.

And one more thing I should note on the career/civic/community involvement front: I am planning on co-authoring a book! It is to be a book detailing the historic homes in the city where I live - with pictures, stories, facts, and histories of the homes... Should be exciting.

So, head on over and visit the Richmond Creative website! Let me know what you think! And, if I  go missing for a while, now you understand why.  Until next time... and wish me luck...

One of the reasons why I'm consistently never nominated for a Mother of the Year Award

Kyra is now 4 1/2 years old, and in pre-school. The pre-school program is indeed very impressive - before she was enrolled, I assumed I'd send her to school and they'd sing songs and play with finger paints... ya know, PRE-SCHOOL STUFF.

But, oh no no no nonononono. To my naive-rookie-parent-adult surprise, (I have SO MUCH to learn) they do a little bit of that baby pre-school stuff, but mostly, they learn the the-real-deal-school-stuff, such as:

1) all of their letters, upper case and lower
2) the sound each letter makes
3) how to write each letter
4) numbers 1 through (I dunno, something surprisingly high)
5) and other impressive stuff like the correct way to use the word "actually", how to zip their own damn coats, and plenty more things that I fail as a parent to teach because I'm too busy doing dishes or smoking crack or whatever it is that I'm doing instead of spending quality time with my child.

So any way, Kyra is learning how to write real words and letters. And here, my story continues:

Yesterday, as Niko was napping, I was doing some work on the computer and plopped my dear daughter in front of cartoons (to her delight!) as I do many days lately, it seems.

(Yes, I hate TV, too. And yes, I know children watch too much of it. Trust me. I am the queen anti-TV activist, and, obviously, a hypocrite).

After about an hour and a half of me on the computer, and my kid in front of the TV, she walks up to me and hands me a note. "Oh? What's this?" I wonder. I look at it for a second, and it didn't quite register.

Mag... Na.. LOY? Mag... Na.. VOT?

Oh.

Oh, yes. Just like on the front of the TV. RIGHT below the screen.

Funny!

Ouch.

New Word: Schnuck

I've decided I'd like to create a word, because I've racked my little brain and I can't think of another word for it. And lately, in my life, this word is a constant. I can't go five minutes in the morning without having a need to use it, experience it, or witness it.

The word is:

schnuck
 
–noun 

1.	The crusty streak of snot featured on the shoulders of parents, or caregivers of toddlers; usually accompanied by schnucks on the opposite shoulder, or on nearby furniture and/or glass surfaces. (See exhibit A.)

[Origin: Derived from word(s) snot, streak, schmuck, guck, and yuck.]

I'm not aware of the existence of any other word that describes what I'm trying to describe here... So if anyone out there is aware of a word used currently, please set me straight. Otherwise, I hope to get some credit on Wikipedia and the next version of Oxford's English Dictionary...

Mommy Wonka and The Snot Factories

We are covered in snow here in Michigan. Everybody is going mad with cabin fever - I look out the window and it appears as though we're on some planet not fit for human life; I even went down to the store and bought some bird suet hoping we'd attract some feathered friends and that they'd keep us company in the back yard, but, apparently the birds would rather starve than go out in this god-forsaken weather.

And EVERYONE is sick. Everyone. My parents, my friends, my neighbors, my kids.

I went out to dinner at a local establishment with a couple of girlfriends Friday night, and as I was leaving, I walked past the table where my neighbor, Ellen (Hi Ellen!) was sitting.

"How are the little snot factories doing?" she asked, referring to my children.

At the time, they were simply snotty, phlegm-y, and a bit sneezy, but otherwise, doing okay. Well, over the weekend, things decided to take a turn for the worse. Niko woke up Saturday morning with rosy(er) cheeks, bloodshot eyeballs, and crusty eyelashes. (Even writing that makes my eyes begin to burn and itch). And because, he didn't look and feel bad enough, he fell and whacked his face on the floor and gave himself a black eye. Handsome sun-uva gun, he is...

 

My life over the past four days could best be described as follows:

Fevers. Pink Eye. Goop. Snot. Nebulizers. Steam. Babies that squirm around like  greased sea otters and fight like a trapped gator. Warm, wet washcloths. Cold, wet washcloths. Kleenex. Crusty stuff. Mucus. Runny, rancid B.M.'s (HEY. I'm talkin' about the baby, here!).

More goop, more snot, more crusty stuff. More washcloths of various temperatures. No appetites, except for mine, of course. Toilet paper.

Dried snot on shirts. Dried snot on furniture. Dried snot on pillows.

Consumption of various over the counter and prescription products with packaging that features various un-pronounceable words and names such as "guaifenesin", "dextromethorphan polistirex" or "phenylephrine"...

...and I think to myself, "Golly, I'm not quite sure if I should feed this stuff to my baby"...

...but then I read where it says "12 hour cough relief" or "relieves chest congestion" or "thins and loosens mucus" PLUS it comes in orange, grape, and cherry and is probably a better choice than the other option: a sippy cup full of rum and coke for the kid and a second sippy just full of the rum for myself.

I guess the best thing to do is find the humor in this situation... Like when Kyra asks me,

"Mom, can I watch a movie when Niko takes his nap?"

but it comes out sounding like,

"Mob, gan I watdg uh moobie wheg Neego taegs hig nab?"

So I laugh at her as she looks at me strangely. Then, I reply "Yes, you may watch a movie, but com'mere, let's blow your nose first."

"Blow. Harder. Take a deep breath in your mouth. Kyra, TRY! Good, good! One more time. Yes! Thata girl.... okay, one MORE time. Okay, good. Now hold still let me see. HOLD STILL!!! Look up. Look UP. Look at the ceiling so I can see up you nose!!! Excellent. All clear. Does it feel better?"

(Kyra pauses, looks around.) She turns to me, and proclaims, "MOM!!! I CAN SNIFF!!!"

Oh, happy day. We hug with joy and tell each other how much we love one another. The cabin fever has made us all a bit overly emotional and mental (as you can see from my photo above).

I must go now, it's time for a relaxing boat ride on my river of Nyquil; after that the Ooompa Loompas and I plan to gather the harvest from my cough drop trees.

Buttermilk Pancakes

Usually, during the week, I have to drop Kyra off at preschool at 8:15 a.m. - and so even on my days I don't have to go to work, we are up and rush-rush-rushing around in the morning. But, today, preschool was canceled due to foggy driving conditions... and so, standing there in the kitchen, I looked around, and realized, my god, we actually have time on our hands today. We can wear our pajamas until noon and leisurely go about our morning simply going about our morning!

This is rare.

And you see, it's little things in life like this that just make me downright giddy. This is what it's all about. And so, I opened up the refrigerator. And there it was. A leftover pint of buttermilk from a recipe I made last Sunday. A ha. Today, we shall have real, home made, buttermilk pancakes. I've never made them before, but today, we've got all the time in the world. Bliss!

No need for a super-speed breakfast of rice crispies and yogurt today... No, no, no. I am going to make a real breakfast. We are going to feed our souls.

Now, this simple thought process about a warm, fuzzy, leisurely breakfast leads me to ponder a few things. Do other normal people crave cooking things from scratch and "feeding their souls" like I do? Have I truly gone batty? It seems that many of my friends and moms my age claim they hate to cook; that it's a waste of time. Am I the only one left on this planet that things there is something therapeutic about getting out the kitchen aid mixer, hauling the flour and baking soda from the back of the pantry, cracking some nice brown eggs and goin' to town? Am I alone in my craving to slow the hell down once in a while, and on a cold, snowy, wintry Michigan day just take the time to create something wonderful and basic in the kitchen and feed my family?

Call me crazy, I guess. You wouldn't be the first!

And so we did it. The little munchkins wanted to be part of the project, so we proceeded to fight over counter space and who was going to pour what... and the magic began happening.

I bent over to get a mixing bowl out of a lower cabinet, and Niko, who was standing at the counter, dropped a pancake-mix-laden spatula on my head... Kyra fell off her step-stool and cried... Niko fell off HIS step stool and cried... both kids have colds, so while I cooked the pancakes and yelled "GODDAMMIT, I SAID KEEP YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM THE STOVETOP!!!", I'd wipe their little snotty noses as they cried more and coughed...

... and finally, the pancakes were done. They were PERFECT! We sat down to the table, topped them with butter, blueberry-maple syrup, and sliced bananas. I carefully cut up Niko's whole pancake into baby bite-size pieces, and we were ready to begin!

I took a bite. Better than sex, I tell you. The best damn pancake I've ever had. "Oooooooh, Kyra and Niko! These are so fabulous!!!!" I said, looking from one child to another, waiting for them to experience the orgasm of the mouth that I had.

Niko threw his fork on the floor and said "No no no no no!", picked up a handful of mapley-blueberry-buttery-bite-sized pieces of better-than-sex and also threw them on the floor.

Kyra coughed all over her food, wiped her snot on the back of her hand, and said, "I want yogurt."

So, we sat there, in our snot-smeared pajamas, Kyra eating her yogurt, Niko pitching his food across the room, and me, moaning in therapeutic bliss.

Life is good.

Motherhood makes me do strange things.

Did I mention Niko has the most adorable little curls in the back of his head? And that he is allergic to cats and dogs and dust mites? I cannot cut his hair. I cannot.

I hope you like my new look. I decided it was time for an update.