We watch a fair amount of television here. Not huge enormous amounts, but definitely more than we should. As such, I hear quite alot of the shows. (What?? You think I watch these shows??) So, here are the shows I like, the ones I tolerate, and the ones I can't stand.
PBS shows that I like: Between the Lions, Arthur
PBS shows that I tolerate: JayJay, Clifford,
PBS shows I hate: Barney, Caillou, DragonTales
Nickelodeon/Noggin that I like: Miffy, Max and Ruby, Rubbadubbers, Blue's Clues, LazyTown, Little Bill, Oswald
N/N that I can't stand: Dora, SpongeBob, Fairly Oddparents, Rocket Power
N/N that I can deal with, in order to get something done: Franklin, Little Bear, Oobi
Disney I like: Bear in the Big Blue House, Stanley, Rollie Polie Olie, Koala Brothers, The Wiggles, PB&J Otter, Kim Possible, Lizzie McGuire, That's so Raven, Even Stevens
Disney Yuck: Recess, Lilo & Stitch, , Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Sister Sister
We don't watch all of those in one day - more like over the course of a week. What about you - what do you like?
What do you think I look like? No fair - if you already know me in real life, or you've seen my picture, you can't participate. But, if you don't know me, what would you speculate I look like? I'll post a picture if a few days, I'm just curious.
When I had my second child, I fell into the grips of a major depression. I was completely unprepared for the depths of the darkness. I gave birth to her on Dec 22, came home to a house full of company on Dec 24, and the day after Christmas everyone was gone. I was left with this baby, who cried allllllll the time. She would cry from 6 at night until 11 or 12. My first child would go to sleep listening to her wail. She'd cry all day, hardly sleeping. When we found, at 3 months, that if I kept away from all dairy, she wasn't so crabby, I felt like I had struck gold. It took until she was 6 months, though, to really bond with her. To feel like I liked her, and find the joy in her little face. In order to avoid this, wtih child #5 and #6, I took Zoloft. I'm still taking it. I went off it for a while, and found that I was losing my mind, and was about to go postal on someone. A consult with my wonderful midwife, and I was back on. I don't know if I'll go off it anytime soon, and I'm not in a hurry. I don't like to be mean and grumpy, and upset. My family deserves better.
In the past week, it seems that depression has come over the blog world in a big way. Natalie, Heather and Melissa are all strong, independent women, with great writing and wonderful wit. All three are having difficulty at this time. My prayers go out to them, and all who suffer from the blackness.
It truly sucks, and it's nowhere that I want to be ever again.
The need for glasses
If you remember, last week I had an appointment for G, for his eyes. He has been having migraines. We went to the super cool pediatric optometrist. What a good idea that turned out to be! We went back into the room. The first part of the exam was not fun for him- it was that stupid glaucoma test,where they puff air into your eyes. I had promised him beforehand that the eye exam would not hurt, and he wasn't buying that the glaucoma test wasn't painful. And it's not - I have to do it every year. It's just annoying. The nurse was good, though, and we made it through. She took a health history and had G do some preliminary testing. He passed all of that - the depth perception stuff and some other tests that I don't know the function of. The doctor came in and began the test, and after about two minutes, it was clear to me that he wasn't able to see. I almost started to cry - I was that upset. The doctor was great, though - every incorrect answer was met with "Wow! You are so smart!" He misidentified duck outlines as horses, the letter V as a Y, the cake outline as a letter. I had no idea that he couldn't see. The doctor really made him feel good, though, not like he was doing anything wrong. He called for another doctor, and they decided that his eyes needed to be dialated. It was too hard to get a correct prescription, since his eyes were hyperfocusing, in order to see. So, the nurse put in the drops - the one true freak out that he had. It was good, though, because it was a spray mist, and it didn't hurt or burn. we waited for 20 minutes, and then went back to see the other doctor - a younger woman, who heads the practice. She was able to get a good look at the backs of his eyes, and gave him his prescription - +2.5. Everyone there was great. It was a good experience, one I'd repeat again in a minute.
We ordered the glasses, he got them today, and proclaims that now he can SEE!
His picture is below!
The Smug Mom
I've written about this before, so if I repeat myself, forgive me. I've been reading some stuff and had some conversations that have made some thoughts crystallize in my head. If you are already tired of reading my repetition, just move on. Go read someone else's incredibly funny stuff. Like Jenny, or Genuine, or Jenn. Or Alana's thought provoking writing. Or Getupgrrl's sad story. I'm being boring today. But it's my blog, and I can do that.
When I had my first child, I was a know it all. God, was I ever. I must have been hell to be around. I've run into some people lately, who make me think of myself 12 years ago. Those who think if you have the perfect birth, breastfeed on demand for the right amount of time, homeschool, never ever raise your voice or spank, never watch TV, use only organic foods, never visit a fast food place, that it will all work out perfectly. And it's really such a crap shoot. Now, don't get me wrong. I am a huge proponet of breastfeeding - all of my kids, as I've said before, have nursed for various (long) lengths of time. My kids wear cloth diapers, but my daughter wears disposable goodnites, cuz I'm sick to death of changing the bedding. We don't do organic food, because we already spend over $1000 a month in food - organic would mean we'd need to live in our van. I'm really tired of hearing moms who have the answers to everything, and I guess that's my payback for being one of those moms. If only I fed them organically, they wouldn't have asthma. If only I'd
use a babysitter, they'd never have separation anxiety. If only, if only, if only.
I've also discovered that my kids are my favorite kids, but not everyone else's. The very traits that piss me off in other peoples kids, most likely endear them to their families. I used to get so annoyed, watching other kids at the playground. How come those mother's couldn't SEE what the kids were doing? Now, I know, most likely that those moms could see, and it wasn't annoying to them. They were probably just enjoying a few minutes of peace. The kid that annoys the crap out of me when he comes to my house, is probably my kid at someone else's house. Scratch that - is most likely my kid at someone else's house. The child that I find so loveable and cute, is the one that sends another parent screaming into the streets.
It used to be, when I was new to parenting, that I would see certain traits in a particular kid, or in their parent, and get very annoyed with them. I'd try to isolate my child from that other child, in order to keep him from learning whatever the offense happened to be. How vain I was. How obnoxious. Language, nose picking, spitting, whatever. You can't isolate them forever, and you can't keep them innocent and perfect. All you can do is teach them, and hope for the best. And insist that they don't do it around you.
Gaah. I had some really good thoughts, and they are just gone. Vanished into thin air.
My favorite time of the week is when the Hubster is home. My very favorite part of that day is my shower time. I can shower alone. I don't have anyone under 4 feet tall trying to climb in. I can listen to music, and not listen for crashes.
This morning's shower went something like this:
I turned on the water, stripped down and got in. I reached over, and turned the radio to my favorite station. Oh good, it's the dj that I like - he's back from his vacation. What was that crash? Never mind, I'm not on duty right now. I grabbed the shampoo, noticing that the bottle was almost empty, and making a mental note to replace both my shampoo and the Hubster's. Another crash, and a shout from outside the door - I'm not listening. I wash my face, and apply the burt's bees citrus scrub. Thank God it's 100% food based, as I miss my cheek and it goes into my mouth. Hmm, I wonder if I could survive on this if I was stranded on an island? Another crash, this one so loud that the shower door rattles. I practice my lamaze breathing. A few swipes with the razor, and then it's time to get out. But, it's a really good song, and I'm not on kid duty now, so maybe I'll just stay in - but, I need to do something. I can't just stand here - the Queen of multitasking can't just stand still and breath! Hmm, I know. I'll clean the shower doors and walls. They don't look very dirty, but I can just clean anyway. Kind of proactive cleaning, if you will. Whoa. When you get down close to the tile, these suckers are filthy. I must really need those contact lenses, if I didn't see all of this. I scrub the tiles, hard enough to work up a sweat, but they are still dirty. Well, I can't see it, if I don't have my contact lenses. I make a mental note to never shower with vision correction. Yet another crash, and as I notice that the walls are shaking, I decide I've done enough for one day.
So much for relaxation. It lasted 6 minutes, but without the Hubster, it would have been two minutes. I guess I'll take what I can get, eh?
It being the second to last Sunday before the kids go back to school (!!), and the Hubster having to work, I thought that I'd be nice to my kids and take them to the movies. We've got a theater here that is pretty nice - there are big cushy chairs and tables, and you can order meals. We went to see The Princess Diaries 2.
Whoa. What an idiot I am. We went into the theater, and we were there early. I wanted to sit in a certain section, in the back on the left. The back of the theater is the only place with a bar, and it is perfect for my family. I can sit all five kids there in chairs, facing the screen, and I can sit behind them with the baby, at a table. It works really well - although it is a bit expensive, it's well worth it to me. They don't have to turn to eat, and that one section is a bit higher than the others, so it's just good all around.
Stupid, stupid me. WHY in the world would I ever take kids under, oh, say, age 7 to the movies? I timed it really well, too - Riley went to sleep on the way there, and I planned to bring her in the sling, and also bring the stroller. I'd lay her down in the stroller after we got inside and settled, and that way she could sleep and I could relax. What an idiot I am. I never bothered to check with Riley to see if this was a good plan. She was deeply asleep when we went in, and I thought that it would work. I planned to sit in the chair, put my feet up, and maybe have a milkshake and just chill. Nope. Not to be. She woke up as I tried to lay her down, and that was it. She was wide awake, and curious about this strange place. No sitting in the stroller for her - no sir, she wanted to be UP! The pizza came, the drinks were poured, the movie started. The big kids were enthralled. Emma and Gabe, not so. They thought that the spinning chairs were great fun, and they wanted to try out each one in our section. Up and down - "Shh! Come back here! Sit and eat your pizza. Sorry, miss, I'm sorry that you tripped over my son." The two of them decided to roam the section that we were in - the only saving grace was that the theater wasn't full, so we were the only ones in our section. Riley has recently found her voice, so she babbled and shrieked her version of the soundtrack. Over and over and over. The last thirty minutes of the movie passed in a blur. It was an aerobic event. I was up, I was down. Out the door for a "chat", back in. Out the door for the potty, back in. Wipe up the spilled soda, hand out napkins, divy up my fries, just to keep them quiet for a few minutes. The sweat ran freely.
We returned home, and I let them loose to run the house. I cleaned rooms, vacuumed and swept, and did laundry. Dinner passed, and it was bath time. The baby was first, and I noticed that there were a few stray cheerio pieces in the water when I took her out. Not a big deal - if it was my first or second kid, I probably would have emptied the water and cleaned the tub, but I'm not about to do that now. I put Gabe and Emma in the tub, and took Riley to dress her. Within, oh, about ten seconds, Gabe was calling, "Mom! There's poop in this tub!" "No, it's just a couple of cheerios. It's not a big deal." He kept calling and calling, and I finally went in. To discover that there were still a couple of small cheerio pieces, with about fifteen companion pieces of poop. Emma looked up, with a bright shiny face, and said "Look! I do poop! Good girl!"
Gag. Ick. I called in the reinforcements - the big kids were each given a littler one, to take upstairs and shower. I took the toys out, grabbed the bleach, and started scrubbing, as I tried to figure out what exactly I was doing. Do you think I could join the convent?