But now I am waving the Amex..I don't give a freak if I am cool or not.

Selfishly, I did not want to go clothes shopping with my older girl.  In the past, I have ordered all of Laurel's clothes online.  I tend to avoid the peeps and since I knew Laurel's size, I got everything online from Carters, Old Navy, etc.  Now, Laurel's body is kind of a mystery.  Her body is very long but waist is very small.  A pair a pants that are long enough could start falling down as soon as she starts to jump room.  Trying on the clothes are now a must..and a shopping trip..oh crap.

I have dreaded this day.  Primarily because Laurel is closer to the stage that will be my nemesis.. I thought I had more time. I don't want to get into arguments about what is not practical, too expensive or just makes her look older than she is.

When I was a young girl, my mom would take me shopping in Bangor, Maine at the local TJ Maxx.  It seemed so much harder back then, going through racks of stuff as I am asking for anything Jordache while there was a strict budget.  (And now my mother's day gift just got a little bigger..)

Our "play date" started with lunch.  Laurel wanted to go to this newer diner that is hip.  (She is cool..she is my daughter..)  But maybe she is not my daughter because this place cannot move seats.  And the hostess staff is so vapid that standing next to them makes me feel more stupid as the minutes tick by. Pretty, but Holy Christ..so God damned dumb...  After a 20 minute wait, we leave and go to a good, quick diner..and we have a nice brunch--french toast for her and lox and cream cheese for me.

First we start with sneakers..We start at a smaller store that claims lower prices, but I like a smaller setting. My Amex will get ripped..I know.  I took two sneakers off the wall and wait for 8 minutes.  "Do you need help?--(Really..did I just appear..Holy Christ..)  Yes..1.5.."  At first, I curse this crap but then get behind of dad of three..he spends $585 on sneakers, Easter shoes and Crocs..really. His testicles are back in the Nike section.

With our sneakers purchased without incident, we are now off to Target. My stomach is quaking at the potential debate of what my daughter wants (which will probably suck) to what I want..which of course will be uncool.  I want to avoid Hello Kitty, glitter, anything too short or more than $10 a piece. (Until she stops growing..it's cheap all the way!)  I have tried so hard for about 30 years to be cool.  But now I am waving the Amex..I don't give a freak if I am cool or not.

What I didn't expect is Laurel being calm and asking questions that I wasn't prepared for..like why do they give you a ticket with the number of items for the dressing room? What is shoplifting? And why would someone steal?  Now our shopping excursion has a "after school special" feel. With my words I also try to stress, without exactly saying it, that if she ever stole anything, I wouldn't bail her out.

She also had an agenda of her own..she needed a wallet.  While she had a gift card, she found other things that she (very politely) asked if she could get along with a wallet.  I knew what was coming..God damn I hate that cat!   She finds this Hello Kitty fedora that initially made me cringe but made me know she is mine. ( I loved hats back in the day!!  Is it possible to pass this down?)  I agree to it because that mouthless cat logo is small..and she is paying for it.

We got everything that we needed and Laurel was very good.  I tell her that I really enjoyed our day and she  beams about her spring/summer clothes and her purchases.  I think she is happy because she feels a little older; the same reason why I feel a little sad.

But now I am dealing with that hat and the Nick Choice Awards..we will leave it at that..a fedora and a t.v. show..awesome.

Honestly, I am afraid of pulling an MC Hammer..

In a matter of hours, I could become a multi-millionaire.  God, I hope it doesn't turn me into an asshole.  I only play when there are big pots. I feel better when I don't win at least knowing that I tried.  Ching laughs at me and that I just lost $1-$5.  Sometimes I just want to win to see the look on his face and then to see his eyes dancing at the magic he could work on the spreadsheet.  While his eyes dance..I think that maybe I could buy Jon Hamm..

There are basic questions that go through your mind as you prepare (to win):
Would I work?  Probably..I should.  I wouldn't get any other social skills because Lord knows that I am not hanging around the classroom moms any time soon.  But maybe just part time..so I could write my book, "All Wang..All the Time."  Also I would have time to cook..real things like pesto and perhaps churn my own butter..not "prepare" things out a canister that take a little bit of water and some "spread". (God damn you Stovetop..)

Would I indulge in frivolous things?  I am not sure..I know some ladies that would love a lifetime supply of fake eyelashes.  Custom made diamond studs that my ears could wear?  Sounds pathetic but that's it. Travel(?)-with the girls..I avoid all things that take me to a security gate at the airport with the girls.  Nice restaurants?  Yeah..the nicest ones that serve chicken nuggets and have high chairs.  Nice cars--doesn't matter how immaculate on the outside, on the inside there would be two car seats, empty juice boxes, crushed goldfish and random pieces of artwork done three months ago.

I would be so afraid how it would affect the girls.  Laurel thinks we have everything now..the three quarters that I give her weekly as her allowance may be a fart in the wind.  I wouldn't want to move..while the house is very quirky with the air conditioning and the "charm"..I don't want to move the girls to a new neighborhood.

If you are close to me and have to ask..would I get something from JCW?  If you have to ask, then you are not that close to me..move on.

Honestly, I am afraid of pulling an MC Hammer and live beyond what I was given..not able to say no to people looking to pay their mortgage, Visa bill or their kid's field trip regardless how ridiculous.  Perhaps, selfishly, I would want to make sure my girls' future is secure..college, trust.  Ching would want the house to be paid off just to give him some playtime with the spread sheet..

But the rest..maybe the lottery needs me to do something really good..research for Cancer, Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, Autism..because I haven't met anyone not affected..

But of course this is when I hope I don't become an asshole...

I tried..again..but I am an absolute social moron with other moms..

I tried..again..but I am an absolute social moron with other moms..

Laurel's kindergarten class had a family breakfast.  Over the past few weeks, they have studied what families meant to them in either the class or at home. Pictures were taken, laminated and stories were written.  This morning, we read and celebrated them.

It was just Laurel and me at the breakfast.  Ching had a meeting (and sick..full of phelgm).  I did not bring Rachel; I brought her to her daycare first and then took Laurel to school.  Laurel's kindergarten class could be demolished by Rachel in a mere 17 seconds.  Rachel has this tough, cute, destructive property like that Kool-Aid pitcher of the early '80's.  Remember?  He would burst through any wall, screaming "Oh Yeah!"  That's Rachel.  This was Laurel's morning and I thought it best to drop Rachel off first.

I was very nervous..I even put lipstick on for Christ's sake.  There were breakfast foods and I brought a spread..butter.  While someone suggested it, I felt cheap for just bringing butter. I went to Whole Foods and bought a very good, organic, expensive butter.  I didn't eat any of the breakfast treats.  Laurel hunkered down on apple slices and pumpkin bread..this scene wasn't my gig.  I couldn't eat a thing.  I wish I was a risky trendsetter..mimosas!  While not allowed at school, I wanted to suggest it just to show "Yeah, I am cool..full of abandon!"

God, I am such a dork..this was so not my scene.  Luckily Laurel wanted to show me all these classroom projects and then hauled out her book box to read six books to me.  I was hesitant until a mom with great hair, awesome jeans and a wrap around sweater, asked me what I did.  (The dull grey wool suit with lavender button down gave it away.  Obviously I was hauling ass to get to my desk after the presentation.)  I told her I was in financial sales..then Laurel politely asked me a question..then that Mom was gone, exit stage left.  Maybe she thought I was going to sell her something.

That threw me for a loop and I was glad Laurel had her six books.  I sat with Laurel, criss-cross apple sauce, while she sat in my lap reading the six books to me.  But there was a part of me that wanted to make some friends with other moms that had children that were friends with my daughter.  Of course just certain moms..not those who were hot messes letting their pre-K siblings run, scream and disrupt the presentation.

I will try again..but not with this one mom.  This was the mom that had a daughter that I don't want in my house again. ("You can knock all you want"..March 2nd entry)  While we were escorted by our children to the art room to watch a video, we were asked to be as quiet as possible.  Testing was going on in the 1st and 4th grades..everyone was so quiet going to the room.  But as soon as we left the class after the 10 minute presentation, we all left...this mom bellowed to her 2 year old in the hallway..what an idiot..hot-mess-in-her-mom-jeans idiot.

I judge..perhaps that is why I stay quiet.  But I am hoping for another Newton mom who could judge with me..and agrees for future mimosas.

I know sarcasm runs through the veins of my girls.

During the last few weeks, I have experienced a feeling of uncertainty.  I am dancing a fine line between letting Laurel express herself freely and telling her "to watch her tone, young lady!"  I am not sure when this fine line will get bolder but I do know, it will surface when we are in public with lots and lots of people.

Recently, I have heard this tone coming from Laurel. It isn't positive. With glee, she commands me to wait until she has finished her after school game as I am picking her up. I have heard her use the words "whatever" and "seriously".  She is two days from saying the word "duh", and it will probably be three weeks until, in the rear view mirror, that I catch her mouthing something  very bad and I threaten to pull the car over.

I asked her teacher if she has heard a sassy tone...if she has heard the exasperation in her voice or have caught her doing an eye roll.  Her teacher not only stressed how wonderful Laurel was during the day but how long Laurel's day is (because of early bird (before school) and the after school program until 5:30.) Regardless of what she is going to say, I am now pissed that I feel guilty.   I was told that perhaps Laurel just needs to act out because she just needs an hour or two to be a kid.  Holy Shit--that's awesome.  I am a freakin' great adult during the majority of the day.  Perhaps I can commit a crime during that one hour of the day when I just want to act like that psychotic bitch that I know I am deep down.  That is an excellent defense--Johnny Cochrane style.  Laurel can be a rambunctious kid..but she needs to be respectful.

I have hard time explaining tone to Laurel.  Unfortunately, I don't think her sass is malicious..quite frankly she may be mimicking me.  Perhaps that is the rub..I have to tone back myself.  I know sarcasm runs through the veins of my girls.  It is a given..I know they are going to be sassy but Laurel (and down the road, Rachel) need to know when it is appropriate.  Hell, a random crazy bitch could cut you if you don't know how to use your sass properly.

He asks about focus like he is going to withhold food like an 80's East German gymnastics coach.

Tonight Ching and I had Laurel's second conference of the year.


Regardless of going in late (because a mom got the wrong day--just like my doctor's appointment-3/22/12- and it pushed us back), Ching and I go in wanting to hear that our child is a genius.  We want to hear that she is Princeton bound with a full academic scholarship.  Perhaps she will be a surgeon or the kindest philanthropist that gives and remains silent, as opposed to someone like Oprah.  I don't want to hear that Laurel could be President--such a shitty job.  Regardless of how well the country is doing, you are pissing someone off and you know there are nut jobs out there that want to shoot you dead.


I grew up as teacher-centric. My mom raised me as she became and was a teacher.  I grew up in central offices and teacher's rooms (which have to be the most awesome, coolest places ever..you know what kid is the real shit while in the teacher's room.  Also you realize that the heart of the school are the custodians and admin.  If you mess with them, they will cut you.  (Figuratively, of course.) Growing up with the teachers that were friends of my mom was truly a pleasure.  With conferences, I remember my mom hating that time of year.  Not for the actual conference, and not for explaining that a child needs special help or challenging questions, but those parents that just sit there like a turd on a log.  There was a toothless woman in Hudson, Maine that threw the report card in my mom's face back in the early 80's.  Still to her, not as bad as the turd parents. I think about the teacher first and what they are offering my child--I hope I am not a turd.

(I am also avoiding talking about that parent that judges past experiences on the current teacher.  I have heard of parents arriving in September wanting to make their presence known..that sounds like a bully. Not my gig.. Perhaps not on topic..but I need to mention it.)

We hear that Laurel is a very good writer and we see this amazing story that she writes about her family going to Bertucci's. (or Birtoochee's as she writes it).  She is an excellent reader and her math skills are1st grade.  Ching starts to ask about focus.  He asks about focus like he is going to withhold food like an 80's East German gymnastics coach.  That's not him..softy..he is weak when the girls look at him with joy.

(I am trying to focus while in a kid's chair..my ass is 4 inches from the floor.  Where are the adult chairs?  I know you have them in the gym/kid's auditorium.  I sat in a folding chair during the Mickey review.)

While we go in late, we get a 35 minute (as opposed to 20 minute) conference.  We learn that while Laurel is very smart; she is kind, polite, full of focus and the model student.  Honestly we sound like assholes asking for more..this teacher is so not getting the address to Hintofattijude..

Probably freakin' growth hormones in those nuggets.

When we visit the pediatrician, the differences in my daughters are glaringly obvious.  Physically, Laurel is 80 percentile weight, 90 percentile height while Rachel is 50 percentile weight, 17 percentile height. (You can probably guess that Ching has put the percentile growth numbers in a spreadsheet.)  Laurel tends to be verbal, easy going, cautious and will perform on command.  Rachel tends to be a little more pensive, 2 seconds from a dramatic meltdown, fearless and plays hard to get.  Laurel is a hybrid vegetarian..will only eat meat that is breaded, dairy, fruits and one vegetable.  Rachel is a great eater--she eats everything.  Laurel feels like she is missing something fun if she sleeps; Rachel sleeps like a log.

Their differences are a given but I don't notice them until I have to describe what the girls are like during their doctor's visit.  Then the imaginary spotlight burns hotly on my face.  Did I do this to the girls?  Because I know my parental style between raising the first daughter and the second was and still is very different.

I can't explain the physical difference. (If Laurel didn't have my same overbite, I would swear that she was switched at birth.) Probably freakin' growth hormones in those nuggets.  Great, I will be buying tampons for Laurel when she is 10.

I feel like Ching and I are the cause for Rachel's current verbal skills.  We don't read to Rachel as much as we did Laurel.  There was a time when we thought our eyes were bleeding from reading so many books to Laurel. We had to put a limit of three when she was a toddler.  Before the age of two, she had an amazing clarity in her speech.  So much so, that Ching and I would see what she could repeat--like riboflavin and superfluous. (Don't judge--It was harmless fun.) Rachel doesn't have this clarity.."please" sounds like "meee" and "thank you" doesn't even sound like one. Is it too much television, lack of books or Laurel chattering over her?

And then the food.  It is wrong but I cater to Laurel's needs like I am a short order cook.  Rachel will eat what Ching and I eat.  I am not sure how that happened.  And sometimes I will go into the family room around 5:00 and Rachel is eating a leftover breakfast waffle (sans syrup) that she found from that morning.  (I think it was in her reading chair--how ironic.)

I don't tolerate Rachel's tantrums--I just walk away.  But with Laurel, I remember, hearing her crying during a time out and I would start to cry. For the love of God, when did my heart crust over like that?

Once Rachel is in a big girl bed and can get up in the middle of the night, this will be the turning point.  I will learn to sleep with one eye open.

I opened Pandora's box yesterday.

I opened Pandora's box yesterday.  I will take full responsibility of what this may mean in the future.  (Small voice..) I took Laurel to get her first manicure and pedicure.

I am kind of embarrassed to admit it.  I didn't get my first manicure until I was 22 (and quickly graduated to the Snooki route to acrylic tips soon after) and my first pedicure wasn't until I was in my mid-20's.  I spoke to another mom about this (that's right..outside the comfort zone.  Trying to make another mom friend), she was felt the same way.  She did, however, say that bringing her daughter was now a way for her to get a pedicure too. ( Are you freakin' kidding me?) I held my tongue.  This isn't a regular thing and Laurel will not coming with me when I need a little Jude time.

When we got to the nail salon, she was silent--just taking it in. (Oh crap..she is in her element.  JCW--what where you thinking?!)  I told her that she could pick out any color for her fingers and toes.  She picked several, had to play eeny-meeny-myni-mo, and then settled for a purple glitter polish. (Please don't ask me to get the same..)

I hope to treasure the look on her face during her pedicure for the rest of my life.  Laurel wouldn't sit back in the pedicure chair. She sat on the edge of the seat to see exactly what was going on..each treatment exuded this look of joy.  (Oh crap, I am so many degrees of screwed..)

While I was getting the same treatment, Laurel tried to prepare me.  (Apparently she thought this was my first time too.)
L-Mom..that's a bumpy lotion..it feels really good.  It's okay.  Seriously.
J-Seriously?  (She is trying to explain the salt scrub.)
L-Yeah, really..my legs are very soft.
J-Thanks..(This is so your bad..but good..but bad..I am very confused right now as a mother.)

Laurel's nails and toes look amazing.  Her nail beds haven't been soiled by nail biting.  They are perfectly long and rectangular..I look down at my hands. My nails look younger (sans purple glitter) than hers..

As we leave, Laurel looks at me and says, "Can we do this often?"  Oh Christ..there are children that can bat their eyelashes and get everything.  Some kids know that it's physical..hugs and kisses to get everything.  My kids can get everything by using an "older" word and use the word properly.  I didn't realize that Laurel knew the word "often"..I am putty at this point.

"Laurel..this was a very special day..for both of us."  (She had no idea...)

Am I now living in a Molly Ringwald movie? This mo'fo just forgot my birthday.

Let me state the obvious..today is March 24.  In exactly 3 months, I am turning 40.  If I were Ching, I would be getting stuff together for my big day, but I know he is not.  By no means is this a hint for someone to save his ass from what he did when I turned 38..but, oh, look at that..excellent segue.

(Flashback..scene goes blurry then clear..God damn, I think I really am going insane.)

The week that I turned 38 was June of 2010 and it was a pretty hectic week.  Two weeks prior, the Wangs had just closed and moved into a house that we dreamed about for several years.  Weeks up to the close proved trying because our neighbor, in our old condo, seemed to be more unbalanced than usual, and our agent was now acting like an idiot.  Needless to say, we pushed through, and our home was ours in a little cul-de-sac of a very desired school district in Newton.  So during my birthday week, we were still getting used to slight commute changes, stuff in boxes and various address/utility change crap.

Also during this week, something went awry at Ching's work.  Something about a marketing mailer addressed to a head honcho's ex-wife that was delivered to the current wife.  Ching was stressed and not believing in  any sort of portion control.  It was like taco night with sour cream, every night..

AND..to top it all off..I was 37 weeks pregnant (with Rachel).  You know how Rachel is with me now?  Think about what she did while she was inside of me..bouncing on my bladder and making me pee a little bit while I was at my desk or kicking me so hard that my lungs would vibrate.

So, Thursday, June 24 arrived--my day..the JCW holiday!  I will admit upfront that I was expecting something from Ching--my push gift.  Yes, I am a woman that likes push gifts.  (Roll your eyes if you must..) Six weeks prior to Laurel being born, I got my push gift at Christmas--it was a diamond channel band.  The timing for my second push gift was perfect..it could double as a birthday gift.  I really wanted something similar for Rachel.  Again, roll your eyes at my greediness..but after the nausea, hemorrhoids and sleepless nights, no one deserved it more than me.  Also these rings will go to the girls..way, way down the road... when I am cold and six feet under.

But..this was the timeline of the day when I turned 38--June 24, 2010.

7:22--Ching is in some sort of snit.  (I think he just read a work e-mail)  Laurel has scratched her leg with her own fingernail.  Ching tells me that we should really cut her nails soon..tonight. (Okay..why are you acting like a douchebag on my day?)

7:42--I drop Ching off at the train.  He barely says goodbye to me..and waves to Laurel.
(Are you freakin' kidding me?  Am I now living in a Molly Ringwald movie?  This mo'fo just forgot my birthday.)

8:30--I get to work and my friends, Gina, Meghan and Eric..greet me with a happy birthday and a big cup of ice.  (This was my craving when I was pregnant with both girls)  I say thank you and quickly mention that they are the first to wish me a happy birthday.  They seem stunned.  I agree but  I may get to toy with CCW..and I will wait and see.

9:15--I email my sister Jess--she loves this shit.  I tell her what is going down.  Then I specifically tell her not to bail Ching out of this mess (and e-mail him) or tell mom.

3:30--Ching is calling me..finally.  He asks me, albeit nicely, if I could pick him up at the train at 6:40.  (Sure. ..I can't believe this...)

5:00--So I leave work and my massive body gets into my car to get Laurel.  While Laurel is in the car, she sees a really big  partially eaten cake.  I tell her that my friends Gina and Meghan (Eric had nothing to do with this) got me a cake for..my..birthday.  Laurel is curious why Daddy didn't say anything.  (Yeah, I am too.)

6:40--Ching isn't on the train..I wait until 7:00.  I get a call.."Jude I am so sorry.  (Finally here it is..) "I won't be able to come home until 7:30--I will walk home from the train."  I don't offer to pick him up.

7:45--Ching walks through the door..again.."Jude, I am really sorry (here it is...but not) for having you wait at the train."  That's it.  Then he starts with the typical first questions that fill the end of our end day.."How was Laurel's day?  How was your day?"

CCW--Why are you looking at my like that?
JCW--I am telling you this because when you figure this out..the first thing out of your mouth will be why didn't you tell me?
CCW (looking perplexed)
JCW (Are you kidding me?  You can work magic with a spreadsheet but can't look at a calendar? Wharton, my ass..) Ching, do you know what today's date is?
CCW: Yeah..it's June twenty fooooo (his head hits the kitchen island)

I am sure that you can guess the mea culpa.  And you can also guess for damned sure that my push gift was absolutely spectacular.  June 24, 2012 better be pretty freakin' good.

I am so falling off this bike! Focus, JCW..gather the Wang Family Focus!

Monday through Friday, I run three miles on the treadmill at lunch.  During the last few weeks, I have been kind of a wuss on Fridays..the treadmill isn't on an incline..perhaps I don't go as fast and this needed to stop.  I needed to push myself..God damn it!  There was a Friday spin class that peaked my interest for several weeks but I was hesitant.  Crap..I was afraid.  Group classes aren't my thing.  I avoid classes..I like the solitude of running like a hamster on a treadmill..listening to loud angry music or show tunes (I am a renascence woman).

But with this, I wasn't going to be alone. The cons of going into this class started to stack up. I didn't know what I was doing and I was afraid I was going to fall off the bike..(worse yet, semi-fall and the pedal ripping into my left leg.  I would have to do one of those "Oh, I am fine" when it freakin' hurt like hell.)

But son of a bitch..I am in shape!  I can do this..I look awesome in my non-mom jeans.  And the way the Friday work outs were going, perhaps, I wouldn't be able to fit in those jeans.

So, God, helped me, I signed up.  But I did some research.  I checked the sign up list (you know, being a lurker and all).  I found some ladies that I knew that I could ask about spinning etiquette:  was there a certain bike that was off limits, unspoken rule, secret handshake?  I pride myself on being prepared..but really anyone would want to prepare to avoid looking like a freakin' jackass.  I was also told to avoid shorty shorts because they may illicit some comments..thankfully at my age, I don't own any.

I was really nervous..I was pitting down to my socks even before I got my bike.  (Note to self..better deodorant next time.)

So we start..Holy shit-no one told me about the positions!  Are you kidding me?  My hands are really sweaty, I am so falling off this bike!  Focus, JCW..gather the Wang Family Focus!

Then the instructor yells something that ignited something in me:

Push, push, push, push, push!..(said in about 3 seconds.)

Holy Crap..I know this chant!  This is an OB nurse chant..I did this..I gave birth twice.  With Rachel, there was no epidural---I know I have mentioned this before..and I will countless times until the day I die.  I kept telling myself that.. willing the adrenaline to pump through me.  (Of course the Rhianna helped too.)

I actually felt sweat dripping off my nose--this has never happened to me.  I am tired but not winded...I feel good.  But, I am not going to lie..I kept looking at that freakin' clock..but I pushed through just like I did with Laurel and Rachel (absolutely no pun intended).  I felt amazing, like Xena the Warrior Princess..metal bra and all.

When I got off the bike, I was praised (the instructor praised me!!) and secretly I was so satisfied and proud.  All I could do was keep to myself..(and mentally starting this entry). My legs were shaking like jelly, exactly the same feeling I had after Rachel was born.  Granted after Rachel was born, I was offered a lovely painkiller..no goodies like that after this class.

I am definitely going back..but with some good bike shorts this time.  Similar to childbirth..well, you know.  There may be a sitz bath in my future.

(Thank you L, C, S, J and the woman next to me that helped me with my bike.  Really, Really..thank you!)

Give yourself a fist pump, JCW

Today is a milestone for me--this is my 100th entry on my blog!  I am not sure what is more disturbing--that I have talked for 100 days or that I still have a lot more to say.  Thank you for reading.

Looking back at yesterday, I feel like a big freakin' baby.  The mistake in scheduling happened and Ching and I were able to fix it and the girls went to their appointments.  While I am still a tiny bit pouty about my non-Jude day, I must focus on the positive today..as small as it may seem.

1.  Today Ching did drop off for both girls..and you know how avoiding the hustle of drop off always puts a skip in my step like a new boyfriend.
2.  In regards to making the appointment coordination work, Ching took the girls to the appointments, stayed through out and then I met him at the doctor's office to take them back to school while he rushed home to lead a conference call.  I drove from South Boston to Newton Center with sheer agility..like the wind and I walked into the doctor's office just as Ching was walking out.  Perfect timing..(Give yourself a fist pump, JCW).
3. I didn't want to make my lunch this morning and I knew I would have to be strong in the cafeteria.  And I was..my sandwich was sans the meat candy known as bacon.
4.  There was absolutely no one in the 3 lanes to my left when I realized I had to cross those lanes to get from right to left on the Pike..(Yeah, who got the best of you, Lady Garmin?)
5.  While I attended an open house for a camp we are considering for Laurel, I did marvel in the fact that it seemed nicer than most vacations that I went to in my early 20's.  But what made me giggle was the woman giving the tour--Yeah, lady, I heard you fart..it was a tiny squeaker, but I heard it.

I will have another Jude day (probably in July) but my girls are healthy, Ching and I can make each other laugh and that huge pimple bringing me back to 1987?  It is practically non-existent.

Laurel keeps singing the Kit Kat jingle..yeah, give me a break.

I have been looking forward to this day for some time.  I coordinated the girls' doctors appointment-same day, one right after the other.  (I also have a soothing feeling when I go to their doctor's office when it is just a check up.  There is a sense of pride that I have when they grow a little bit more..like it was all me and my magic chicken nuggets or something.)

After the appointments, I am taking the girls back to school and relishing a little Jude time.  (What to have for lunch..maybe I will take a short nap or make my blog look prettier.)

When I got to the office, there wasn't the typical greeting that I have gotten used to over the past six years.  I immediately apologize for being four minutes late--never want to piss the nurses off.  The crap they have to deal with on a day to day basis..calls from panicked mothers, describing mucus and bowel movements over the phone..Good Lord.

"Good Morning.  My apologies for being late.  I have both of my girls here--the last name is Wang, Laurel and Rachel.  They have a 10:15"
(There is a look of panic that is not particularly soothing)  "Their appointments are at 10:15..but tomorrow."

Son of a bitch.  There is no proof that they told me 3/21 but put it in the computer for 3/22.  Even thought while I made this appointment, I was staring at my desk calendar..it's huge.  Surprisingly I stay calm while they tell me that they are booked solid--10:30 and 10:45 appointments were all ready there.  I don't go ape shit because I can't jeopardize this relationship because you know in a few weeks, I will be one of those mothers calling about mucous or poo.  I was in shock..and I kind of felt ashamed too..so I skulk away past the 10:30 and 10:45 appointments, no medical care for my girls today..

How am I going to fix this?  Do I call and re-schedule, do I take just a half day tomorrow and then go to work?  God, I feel like an idiot and I have to explain this to Ching.  All this is going through my head as Rachel is babbling to herself and Laurel keeps singing the Kit Kat jingle..yeah, give me a break.

After Rachel is dropped off, I bring Laurel to her classroom.  Immediately she announces with exasperation that her appointment is tomorrow.  (I think I caught an eyeroll.)  Her teacher looks at me and immediately knows my predictament.  "You took today off, didn't you?  Honestly, I thought this only happens to me..you just made my day."  Glad her day was made because mine is now shot to shit.

My Jude time is gone.  Even if I do something for myself, I still underlying guilt of messing up the day.  I contemplate going into work but instead I do what I was meant to do which is picking up everyone else's crap..cheerios of the carpet, random dirty socks, etc.  Honestly, I am also questioning my sanity..I swear they said March 21 at 10:15.

Not only that, I have this huge pimple on the side of my face.  What is this,1987?

When it was just me, there were nights that I would just eat ice cream sandwiches and drink wine.

There are days when I come home in a rush and I ask myself, "What did I do with my time before the girls?"  Usually I think I have no time and I am jealous of the childless and single that say they don't have time..and they don't even know.  But with me, I try to think about before..but the thought of no girls..it just isn't natural.  My girls, my family are a constant like turning on the water faucet and expecting water.  But there was a time before this that I just can't remember..

Every so often, I do make fleeting comparisons, especially around dinner time.  When it was just me, there were nights that I would just eat ice cream sandwiches and drink wine.  When I married Ching, dinners were amazing..specific main, side and a vegetable which may not sound like a big deal but, now, there are times when my side comes out of a canister and takes 5 minutes to make.  So gross...but Ching loves it.  (Please remember that his family eats potatoes out of a box.)

Rather than spending my time, it is now about saving time. Time that was taken for granted, years ago. Instead of lovingly making a lemon drop martini (2 clicks Citron, 1 click Cointreau, fresh lemon and fine sugar in the shaker), it's now about straight Citron in a glass.  Granted I want to avoid explaining the shaker to my girls.."Mommy..why do you have a rattle?" (Me-- "Hey is that the Fresh Beat Band that I hear?")

I tend to sniff clothes and hope for clean rather than just choose only folded clothes.  I have re-used socks that were stuffed in the sneakers (don't judge.)  I don't want to spend more time doing laundry.

I had so much time prior to the girls..I spent hours at the gym.  I took Chinese classes for a year (while I remember nothing, major suck up points with Aunt Angela and Uncle Ming-Luh) and planned a wedding.  Honestly the wedding (and thank you notes) were nothing..the Chinese, very hard.

But other than the gym, classes..I don't think I did much.  Perhaps I slept a lot because I am very tired now..Maybe, I just watched too much television..(lots of episodes of Friends--we will address that later).  What did you do?  Please tell me that you can't remember either?

To me, the acronym screams Sloppy Mother Body Odor..but, really, not so much.

I have a dear friend that was the oldest of five children-three boys, two girls.  Every once in awhile, he told me that his mother would (while making sure that all of her children were watched, and then) leave to see a movie, by herself and eat an ice cream sundae.  Prior to this treat, she had had enough of the motherly crap and was experiencing SMBO.  This was defined as Super Mom Burn Out.  (To me..the acronym screams Sloppy Mother Body Odor but you know..it's me.)

This friend sat next to me for some time.  If there was a day that I had to call in--he would meet me the next day and ask SMBO?  He would remind me of what it stood for and tell me about his mom..

This was very kind of him.  While he wasn't a parent (yet), he seemed to know.  Perhaps he knew that I got up the prior morning ultimately overwhelmed by the thought of two lunch boxes that never seemed to be filled properly, prepping the girls (hustle, hustle, hustle) and the thought of the upcoming work day that just caused me to break out in a sweat that the longest shower couldn't wash away.  This was the type of morning that I would lie to Ching about cramps, nauseau, etc.  "I need to take the day, " I would tell him. (and make some pitiful little moan of defeat.)

Currently, I am feeling a hint of SMBO.  Not entirely..just a whiff..I think it is the weather.  It has been so nice in the Northeast.  But I can't enjoy it.  I am behind with spring/summer clothes.  I think Laurel can wear stuff from last year but Rachel..I have nothing.  (I know, there may be Laurel's hand me downs in a Rubbermaid container that is in the garage..but it's March..I wasn't prepared to dig until mid-April.)

And then, there is me..it's getting warmer.  I need to make friends with the razor and lotion sooner than I thought..or wear pants for much longer while it is very warm. (And don't even mention the pedicure..)

A vacation won't help..unless it is just me, alone, at the Four Seasons, room service and several dirty martini's. (And a lovely, fatty antipasto tray..because you know how I love full fat..not reduced.)

I can foresee the future.  On Wednesday, I am taking the day (after the girls' doctors appointments..and then they will go back to school).  I will have time to catch up..but I will be damned that I am going for a freakin' ice cream sundae..but perhaps that was Mrs R.'s code for something else.

(Congrats H+D..My heart is full for the both of you.)

Please tell me that other mothers hate Sunday night too...

Please tell me that other mothers hate Sunday night too. It is a night where your list of the weekend is contemplated.  These are the people that have lists (single, childless people need not know)..Lists that may require Home Depot, Shaw's,  Linens N Things five loads of laundry, a sponge hitting the fridge and checking your Amex balance to make sure you are not in the red for the month.

I, not only think of the things that I didn't get to, but more importantly, things that I should have completed but will not realize until the Monday morning commute.  (It is Sunday..I don't even realize yet to describe.)

The only thing that I foresee this week that may muck it up is the weather.  It may be unseasonably warm.  Laurel has stuff that can be worn.  (She tends to grow "up" rather than out.  She has this pair of shorts that are labeled 2T--she still wears them.  Her butt apparently is a 2T..as opposed to her sister.  I should have searched through Laurel's other 2T stuff for Rachel..Rachel may be sweating up a storm tomorrow in regular pants and a onsie.  Maybe she can just wear a onsie.  What kid doesn't want to run around in a onsie and in the sandbox..good times..I will remember sunblock!)

The schedule for the week isn't bad..I have good babysitting coverage.  On Thursday, Ching and I do have to go to a summer camp orientation 5:30.  This is a first choice of a camp that Laurel may attend this summer. This camp may also collect $5000 for 8 weeks (and I say goodbye to any sort of awesome gift for my 40th. Goodbye Cartier...)

Wine or vodka..not a good idea to soothe the Sunday Evening anxiety..because..you know.

The irony is this anxiety is that I don't even think about my shit..what I have to do at work..and work..that's all I've got other than my blog.  (Perhaps on Tuesday night, I may gorge on some cheese.  I think I am taking Wednesday off since the girls have these random doctor's appointments. It would be easier to take the day rather than running back and forth and taking a half day.)

It's 9:00, Rachel is in bed.  Ching is taking Laurel up to bed.  Maybe I should hit the eliptical in the basement..burn off all those weekend Cheetos. I decide to just dust it so it looks used.

Absolutely not Jude..those little bastards are not going to win.

As the air gets warmer and days get longer, the rivalry seems to be renewed between Ching and a street gang of...squirrels.  I wish I could say that the word squirrel is a metaphor for something cool or tawdry but it is not.  There are about 4 of them, the size of small cats, that Ching feels have done him wrong.

We have two large trash receptacles--green for recycling and blue for trash.  (Pretty standard in any suburb.)  When we first moved into this house, every morning or so, we noticed these stray blue plastic shavings scattered all over the driveway.  We had no idea where they are coming from until we discovered a small hole on the lid of the trash can that was getting bigger and bigger.  At first we thought it was a big, crazy rabid driven raccoon..oh, but, no..it's a gang of squirrels.  Ching thought it was ridiculous that a puffy tailed rodent could do this much damage.  Ching shifted his weight, hiked up his pants and told me not to worry..he could handle this.  (Oh Christ..)

Ching first started with thick grey electrical tape..(really? They ate through plastic).  When the tape was absolutely shredded, Ching bought thin pieces of metal called flashing.  He layered the flashing and tape over the hole.  The next morning, not only was the tape shredded, again, but the flashing has been bent back as if the squirrels had Hulk like strength.

Ladies..I know what you are thinking.  "Ching why don't you just move the trash receptacles into the garage?"  That was my suggestion but Ching refused saying that those little rodent bastards were not going to make a fool out of him.  (Too late, dude.)

So at night, while we were in bed, we could hear the late night parties.  The cover of the receptacle tipping up and banging down.  The laughter.."Ching you may have an MBA from Wharton but you can't stop us..we love your trash and we will eat it all night long."

JCW: Ching--it is late and I can't get to sleep--that trash is going into the garage.
CCW: Absolutely not Jude..those little bastards are not going to win.
JCW: Ching--it sounds like they are winning.

One morning, I had enough.  I look out our bedroom window (which is over the driveway). There is a squirrel in our driveway, upon it's hind legs with a piece of trash in one paw and the other paw is up, defiantly, like it's flipping the Wangs off.  But the gesture is not what upsets me..there is something familiar and white in the center of the cul-de-sac..I immediately know what it is.  It used to belong to me.  I am not going to tell you what this humiliating piece of trash is but if you are a mother, who has given birth naturally and now run..you know what I am referring to.

Ching then drilled the flashing with screws, not tape, to cover the holes. But still blue shavings show up every now and then..

Since he didn't do what I asked (of using the garage) after my "trash" was in the cul-de-sac, I have taken the squirrels side.  Every so often I will write Ching a note filled with obscenities signed "The Squirrels".  Holiday cards come to our house and a random thank you note is something juicy has been thrown away.

But Ching will not cave...so the war rages on...

You want to come over for a glass of wine? Check a box--No, Yes, Maybe?

Laurel recently had a playdate at our house.  (I still haven't figured out how to finesse the suggestion of having Laurel go over there.)  I was on the phone with the mom, confirming the time and this mom goes all alpha dog on me.  When I answer the phone, she loudly introduces herself, greets me and says "how are you" (in such a way that she obviously doesn't give a shit) in a matter of 1.7 seconds.  Holy cripe.

I am curious if this mom remembers our past.  She is one of the classroom moms. At the beginning of the year she gave herself the task of creating a contact list.  As the first draft of the list came out, Ching's name is misspelled.  It is listed with a "q" rather than the "g".  It doesn't look good and pronounces even worse.  I politely ask her to correct her mistake.  She said that she would and then the second draft comes out but the error is still there.  I send her a second e-mail with a terse tone asking her yet again to change it.  I make it very clear that the misspelling does not look good.  She, now, has realized what it looks like and profusely apologizes.  By no means, did I accuse her of anything (other than having her head up her ass) but it did get awkward when I realize that this mom adopted three girls from Asia. Even though she made the mistake, I still feel like an asshole.

Regardless if she remembers or not, I feel very awkward.  I am not good at making friends.  I am largely introverted and a little shy.  At work, I try to pass it off as being mean but really I would just rather keep to myself and not risk being rejected.  As I look back, most of my friends have been made by the situation..sitting next to each other in homeroom, college roommates, friend of friends, work cube mates, etc.

I know that I should befriend other moms.  Some seem really cool with genuine, polite kids. But I don't want to be overbearing or look like the clingy weirdo.  Also, just introducing myself brings me right back to junior high and wondering if I am wearing the right thing, if my hair looks okay, or if there is a stray booger that I have failed to notice.  Sometimes walking down the hall of Laurel's elementary school feels like I am going to my locker at Westbrook Junior High.  I can't slip these moms a note saying if you want to come over for a glass of wine..check a box.  (No, Yes, Maybe?)

Then, of course..I go to my glass half empty mode.  What if the mom's kid turns out to be a little shit.  Then, what do I do?

It is the end of Laurel's play date and the mom is outside with Ching talking about summer camps. I can see them in the back kitchen window as I start dinner. Should I go outside and join the conversation?  Not today but I promise I will..I go back to making my meatloaf.  It is amazing how satisfying it is to squish ground beef, parsley, eggs, onions, ketchup and bread crumbs and then slap it into a loaf pan.

First of all..I want to kick Paul in the freakin' face..

Have I created a monster?  This morning Laurel wanted me to do something that was absolutely ridiculous.  Let's back up, shall we?

On Tuesday night, I opened the fridge.  Laurel saw a Lorax coupon on Rachel's YoToddler yogurt six pack and squealed with glee. (Absolutely, not my kid..)  "Oh look, it's a Lorax coupon..it's good for a free computer game." (My mind races..my kid is a genius.  She read coupon).
J:  "Laurel, how do you know that?"
L:  "Oh Mom..someone gave Paul this same coupon.  It's for a free video game.  I can give it to Paul for a free game."
(God, I hate this Paul.  Isn't it time for middle school for him?  Actually, not, son of a bitch, that would be in about 656 days.)
So Laurel goes to school on Wednesday with this weird ass coupon for her Paul.  (If I knew what was going to go down, that coupon would have been double baggie'd and put in the our Wang family safe.)

Fast forward to Thursday morning:
L: Mom, Mrs. Kelly lost the coupon I had for Paul.
J: I don't think she lost it.  She probably laminated it or put it in a special box.
L:  No,she lost it. She told me that she doesn't have it.  I have no coupon for Paul.  I need you to go get more yogurt so I can get a new coupon.
J: What does that mean?
L:  Can you go and get more yogurt?
J:  Wait a minute (don't say the f-bomb)..you want me to go to Shaw's at 7:00 in the morning to get a six-pack of yogurt (that we don't need; we have 2 more packs left) to get a coupon for that Paul?
L: Why do you call him "that Paul"?
J:  (You want to go there,)  Laurel..no, I am not dressed, my hair isn't straightened..but regardless..no, no, no..
L: Daddy will go!
J:  (Really? Daddy can't find the freakin' dishwasher.  He is not going to find Shaw's prior to 8:30.) No, he won't.
L: You are the worst!! You don't understand!
J: (And so it begins..) Oh crap!!

For a God damn coupon for a free internet game?

First of all..I want to kick Paul in the freakin' face.  I don't know him..but I don't freakin' like him.  Secondly, are you God damn kidding me?  I never pulled this shit with my mom.  I even called her to make sure..the worst was ironing terrible pleats during multiple mornings.  (Keep in mind the decade..pleats and shoulder pads.) There were a couple of mornings when I would asked for several french braid attempts because I didn't like the bumps.  The worst was one late 11:00 evening when I asked that my Maine Marching Band Championship patch was sewn on my jacket the night that I got it.  (I am now ashamed that I asked..)

A early morning Shaw's run for a coupon for a free video game?  God, I am going to kick "that Paul" in the ass! Not only the argument but turning her into that girl..c'mon!

Holy Christ on Crutches, JCW..you just "statemented" someone.

This morning, I committed one of my personal sins.  As I was standing in line waiting to pay for my coffee, (It wouldn't have happened if that cashier moved a little faster..this guy can't make change and speak at the same time.  He addresses me as "Hun"..and I won't even go into detail of the fact that he commented on my cream cheese purchase. I need to treat myself and go to Starbucks)..I see my friend Dave.  I look at him and say, "You look tan."

Holy Christ on Crutches, JCW..you just "statemented" someone.  It wasn't a compliment and now Dave is looking at me questioning if he looks fresh as a daisy (a man daisy) or if he looks like he just used his frequent member card at Tan So Much. I later apologize to Dave for my simpleton ways and educate him on the curse of "statementing".

This trend is defined (by me) as a person (usually one who likes to hear themselves talk) that makes a statement, thinking it's a compliment.  It comes out so benign, yet awkwardly, that the receiver doesn't know to either thank the sender or flip them off.  Let me give you an example with both "what I am thinking" vs. "what I would like to say" when I get one of these statements.

"Your hair is getting so long."
(What I am thinking--bad long or good long?  I know my hair doesn't look great.  I have been using Suave since the freakin' TSA in Cincinnati took my Kerastase.)
(What I want to say:  Ironic because it is a wig.  I have alopecia. I got this from Locks of Love.)

"You are so skinny."
(What I am thinking--I know!  I haven't altered my pants since losing a few pounds.)
(What I want to say:  YES!  Vomiting and laxative are paying off!)

"You are getting so big. (when, I was several months pregnant)
(What I am thinking:  Thanks. I know, I have 'roids and stretch marks to show for it)
(What I want to say:  Screw you.)

I believe the cure to this, is to just blankly stare. Technically there is no need for a thank you or an awkward o-kay.  My attention is yours--is the compliment coming soon?  No?  Move on.

Call me harsh (I will consider that a compliment) but "statementing" falls into a category.  There is a phrase of "if you don't have something nice to say, don't say it at all."  My motto is this:  "If what you think you are about to say can't be defined, keep your trap shut."

Today is not a day to be snarky..

Today is not a day to be snarky about my man, CCW or my girls.

Tonight I hug the girls harder and longer than I have in a long time.

Tonight I eat dinner with CCW, have a nice conversation and treasure my true partner.

Tonight I appreciate the fact that when I left work the sun warmed my face.

Purple and Gold just won't be the ordinary anymore..

So it's 5:02, and I am armed with a small baggie of Goldfish and a half a snack bag of Cheetos

So it's 5:02, I am in my CRV armed with a small baggie of Goldfish and a half a snack bag of Cheetos. (I know, I probably shouldn't give my girls anything that spells cheese as "cheez" but these things are good!) It's Monday and I have to pick up both girls by 6:00.  Usually this happens once a week and I hate it.  I have to sprint out of work at about 4:57 and the anxiety of getting them both in time makes my hair frizz.  Technically it sounds easy but I have to maneuver through Pike West traffic and figure out if I should get off at the further exit and pick up Rachel first, then double back through three sections of Newton to get Laurel.  Or should I choose the closer exit, go through the shittiest rotary known to man, get Laurel and then sprint through the three sections of Newton to get Rachel.

The two arguments banter back and forth through my head like Prude and Rude and holy shit..the car next to me just saw me actively talk out loud in the car.  The way I argue with myself and grip the wheel, they know it ain't Bluetooth.  If I get Rachel first, I have to put her in her car seat twice--once at her school and once at Laurel's school.  Freakin' daylight savings--it's now light out during the pick up and there is no way I could leave her in a locked car while I sprint in to get Laurel.  (Yeah, I know..judge if you must..)  I also don't know what type of mood she will be in..she might want to go right away or be very "difficult".  This is where the Goldfish and Cheetos come in to play.  These mere morsels are supposed to lure her in the seat.  While I am absolutely not afraid of her I do think I should mention that this weekend, she pounced on Laurel and knocked two teeth (albeit all ready loose) out.  Practically, I think I make better time getting Rachel and then Laurel..but I also like my teeth.

Getting Laurel first..the traffic is an absolute nightmare off of the closer exit.  While Laurel knows that we have to hustle to get her sister, she has the CCW pokey gene.  It takes her forever to get her stuff and then she has to say to goodbye to everyone..especially that Paul.  Then on to the drive over to Rachel, Laurel is complaining that she is so hungry there is absolutely no way she will make it home.  (I thank God everyday that there are no McD's between both schools.)  Again, this is where the Goldfish and Cheetos come in play (along with her daily fruit snacks).  While I have all ready admitted to wanting to leave Rachel in a locked car for just a few minutes, I might as well admit this.  Laurel peppers me with the most unanswerable questions in the shortest about of time.  Rachel is quieter..lets me navigate in peace.

So I decide to get Rachel first.  Luckily she is in a great mood, playing outside and runs to me with glee.  (Rachel runs with this chubbiness that just makes me melt.  Her body twists as she runs, one arm to her side and the other swinging in the breeze.)  We get her stuff and immediately, I drop the fishy reference..like butter in the seat (and my teeth are safe.)

We get Laurel at 5:35 and true to form she wants to get her stuff out of her locker on her own while I wait in the main entrance.  While it takes her a short four minutes to get her stuff, she says goodbye to three girls in her path.  (Avoid the boy, Laurel..avoid the boy.  She doesn't avoid boy.... Oh my God, he is as gay as the 1920's.  Laurel, take your time.)  I lure her with the Cheetos..but I do explain that she needs to give a few to Rachel.

And we get home by 5:52.  What I didn't count on was Rachel not crunching into the Cheetos.  She was sucking them..Cheeto goo all over.  And that suit is going to the cleaners.

She was no Mary Poppins (Part 2)-this time with nut job attached.

Continued from last night..this is Wang nanny horror story-Part II.  Prior to posting this essay from 2007, I read through and there is so much understood anger.  But now I also have a thankful calm of our childcare situation of 2012.

Roberta started the following Monday.  I took one day off to show her where things were, the routine of both girls, etc.  It took Roberta to get the hang of everything in one day.  This was her gig.  After a week’s time, I prepped very little.  She knew where everything was and how to care for each girl.

I would come home and Laurel would be smiling, bathed and there would be a fancy desert in the refridge.  While I took care of one child, I couldn’t find time to brush my teeth.  She takes care of two and makes a dessert for the Wangs?

It was nanny bliss from September to the next February.  I loved the way she was with Laurel.  She would sing to her and play.  Laurel would light up when Roberta walked through the door.

Coming home to my child wasn’t a bad thing either.  Being around Roberta was like being around a friend.  She was easy to talk to and funny.  I never worried at work about what might be happening at home.  I knew my girl was just fine.  Others around me appreciated this peace too.  I wasn’t bogging people down with these crazy nanny stories anymore.

After this ideal relationship, the February through April was a trainwreck.  Roberta was involved with a man on and off  for a few years.  Marriage was subject discussed but she told me she was unsure.  One Monday in December, I asked her if she was available to babysit on Saturday.  She said she had plans and she was getting married.  Roberta said this with a sly smile and seemed excited.  While I wanted to be excited for her, I tried to mask my skepticism.  Her guy just didn't sound right and I couldn't put my finger on it.  But not everyone likes a buttoned up planner of a man that gives good spreadsheet like me.

She got married and returned to work the following Monday sporting a very shiny platinum band.  Roberta was very happy albeit the receiver of several calls during the day from her new husband.  He seemed to call a lot but I attributed it to the honeymoon stage.

December rolled in to January, then February.  Roberta’s joyful bliss disappeared and was more somber than usual.  I was worried but I also thought she was dealing with the basic trials and tribulations of marriage.  I mean, it’s hard.  On a Thursday, she told me that she needed the next day off.  Ching and I tried to stress giving us a little notice when taking a day off but I told her to take the day and I would stay home with Laurel.  She then told me that she was taking the day to go to court to have her marriage annulled because she was thrown down a flight of stairs.  Holy crap..not exactly the loving by the book planner type of guy that I was hoping for her.

That same annulment Friday, Roberta left Jimmy. (Yeah, I know.  A grown man named Jimmy.) I did applaud this move but secretly and selfishly I was wondered how this was going to affect my perfect nanny situation.  The first issue was her commute.  To feel safe from Jimmy, she moved an hour and 20 minutes away.  Ching and I didn’t think she could keep that up but she was insistent that she could.

Then the crap started to hit the fan.  Jimmy started to prank call us in the middle of the night.  If he did call while we were home, his comments were, first of all obscene, but disparaging Roberta as an employee and Ching and I as employers.

Jimmy also called the fire department from a pay phone claiming that we had a gas leak.  This initiated all sorts of fire engines to come to our house just for us to tell them that no one from our residence made the call.  At this point, it was a pain in the ass, but there was no way to stop it other than a restraining/no communication order.

On a Wednesday in the beginning of March, I came home to a panicked Roberta while the other parents (in the nanny share) trying to calm her down.  She kept saying that we could fire her now.  While the girls were asleep, Jimmy stopped by high on coke and angel dust (I thought that was from the 80’s?).  He let himself into our house even though Roberta didn’t want him inside.  She called the police and they were at our house immediately (yay! Tax dollars!).  He was taken away in cuffs and charged with going against the restraining order and unlawful entry.  In the shouting match that occurred with the cops and Jimmy, the girls woke up and were screaming.  He was taken away and about 30 minutes later, this is when I came home.  Roberta had to make a statement with the police so she left but wanted to come back to talk to Ching and me.  This is when we found out about her dude.  He was a convicted felon-armed robbery of a bank.  He had served 15 years in prison and he was now using drugs again.   Ching and I were shocked.  This was a smart, funny attractive woman.  Why and how could she get involved with someone like that?

Mixed emotions followed.  I really liked Roberta and didn’t want to let her go.  But, there was a nut after her and I wanted her the hell away from Laurel.  Being that Jimmy was now in jail, she continued to work with us but for a very short time.  The commute was a nightmare for her and she was still trying to make the transition in her new residence with her family.  She gave her two weeks notice and we worked with her to find another job.

But in the meantime and after making bail, Jimmy still harassed us.  Calls still kept coming to the point where we changed our number and got caller ID.  One Friday morning in April, we woke up to our car, our neighbor’s car and our deck splattered with white paint.  We don’t have proof that Jimmy did this but we certainly don’t believe this was random.  I drive our car.  It’s very economical but shiny.  The removal of paint took away the shininess.  Ching and I gave money to our neighbor to help with his paint removal cost.  We also spent a very hot Memorial Day weekend removing the paint and re-staining the deck. 

There was a point where Ching and I didn’t feel safe in our own home.  We installed sensor lights and cameras.  Before we went to bed, we jammed a chair under the doorknob of the cellar door since it didn’t lock.  Every noise made us jump.  If we felt someone was parked outside (on the street) of our condo too long, we called the police.  I hated Roberta for this.  She brought this asshole in our lives. 

I have not resolved my feelings about this.  They are still up in the air.  Roberta was wonderful with Laurel but she also took a feeling of safety away from my family.

If Ching and I interview other babysitting candidates, we ask (the candidate) about their personal life—who may be intertwined with us.  We explain why we ask and if they have issue, the door is right there.

She was no Mary Poppins (Part 1)

This week was not a good childcare week (for me..because I am selfish.  Everything revolves around me.) Ching forgot to get Laurel on Monday and she was picked up 20 minutes after her program "closes".  You know the Rachel eye gunk story (the Russian roulette of dropping her off or if she should stay home).  And my main girl, Lindsey who cares for the girls on Wednesday, was away in Italy.  (Of course I am jealous because she is young, cute..and young.)  And my back-up was only available for 1 day.  Ching and I scrambled all week. (Obviously Ching didn't scramble enough on Monday.)

Regardless, I am utterly grateful for the resources that we have.  Ching and I had terrible childcare experiences while Laurel was young.  This is a two part series.  When Laurel was 18 months old, I wrote this essay.  This is one of the most cathartic essays that I ever wrote about being a new mom and the fact that whom we hired was no Mary Poppins.

This essay comes with a disclaimer.  The stories that I am about to tell with either seem funny or scary or a little bit of both.  I would still recommend using a nanny when your child is very young.  I just wouldn’t recommend the first woman that we hired.

What drew Ching and me toward using a nanny was Laurel’s age when I was going to return to work.  She was going to be three months old and I couldn’t imagine dropping her off with all sorts of other kids running around with dirty hands and crusty noses near her.  I wanted the ratio of children to provider to be as small as possible.  Then my selfish side came out, I didn’t think I would be able to get my child and myself ready for the day and then the drop off.  With a nanny, I wouldn’t have to get Laurel ready in the morning.

The difficult part was trying to find a nanny in September for the following May.  Most wanted to start immediately, so they were weeded out.  The candidates that just didn’t show up to the interview were also immediately taken off the list.  If we even got to ask questions, the gift of tact helped.  How do you subtly ask someone if they have common sense; that they are not going to shake my baby;  are going to love my child and even show up on time day after day?  I put a lot of credence in body language, facial expression and if they swore, that crossed them off the list too.

The popular payment of choice is cash-under the table.  I had terrible guilt that I was doing something bad by giving someone an opportunity not to declare this as income.  This also nixed any plans that I had to use a dependant care account at work where I could save funds pretax.  (To pull the funds out of the account, I needed to show proof of payment.  I knew an ATM receipt would not work.)  Because I was paying now with after tax dollars and not getting a tax break, I was now passing the break on to someone else.  I also knew that neither my husband nor I would be able to run for public office.

Because the cost for a nanny was a bit more than we anticipated, we were introduced to the idea of a nanny share.  We found another couple that worked very close to where we lived.  We would agree on a nanny and then have the nanny solely work out of our house (because of my drop off anxiety).  Because of the convenience for us, we would pay a little bit more than the other set of parents.  While this actually dug us into a deeper hole of being “set” (now agreeing on a set of parents and then a nanny), I appreciated more input on the candidate.   The couple that we started to work with seemed okay but then the father got weird.  He was a little too in touch with his feelings.  He claimed that Ching looked at him harshly during a get together and he didn’t think Ching wanted to communicate with him.  The dude called me at work to tell me this.  Immediately they were crossed off the list.  With that experience, Ching and I decided to focus on finding a nanny and then finding a family down the road.

The first nanny that we hired actually interviewed with us the day after we brought Laurel home from the hospital.  My mindset wasn’t there due to feeling overwhelmed and tired.  Ching did the majority of the interview while I just tried to calm Laurel down.  (You know, that was probably a sign I didn’t even pick up on.)  Two things struck me about Mary:  she referred to the library as a “liberry” which I found odd.  I didn’t know anyone over the age of seven that pronounced it that way.  Then I felt like a snob for picking up on this.  Secondly, she smelled like cigarette smoke.  Not blatantly but seemed to be part of her scent.  I asked her if she smoked and she looked shocked that I would even ask her.  She said no and then made a joke about how terrible it would be to see a woman walking with a stroller while a butt was hanging out of her mouth.

Ching liked her and I thought I was being too picky.   I did find solace in that fact that this woman was in her mid-50’s and had raised a son (now 19).  This was the main reason where I found comfort with her.   I know this sounds terrible but I just wanted the childcare situation set.  Bringing Laurel home from the hospital was so overwhelming and the thought of having our childcare set was so comforting.  The references she gave us spoke warmly about her.  But we should have asked for references that spanned her entire childcare career, not just the ones that she had chosen to give to us.  According to her, she had been caring for children for 18 years but her references only covered five of those years.

We used Mary a few times before her official start.  She would come over in the afternoons to give me a little break especially if Ching had to work late.  I didn’t like her. I couldn’t put my finger on it.   I didn’t like talking to her.  I didn’t like listening to her but again, I thought I was being bitchy.  Now I realize that it was okay to feel the way I did.  I should like the person that cares from my child.

Mary started the week before I was going to go back to work.  Everyday was a dry run of me getting ready for work so the first week back wasn’t a huge shock.  Red flags were already up the Sunday before she started.  She was confused about the time she was supposed to be at our house even though Ching told her several times.  We also told her that her first week would mirror a typical week and that she would be there all day regardless if I was there or not.  Not only was this a “getting ready for work” test but I tried to use this time to do household stuff.  While she knew we wanted her there all day, every day, she still would ask me if she could leave early.   But not before she would count out how many hours she was there that day (like I couldn’t count) to confirm how much I should be paying her.

Ching and I did express the hope to do a nanny share.  Mary enthusiastically agreed to this insistent that she could handle two small children.  Individually, the nanny share set up is cheaper for each family individually but collectively we were paying her more. 

Every time Mary did something that I considered odd, I would justify the behavior as me being critical.  Of course I should have been critical.  This was my kid.  I also live in the Massachusetts—home of the Louise Woodward Baby Shaking Trial of 1997! There were so many examples of absentmindedness that I couldn’t fathom and turned a blind eye to.  If Mary was eating one half of a bagel and dropped the other half on the carpet, she would leave it on the carpet all day (butter side down).  If I got home while she was making tea, my interruption got her off track therefore she would leave for the day with the water still boiling, milk out, etc.  I never even addressed why she was drinking hot tea by my girl.   Laurel would have large ink stains from pens on her onsies—how was Laurel holding a pen (and so close to her eyes!)?

Scattered and dazed was a good phrase for her.  Frequently, she needed to be paid early.  Several times I would get a “I-don’t-know-how-I-am-going-to-make-it-to-Friday” story on a Tuesday.  She never seemed to connect that Ching and I had to get paid to pay her.   She couldn’t keep the schedule straight—it was the same everyday.  During the time she was with us, she lost her pocketbook once and got into three minor car accidents.  Everything for Laurel was meticulously prepped for Mary (two sets of clothes laid out, extra diapers with wipes and each bottle precisely measured with either formula or breastmilk) .  I couldn’t trust that she would remember the routine on Tuesday even in she had (remembered) on Monday.  After I got home, I would ask about a re-cap of Laurel’s day, Mary would have this tired, droopy eye gaze like she was two seconds away from a long winter’s nap.  Jesus Christ, had I just woken her up?

I needed to get rid of her and I didn’t know how.  I phrase this like the problem was solely my responsibility and not the other family or Ching’s.   Coming home was a double edge sword every day.  I wanted to get home to my girl but I absolutely didn’t want to deal with X.  I didn’t want to hear about her issues or crazy stories.  One late afternoon, she told me about three kids in her extended family that died-one in a fire, one from cancer and one falling out of a moving car.  Are you kidding me?

During the next couple of weeks, there were a few incidents that inched me closer and closer to the edge.  One morning, as I was getting ready for work, I noticed that my mascara wasn’t mine.  The brand was correct-Maybelline Great Lash.  (Who doesn’t recognize the pink and green?) But this tube of mascara was old and the label was worn off.  The one that I had the day before was not like this.  Mary was using my make-up.  She took my newer tube of mascara and left hers behind.  I truly believe that she didn’t steal my mascara but dumped my make-up out to look at what I used and then dumped her make up bag out to compare.  (This sounds like something preteens do but Mary seemed to be child-like at times.)   I don’t know what made my stomach turn more, the sheer grossness of her using something on her skin that had also touched mine or the fact that this woman wore her make-up like Bette Davis in “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?”  This tube of mascara was in the bottom of my make up bag.  It just didn’t fall in by accident.  I left a note letting her know that I think she left it in the bathroom as a mistake.  She took her mascara but never returned or explained where my original tube went.

A week later, after 6:00, I got a visit from two women from my neighborhood.  I had never met them and they apologized profusely for appearing to tattle or to be nosey.  They felt that I should know that the nanny that I was employing didn’t seem to respond to my daughter when she cried.   The two saw this happening as Mary would walk around the neighborhood with Laurel in the stroller.  If Laurel cried, Mary didn’t really respond.  I thanked the women for telling me this but didn’t know what to do or who to believe.  Mary claimed that the women in our neighborhood didn’t like her.  (In retrospect, they did exactly what they needed to do as mothers and responsible adults.  To this day, I don’t know who they are but am grateful for their help.)

I never doubted that Mary didn’t love my daughter.  But she was overwhelmed at the task of taking care of two infants.  And she wasn’t good enough for Ching and me to sever the nanny share agreement and to keep her employed just for ourselves.  I couldn’t leave daily detailed instructions anymore.  I didn’t like dreading coming home.  I couldn’t sit in meetings wondering if Mary was asleep on the couch as the girls were crying.   My breaking point was coming home and finding Laurel playing and ripping apart a paper towel.  Mary claimed that she like the texture.  This was absolutely fine if Mary was watching her.  After she left and I went about getting Laurel’s dinner ready.  I went upstairs to her room to straighten up and found a paper towel in her crib.  Mary let her play with it on her own.  Laurel could have ripped off a piece and got it stuck in her throat.  I physically broke down in front of Ching and told him that I wanted Mary gone. The way I felt during this breakdown was indescribable.  I hated this woman but I hated myself even more for tolerating her crap and putting my child in harm’s way.

The other mom agreed and wanted to see Mary gone too.  She had the same apprehension as I did but had the same belief that the situation would get better if we kept telling Mary what we wanted.  This is where it got a little tricky.  We had to agree on another nanny as quickly as possible to get Mary the hell out of there.  But we also had to ask good thorough questions without feeling tainted by the first experience.  Finding another nanny only took a couple of weeks.  Ching and I learned that finding a nanny that can start right away is much easier than one that could start months down the road. 

Our new nanny is set, now we just had to get rid of Mary?  Do we tolerate her for three weeks until the new nanny starts and give Mary no notice?  Or do we give her notice?  If she has notice, how is she going to react and what will her work ethic be?  This isn’t an office job where she could play solitaire just ticking away time and collecting a severance package.  And if we gave her notice, what was our story going to be?  Do we tell her that she sucked but we want to give her time to get a new job or do we take the weenie route and lie?  It was my decision and I took the weenie approach.  I told her that we were changing our childcare option and severing the nanny share agreement.  Lying was not the right thing but it was very easy to do.  There was a reason why I didn’t confront her—I don’t like confrontation.

Even though we gave her two weeks notice, an extra weeks salary, and a two week paid vacation (after working only 3 months), she was mad as hell.  How could we do this to her?  Before letting her go, we met with her several times after work to try to improve things.  It boggles my mind that she thought she did a good job.  I knew her pronunciation of library as liberry was a sign.

(And it will get better..check it out tomorrow for Not Mary Poppins, Part 2)

When Ching looked and talked to my mom..that was me, 21 years from now.

Tonight are the semi-finals of the Big East tourney.  (If you didn't know this about me, I am a UConn grad.  UConn won the Big East tournament seven times, NCAA National title, 3 times.)  While this tournament is some of the best match-ups seen in the NCAA's, 12 years ago today, there was a different match up.  My mom and Ching were meeting for the first time.

I was completely blissful during this time..walking on a cloud, farting rainbows and dotting my i's with hearts.  But there was a slight anxiety about this meeting that could have diminished my bliss.  They both meant the world to me and I just wanted them to like each other.  I knew this man was going to be the one to share my life and build a family.  My mom isn't one to hold back and neither is Ching.  If they didn't like each other..I would have been screwed.  Also this meeting gave Ching the ability to look into the future.  Essentially, when Ching looked and talked to my mom..that was me, 21 years from now.  If he didn't like the present, he certainly wouldn't like the future.

When I finally took him home to Westbrook, we did not stay over at my mom's.  There were way too many anxious sticking points..making awkward conversation with bed head could be avoided for now..we stayed at the Marriot for the weekend. (While Ching does want me to brag about our stay, I will refrain. You can thank me later.)

The first dinner was fine and was at a very casual restaurant.  Nothing bad happened to the point where my mom would rush home, call my sister and then four of her besties to tell them that I was dating a turd.  But there was no connection yet either.  Neither Ching nor my mom would fake it and act like the other's new best friend.  But they were honest with each other.  At one point my mom was kind of joking with the fact that she needs to be brutally honest.  If she holds it in, she will get a headache.  Ching responded, "that's convenient."  (Oh snap, are you kidding me?  Wow!  He could hold his own!)

The connection happened the next night when we were at my mom's house for dinner.  A couple who are still very good friends came over as well.  (I really needed the buffer. The liquor helped too.)  The dinner was going to be followed by 25 of my mom's A list coming over for a "spring get together".  While casual, it had the feel of "Hey let's check out Jude's boyfriend. Holy Christ, this has been a long time coming".  My mom served lasagna, rolls and salad for dinner.  But for dessert she made an apple pie because I told her it was Ching's favorite.  He ate the piece that he was served and rather than be embarrassed to ask for a second piece or have me get it, he simply said "Lori, may I have another piece of pie?"  I have never seen my mom move quicker than she did to get another piece of the pie that she had made just for Ching.  That pie was all it took to bond my mom and my man, Ching.  I am very grateful for that pie.

To this day my mom always makes the same pie when the Wangs come to Westbrook.

Holy shit..this isn't going to happen in the after life..right?

I have this terrible of habit of letting an early morning incident deem the rest of my day.  I am trying to get over this..but some times it just festers like sore, chapped lips or that nail that broke on your way to work and now it's so rough and you can't help but keep trying to make it better.

This morning started out great.  I was fresh as a daisy..put on a suit that didn't fit but cinched the belt enough so the waist fit.  Rachel was in a great mood during drive and drop off.  (Granted she crushed about 80 cheez-it's on the back seat, but CCW can get that with the dustbuster later. That freaker was the one who gave her those cheesy crackers.)

I got to my parking lot..what I call the bitch lot.  This is the far parking lot that drivers get after they get to work after 8:17..since I dropped Rachel off, the bitch lot has my name on it.  I hate being behind drivers in this lot..they can't get close enough to swipe their card, assuming they have the card ready.  Really?  This morning, my card cracked and it doesn't work. I am at the gate and it won't open.  (Holy shit..this isn't going to happen in the after life..right?) I have to make six cars back up so I can back up too and get out of the line and then raise freakin' hell with the parking attendant..essentially I have become the driver that I swear at everyday.

This is my down fall..I was in a good mood, and now am I not? Work through it!!  Your kids are safe and healthy. CCW is there too. (yay!)  I now think of those figure skaters that have all the promise prior to the long program but 40 seconds in (the program), their ass smacks the ice.  They have 3 minutes and 20 seconds and they still get up and smile.  Really?  I have no idea how they do this..and keep from crying.

I am trying to will myself to have a good day..I woke up with the intent of having a good day!  Happy place..you know.."Good morning funny lady..Your blog is so good.  You have a talent"..

I have to think of these things and I focus..just like CCW tells Laurel prior to math or soccer.  I push through and the day is ends up being okay.  But God damn..it was longer than 3 min, 20 seconds..I would have flipped the judges off and blown that long program.

Boring fact filled snoozers on the left, smut on the right...

Big thank you to Kelley and Heidi!  Both forwarded my blog on Facebook and I got 102 hits today! (Probably helped too that I used the word fart in the teaser--the words boob, strippers, nip and fart seem to be money words.)

I don't know if I have told you this but CCW doesn't read my blog.  He claims that it may invade my privacy and hinder the creative process.  I just don't think he would like it..not because of the choice Wang stories that I describe but my writing is very different than what he normally reads.  The books he reads are those that I tried to avoid buying in college--fact filled and void of dialogue.   His favorite genre is Europe, Pre-World War II..with maps.  CCW feels as though he has scored when there is an old map placed in like a centerfold.  The whole thing had a creepy dungeon and dragons feel.  (He said wasn't into D+D but I am not sure why he doesn't fess up--he all ready got the girl.)

When we first started dating I joked, (after seeing his book choice) that maybe he should read encyclopedias too.
C-"Oh I have..when I was young."
J-"For God's sake, why?"
C-"They were there."
(Dude you read the cereal box because "it was there." Who picks up an entire set of Encyclopedia Britannica for the sheer pleasure?)
We started joking that he reads "smart books".  Apparently my smutty crotch novels with bright covers don't qualify.  This was fully realized when we were moving in together for the first time and, combined, had boxes of books.  As we started to fill shelves with glass plated doors, Ching said, that perhaps we could put all of his smart books out so guests could see those?  Apparently my dumb books could be relegated to a old book shelf in the den.  We ended up splitting the good shelves..boring fact filled snoozers on the left, smut on the right.

On our Hawaiian honeymoon, Ching's beach book was an 1800 page book on Europe.  As we are lying in the cabana, this book is seriously shading some of the son.  I know other chicks are passing by impressed by the size of his book and probably wondered how I reeled this fish in..

You can always win with me with either chips and guac OR a hunk of soft cheese.)

Late Sunday afternoon, Ching said he needed to go to Trader Joe's to get these dried apple rings that are now his new favorite snack.  Please keep in mind on Saturday, when I went grocery shopping, I specifically asked, "Is there anything in particular that you would like?"  His response was the standard, "nope."  I think now he wishes that I had picked them up because he is acting about as shifty as a 17 year old buying condoms at a gas station.  Perhaps there is something more?

So, this Sunday, Ching decides that he also wants something sweet. This is where the shiftiness is coming from..the same that I get when I want a bottle of wine but..(you know, it's only Tuesday.)  But I don't initially know that..I just think he has one short errand to TJ's.   His short errand seems to take longer than anticipated..seems as though he is harvesting the apples as well.  Finally he gets home and I ask:
(J) "Is everything okay?"
(C) "Yeah, why?"
(J) "You just took much longer than expected.  I was worried."
(C)"Oh, I went to Whole Foods too."
(J) "What did you get?"
(C) "An individual strawberry shortcake..(oh, here it comes..3, 2, 1 ) for me."
(J) "And me?"
(C) " Well nothing..you didn't ask."
(I didn't know he was going there.  We have been married for almost nine God damned years..you can always win with me with either chips and guac OR a hunk of soft cheese.)
(C) "Do you want me to go back?  No..really?"

It's the gesture..take a guess!  (Obviously the idea of Valentine's Day has now dissipated like a fart in the wind.)Even if I don't want it initially..it will keep for several days!

I have this notion of taking his laundry and piling it in a stinky corner.  Dinner is made just for me and the girls.  Clutter of his is kept all over perhaps even in his bed.  Groceries..just for me, Laurel and Rachel--nothing that he would specifically want.

"Oh, you wanted (laundry, dinner, maid service, groceries) too?  You didn't ask.

Where did this backbone come from?

I was not sure about sending Rachel to school today.  She has a cold..basic congestion but her eyes, if you pardon the phrase, full of gunk.  Under the eye is slightly swollen, but she doesn't rub and the whites of her eyes..white.  The last sign that gives me the green light is the fact that she has no fever.

But all day, I wait for a call.  A call that says she is definitely sick, has a fever..come get your kid.  I get a call but it is very different than I expect.  And holy crap, I play hard ball:
(I see the 617 number..oh hell..at least she made it after her nap.  And selfishly after my lunchtime run.)
JCW:  This is JCW.  (Like I don't know it's them.)
Teacher:  Oh hi, Jude.  How are you?
JCW: (Let's cut to the chase.)  Is Rachel okay?  (I know she is..I can hear her laughing in the background.)
Teacher:  She is okay but I just wanted to give you an update.  I know this morning you said she had a cold but her eyes have a lot of discharge.  We aren't doctors here and don't think it's pinkeye.  But she seems to have a slight redness under her eyes.
JCW:  Does she have a fever?
Teacher:  No.
JCW:  How is her mood?
Teacher:  Actually she is in a great mood. She has been dancing all day.
JCW: (This makes me silently chuckle. Gross eyes aside, while I think Rachel will be genius, I don't think she got my gift of rhythm)
It is now silent.  She can't tell me to come get her because she isn't contagious and she doesn't fever. She wants me to offer to come get Rachel.  Still silent...I am not offering.  I can hear her squealing in the background.  This is like a verbal staring contest..and I am winning!
JCW:  I am getting her at 5:30.  If she spikes a fever or is acting terribly cranky please let me know.  (Holy Shit.  Where did this backbone come from?)
Teacher:  See you at 5:30..just wanted to give you an update.
JCW:  (While I won, I just got a late jab.)

I would like to drop everything and go get Rachel..nothing that I am doing at work is as important as she.  Really, even though some days looks like she is flipping me off, with her eyes, we are like two peas in a pod.  Jesus, and it's just a little crud..This crud will either clear up tomorrow or put me in the running for "Mother of the Year."

"Really, Laurel? Then how do you explain chicken nuggets?"

Every now and then Laurel will astound me by something that she has said or done.  My reaction is of either "She is related to me!"  or "Where the hell did she come from?".  Let me give you some of my favorites about my girl Laurel.

Last night, she was panicked because she couldn't find her plastic squishy bracelet that she got at the dentist's office.  (Fill a cavity, get a prize--that makes all the sense to me.)
"Laurel are you talking about the yellowy, green bracelet?"
"Actually, Mom, it's chartreuse."
ALL MINE!

Then there was dinner this week.  One night, she was eating the standard pasta or mac and cheese. She looks over and sneers at my dinner.
"Mom, why do you eat meat?"
(Oh Christ--Before I say anything, let me tell you that I am eating a bone-in pork spare rib.  I love eating meat and I tend to like some fat too--ribeyes, spare ribs, etc.  If someone offers me anything "reduced fat", I politely decline and ask for full fat.)
"Laurel, I like eating meat.  It can be good for you."
"It disrupts nature"
"Really, Laurel?  Then how do you explain chicken nuggets?"
Not Mine--not only does she not like meat but she has no smart-ass comeback.

"Laurel who did you eat lunch today?'
"No one..I chose to eat alone but sat across from a teacher.  You know mom, sometimes it is nice to eat alone.
"Yes Laurel, it most certainly is."
MINE!

But then when we are somewhere like the grocery store and she is so pokey.  Perhaps I am just a little pissy because I have menial stuff to do..and she has nothing to do other than various lessons, art projects and cartoons.  Regardless, I like to move swiftly, with purpose.  I can't even put this in an anecdote..she is just so pokey.  Ching is kind of pokey too.  No need to go any further on that one. (Not mine..)

And lastly, I am watching Laurel play basketball in the cul-de-sac.  As she tosses the ball up to the rim, she immediately cowers away from the net and hides her face to make sure the descending ball doesn't hit her in the face.  Absolutely all me..

(Because who would want a ball in the face?)