Oh look, Ching looks like a hero and I look like a tree killer.

Happy Holidays from the Wangs!  There is nothing like the insanity of Christmas to truly appreciate a very quiet New Year.  The insanity included plenty of holiday faux pas that probably scarred my children right into 2013.

1.  That stupid elf burned me again.  I got up to December 23 without "Mike".  But he was found by the genius Nana of Maine.
Mom:  Jude, look what I found?  He was packed up right on the shelf.  How ironic...perhaps he could join us?
JCW:  Oh shit...Great...hope you are not looking for more drinky drink.
In the two days that I was supposed to "place" him, I forgot both times.  I also let Rachel hold him.
LAW:  "Mom, you're not letting Rachel hold him are you?"
JCW:  "Um, no..."  As I swat that creepy elf out of Rachel's hand.
RJW:  Now, crying...
LAW:  He isn't supposed to be touched...he is Magic...Magic Mike.
JCW:  This isn't Magic Mike...that's for sure.

2.  The facade of Santa Claus--really, Laurel?  You still believe?  Hasn't that little shit at school ruined for you yet?  If her friend didn't, I probably will.
JCW:  "Laurel, I am so glad you liked all the gifts you got.  Mom and Dad (mainly Mom) worked very hard picking them out and wrapping them."
LAW:  "I thought Santa brought some of my gifts."  Her eyes shifting left then right.
JCW:  "Oh...of course.  Yeah, that's what I meant."
LAW:  "I like how you and Santa use the same paper."
JCW:  "Yeah, we share...hey Laurel, want a cookie?"  Thanks Santa for letting me lie to my kid and them distract with sugar.

3.  Never take down a fake tree in front of your kids.  (My kids) acted like I was dismembering a body.  (First of all, the Wangs are a fake tree family.  Judge if you must...every season, I am saving a tree from being cut.  I couldn't even type that without rolling my eyes.  It is a fiscally responsible.  For three Christmases, we avoided paying $75 for a good, real tree by owning a tree that cost $250 back in 2010.  Christmas 2013, we will be in the black--Christmas joy for everyone!)  Laurel and Rachel know that the tree is kept in parts, in a box, in the basement.  But seeing me yank the top, middle and bottom really threw them for a loop like I was killing the tree.  I waited until Ching took them out for something fun so they didn't see me woman-handle the branches back into their upright position while at the same time jamming them in the box.  Oh look, Ching looks like a hero and I look like a tree killer.

Not a stellar job on my part...but it's done.  For those who felt like you conquered like the season like a champ, Laurel would like to let you know that only 359 days until Christmas 2013.

Sparse chest hair is exposed and I am kind of grossed out.

During the every evening event of changing clothes...this happened tonight:

CCW:  How was your day?  Probably pretty dead, right?
JCW:  Yeah, I guess.  It was kind of dead on the phones but I had work to do.  I was pretty busy.  And I have a headache.
CCW:  Well, something happened to me today.
(I look at Ching, trying not to have those skeptical, yelling eyes.  But I am focused on the zipper...the zipper on his pullover.  Recently Ching bought this grey pullover from Brooks Brothers...I was there when he purchased it.  I thought he would wear a t-shirt under the pullover.  He doesn't and the zipper seems to be very low.  Sparse chest hair is exposed and I am kind of grossed out.  I remind myself that this is why I drink.)
JCW:  What happened?
CCW:  Well I got a massage at that Asian place next to the place where you get your nails done....
(Wait a freakin' minute...First of all...I don't get my nails done.  I get pedicures every five weeks during the summer...that's it.  And are you kidding me?  A massage?  I thought you were working from home??)
CCW:  This brute of a Chinese woman came in and beat the shit out of me.
(I can't help but giggle at this.)
JCW:  Didn't you tell her to lighten up?
CCW:  Yeah..but she seemed to ignore it.  I asked her twice.
JCW:  Ching did you think about speaking Chinese to her?  You know, the other language that you supposedly know?  Don't you know the word for lighter?
CCW:  I thought I did.  I am very sore.  Really sore...
(Holy Christ on Crutches, are you kidding me?  Are you looking for sympathy?  You just told me that you weren't really working from home.  Got a massage as I was at work...really working and then, after work, shopped for stocking stuffers at Target and went to Trader Joe's for Christmas apps that I will pass off as homemade.)

Ching leaves the room, kind of limping.  I so need to stop by this spa and give this woman a big tip.

Pre-holiday meltdown...not me, but Laurel.

Oh, it's that time of year.  Christmas decorations up, holiday cards out and counting down the days until Holiday break.  This morning it happens...just like clock work.  Pre-holiday meltdown...not me, but Laurel.

I have seen this before.  The catalyst could be anything...soggy cereal, an outfit that isn't right or undies/socks that are wonky.   This morning it was a sewing project that she couldn't do on her own.  Laurel has trying to be so good.  (To get on the nice list.)  But she is also incredibly tired and needs a break from school.  The anticipation of the holiday is also stretching her to the limit.  And then this morning it happens:

JCW:  C'mon Laurel, we need to brush teeth and hair.
LAW:  I don't want to...and I can't do the sewing...
JCW:  (Stupidly ignoring her new sewing project) You know Laurel, Santa watches these moments...I really need cooperation.
LAW:  (Dissolving into tears...)  I just know I am on the naughty list.
JCW:  (Oh crap...)

Are you kidding me? I can't even leverage Santa? And then I cave...I, then, tell her that I know, guarantee that you are not on the naughty list.

Honestly, I try to smooth it over but Ching is doing drop off for both girls.  I did my duty...I made their lunches, outfits out, breakfast, etc.  I have to get to "a meeting."  Best of luck to you CCW.

Dude, how fun was that to be silly during a time when usually I am rushing, rushing, rushing and have a stick up my butt?

So last night opened my Pandora's box.  What do I want for Christmas?  Today, I made a list for Ching...some items are pipe dreams but some could be gifts in 2013.

1.  We need more "toilets in the cul-de-sac" moments!  Dude, how fun was that to be silly during a time when usually I am rushing, rushing, rushing and have a stick up my butt? (If you have no idea what I am talking about...please refer to post 12/14)  With the old pots out for trash pick up, I truly treasured seeing the girls laugh in our silliness.

2.  Laurel needs to agree to hot lunch.  I can't make the same lunch that I have been making everyday at 6 am since 2009.  I swear the school could get her to eat more food than I pack for her everyday.  (All those utensil-free foods---squeeze applesauce, squeeze yogurt, etc.  It's like she quits hand eye coordination at lunch.)

3.  I want all the clocks in the car smashed in. There is no reason for me to stare constantly at the clocks during the commute.  Christ...I don't get there any faster.  Tick, God damn, tick...

4.  Rachel!  Please, please, please...I can't take the diapers any longer.  I want her to go on the potty.  Her poops are killing me!  What does she eat?  I don't think I have a sense of smell anymore.  Perhaps this wish should have been number 2.

5.  Please give me serenity in the morning.  I don't know why I get so worked up during our morning routine.  We will get there...we always do.

6.  Lastly, I want you all to be safe all the time.  I never want to worry when all of you leave in the car (with you driving).  I never want to worry when I say good bye during drop off.  But I also don't want you to be too cautious.  Just a permanent, imaginary safety net as any of you jump off of any object without abandon (just like Rachel).

Too much to ask?

My London Fog that I purchased on Overstock.com suits me just fine

Recently, I saw an e-mail from Pamela to Ching. The e-mail was up, on the screen.  Pamela works with Ching.  She is his go to for gift giving advice.  While her suggestions are very nice and very pricey, they are not me The e-mail suggests getting me a Longchamp bag (no clue), a North Face rain coat (no, my London Fog that I purchased on Overstock.com suits me just fine) or Tory Burch flats (I have those and they are so uncomfortable).

I do approach Ching and tell him that I saw the e-mail.  Whatever--his mistake.  While he is exasperated that I am nixing his "ideas", I don't want it sitting in my closet unused.  (Like the Tory Burch make-up bag of 2011..assuming a suggestion from Pamela.)

CCW:  What would you like?
JCW:   I just want to update my clothes.  (Girls, my wardrobe sucks.  Ill fitting, old...one of my favorite wool suits is turning on me.  The waistband of the pants are steadily inching up to my boobs.  Yup, I am wearing mom-pants.)  Ching, just a line item (on the spreadsheet is just fine.)
CCW:  How am I supposed to wrap that under the tree?

He doesn't have to worry about gifts under the tree for me.  The gifts on Christmas Day are about the girls, not us.  I just want to be home, with my family sitting warmly around the tree.

The gifts are modest this year.  (Mainly) Laurel and Rachel didn't ask for much so I didn't offer more.  It is about the big bow...the big bow is easy on small gifts.  And my gift is watching them tear off the paper, demand batteries and squeal with delight.  Longchamp?  North Face?  Can't compare.

This one exposed a nerve and, with shame, turned me into an asshole.

Today I went to work, wearing one brown trouser sock and one black trouser sock.  (I didn't notice until I got home.)  I was told that my knowledge base (at the job that I am doing) ranks 7th on a team of seven.  I bought a panini in the cafeteria...half way in, I bit into a piece of plastic.  Focus!  I come home to my girls, healthy, happy and looking for another snack.

The tragedy that happened in Connecticut has affected more than I expected.  With embarrassment, I am numb to most school shootings.  This one exposed a nerve and, with shame, turned me into an asshole.  I am walking around sullen and closed off to anyone.  I also want to point blame.  But this solves absolutely nothing.

• No...I don't know what the shooter's mom went through prior to December 14th.  I shouldn't judge and point blame.
• No...I don't know of the personal hell that must have gone through the shooter's mind to carry this act out.
• Guns?  Not the sole issue but it is easy to place that blame and want to ban.

I have also been obsessed trying to get more information...reading facts and speculation.  Agitated, I try to find filler in People.com just to get more agitated by crap that doesn't matter at the moment.  (Kelly Clarkson got engaged.  Girl, after all those bitter boy songs you settle for a guy that gives you a ring that looks like it's from Liberace's estate collection? C'mon!)

I just want an answer.  But it will be a long time for any answers. Right now, I need to focus on six educators that remind me of past colleagues of my mom.  Each one of the 20 children look like a friend of Laurel.  I just hope they are in a good place.

I am blessed and I need to concentrate on that...even if one of the blessings, yells, "I pooped!" as we are about to sit down to dinner.

I don't want to answer her questions with "I don't know."

My intent of this entry is not to be "snarky".  I just wanted to share, as a mother, what I was thinking when I went to get Laurel on Friday afternoon...December, 14, 2012.

I can't even feel the steering wheel of my car.  I think I am a little light headed.  What am I supposed to tell Laurel?  God, I wish Ching was picking her up. 

(I wasn't intending on getting Laurel earlier than 5:30 but Rachel needed to go to the doctor, unexpectedly at 3:00.  Ching sent me an e-mail around noon,  wanting me to get Laurel right after the appointment because he wanted her close.  Prior to his e-mailed request, I had no idea what had happened in Connecticut.  As I read the initial reports, I was beyond devastated.  I knew of Sandy Hook--this community was incredibly similar to where my family lives now.  And, Connecticut...I consider Connecticut my third home, after my present state (MA) and my home state (ME).  Connecticut was a state I got my secondary education.  It was a time and a place that I would never trade.  And then the age of the children...so close to Laurel.)

How am I supposed to explain this to her?  Oh God, I hope she doesn't know all ready.  I will assume that she doesn't know.  "Laurel--some people are shitty.  It ranges for small stuff--you know those girls that don't want to include everyone?  Then there are those that are bat shit crazy where you don't know why they did what they did".

I don't want to answer her questions with "I don't know."  I don't want her to know that I never knew anything like this when I was her age.

The worse memory I had was at 8 when President Reagan was shot.  I remember thinking "Who is in charge?"  But other than that, it seemed okay.  As a child, I understood that the President was targeted because he was the President.  I wasn't (the President)...so I would be fine.  No one was out to get me.  But this young man went to an elementary school to shoot young kids.  I don't want Laurel to feel like a target.

She is startled by her shadow.  I don't want to tell her what happened in that school.  After I tell her, she will pee her pants before she will walk into the hallway alone to the school bathroom.  She will never sleep in her own bed.

I think I am getting blisters gripping the steering  wheel.  I will need to tell her.  I probably shouldn't use the word "shitty"

Post Script:  As of Saturday night, Laurel still doesn't know.  But we need to tell her because I don't want her to find out the partial truth on the playground.  Tonight we learned that the children who died were in the first grade.  I saw my husband cry for the first time.  I have never seen him cry.  Tonight, I look at Laurel and try to absorb who she is today because what we have to tell her tomorrow may change her a little bit.

I laugh, and at the same time, hope the neighbors aren't watching us.

It is odd to be grateful for two old toilets at the Wang family curb.  Recently we upgraded a couple of our toilets because the flush power was gone...and we are sick of using a plunger. We had to limit certain movements to certain toilets.  Oh God...I have a feeling that Laurel is scarred by my asking through the door, "Laurel--you aren't pooping in there are you?  That's the toilet where you pee only."  God, those therapy bills are going to suck.  I am going to be blamed for irritable bowel syndrome or something like that.

Last night, Ching and I carried the old toilets together to the curb for trash pick up.  It's amazing how heavy toilets are.  But the act of carrying a toilet, I am assuming, would make anyone giggle.  And we did.  It was nice (but, it stopped there).  I told Ching that I was going to take a picture of the toilets, post it on Facebook and title it "keeping it classy in the cul-de-sac!"
CCW:  I think the picture should be captioned with, "Are you shitting me?"
JCW:  Umm..okay.  I will think about that.  Dude, stick with the spreadsheet and I will stick with my snarky captions.
CCW:  Maybe you could take a picture of me sitting on one...in the thinking pose.
JCW:  Really?  Okay....Wow, you don't have to ask me twice.

The next morning was a typical rush of dressing, breakfast, hair and teeth brushed...but the twin toilets seem to give the morning a different mood.  At 7:35, we need to get into cars...Ching and Laurel in the blue one, Rachel and me in the black.  Typically, hustle, hustle...but we don't.  We take a picture.  The picture that I take is of Ching, sitting in that thinking position, on one of the thrones in full work attire.  I laugh, and at the same time, hope the neighbors aren't watching us.  Ching laughs and the girls do too. They immediately want to see the picture.  (Thank God for the instant gratification of digital cameras.)  This minute changed the tone of the whole morning and gave us a moment of levity.  Without waxing poetic, this is an ideal way that the day should be started.

So thank you, old toilets...while I appreciate you now, I hope to hell that the trash guys picked you up.  The Wangs don't want to be "that neighbor."

A person with experience, credibility and can do absolutely no wrong in Laurel's eyes...that's right I called my mommy for help.

Not only did I need lie to Laurel but I needed help with the lie.  I went to the best accomplice I knew.  A person with experience, credibility and can do absolutely no wrong in Laurel's eyes...that's right I called my mommy for help.

Last Tuesday, Laurel brought home what she called a pumpkin truffle.  She made it in her current Tuesday club, "Gingerbread houses".  She handed me this baggie (which looked like it contained smooshed crap).  Since she put this truffle in her backpack, it arrived home, flat as a pancake.  Laurel was insistent that it would taste the same but perhaps it may need more sugar sprinkled on it like it didn't have enough.  She, then, put the little baggie in the refrigerator.

She let it sit in the fridge for a few days.  Then, I couldn't take looking at it anymore.  I consider the fridge my domain.  Sure, it has food that everyone eats, but I stock it and clean it out.  I take pride in how the food is somewhat categorized shelf by shelf.  This baggie of pumpkin poo was ruining on my domain.  Quite frankly, I thought she forgot about it, so I tossed it.

The other night, she mentions that she is going to eat it the next night after dinner. Oh crap...pumpkin crap...now what am I going to do?  I go to the person who knows best...I go to my mom.  She seemed to understand the predicament right away and helped me jumped into a lie.  She told me to tell Laurel that the pumpkin went bad.  She said that it would be okay to say, "I asked Nana and she said that pumpkin is only good for two days.  After two days, it could make your stomach feel sick."  For good measure I added, "You remember feeling sick to your stomach a few months ago...remember that time you threw up on me?  Yeah, really gross."  That sealed the deal...she forgot about that truffle.

Now I need to figure out how to get rid of that sugar monstrosity that she calls a gingerbread house....

Since when is this God damn dinner a continental breakfast?

Have you ever been at work and just dreamed about a certain food?  (If not, just move on...and absolutely not, am I pregnant.)  This happened to me recently and I was obsessed about making the best split pea soup with ham.  I can't make it as a work day dinner...because the soup won't steep enough, so I had to wait for the weekend.  But the wait was well worth it.  During the week, I researched recipes and bought good ingredients.  (Not that spiral honey of a ham crap...just a good ham with a solid bone to make a good soup.)  I am going to make the best soup in the world.

I tell Ching what I am making for dinner on this Saturday.  While there are many a meal when I ask "what would you like" and he says "whatever", this dinner is different.  He is going to eat what I put in front of him.  This dinner is hot, homemade and delicious. (I also tell him that there will be salad and a crusty bread.)

While his dinner is served, our home is filled with aromatic goodness.  But then this happens:
L:  "Why is the soup green?"
C:  "It is called split pea soup."  His enthusiasm absolutely sucks
Laurel can't tell if we are making a gross green soup from a vegetable or using our own pee.  Whatever Laurel...obviously this is the vegetable.  Keep quiet and eat your bland spaghetti.

Then Rachel won't eat the ham.  She will eat pork chops, pork loin and spareribs, but no ham!  She just wants yogurt, fruit and that crusty bread thick with butter.  Since when is this God damn dinner a continental breakfast?

Now Laurel asks for a different fruit, the bread that Rachel has, and needs shaky cheese for her pasta.

(Oh crap...drinks!  Of course not real ones...Laurel gets juice (a veggie fruit blend) and Rachel wants milk.  I toss some ice in a glass for Ching and that 2 liter bottle of Fresca.)

I look over and Ching is INHALING his salad and not in the good way.  He is eating so fast, trying to avoid both the taste and actually having the lettuce touch his lips.

Oh God...the girls want more fruit.  I have to barter with Laurel to eat more pasta prior to more fruit.  Rachel still won't eat the ham.

JCW:  Ching, how is the soup?
CCW:  It's good.  I wasn't looking for "good".  Next, the salad will be "nice".
JCW:  And the salad?
CCW:  Jude...I finished my salad.

Laurel wants to be excused. I have to coerce her to eat more food.
Rachel, following her sister, wants to be excused.
Ching is done...he will take the girls.

And I sit down to enjoy my soup...the soup I have waited all week to eat.  It tastes great and the vegetables are perfectly cooked.  Perhaps it's needs more pepper but the best ingredient is that I am eating my soup in peace...the best ingredient of all...and a glass of wine.

(This is my blog's birthday---1 year.  I will write more later about that.  Thank you for reading.)

Dude, we are so celebrating Ching's heritage by ordering Chinese on Christmas Eve.

I have 19 days left.  I need to stretch it to the fullest...gifts, wrapping, cards, Christmas dinner, guests...Dude, we are so celebrating Ching's heritage by ordering Chinese on Christmas Eve.  We (Actually just me) are not entertaining on 12/24.  I may need a break...and a drink.

While I am trying to stretch the days, Laurel is trying to speed up the same 19 days.  Everyday she will ask how many more days until Christmas?  She just wants the time to pass quickly...as I just want Amazon to ship a hell of a lot faster.

I am trying to remember a time when I didn't want to rush through the tasks until Christmas.  The time of reflecting on what is joyous has been blurred with entertaining and making sure that I spend the same amount on each girl.

This morning I got an e-mail from someone very dear asking, "Does Ching think that the gifts, cards, stockings, gifts for teachers just come out of no where?"  Yes, this is my role.  This weekend, I will have to show Ching all the gifts we got the girls so this awkward exchange doesn't happen:
LAW:  Daddy, look what I got!
CCW:  Laurel, that's great!  Who did you get that from?
LAW:  You and Mommy.

(Yeah...Father of the Year award right next to my Mother of the Year award.)

Maybe I am just pissy because one of our twin lit reindeer--Donner and Blitzen, was laying on his side, on the lawn.  I am guessing it was Blitzen....

Christmas joy to be continued....

There are scissors in her right hand too...cookies on the left, scissors on the right.

With all the snark and obscenities that I proudly stand behind, I do believe in rules.  This is the fine line that I think makes me look normal, content...well-balanced, (even if I am snarky under my breath.)  But this morning, I was God damn busted!

My primary reason was to keep the morning pace going and to keep Rachel calm.  Okay...let's reel this mother of a story in and start from the beginning.

First of all, in the morning, Rachel will not each breakfast.  She will get changed, dressed like a dream and drink milk.  While I am finishing up my routine, she is captivated by Diego, quiet as a mouse.  But she will not eat any food!  I have tried everything..waffles, pancakes (you know it...Eggo), cereal, fruit, yogurt...nothing.  Until we are about to get into that car seat.  Rachel will then hold me captive with this kid dialogue:
JCW:  "Okay, let's get in the car seat.  Click..you know click, click, take a pic."
RJW:  "No click...pretzels."
JCW:  (This isn't a god damn bar....maybe peanuts, next?)  "We can click (take a pic) if I get pretzels?"
RJW: "Yes"..(because you are my bitch.)

So I get the pretzels to get her into the car seat.  Not only has this doubled as her breakfast but the pretzels have progressed to pita chips, Goldfish and...to cookies.

But here is the problem.  When we get to school, she will not give up the snack.  She insists on eating it in the classroom...this has gone over for several days when I know it is against the rule.  I laugh it off as Rachel, being Rachel, hoping the next morning will be different.

Yesterday, when I was at home, an e-mail went to the parents.  My e-mail went to my work address.  "Please don't have your child bring a morning snack.  While they are running around (with the snack), it poses a choking hazard.  There also is an allergy issue." (Oh nuts...literally and figuratively...)

Freak me...I didn't see the e-mail because I took the day off.
1.  Rachel has cookies at 8:00.  My justification is that this is just like a donut or sugary cereal.
2.  They are small and of, course, she is running.  (There are scissors in her right hand too...cookies on the left, scissors on the right.)
3.  (And this is the kicker..)  The cookies are Pecan Sandies...nuts, nuts everywhere.  Epi Pens ready to go.

I ripped the cookies out of her hand...Girl, it's time to go cold turkey.  Let me know how it goes...perhaps you could give me some pointers.

This is fabric of the females in our family.

Tonight, Rachel looked at me with a smile, bursting off her face.  She exclaimed with glee, "I have a head!"  Recently, I complained that I couldn't understand a lot of what she was saying.  Recently, either her verbal skills have become much better or I just finally get it.  She will make these clear, simple discoveries that even turn my cynical heart into mush.  (The normal JCW would say "no shit" but as a mother, I can't help but be excited of her discovery.)  She then goes through a list of people that have heads...Mommy (yay for me), Daddy, Laurel, Nana..etc.

I then think about how many discoveries she will have over time...Honestly, I am thinking of a time that somewhat glaze over her childhood but jumps right into pre-teen.  These discoveries may or may not have the same glee:

I have small boobs:
(JCW)--Yeah, about that...boobs aren't our thing in the family.  They tend to be small.  Not a big deal (literally and figuratively), honestly this does make buying every day shirts and blouses much easier.  As for low cut prom dresses...really? This isn't an award show, you know. Unless you are a pop teen sensation that affords your mom an early retirement, no cleavage for you!

I hate math:
Yeah, how much does it suck...um, stink?  The secret is "debating" the teacher about partial credit.  Could mean the difference between a C to a B minus.

Boys are stupid:
Honestly they are not.  Only the ones that act like douche bags.

I am funny:
I know!  How awesome is it to have a good comeback?  This is fabric of the females in our family.  You know...you have to be pretty freakin' smart to gauge a witty comeback.  Never apologize for that.

It's easy to get Daddy to buy me things...
Yeah, I have noticed that skill of you and your sister for many years.  Pretty good...Usually I have to barter a line on the spreadsheet but you girls have a gift.  Please let me know...

But, back in present day, I am very satisfied about your discovery...Yes, we all have a head.  A brain..not everyone but we will address that later.

Jesus, double Stanford grad and these are your words? You must suck at Scrabble.

Dear Marissa,
When I saw that you were appointed as the head of Yahoo, I was so happy. Then learning that you were pregnant, I was beyond proud.  Finally...while I knew you are a woman of means, I truly believed that this was your chance to pave the way for all moms in the workplace.  My expectation of you was to represent us all and to explain the reality.

Since your appointment, the stock performance has been pretty freakin' good.  Up 18%.

But today, I saw that you addressed a Power Women's Lunch.  I googled a list of Fortune's Powerful...some woman, have kissed their ovary ability goodbye and some woman, like Oprah Winfrey, never parented but are owners of dogs and a struggling network... (Yeah!  Dogs are just like kids!  Freak you!)  Were there any moms of small children in the crowd?

MM...this was your time.  These weren't shareholders.  I wasn't looking for you to start crying and go into a harsh reality of post partum.  I wasn't looking for you to justify taking two weeks of maternity leave.  Girl, that was your choice.  (After, my first kid...I wanted to go back after two weeks too...as long as I lost the weight.)  But, you didn't step up.  Really, you truly sucked.  Your description of anticipating parenting was "fun".  Your current word, of parenting, was "easy".  Jesus, double Stanford grad and these are your words?  You must suck at Scrabble.  Fun and Easy?

Ironically, I do agree with your priority...God, family, Yahoo.  When I was trying to get my newborn asleep, crying as she was crying, I prayed frequently to God for her to sleep.  I prayed to know what to do.  As I was a new mom, I thought I was prepared but really, I wasn't.  This was my family...very hard but my main responsibility.  And if I didn't know what I was doing, I usually when to Yahoo to research.

In reality you are not like most new moms.  I can't imagine the help that you must have.  Before throwing out the word easy...you may want to let the global mom know (why your perspective is easy).  Or to at least educate that snotty 24 year old that thinks that she can have it all--she has no idea the help that she needs.

Marissa, you are in such an amazing place to, not educate, but set expectations.   Did you cry with your son at 1 am because you didn't know why he was crying?  Clogged milk duct?  Pump during a conference call? Did you ever panic about not getting thank you notes out in time?

Right now, I hope you can redeem yourself.  (I don't own your stock--I could give a rip)  To me, you might as well saddled up next to Tom Cruise at a Power Dinner.  He has issues about Post Partum Depression...but then, I have issues that he may not be a man...just sayin'.

Regards,
JCW
mother of two...

As soon as that light was in my face...I was hoping for my girl, Tiny, two cells down.

I have had very little caffeinated soda in the past few days.  (Over the past couple of weeks I was consuming at least four cans daily..the first one prior to 6 in the morning...you know, just for a little kick.)  I am tired but perhaps it's because one of my kids isn't sleeping through the night.  Not Rachel...Laurel.

Laurel has kicked me out of my bed for three consecutive nights.  Apparently (I know, it's bad to doubt your own kid) but she has had bad dreams.  She wakes up and cannot go back to sleep.  (As a cynical person first, wife and mother dead last..my reaction is whatever, learn to live with the mucousy snore of your partner.  Yeah, Laurel and Rachel may not want to look forward to" the night before becoming the wife" talk.)

Getting back to Laurel...first of all, we had to stop her from bellowing, "Mommy...Daddy!" in the middle of the night. (How come I am first now when usually I am not?)
We gave her a flashlight with the hope that, even though, she is sleeping in a lit room, she can take the light and guide herself (8 feet) to our bedroom and wake us up.  It seems like a good idea to give a child a flashlight at 8:30 in the evening...but at 2:30 in the morning, it scared the shit out of me.  To see this little kid, with a light directly in my face, whispering, "Mommy"...holy crap, you might as well throw a cold bucket of water on me and put me in a women's prison.  As soon as that light was in my face...I was hoping for my girl, Tiny, two cells down.

Why does she always come to my side?  More likely than not, I am not the cool, comforting parent.

Laurel is polite (she does get that from me)  to let me know that she is there (with that freakin' light that Ching gave her).  But with one move on my part, she jumps into our bed like a freakin' spider monkey.  If she could stay in the center of our bed, that would be fine, but she clings to me like a snake looking for warmth...then starts to snore...then starts to run in her sleep.  Laurel kicks me a couple of times in the crotch.  Yeah...that's enough for me.

Over the past couple of nights, I have left my side of the bed to the guest bed in the den.

How do I stop this?  Do I try to talk (and re-live) the dream.  Should I just say no?

Not sure...I am three days into not eating bacon daily, drinking wine or soda...my judgement is a little clouded.

Ching lets me know it's on the spreadsheet...and he says it with joyous love.

After this entry, I am taking my Christmas list and logging on...it's Cyber Monday bitches!  Last Friday was holiday shopping for people who like people.  Today is the day for people who don't...totally my day.

It takes a few weeks of prep work to be ready to shop online.  You go to your targeted site, log in, purchase...and then log out.  There is no meandering.  I know who is going to get what and where I need to find it.  Of course there is always one person that gives me the most challenge. Finding a good gift for Ching is really hard.

Ching and I do not buy ourselves a lot of things.  But if we truly need something..especially if the purchase is larger, we talk about it..spreadsheet it and then buy it.  The spreadsheet makes spontaneity hard.   We tend to ask for practical and then give practical.  I do try to mix things up.  One year, Ching just wanted to buy some new shoes.  Since I try to be creative, I got a gift certificate and wrapped up an old shoe.  When I ask for practical, Ching lets me know it's on the spreadsheet...said with joyous love.

This year I am very excited because I picked on something from a few weeks ago. The girls are giving him monogrammed cuff links, something that he has asked for.  But he mentioned something a couple of times with interest.  And when I mentioned it to a few guys at work they thought it was a great idea.  That settles it---I am getting him a leaf blower!  (Like the meatloaf in entry 11/13, leaf blower is code for nothing but leaf blower.)

I am very excited!  I feel the same excitement as I did when I bought him his first Christmas gift back in 1999.  You know the first nice gift of the relationship that needs to say, "I like you but cannot go over the threshold that gives you the clingy Taylor Swift appeal".  Then come the gifts that get a little larger (and he better freakin' know that I am the one!)  Then there are years that you do simple gestures that balanced the years when jewelry was given (When I was pregnant during the holidays, I always felt justified asking for jewelry).

So if you excuse me, I am going to finish this and log onto Home Depot to get my man, Ching Wang, a good blower.

(Yes, I know that the only time that Ching may be interested of logging on and reading my blog will probably be tonight.)

Kid..I have no idea what the hell you are saying...

On a good day, I would say that I understand her 40% of the time.  During this time, she has so much pride in what she is saying and getting the right reaction from me.

But the other 60%, I absolutely have no idea what Rachel is saying.  I feel like I am talking to a non English speaking tourist thinking that their English is just fine.  I am the one with the problem.

As I would listen, typically, I would just do the polite head nod, smile warmly (as I can occasionally fake that).  This only works for so long for Rachel as she keep repeating her self, shouts and then finally, the eye roll.

Daily, her verbal skills are improving and right on track but I was spoiled with Laurel who was clear as a bell right before she turned two.  Oh course, I pushed my luck, amusing myself by asking her to say bigger and bigger words like riboflavin and literature. (Ching did it too!)  Now, our greed is biting us in the ass.  And Rachel seems to know that we are the ones who are stupid in this situation and she is taking her sweet time.

Sometimes I make up what she is saying and repeat it back to her...like it's a game and I am going to get lucky.  I also do this while trying to convince her that my words are what she should say---"No Rachel, you said you wanted a nap, not a snack."

As I listen to her quietly talking to herself,  I start to doubt my abilities.  What if she is saying something utterly brilliant?  And her brilliance is being covered up by my blathering guesses?

Currently all I can do is try my best while listening for key words or phrases.  Everyday, I am listening for "potty", "I want a hair cut/school picture!" or "Can I make you dinner?"  Okay, with that last one, I am, again, pushing my luck.

Today I was saddened by the passing of a distant oil owning drunky drunk uncle.

When I think of my formative years, I think of the 1980's.  Today I was saddened by the passing of a distant oil owning drunky drunk uncle.  Larry Hagman was not related to me but he did contribute to my small family.

I can't remember when it started but there were so many Friday nights when my mom, sister and I would watch Dallas.  Perhaps it was the excess of the era or the cheap story line, but regardless, it was cheesy entertainment that all three of us liked.. Looking back, I am happy that we sat together in a half done family room in our basement.  Maybe there was popcorn or a Ben and Jerry's pint...it was a time that I am grateful.

When I watched Dallas, as I growing girl, I had so many questions.  Why was Pam so bland and thought cool?  Why was Charlene deemed so slutty looking (when I thought most school girls wanted to look like that)?  Why was Sue Ellen a drunk when everyone else seemed to drink the same color liquor and just as much?  And most of all, with her money, why was Miss Ellie so dowdy? Come on!  You own the ranch!

I loved the glamour of the show...how JR wooed his secretaries during a time when they were called secretaries.  And I believe is wooing now is called sexual harassment.  Big hats, big boots on the men and big shoulder pads and big boobs for the women....all wrapped with the awesome overtone of 80's trumpeted score.

This show represented my pre teen years...I experimented with so many shoulder pads, rainbow eye shadow and lots of hairspray.  Thankfully, I never tried to make my boobs look bigger.

While the time is labeled the decade of excess, it was a pretty mild time.  There were no hair extensions, fake tans, or Botox?.  You didn't look at some one's nice house or car and question if they were in debt up to their eyes?  This time was so different from the excess of today...

Without getting detail of comparing the mild excess of the 1980's and the insanity of present day, I thank you Larry for playing an over the top character and giving me a nice moment with my family...that Phillip Caprice ending that we always looked forward to.  Trashy show but it's ironic what can bring a family together.

Rest in Peace Larry Hagman.

Jesus, if the alcohol isn't pickling my liver, the cola is just eating it away.

The irony is the fact that I presently call my recent persona just a shell of my former self.  In reality, the shell (of my former self) has a cushion around every nook and cranny.

Since hurting my ankle a few weeks ago, I stopped going to the gym which, of course, gave me permission to garnish each lunch with bacon like it were parsley. Then more wine flowed in the evening than should have...so much so that I wouldn't consider giving blood.  My portions were both mine and the rest of the girls' dinner.  (That leftover buttery pasta always looks good!) I am starting my day with either chocolate chip muffins or bagels with two cream cheeses.  (Have you ever noticed that the individual cream cheeses are good for 1.3 of the bagel so you have to buy two?)  And don't get me started on all the soda.  Jesus, if the alcohol isn't pickling my liver, the cola is just eating it away.

Anyway, a year ago, I lost 12 pounds and felt great.  But I knew that it could be a matter of time when I could teeter to the other side and gain that 12 back.  I think I have...again, the batteries in my scale are dead and I don't want to change them.  But on Sunday, I need to buckle down.  My changes will not be about pre-purchased meal plans, points, lap bands or diet pills.  It is about the only thing that works...portion control and common sense.  Going back to my brown bag lunch and hitting the gym (my ankle is better).  God, I am going to be cranky for awhile...

I will have a new appreciation for those Facebook photos of odd dinners--grills full of meat with a note that the side of beef dinner will be accompanied with some macaroni salad (and no mention of leafy greens).  Pictures like that usually turn me off of any food for awhile...so please keep them coming.

But in the meantime, I have given myself 36 hours for my "back to the slim JCW" way...so today, I have had 3 meals...two of them had prosciutto in them.

There are snarky thanks that cross my mind..

Every Thanksgiving I give a sincere Thank You..really.  My crusty, tired heart truly does appreciate what I have.  I am healthy...I have a healthy family that is well fed, content (for now, as Laurel hasn't reached puberty) and warm in our home. 

But being me, there are snarky thanks that cross my mind which of course I have to tell.  If I keep the snark in, it may give me a headache.

Friends--I am grateful for my friends.  I have tried harder with friendships, letting those know that I do value them.  This is new to me.  While I am in this process, I am glad that I haven't pissed any of them off yet.  Because there are a few that have pictures...you know...shenanigans.  Just JCW just being..JCW.

I have excellent childcare.  Both day to day and sporadic pick up.  All caregivers know and appreciate the quirkiness of the girls.  Last week, at Rachel's school, her antics suggested that I start a blog.  I will keep that under consideration..Jesus, imagine that.  I am ahead of the curve of this one.
I am grateful that I never altered my clothes after my 12 pound weight loss.  Recently, there have been weeks of sandwiches with bacon and free flowing white wine. Not at the same time...sandwiches at work, wine while I mother...makes perfect sense. Perhaps the 12 are back but, another thanks, I really can't confirm.  You see, my scale needs batteries that I haven't had in several weeks.

I am glad that I am 40 and don't give a fig at my wardrobe.  My clothes are fine..they serve a purpose but are not trendy.  I have other things that I need to spend my time on and I am okay with that.  Recently I heard two young people talking about accessories.  The only accessory I wanted at that time was a fork...to poke my eye out.  Years ago, clothes were at the forefront..now, not so much. And my wallet appreciates it.

I am grateful for my blog and knowing that other mothers may laugh.  I am also incredibly blessed for the support and encouragement. I sincerely thank you for reading.  I hope this holiday gives you laughter, good food and warmth.  (And don't be ashamed as you reach for more wine...)

Is it bad to want to kick another kid in the face?

Since last Thanksgiving, Laurel wished she had run...but doubted herself.  The Turkey Trot dash eluded her but she wanted it.  She also wanted the little shit (my word, not hers) to not make fun of the lagers.  Is it bad to want to kick another kid in the face?

Over the past year, Laurel saw last year's winner, Maggie, sporadically wear her winner's T. This was the prize..a simple T-shirt that said "I won the Turkey Trot."  So simple, but so few kids own this t-shirt.   In March, she mentioned the race...then June..and September.  She really wanted this race but was so afraid of failure (and that little shit..again, my word.)

So intrigued, she signed up this year as a 1st grader.  Her race would be 1st grade girls.  I did know that she was nervous about the race.  Laurel tends to worry about too many things in the future...MCAS testing in the 5th grade, homework and finding a job after college.  Unfortunately she gets that from me.  But she also acquired preparation, which I didn't know until this race happened.  According to Laurel, she told me that she wanted to do well so she frequently practiced the distance during her after school program.

But I didn't know this until after the race.  On the morning of the race, when I sent her to school with her cupcakes for the Divine Dessert Raffle, I wished her luck.  I hoped for the best and honestly, prayed against the worse.  Please, please, please..not a stray shoelace that causes her to trip and break something on her face.  And if she did come in last, I hoped she kicked the crap against anyone that laughed at her effort.

I got home and saw her wearing the T-shirt that she had wanted all year.  She won her race!  I wish I had been there as the obnoxious parent loudly cheering and doing odd 80's dance moves.  But I couldn't dwell on my absence..we jumped up and down like (I won the lottery and) Laurel was meeting Kei$ha.  My pride comes from the fact that this was an activity that she pushed to do herself.  This wasn't soccer or math where Ching needs to bribe her with a dollar for effort.  This was her..all, my Laurel.

I have not broken it to her that it doesn't always work out like this..but I let her bask in her win.  She wore her T today to school.  I am washing it so she can wear it to Nana's on Thanksgiving.  Honestly I would let her wear the shirt until it was a second skin.  But the victory dance on Facebook?  Not this time Laurel...but definitely the next.  (Laurel Wang, Winner-Turkey Trot, Girl-First Grade)

It's not ideal...but the sheet fits for now.

Tonight is a fine line between creative genius and crazy.  As I was changing the sheets on our bed, I realize that my life is like a fitted sheet.

God, fitted sheets are my nemesis.  First of all, I can't fold them.  I will jam the corners together and then push them in the back (of my linen closet).  Secondly, as I, making the bed,  try to stretch the sheet over our mattress corners.  I am hoping to get a tight finish without one corner popping out or, worse, tearing.

Jesus Jumped up Christ, this is my life.  I have four corners (roles) that I am always trying to cover:  Mother, Wife, Self, Employee.  If I don't hold each one equally tight, I won't have a square.  I will have kind of triangle with a some wonky, droopy corner.

There are two corners that dominate and two that lag behind.  (Ladies, you know.)  As a mother, my girls yell louder than a God damn trucker at an interstate stop.  My (outside) work yells just as loud.  Both roles are like two bitches in a cat fight.  I am a mother first but also trying to bring home the bacon.  Some nights, I stay late to work awy from them but other nights bring home the laptop, ignore it, to play with my best girls.

My sanity and my man take a distant second.  I value them both but I value the first two corners more.  I can fake it with Ching (c'mon, not literally) and show him that my mothering makes up for "alone time".  (Silently..yay!)

My sanity...I do what I can.  I depend on my few, close friends and then my besties from Eli Lilly.

It's not ideal...but the sheet fits for now.  Over time it may shrink but I will deal with that later...

(Thank you DC-T for the phrase.)

With my own washer/dryer, regardless the amount of loads, I use the laundry as a timeline.

Every Saturday morning I gather up the laundry and start my four loads.  Every week, four loads...I can start it Friday night or Sunday night, regardless, the four are always there as a constant.

Ching has frequently suggested that we send it out to be done.  I have enough guilt having our house cleaned every few weeks and using a landscaper for our postage stamp like lawn.  I can do my own laundry.  First of all, there is a chance I won't get all our stuff back.  Secondly, I don't want a stranger touching our undies.  This may seem like an odd fear but back in the mid-nineties, I tried doing a laundry service.  (I was sick of both hauling my stuff down a block to the laundry mat and hoarding quarters.)  I stopped doing (this service) when one pick up was light a few pairs of my undies. (At this time I was single.  My undies were a lot more expensive than they are now.) There was also a muscle tank top included in my load.  This wasn't a typical guy tank--the front had a grid of bug species.  The shirt freaked me out so much that I had to toss it--it was weird and I didn't want to think about the type of guy that would wear something like that.  So after that, I went to hoarding quarters and hoping for the day that I would have my own washer/dryer.

I believe Ching's suggestion is to quell his own guilt.  He needs to get over this guilt.  Laundry is my task that I do. You don't see me sitting down at the spreadsheet, paying bills.  Just leave me alone to my routine of the laundry.

With my own washer/dryer, regardless the amount of loads, I use the laundry as a timeline.  Sounds odd but I like the smell of a good detergent as I fold Ching's t-shirts that he wears on the weekends.  These are t-shirts that he has had back when we first were married.  These T's have little holes in the back and they are so soft.  Folding your kid's clothing is like walking on a tightrope of hoping the stain got out but also appreciating their current size.  Rachel is a girl that needs short pants and roomy top.  She loves wearing the T that says she "gets her looks from her Daddy."  Laurel just is trying to be understated, comfy and cool.

But Friday night, he caught me in an off moment...maybe I was drunk.  "Jude--I have a gift for you  Well, not so much (way to sell it CCW)..Anyway, please gather up all the laundry and I will take it tomorrow to be done. And for some reason, I agreed..

He left with with the load at 1:30 on Saturday...and came back with it at 2:15, the same Saturday.  The amount of laundry couldn't guarantee a wash and fold service until Monday morning.  Ching thought it would be ready in a couple of hours.  Good God (a clear sign that he has never done the laundry)...and for some reason, I know he is looking for praise at the attempt of the gesture. I can tell as he is looking for something as he is carrying it back in...still dirty..looking defeated and then at me.

So as I take my loads downstairs to the washer/dryer, Ching faintly says he will fold them and put it away.

No he won't...and I don't think he will touch my Saturday routine again.  These clothes...well, my family is getting older...and it's mine.. Back away!

Not "how do you become?" but "but how do you know?"

So last night as I am helping Laurel in the shower..she asks me the question.  First of all, I do want to tell you the mother skill that I currently have:  I have to help Laurel in the shower but I can't look at her body because she wants privacy.  I understand..I try to comply while I make sure that the shampoo is completely rinsed but see nothing else.  But I still can't help but sneak a peak to see if her tan line is gone.  It's not and it's November.  Rachel is going to be so pissed when she realizes that she won't tan (even with sunblock) like her sister.

Anyway..sorry..digressing..as I am drying her off (and not looking), she asks me this:
"How do you know that you are pregnant?"
My mind screeches to a halt.  Not "how do you become?" but "but how do you know?"  It is freaking the shit out of me now..God forbid if I hear this ten years from now.

Where am I supposed to begin?  Menstruation..eggs..intercourse?  C'mon!  I wasn't prepared for this at 7:55 after staying at work until 7:00.  I thought this was going to happen on a nice Saturday afternoon, curled up on the couch with some hot chocolate.  I feel ambushed.  Where the hell is the BrainPop?  Another aside, BrainPop is this program that Laurel loves..little stories about all sorts of topics..science, history, literature.  Laurel loves listening to this more than me. They have even covered the drug talk.  I am hoping that I can get BrainPop to do the dirty work and explain the "blossoming into a woman" talk.

In the meantime..she is looking at me wanting to know.  Keep it simple JCW...keep it simple!  (Avoid the ovulation, avoid the sperm...)"Well Laurel, I knew I was pregnant when I peed on a stick.  It changes a certain color and then I knew I was pregnant"

"GROSS!  You PEED on a stick.  You didn't touch the stick, did you? So gross...hey is it too late to have a snack?"

And that's it.  I have bought some time..for now.  Holy Christ, when I tell her what her dad and I did to become pregnant, she is really going to be grossed out. I still am...

Christ, a half a teaspoon of baking powder can be the difference between a cow flop or a cake in your oven.

I have no one to blame but myself for this one.  What was I thinking? I know I should shut the hell up but since your here...

The raffle is called the Divine Dessert Raffle. (I absolutely won't try to sell you tickets.)  I got an e-mail from Laurel's after school director that she needed 13 more desserts raffle.  Could I donate one?  l love Laurel's after school program.  It is the hidden jewel of Laurel's elementary school.  I do nothing to volunteer so when I got this e-mail, I thought I should do something...(I probably had a couple of glasses of wine when I read the e-mail.)

But my baking skills suck.  I love to cook because of the instant gratification of beautiful taste, color and texture.  You can experiment with cooking but with baking you cannot.  The precision kills me.  Christ, a half a teaspoon of baking powder can be the difference between a cow flop or a cake in your oven.  And even if (the product) comes out right, you have to wait two hours to cool and serve.

The Raffle is part of the Turkey Trot Games.  Just an event with field day like activities and a raffle of desserts that you could serve during Thanksgiving...in Newton.  There are so many sideboards or platters waiting for a dessert that won't look close to mine.  I asked the after school director for suggestions.  She suggests pies (standard), cakes, tortes (Are you kidding me? Never made one..don't know how), trifles (the only trifle I know is what Rachel made during that Friends episode when she accidentally put ground beef, peas and carrots in it) and fancy cupcakes.  Fancy cupcakes..well that solves it.

I told Laurel about our baking project and she was insistent on cupcakes..with lots of purple frosting.  Laurel doesn't realize that her purple frosting may not match the Thanksgiving decor of a traditional dinner.  Just imagine..perfect turkey, gorgeous sides and then pumpkin pie, apple pie and Laurel's purple frosted cupcakes.  Awesome.  Yeah, that raffle winner is going to be jumping for joy.

So this is my plan...I am going to make the cupcakes with Laurel..either bring them into work (there is this mail room guy that will eat anything) or up to her Nana who, of course appreciates everything Laurel.  Then I am going to haul my ass over to Whole Foods to pick up dessert that looks beautiful AND covers all that allergic shit.  Christ I didn't even think of that...

This is not code for anything. He likes meatloaf and I make lots of it.

I dreaded going home tonight...more than usual.  All day, I told myself not to think about it as I threw myself into my work.  I also ate a sandwich with bacon in it to quell the dread and then to subdue guilt of dreading going home to my girls.  I rushed home in bad traffic and rain to get them both.  I got Rachel and wrestled her into the car seat.  Right now "her thing" is to say she wants to go on the potty.  She has yet to tinkle on the pot but she keeps toying with me and stalling during the times I feel rushed the most.  I fly to get Laurel and get her right at 6:00.  At least I can say she wasn't the last kid there.

And it comes down to this moment...I am so tired.  They are so whiny, hungry but buckled in as we head home.  And I am going home to no help, partnership...I have no back-up.  Ching is in Connecticut for work.  I am alone with them.

I realize that if I did this alone all the time, my kids would be so spoiled.  Tonight, I caved and went through the drive-thru at McDonalds.  (And the Big Mac is sitting in my stomach like a rock.)  I let Rachel bandage her fake wounds on her legs with about 60 band-aids.  We ate dinner in front of the t.v.  I should have given them baths tonight...thankfully, the weather is crisp therefore they are not sweaty.

I also realize how much time I usually spend in the kitchen, making and then cleaning up after dinner.  It's safe in there...nice alone time with my glass of wine while Ching is playing with the girls.  I couldn't use the kitchen as the safe haven tonight and no wine.  (C'mon JCW---it's Tuesday!)

I don't know how single parents do it.  I don't think I could.  And yes, I do tell Ching how much I appreciate him as I make him frequent meatloaves. (This is not code for anything.  He likes meatloaf and I make lots of it.)

I have to stop complaining and get to bed.  Because Ching isn't going to be here during that awesome morning routine.

(Happy Birthday Leusner!)

Every song on the radio...(sic).."he did me so wrong".

I can't swing a dead cat without hitting an article about this young woman.  I am afraid of the influence that she will have on my best 6 year old.  So this morning, I asked her:

JCW:  Laurel--do you know who Taylor Swift is?
LAW: Um, yeah...she has blond hair and when she sings she sometimes wags her hair...(Laurel precedes to do an 80's head banger thing)
JCW:  Laurel..please stop now.
LAW:  It is fun.
JCW:  Laurel, let's focus. Taylor Swift.  Cool? Not Cool?
LAW:  She has that song.."I remember when we broke up..."
JCW:  (Oh Christ and then I cut to the chase)  You know Laurel every time Taylor dates or breaks up with a boy, she writes a song about it...telling the world.
LAW:  That's really weird.
JCW:  (Laurel has not freaking idea but this is a step in the right direction.)

Taylor Swift is not a young woman that I want my girls to aspire to.  Her success seems to revolve around writing about young men..bad..and break ups.  Please, tell me she has more to write about than this subject.  Please!  Anything..bad tampon accident..constipation.  Young woman need to know that the world doesn't revolve around boys/men and relationships...there is more.

She has tried to put herself out there as a good role model.  Taylor let us know that she registered to vote right away when she turned 18.  She has volunteered to countless events that benefit so many BUT she continues to make money on her broken heart.  Every song on the radio...(sic).."he did me so wrong".

Right now, I won't address the clinging or desperation as this "role model" goes from older man..man..boy.  This isn't about sex...feel free as long as there is responsibility and an unwanted pregnancy or disease isn't thrown into the mix.  My issue is the need that she is exuding for wanting a boyfriend.  In life, it is okay to be alone and to truly appreciate it.  Once you appreciate your solitude, your choices seem to be right in front of you.  You can't fake this...Faking your "independence" is the only faking that men seem to know.  They sniff it a mile away..faking independence is still desperation.

Just need to keep my girls away..meanwhile, my call is this..Taylor will have a bad marriage at 28 (lasting for 2 years) and then will start plastic surgery that will stress the fact that she does kind of look like a some sort of feline.

As a mother to my Laurel and Rachel, I always think of what I need to protect them from..drugs, stupid boys, poles and now, perhaps Facebook.

As a mother to my Laurel and Rachel, I always think of what I need to protect them from..drugs, stupid boys, poles and now, perhaps Facebook.  (And this is what I need to be prepared to say to both...)

Girls, I won't lie to you...I use Facebook.  Part of me is grateful for what Facebook has given me.  I now have a handful of friends that I wasn't in touch with prior to joining Facebook.  This network is the only distribution method I have and use for my blog.  (Laurel--no need to roll your eyes at the blog.)  I like spouting my nuggets of snark and seeing people "like" it.  I also like people appreciating my family pictures.

BUT, with all the rainbows and hearts of Facebook come evils that you need to know about too.

With Facebook, you will become a lurker.  You collect "friends" to see their stuff, THEN you check out their friend list to delve even further into other people's lives, probably from your past.  These are people that you probably ended on bad terms...he didn't call after the hook-up, bitchy college friends that you pledged to say in touch with but you didn't, etc.  You don't want to re-connect, but you just want to lurk, check them out. Are they still attractive?  Married? Maybe using too much sour cream at taco night?

Okay, Facebook check in question:
Does my lurking take up more than 45 minutes a day?  Yes?  Log off!  No?  You are fine...for now.

You will discover that you are mean.  I knew I was mean prior to Facebook but it feels magnified when I see pictures and frequently say,
"God, she is unhealthy (fat)". 
"That kid takes my breath away". 
"If you have a fat bridesmaid, why did you choose that color?"  
Keep in mind, if you react this way to other people's posts...they may think the same about you.  Be prepared for that.

You need to be tolerant.  You will see posts that just go against your grain and annoy the piss out of you.  Election time is the worst, a close second is the fall.  It's hunting season in Maine and some people don't mind showing pictures of gutted deer or moose.  That is their choice...if I don't like it, I can unfriend them--and make sure that I don't look at Facebook at lunch.  I can also unfriend people that constantly post pictures of their mediocre food on a paper plate, constant song lists (like they are a DJ) or "likes" of domestic products...but I don't (unfriend) so I tell myself to shut the hell up.  (I can't wait to see a "like" for Tampax!)

You must remember that this is everyone's social network not just yours.  When you post, randomly*, someone  may find that you are posting directly against them therefore, they will post, in retaliation. Their message will be that this is everyone's social network and your post may be mean, or whatever.  But in their anger..isn't this anyone social network?  Not just their's?  General snark is allowed along with other crap? Please remember that all posts belong on Facebook.  There is a sense of grace that you need to remember.  If you post a status that someone else doesn't like, that is their right.

*Randomly...do not  post in a general, passive way.  If you have an issue with someone else, send them a personal message.  Come on!  Woman up...

I know you are going to become me.  There are going to be times that you want to get something off your chest (albeit, small..again, you are my daughters).  Before you unleash, there are three questions that you need to ask yourself before you post a status:
Do I sound overly sensitive?
Do I sound bat shit crazy?
Do I sound drunky drunk?
If you answer yes to any one of these questions, walk away.

Not everyone wants to be your friend...that's okay.  And again, there are going to be several that you don't want to accept.  It works both ways.

All of this comes down to having a thick skin on this site...it seems friendly, but it is not. Rachel--you can log in tomorrow.  Laurel, perhaps we should wait.

That's my name...until the day I die...

Recently when Rachel needed her dad's attention, she called out using his first name, not daddy.  Amused and intrigued, I decided to step in, help and asked her a couple of questions.
"Rachel, do you know Daddy's name?"
"Ching Wang!"  (Cute..and impressive, first and last name.)
"Do you know your name?"
"Rachel Wang!" (Said with such glee and not at all upset at her name.  When Laurel was learning her name, not only did she really want to be called Barbara but howled when we kept insisting her last name was Wang.  Like she knew what the other meaning could be...)
"What is your sister's name?"
"Laurel!" (Who am I kidding?  She doesn't say is like that.  Laurel's name comes out like "Whirel")
"Rachel--your sister has a last name too.  Do you know what it is?"
"Whirel!" (This is now said with such annoyance.  Like I don't know my older daughter's name.  Rachel's eyes are screaming, "Stupid, stupid woman!")
"What is my name?"  (Knowing that one more question is pushing my luck.)
"Mama!" (Now her eyes are saying. "Lady, you don't even know your name?")
"No Rachel--that is what you call me.  What is my name?"
"Mommy!" (And she turns and walks away.)

That's my name...until the day I die...

I know, the theme song to the gay Tom Cruise volleyball scene as I am trying to look sophisticated in my red bolero hat and jacket.

This morning at Rachel's daycare drop off, there was an announcement that school portraits would be available at pick up.  Yay!  But not for me..because Rachel refused to sit for her school picture. There would be no school portrait package for Rachel Wang.  She didn't cry during picture day.  Rachel simply refused and stood her ground.  Her care center tried to coax her but didn't force.  Cookies, crackers and favorite teachers couldn't bribe her.  She just would accept or like picture day.

Who the hell doesn't like picture day?

I grew up going to Sears every nine months to get their 8x10 package at 12.99.  I loved posing for the pictures and counting down the days to see the finished package.  Back then, there was no digital so the waiting period was a very long 3 weeks.  I would go back with my mom wanting to scoop up all the pictures of me.  Mom would take the pictures in the package but every now and then when we were in Sears, I hoped to see my picture on the wall of glory.  I was very disappointed.  My picture was never displayed but even at as a kid, I told myself that meant something was bigger and better than the Sears at the Bangor Mall.

School picture day was my second favorite day (after the first day of school).  Every piece of clothing was calculated to give me the best smile.  Regardless if my pose was two seconds...my undies and tights always made a difference.  This thought carried me through junior high and then to the coveted senior pictures.  You remember senior pictures?  An hour of amateur modeling to some sort of bad 80's soundtrack.  My soundtrack was Top Gun...I know, the theme song to the gay Tom Cruise volleyball scene as I am trying to look sophisticated in my red bolero hat and jacket.  This is an ultimate scream of "ridic!" as I spent hundreds of dollars just to have the same poses as half of the girls in my senior class.

Rachel seems to know this facade all ready, not posing for a picture that makes her feel like a trained seal.  Laurel is different but similar with stubbornness.  She loves posing for pictures... but brushing her hair prior to the picture is another story.  This thought may make me seem like a horrible parent because when Laurel brought her pictures home, I wanted a re-take...that hair is my nemesis.  No re-take, Laurel started cutting up the wallet size with pride.  (Shut the hell up JCW.)

All I want is what I see everyday to be captured on film---my girls feeling good, strong and happy.  Perhaps it should be me taking these pictures.

But as of this afternoon, I was given a second chance with Rachel.  The first batch of school pictures had horrible resolution and some weird black line down the edge.  There is another picture day on November 27...maybe I will stay with Rachel during this photo session...and bribe her beyond abandon.

Yeah, you need that like I need another glass of wine.

There are two buckets of candy currently sitting on the Wang mantel in the living room...not touched, not eaten.  I walk by it, thankful that my weaknesses are a heavy pour and dairy...but then I think about that and am not so thankful.  Why doesn't Laurel keep her candy in her room like I did, frequently, sneaking piece by piece?  By November 3rd, my candy was gone (except for the cheap crappy candy). Today is November 8th and the candy doesn't look touched.  Was Halloween just a game of acquisition?  (God, my kids are weird.)

I hate this time of year.  It is filled with crap "scary" decorations that scare no one but Laurel.  (It is very hard to pick up a couple of things in CVS with Laurel around Halloween.  I have to convince her that the pillar of death is not hanging out in aisle six.  I offer her comfort standing near me..as I pick up tampons.)

Halloween continues to give me a lot of anxiety revolving around the costume.  As a child, it was fine.  My mom always came up with a costume until I was in the 5th grade.  After that, I took care of it myself until I was in the 7th grade, kind of knowing that I was pushing my luck going door to door.  But then college and Halloween meshed...holy cripe, I don't need pressure to think of a good costume.  The only good one I had was in 1992 when I went as Amy Fischer, Long Island Lolita.  But that was it.  I am not a woman that looks at October 31st to dress as a slutty version of something else.

Thankfully, right now, the anxiety just hovers around ordering (good costumes), at a reasonable price, and early enough to have their size.  Laurel asked for a costume that cost over $100--I think this is payback to not sewing one like my mom did for me.  With Rachel, she won't wear one.  Period.  I order..she looks at me like I am a freak, gives me an eye roll and walks away.  In some strange way, I think Rachel thinks she is being mocked.  This year, she rejected my new costume.  She said she would wear her panda costume but then took her promise back the night of.  When the actual night went down, she would only put on a pirates hat to get her candy and then would toss it after the grab.  (God, am I screwed.)

Then I get mad...way do we have so much Halloween candy?  Why did we did we go door to door, basically begging for that candy?  MY KIDS ARE BEGGING FOR CANDY! Now they are not interested and Ching is squirreling around like a rodent casually asking where Rachel's candy is kept.  Yeah, you need that like I need another glass of wine.

Every year, I offer $25 of random candy and face painting.  I haven't got a taker yet...but I certainly will when the slutty version of Halloween comes into play.

Every cranky, "educated" comment felt like it was delivered by some fatty in a dingy beater

Laurel asked me last night who I voted for...I told her that it was none of her business.  (Because her lip was quivering) I, then, followed my statement with the whole secret ballot concept.  She told me how her school had an election too, she voted and her candidate won.  Oh, for the love of Christ..of course he did.  All of her friends voted for the same candidate because he looks like a nice guy.  I am not going to lie and say my daughter is a genius.  Laurel is 6.  So far, she seems pretty smart but that's it.  She knows of the election and the hoopla but she has no idea of what the actual issues are at hand.

Perhaps I am bitter because I have never experienced an election and Facebook at the same time.  Every cranky, "educated" comment felt like it was delivered by some fatty in a dingy beater, sitting in a lawn chair in front of their garage.  It does also make me sad.  This term just felt very divided...more than I have ever felt.  So perhaps I should appreciate Laurel's perspective..fresh...open..hopeful.

But, being me..I used this as a platform to tell her that there are certain questions you never, ever ask.

1.  Never ask about weight...unless you are a doctor (which...perhaps is a possibility.)  Slippery slope of pounds...some people are much too thin and obsessed.  Some people are not and perhaps could do more. (If you are talking to Oprah..it's a thyroid condition.) Just be healthy and take care of yourself.

2.  Do not ask someone how much they make..unless you are in financial services (which..please let that not be a possibility..it's a job for me but it's just a job).  The number will either make you feel guilty or infuriate you.  Sometimes people will offer this info like a cheap app from Chili's.  I know it is awkward...just say "okay" and get the freak away from them.  Even if it's an attractive dude, he is trying to compensate for something else OR probably up to his neck in debt...or maybe both.

3.  Never ask how much someone has paid for an object.  When I was 10, my grandparents both a Cadillac.  This was back in the early '80's..gas guzzlers were acceptable and this freaking car was like a parade float.  I wanted to know the price.  As soon as my question left my mouth, the hairy eyeballs in my direction ran amok.  Okay...lesson learned.  There are going to be assholes that try to justify their question with "hope you don't mind me asking".  Stop it right there..you mind that they ask.

Just want Laurel to be polite.  And also stand up for herself when any future in-laws try to pull these questions.  Because they might...mine did.

But this statement, not sure how I feel about my husband saying this.

Like I said earlier this week on Facebook, I read the most well written book in a long time.  (Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn)  The book took me four days to read because I have other responsibilities that I couldn't kick to the curb.  The best time to read was the hour before going to sleep.  Of course, this is the time that Ching tries to strike up a conversation.

This sounds terrible but I kind of ignore him as he is chattering away, getting ready for bed.  But this statement, not sure how I feel about my husband saying this.  It gets me to stop reading at a screeching halt.

"I really like using these things you have in the bathroom."
Of course, I, jokingly, think he has turned into a girl and is using my tampons.  But then it gets serious--You're not freakin' using my shampoo?  That shit is expensive.  The only justification that I have for buying it is that I only wash my hair twice a week.  God dammit Ching Wang...you are a daily washer!
I counter with a (trying to stay calm), "Hey..watcha using in there?"
Can't be my moisturizer.  My skin is sensitive and bone dry.  His skin..not going to go there...but it's the opposite of mine.  Oh gross, I hope he isn't using my loofah, sponges on his bod too.  Just in case, I should get him his own..the sponge can be in a masculine dark blue.  Can't be my deodorant...smells too girly for him.  Sometimes too girly for me too so I use his but what he doesn't know won't hurt him.
"These sheets that you have to wash your face...just add water and they get all soapy.  Amazing."
I knew I wasn't going crazy..they were disappearing like he is apparently using them two, three times a day.
"Oh yeah...my Olay cleansing clothes.  Would you like me to get your own container of them?..(you know separate from mine.)?
"Oh, no...it's okay, we can share."

Ching feels like we have bonded a bit more as a married couple.  I am just grateful that he is not using my overpriced shampoo.  And I am hoping he isn't going to talk anymore so I can get back to my book.  (Apparently, I have a reservation in bad wife hell, too.)

I couldn't get them to school/daycare fast enough.

When I reached my desk this morning, I was so happy to be at work...away from the girls.  I couldn't get them to school/daycare fast enough.  (Hear that? No, not a corkscrew but the electronic pinging of my e-mail.  I just got another confirmation that I am going to bad mother hell.)

Laurel was hard to wake up.  She did have a hard first few days of the week throwing up (on me).  Regardless, Fridays are always tough.  I have her outfit, tell her that I will give her 2 extra minutes in bed and confirm that she wants to eat a waffle with jam for breakfast.  Smooth sailing...oh crap...no, not so much.
She doesn't want to go to school. (C'mon, again first grade.)
She doesn't want to get out of bed. (Why?)
She is pleading embarrassment.  (Laurel did you accidentally wet your pants a little? Not a big deal)
"Nope."  (Does your stomach hurt; do you have to poop, do you have a little poop on your undies?)
"No, No", eye roll, "no"!  (I just want her to know that she doesn't have to be embarrassed with me.)
"I just don't want to say.  You will laugh."  (No I won't...Well I will do my hardest not to.)
"I don't want to get up!" (Laurel...is it your butt..vajay-jay?  Please don't say it..she is much too young to start her period.)
"No..."
And then Ching walks in her room and the crying starts.  (For the love of God.) When Laurel cries, it starts small and then builds up with the wailing effect.  It seems to really get Ching but annoys the crap out of me.
So Ching starts with the questions. "Did something happen at school?"
Sniff, sniff.."No."
Did someone say something to you or bother you?
"Nooooooo" (I swear this crying seems fake.)
She finally fesses up that she doesn't want to stand in front of the class to do her "Front and Center" presentation.  It's a presentation where she has answered interview questions, brought pictures, etc.
At this point, I multi-task..trying to reason with her but get her clothes on.  I finally tell her, since I am dropping her off, I can asked that she can do her presentation from her desk.  (God damn it, I am becoming that parent.)
So I haul ass to meet with Laurel's teacher...you know, the one that makes me sweat.  She shows me the set up.  Laurel sits in front of the group, with the teacher next to her!  She knew all this time because she saw a little boy do this last week.  I think I was visibly talking to myself as I walked out of the school...this whole morning was a freakin' charade!

And then Rachel...While there is no dialogue or crying she continues not to like to keep shoes or socks on.  All week, she has thrown her sandals, crocs or sneakers at me while I was driving her to daycare.  She will not put them on until we get into the school.  Today was particularly chilly.  I know this is terrible but I kind of wanted her to walk on the pavement so she could feel how ridiculous she was being.  But I don't and I carry her in sans footwear in the chilly rainy weather.  (People chuckle..."Rachel doesn't want her shoes again?"  I do my inner eye roll--Yeah so freakin' funny--keep going.) Then she tries to cuddle up to me as I leave her in her classroom.  This is the only 30 seconds in a 24 hour time span that she wants to cuddle with me (when I am not holding a snack.)

They are joys...both, precious wonderful joys...but for the next 9 hours, I am safe...behind my desk.

I so know that at 10:00 tonight, I will want the last hour of my life back.

I so know that at 10:00 tonight, I will want the last hour of my life back.  I always do but I always watch.  The show is like a bad burrito that tastes so good yet makes you feel so so bad.   I can't help but to be sucked into the black hole of Grey's Anatomy.

All summer I have been waiting with anticipation to see if anyone (besides Lexie) goes off to the Heavens with George, Denny and those doctors nicked by the shooter.  I know I am going to be disappointed but I can't help but be intrigued.  I have a sentimental pull to this show.  The night that Laurel was born, I watched the episode when Bailey gave birth to her son.  Of course, not without drama...there was a patient with a bomb inside of him which of course Meredith was holding and Bailey's husband was having some sort of open skull surgery.  (He was in a car crash racing to the hospital.)  I can still feel the weight of Laurel, swaddled, as I watched Bailey introduce their son (to her husband):  "This is Tucker George Bailey Jones."  (Bailey--I just had a daughter.  Her name is Laurel Alexa Wang.  Of course my husband isn't in recovery like yours.  Mr Ching Wang is making celebratory phone calls..and I think, eating some falafel.)

So I was hooked on this show that continuously brings me back to my joyous occasion during every single episode.  But some of the crap that has gone down made it pretty hard to take but I am still here.  I watched through the awkward relationship of Callie and the chick from Silence of the Lambs (Put the lotion in the basket).  I tolerated the early back and forth of Meredith and Derek--pick me, choose me, love me. (Oh Christ..)  And then the nuggets of Izzie's Dead Denny sex and "It's George..John Doe is actually George!"  But again, I still watch just to bring me back to my hospital bed, sharing a bit of motherhood with Bailey.

As an added aside, from the same "birth" episode, was the "birth" of the word va-jay-jay.  I can't tell you how grateful I am for that word.  I am raising girls.  Yes, I will tell them that officially it's called a vagina but (since it is kind of clinical)  let's just call it a va-jay-jay.  That word came right in time.  Before this word, there was nothing else that I could use.  Over my dead body, would I use the words:  cooter, hoo-ha or good girl.

So tonight, I will hold my breath.  I won't expect much (especially from a ninth season) but I will get to remember Laurel's newborn smell (and of course thank Shonda for the word va-jay-jay.)

As a post script...I watched the episode and I don't want the hour back.  After several years, I was looking for a replication of the night that Laurel was born and that will never happen.  But I have this show to remind me how naive Ching and I were about being new parents...blissful and happy.  It was hard but it didn't stop us from inviting Rachel Ru into the mix.  There is no television show equated to Rachel's birth..she was born during the night when you watch infomercials or a good sitcom.  Obviously a time that she wouldn't freakin' share with ratings stealer.  Very telling...

God, I hope my deodorant kicks in because the antiperspirant sure as hell isn't...

Last week, I met with Laurel's teacher.  The opportunity was a 10 minute meeting for me to tell her about Laurel.  This tiny bit of time scheduled at the most inopportune time of day, gave me a chance to tell the qualities of my Laurel that a form wouldn't immediately tell, like her amazing way she is with Rachel, her love of Cupcake Wars, her hatred of math homework and her finicky appetite.

I went into the meeting very hopeful and quite frankly, a little girl crush.   After seeing this 1st grade teacher command parent's night and that freak with the nut issue, I thought she was my homie.  She seemed no-nonsense, funny but never silly, collected but not hard.  I looked at her and thought of her like me.  She wasn't a people "let me hug you" like person.  Again, (this quality is ) what I think of myself but it is odd yet conflicting.  While I don't want to "hug" you, I do want acceptance...an act a distant acceptance.  You think that I am cool but just give a nod of "hey" when you see me.

But this teacher was so hard to read.  As I was telling her about Laurel, bullet by bullet, (from my index card because I was taking full advantage of my 10), she was taking in my information but not oozing about Laurel.  Again, like my conflicting personality, I don't want her to throw up emotionally but maybe a little for my kid?  I did want this teacher to laugh at my sarcastic humor...she didn't.  Holy crap, that's my wheel house.  Nothing?  I felt like I was back in the 7th grade..new to the school.  I turned around at my desk, knowing the most popular girl was behind me, and smiled.  She didn't smile back.  This felt exactly the same way.

I am freaking sweating in my cool gray T shirt. (To be casual but to show my adolescent coolness, good non-Mom jeans and Tory Burch flats.)  Why am I sweating? (God, I hope my deodorant kicks in because the antiperspirant sure as hell isn't...)

She listens.  She briefly comments.  And then that's it.  My 10 minutes is up.  No gushing about Laurel.  God she is tough...it's an easier meeting with a little bit of gushing.

But I do know this.  Both Ching and I will both be present for the official parent teacher conference.  Ching is all about focus but he wants to hear about his little girl and how awesome she is (because she freakin' is).  Perhaps Ching will finally forget this chick was kind of hot...and I will be in the front row, popcorn and everything.

I don't even want to turn on the light to see the damage.

Warning...this entry is about kids and throwing up...

As a mother, there is nothing more humbling than your 6 year old throwing up on you at 1:30 in the morning.  But at the same time, I am always proud of myself when the projectile happens.  Prior to having kids, I couldn't think about the v- (The p word is not in my vocabulary.  Like "fun", the word puke is unacceptable.)  The sound of someone retching and then the smell...just thinking about it made me gag.  While I was pregnant with Laurel, Ching got the stomach flu.  I seriously wondered how the hell was I going to deal with kid gunk?  I was really bad--As Ching is throwing up on another floor and I am covering my ears with a pillow.

But at 1:30, early this past Monday morning, Laurel enters our dark bedroom.  She has to sleep with us, now...her stomachs hurts.  I immediately go for the poop offer and then another (offer) of me sleeping with her.  This usually works well.  I lie down with her and 10 minutes later, she is asleep (just like my left leg).  I get back to my own bed and since it is 1:30, I only have four hours left before I have to drag myself up and down the stairs to make those freakin' lunches.  Neither the poop offer (maybe you have to) nor the offer to sleep in her bed work.  Begrudgingly, I move over to the middle while Ching fakes sleeping through this.  After a few minutes, Laurel is making noises.  Ching finally admits to being awake by asking Laurel if she has to poop.  (Dude, the jig up.  I know you were awake when you heard me ask her.)  Laurel says no and then he asks her gently if she feels like she is going to throw up.  Within a couple of seconds, she says yeah.  (Holy crap...I am freakin' trapped in the middle..get up, get up!) And then it happens...and because I sat up, I am a human shield to Mr. Ching Wang.  I don't even want to turn on the light to see the damage.

I don't revert back to pre-pregnancy Jude that was grossed out by vomit...it happens with kids.  With some sort of team like efficiency, Ching and I get Laurel cleaned up and in the den where she can sleep in the queen sized guest bed.  (While this sounds like a fairy tale of marital partner/parentship, I put my needs first and get the gunk off of me...as I shoot only one hairy eyeball over to Ching.)  Sheets, duvet cover, pillowcases, etc all in the wash.  I let Laurel know that I will sleep next to her.  While I know she wanted a parent there, this was my gesture of no hard feelings, it is just a grossness and it happens.  It is 1:56...I have 3 hours and 34 minutes before the lunches.

There was never a transition of dealing with my girls and their vomit.  I dealt with it like dealing with wiping poop.  Gross, but it will pass.  Of course, wiping poop goes away around 2.5.  I know that my girls won't know how to time the need to throw up while getting to the bathroom in time.  This won't happen until 12, maybe 14.  So I am prepared for several more years...

But what I don't want to anticipate is Laurel's sickness being passed to me.  Good Lord, I hope her stomach bug was isolated...every now and then, I swear I feel nauseous.

I ripped open my package like a 6 year old boy ripping through a box of cereal to get to the prize.

I was seduced by the coolness...I wasn't planning on getting the I Phone 5 right away. It was definitely on my radar for a Christmas treat but not now.  But the hype of the new version kept drawing me in. When Mr. Ching Wang suggested that I pre-order my phone on September 12, he didn't have to ask me twice.  Sounded like my upgrade was all ready a line item on the Wang family spreadsheet!

I didn't do anything crazy to pre-order like stay up and order it at midnight.  I just ordered it on 9/12 at 9:00 and they said I would have it on 9/21!  The very first day--things like that doesn't happen me!  I felt ultra cool and I am not going to lie...I kind of bragged about it too.

As soon as I got home (on 9/21), I ripped open my package like a 6 year old boy ripping through a box of cereal to get to the prize.  It was so shiny and new!  Now, I knew I would have to woman up and do something with a SIM card to activate it.  I was pretty sure I could.  But how in God's name am I supposed to get into the phone to get to the card?  I look up this question online and apparently the special tool that can assist is a paperclip.  Are you freakin' kidding me?  A paperclip...just a basic paperclip?  Then I was kind of shaky...what if I scratch the crap out of my new phone or worse, break it?  I gingerly use my paperclip (that I had to scrounge around the Wang household to find) but then realized that gingerly won't pop the SIM card out. I hold my breath and shove the clip in...Holy Christ on Crutches, I could never be a surgeon.

But I do it!  I enter a couple of codes and then I am told my activation is pending.  I am not surprised...but what I didn't anticipate is my old phone shutting off.  It will pend for a little bit...perhaps I will go to bed.

The next morning, there are no bars on my new phone.  Apparently, still pending.  I give this until noon and then I am calling.  (Holy frick, I think I broke it!)

At noon, I call AT+T and get Kevin.  I explain my situation and he explains that the queue is due to an extensive volume since the phone was available.  I am totally fine with this...until he feel the need explain what this volume means.

Kev: "Imagine hundreds of cars in five lanes..."
JCW: Dude, is he explaining to me what a queue is?
Kevin:.."and all those cars have to merge into one lane.  Can you understand me?"
JCW:..I live this twice a day, you jerk.

I don't give him crap.  I am sure his day has been a nightmare since some higher up didn't prepare for the volume.  And (Kevin) probably is told that he is lucky that his job hasn't been outsourced to India.  I just get the hell off the phone right after he tells me that it is going to be another 24 hours.

When all of this is going down, Laurel is sniffing around like a rodent.  She knows that once the new phone is up and running, she can use my old phone as her own I Pod.  Every time she asks if my phone is fixed, I secretly push back her receipt of my old phone.  She isn't getting the phone until 10/6.

On Sunday, with a chip on my shoulder, I call AT+T again.  I get LaToya---not only does she empathize how my situation sucks, she tells me what I need to do AND stays with me on the phone while I am scouring the Wang household AGAIN for that paperclip (which I am sure Rachel flicked in the trash).  Holy Cripe---my phone works!  LaToya---you are amazing.  Kevin---you suck.

Just two years ago, I didn't even consider a cell phone.  Now, without it, I felt like I had lost a thumb.  And I was bitter.  My coolness, gone.  If I had waited to get my phone a few days after "the first day", I would at least have my older phone.  Upgrading to shiny and new really bit me in the ass.  (I will remember this when Mr. Ching Wang gets older and saggier.)

She is getting me during a time of weakness so I can't even bribe (unless I was a vending machine)

Holy Christ on Crutches!  The questions that I get from Laurel on a daily basis are killing me! I wake up feeling like I am facing a pop quiz that where I am not prepared.  Rachel asks the standard "why" every now and then but currently her favorite phrase is "Go Away".  With Laurel, when I was a new mom, I would have been heart broken.  With Rachel (as a weathered mom), I take it to heart and get the hell out of dodge.

When becoming a new parent, the stress of the questions from a child seem to revolve around "why".  I saw that growing up with two young cousins.  Between the ages of 18 months to six, the transition from sentence to sentence was, "why".  After awhile you actually don't answer..you distract and then you bribe.

But Laurel is peppering me with definition questions.  And these questions hit me during the commute to school or vice versa when I am just trying to make it to point A to B while my mind is multi-tasking about work, dinner and some craptastic task.    She is getting me during a time of weakness so I can't even bribe (unless I was a vending machine).. so I just distract or lie.
How do you describe,  "describe"?  (It's 7:42...) Hey who wants to turn up the radio really loud?
What is a geisha? It's a fancy lady who pours tea..(I read Memoirs of a Geisha... the word hooker, always, very prominent in my mind.)

And then this one:  Have you ever wondered why you were born?

Granted the first reaction to this is, "Holy Shit!" But, I understand where she was coming from with this question.  Laurel and I were talking about something that my Nana taught my mother, and then my mom taught me and now I am the mom...It's sounds deep but I am talking about the string game of Cat's Cradle.  I can see her reasoning of why she is part of this family.."Why she is her?"  So basic right now, but I know the same question will come up later in life...when she has been rewarded and can't imagine why her.  Or, the worse, when some boy is just a douche bag or some other form of defeat.

The only reason why I hate these questions is because I don't know how to answer them.  But then there will be others that I just don't want to answer right now...questions that will involve tampons, boys and sex.

This is the only time that I wish I had given birth to boys.  I am not proud. I would have passed the buck to Ching...