Gift Bag

Look out folks, I'm gettin' creative over here. Better sound the alarms... Martha has some competition...

But, seriously, take a look:

To celebrate one of my colleague's birthday I decided I'd make her some treats, and rather than settle for the gift bag de rigueur, I wanted something different.

I stepped outside 'the bag.'

And came up with the idea to use a trick-or-treat pumpkin ($2.49--roughly the same price as a paper decorative bag). I thought it would be cute, and that my friend could reuse it (as in, probably give it to her 6 year old.)

What, might you ask, do you put into a jack-o-lantern gift bag? Well, you put these into it:

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip cookies, of course!

Roughin' it

Our hot water heater took a nose dive. In fact, it doesn't actually heat water anymore. Does that make the 'hot water heater' part a moot point?

Some time on Saturday our water heater ceased heating water. Too bad we didn't actually notice this wee factoid until Sunday morning. 6:30am, is, in fact, when I did notice that we had a substantial lack of hot water--we didn't even have tepid water. So, I told B.J. and he decided it wasn't heating due to a (likely) blown circuit breaker. He reset it. I chilled out and got my morning caffeine fix (if coffee could be given intravenously, I'd sign up...).

After an hour or so, what would have reasonably been long enough for said water heater to begin heating water, I tried to shower. Again. And, again, no hot water. This was a major drag, and a slight inconvenience to our morning. Given that by this point in time it was 8:00am, and we were slated to leave by 8:30am, to go visit family in another city, it necessitated a hasty (and unsatisfactory) baby-wipe-bath and sticking my head under the freezing cold tap to do something with the mass on the top of my head that greatly resembled a rooster's comb.

B.J. decided (reasonably) to reset the circuit breaker (again) and reset the circuit directly on the hot water heater. We figured that by the time we returned from our trip, some time that evening, we would once again be a part of the western world with hot running water.

WRONG!

Too bad we didn't realize it until 9:30pm Sunday evening--we still had a non-working hot water heater. Too late in the evening to actually work on fixing it/get parts. What that meant is that I got to (oh joy) go to work without a morning shower--yet another day being filthy. At this point it has gotten a bit...um...old. When I was 18 or 19 a shower was optional--hey, I was semi-hippie, and rebelling against the system a bit. But, at this age (undisclosed, you might notice) as a working professional, I don't do mornings without a shower.

Monday comes and goes. By the end of the day the children are beginning to resemble the poor street urchins that you see on the Sally Struthers 'sponsor a child' television commercials. I decide that I can't quite send my babies into the world looking like they are in need of social services to rescue them. To accomplish a bath I have to find out how to wash them in reasonably warm water: I boiled a huge stockpot of water on the stove, slogged it (without spilling or burns--on anyone! Hallelujah!) to the kids' bathroom and dumped it into the bathtub. This produced a bath of approximately 1/2 cm. deep water. To cool it down and to give us enough to work with I ran cold water into the tub, to make it about 2" deep.

I have a whole new appreciation for my great-great-grandmother and the womenfolk before her. What a chore to boil water to have a warm bath. It is no wonder why our ancestors only bathed monthly (and semi-annually before that). I also have a bigger appreciation of the differences between the classes--the upper classes could afford to have servants who would boil and slog up hills, stairs, and who-knows-where-else to provide a hot bath for their employers. What a thankless task that must have been, for very little return. I'm, again, grateful that I was born where and when I was born.

Tuesday arrives with all of its unshowered, ripening, hate-to-stick-my-head-in-the-cold-water ugly rainy day glory. I get to be present and accounted for at my place of employment, with only a sponge bath and some (very expensive) perfume to (hopefully) disguise any of my not-next-to-godliness (you know, like the old proverb: Cleanliness is next to...). B.J. takes the day off of work to solve our hot water woes.

In the end, it turns out that it is a simple and inexpensive fix. Yay!! B.J. brainstorms with the guys at George Morlan Plumbing and with my Dad (Mr. Fix-it of the universe--this man can fix it, build it, design it--from cars to appliances to building houses (which, as a matter of fact, he built the one he currently live in--by himself!!)). The end result: our hot water heater needed a $33 part (a new thermostat) and, voilà! We have hot water.

I can hardly wait until I put the kidlets to bed so that I can go and be decadent, and wallow in a super hot, turn-me-lobster-red, ultra luxurious hot water shower.

Random quote for today

So, I was at my father-in-law's birthday party last night, talking with my sister-in-law, J., and she says to me:

J: So, I asked Peanut if she was going to school right now.
Me: Yea. So, what did she tell you?
J: She said "I don't go to school. I'm going to CHURCH!"

Poor Peanut, she still doesn't have any concept of time or the days of the week. This was so hilarious to me simply because Peanut had asked if today (Sunday) she was going to 'my school' and I told her that, no, today wasn't a school day, but that we were going to church. Her response to J. made it sound like she doesn't ever go go school, but only goes to church 6-10 times a week, like some weird cult...

Gotta love kids. Bill Cosby definitely had it right: Kids do say the darnedest things...

Date Night

Last night was date night. Whoo-hoo! Let the good times roll.

I am so grateful to Easter Seals because the wonderful therapists and volunteers over there who put on a once a month "Parents Night Out" event. This event is specifically designed for parents of special needs children who, after parenting at the 'above-and-beyond' level needed for atypical children, are in dire need of some respite.

And, respite it is.

We feel safe leaving our kiddos because everyone at PNO has had a criminal background check, and most are the people and therapists who work with our special needs kiddos on a daily basis. In short, they know how to care for 'high needs' children, and we, as parents, can breathe a sigh of relief because should our children 'wig-out' or 'melt-down' the PNO staff can handle it.

So, with the weight off of our shoulders for the evening, we headed out for some much needed R & R.

Being 'single' is a strange sensation. At first, we feel disoriented, and uncertain of what to do ('You mean, I don't have anyone to strap into their car seat? I can, once again, get in and out of my car by unbuckling my seat belt and shutting the door before walking away, with nothing else to worry about? Bizarre...). Once this sensation of being 'lost' wears off, a certain giddiness sets in: We can do whatever we want, for 3.5 whole hours!! Now what?

We started out our evening by visiting various Tattoo establishments here, in our fair hamlet. The variety of shops and varying levels of how hygienic those shops are, always amazes me.

B.J. and I both have one (me) or more (B.J.) Tattoos. I, personally, love them. They require utter devotion to the art and a 100% commitment on the part of the tattoo-er and the tattoo-ee. Currently, I'm in the market for a few (yes, plural) 'tats'.

The tattoo I have now is of the "Scabious Fairy"; originally drawn in 1923, by the botanical artist Cicely Mary Barker. I was 'inked' with my little fairy when I was 18. I still love her. She, to me, has become my personal icon of The Peanut. I intend to have her name written below the fairy on my back. And, since I have two kiddos, I can't possibly have one tattoo of one of my children without a corresponding tattoo for the other (Chub-chub). Hence, I'm going to have another Flower Fairy, a boy riding on a dragonfly, tattooed on me to be my personal icon of the Chubber, complete with his name below it. Fair is fair. This is just the first tattoo I want to add to my living canvas.

The next 'series' of tattoos I want to get is for more aesthetic reasons. In a nutshell, I had some moles removed from my back (they required 5 and 8 stitches to close the wounds, respectively). They left some BIG ugly scars (looks like I was attacked with a hole punch) that became keloid. They're just ugly, and I'm very self conscious about them .

My choices to 'fix' my scars are: 1. go to the plastic surgeon, shell out beacoup bucks, still wind up with scars (albeit, if all goes well, much smaller and less freaky looking), 2. go and get a cover-up tattoo (yet another 'scar' if you will, but of the artistic variety). The tattoos won't be cheap, either, but they'll hide the scars and I like tattoos--a lot.

We found a few ideas on our 'rounds' however I believe that I have not, to date, found a tattoo artist I would trust to permanently mark me in my home town. I will go back to the original artist who did my Tattoo and the one who did a part of B.J.'s tattoo (cool story--I was the one who sketched the art to go around an Orca on his back, and he liked it enough he had it tattooed around the orca...amazing what happens when you're doodling on a cocktail napkin!).

That 'chore' out of the way, B.J. and I enjoyed a relaxing evening of cruising around, sharing a piece of pie at Marie Callendar's, and perusing books--in PEACE!--at Borders. Things that we once did and totally took for granted, before we had kids.

PNO gave us a much need recharge, and we had the chance to reconnect, as husband and wife. What a great date night. We're looking forward to the October 12 PNO.

Thanks to all the folks at Easter Seals, for making it all possible. You folks are a blessing--more than you probably even know.

Fat Chick on a Mission

Whew!

Life has finally started (started, I said, not is) to find a rhythm, and I'm beginning to be able to navigate the ebb and flow of being a working mother again.

Work: doing good.

Finally mastering some aspects of my day, and beginning to build some confidence with our new S.F.A. curriculum. (gasping for breath here, like I ran 1/2 a block or something...). My boss and team leader keep popping into my work space while I'm inspiring and moulding young minds during said new curriculum delivery, and they are smiling and nodding their heads "yes." They're doing this--a lot. (They seem to think what they're seeing is exceptional or something--little do they know...). They want to video tape me doing my deed, and I resolutely refuse to have any sort of image recording device, of any kind, near me.

Uh, uh. No way, Jose.


The 'powers that be' (as I warmly refer to them) want to tape me to show what I do to others. Like I'm some sort of role model.

Eew. I don't think so. Don't put me on a pedestal; I'm afraid of heights.

For starters, the day they would tape me would be the day that Chicken Little's prophecy comes true, and it all comes crashing down. In my room. Loudly. Furthermore, it will also be the day that I model the most inappropriate, developmentally 'wrong' methodology (Murphy, is, after all a distant cousin of mine...or should be if he isn't). And, to put the icing on the cake: NOBODY is gonna wanna see my fat patootie on camera--very LEAST of all, ME!


So, that brings me to my mission: To stop being a 'Fat Chick'.

I am going to reshape my body.

Notice how I didn't say 'I want to' or 'I'm going to try to...' I AM going to get into shape. (Yes, yes, I do know round is a shape. But, let's face it, I've "been there, done that" for entirely too long).

Notice that I also didn't say (in a whiny voice), "I'm going to go on a diet." The word 'diet' is, to be cliche, just another four-letter word. I don't like to use profanity on my blog, so I won't.

I'm starting small. I'm being conscious of what, and more importantly when and how much I eat daily. And I'm making a fantastic effort toward a 30 minute walk (or other sustained activity) every day. So far: I'm doing a brilliant job of it.

I need to take better care of me. If I don't do it, nobody else will. I want to be in better health for many reasons, but the most prominent right now is so that I can finally quit feeling so much shame about how I look when I: see myself in the mirror, see myself in a current photograph, or, (God forbid) on video. I want to look at myself (in any format) and think to myself "I'm not a 'perfect size 6' but I'm good enough for me".

I think that is a reasonable request. One I intend to fulfill. One little step at a time (pun intended) and one day, and probably one minute (depending on the day) at a time.

I've been fat long enough.

It is time to try out the world in a new form, and shed the 'cocoon'.

Overheard at the Playground

Today a friend of mine and I took our kiddos to the playground to get some fresh air and burn off a little energy. While the kids were playing we heard my friend's 5 year-old son say:

(to kids he was running with)

"This is my girlfriend. I call her Peanut. But her name is ____."

This was just so stinkin' cute. I laughed so hard that tears came out of my eyes.

Like the old Visa commercials: Priceless.

...another day older and deeper in debt, St.Peter dontcha call me 'cause I can't go, I owe my soul to the company store

Second week back to work. It is only a 4 day week, and I'm only 3 days 'in'. I feel like this week is draaaaaaaging on and on and on...

Did you ever see the Tom Hanks movie Joe Versus The Volcano ? Today, after my super long day, I feel like he did-- complete with my own little 'brain cloud.' Ugh.

More to come later.