..but holy crap I am home and I am inspired.

Happy Birthday SG!  I wish this woman a happy birthday every year.  While I have never met her, she saved my spirit.  At this point you may think that I am crazy so I will start from the beginning...

In 1985, I was in the second half of the 7th grade.  It was really bad.  My family had moved during the previous summer (from a smaller school) and transitioning to a new school was the hardest experience that I have ever been through.  (Yes, I am comparing my entire life to this time..nothing has ever been as hard as 84-85.)  I was 12, very awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin.  I felt socially stunted and academically, I was struggling.  It was very hard to get up in the morning and move forward.  Nothing inspired me.  This was a time when the prominent female figures were Mary Lou Retton, Sally Field, Cyndi Lauper and Geraldine Ferraro..and nothing.

During the Monday night of my February vacation, I settled in to watch some television.  My station of choice was CBS--this was an era when you didn't channel surf.  Starting at 8:00, I watched Scarecrow and Mrs King (meh), Kate and Allie (Kate was cool..Allie was a dud) and Newhart.  The last show almost made me go to bed..it was funny but incredibly sedate.   I was half asleep when the last show starts but as soon as it does, I am wide awake.  I am not sure if it was the story line or the timber of her voice but holy crap I am home and I am inspired.

Cagney and Lacey was the show that made me sit up.  (In a nutshell for the young people, it was a show focused on two female detectives in Manhattan.) Specifically, it was the character of Christine Cagney (portrayed by Sharon Gless) that got my attention.   In a matter of minutes, I wanted to be Christine.  She was very smart, funny, sarcastic, mean and so flawed but I felt like she was me.  And I was her.  This wasn't a Lifetime movie, this woman had issues all over the place.  During the entire series, she had a boyfriend who was a druggie, was sexually harassed at work, shot, raped (not at the same time) and had a drinking problem.  But regardless, she inspired me.

It did get weird.  Back then there was no Internet so I squirrelled articles and pictures of Sharon Gless thinking that she and Christine were one and the same.  I was obsessed and carried on and on about this woman.  A 12 year old carrying on about a 30-something?  Again, it was weird but I didn't see it and I am glad I didn't.  This woman got me to look forward to every Monday. I just needed a small step.  I got to see every tribulation that she experienced.  (AND, she was an amazing dresser.  My style..all Christine Cagney to this day.)

For many years, I have celebrated May 31 because this was Sharon's birthday.  I thank her.  I will never know her..but I am indebted.

So the likelihood that I could help my girls during a bad hair day is close to crap.

I got Rachel's spring portrait today.  (Some of you have probably seen the picture on Facebook.)  While she is beautiful, she isn't smiling..I feel like it is a personal middle finger to me for sending her to school all this time with that "hair do".  Rachel will be two in July and has never had a haircut.  She has so little (hair) that I didn't want to cut what she had.  Over the last few months it has grown into a wispy mullet.. and it looks like Edward Scissorhands got to her.

But even if she did have thicker hair like Laurel, the result would be no better.  Laurel goes to school with some sad, lumpy ponytail or a headband every damn day.

As a mother I really wish that I had better hair skills for my girls. Starting with me, I wear my hair long, all one length because I am not good with styling (you know, blow drying with a round brush) so a straight iron is all I can muster on a busy morning.  My hair wasn't any better when I was a pre-teen..so many mornings turning the the curling iron the wrong way and getting a frizzy crimp instead of a curl, needed a third arm to try to blow dry my hair smooth with a big round brush or using too much product. (The last two issues happened in adulthood several times.) Twice in a lifetime, I have cut my hair pretty short because I didn't have the patience for it.  (But of course that started rumors in my family that I now liked girls and I promptly started growing my hair out again.)

So the likelihood that I could help my girls during a bad hair day is close to crap.  Even on a good hair day, my first girl squirms and yelps with every brush stroke.  (I swear, I am very gentle..my restraint should earn an award or something really glittery.) And her hair is so slippery.  What the hell is this, an art project? I can't do anything..but the lumpy high ponytail that during the day will start to droop.  Then the second one with very little hair..I mean, whose fingers can actually use those little rubber bands? So I leave it as is..

Laurel seems to know my weakness.  Recently, she yelled about a bad hair day (like she really knows) and I offered to help.  She looked at me like there was a bad odor in the air.

I wish there was a course for this..I would seriously take it.  But in the meantime, they will know the ponytail..and perhaps a baseball hat.

Laurel is going to read a short story that she wrote..like me and not like that spreadsheet loving Ching!

Recently, in Laurel's freakin' red folder (yeah, you know the folder) came home a white envelope.  I knew what was in this envelope and what I needed to prepare.  Because they never surprise, the moms' of Laurel's classroom gave all the parents a head's up about their request.  They are making a laminated book as a end of year gift for the teacher and aid.  The envelope contains stiff paper to make a self portrait, some simple questions for the child to answer by themselves and a "bubble statement" where the child can write their best part of the year.  (My kid chose learning fractions.  First of all..I am so proud (regardless) but this kid is all Wang all the time.)

But you may ask..aren't you a mom of Laurel's class?  Yes, but  no..not so much.  There are three classroom moms that represent Laurel's class.  While anyone can stop by and help, there are three moms that coordinate everything:  gifts for the teachers, set up the classroom art website (yeah,I know) or make sure there is enough food for any art show breakfast or conference situation.  They find a lot of options for the class that involve very little money.  But God damn, anything they ask for, I make sure they have it..because it is the least that I could do.

These moms are very nice (even from me!) and busy regardless of the classroom responsibilities:

G is a single mom of 3 adopted girls that works outside the home. (Previously, I have called her the alpha mom that kind of scared the shit of me but she has become very kind to Laurel and the Wangs.)
M is a stay at home mom of two but is in the throws of finding a new home. (Not tragic..find or build)  The chaos of finding a home caused her to miss a play date with Laurel and her best girl.  She called me very apologetic and practically crying.  I told her that I do this shit all the time. (Yes, I used the word shit..)  It didn't sink in..I think I should send her six bottles of Chardonnay and my Hint of Attijude card.
D..I don't really know D but I like her daughter..she has never approached me after the first Laurel/D's kid play date..oh crap..

(Regardless, none of these girls are ever regulated to lurk in the driveway prior to the play date..they are very nice girls. (And I hope their mom liked me too.))

I am constantly amazed at where these ladies find the time.  The recent gift that they are coordinating is being presented during author night. (Quick aside..Author night is a night where the kids read their short stories.  Laurel is going to read a short story that she wrote..like me and not like that spreadsheet loving Ching!).  Recently, for this event, there was a quick e-mail requesting Popsicles.  I jumped at the chance to do at least something.  The two boxes of juice pops are quelling my guilt.

I know what you are thinking..you find time to blog but don't volunteer in the classroom?  There's the rub..freak me! While I am guilty of not volunteering, I am also guilty for not wanting to volunteer. I hate group projects (that involves some of gift collection), a million e-mail exchanges and delegation.  Spending 20 minutes with Laurel's project (that goes back in the envelope) gave me enough anxiety for the day.  (I was afraid she wouldn't finish in time.)

During author night, I know what will happen. I will kind of skulk to the back of the room, knowing that I brought Popsicles but, other than that, I did absolutely nothing.  I feel guilty but escaped with 24 pops..Christ..the "moms" could have asked for a kidney and I would have tried my best.  But it's about being there for my girl who is anti-spreadsheet at the moment as she is reading her creative short story...

(There is a little boy named Luke that I would like to welcome to the world..Congrats Mike and Sue W.)

As soon as Ching saw the damage, he assured me that he could fix it. All he needed was an ax.

During this beautiful, three day weekend so much yard work was done..lawns mowed, hedges trimmed, mulch spread and the Wangs did the absolute minimum any of this.  Ching did spray a little for ants but it's hard to spray for bugs when you don't like looking at the bugs.  Not sure how efficient his spraying was but nevertheless, it did count as yard work and that is probably it for the remainder of the summer.  We just don't care for it which makes the following story that much more comical.

I do have to thank my friend Tony for reminding of the tree story.  Over dinner on Saturday with both families, he asked if I had written about the tree and Ching's urge to flex his testosterone? (How could I have not told this yet?)...

During Hurricane Irene, I was standing in our master bedroom (folding laundry..because that is what I do) when a thunderous crack/crash shook this side of the house.    The noise was worse than it was..a small tree had snapped in the wind.  After the hurricane passed, we surveyed the damage and luckily (the tree) didn't hit the house but it also wasn't a clean break.  The tree was split and only part of it was hanging toward the ground while the over half was kind of attached but supported by the other trees.

As soon as Ching saw the damage, he assured me that he could fix it.  All he needed was an ax.  Are you kidding me?  These thoughts race through my mind:  If a portion (of the tree) is cut, it is possible that the remaining part of the tree could fall on him.  Or he could swing, miss and gouge the house.  OR, skipping the graphics, Ching could develop a serious limp.

Thankfully, we didn't own an ax but our friend Tony did.  (Fortunately we don't know anyone in the area with a chain saw. ) A few days after the storm, while he was at work, Ching sent me a text saying that he had asked (Tony) to drop it off while I was at home  (Getting a text that says,"TONY IS DROPPING OFF AN AX" is not the type of text that I favor.)  Thankfully, I got a call from Tony and through a couple of chuckles, he said he would let Ching have the ax but he needed to inspect the job first.  He didn't even have to get out of his car before he said no to Ching having the ax.  Like me, Tony also felt this could result in a new nickname for Ching..like The Gimp.  Tony convinced Ching that a professional needed to do this job.  Ching said he was crazy and bitched and moaned leading up to the day that our landscapers showed up.  This wasn't a regular grass cut job when one medium toned 60 something shows up.  As soon as Ching saw three huge guys, a couple of chainsaws and a wood chipper, he shut the hell up.

It boggled my mind why Ching wanted to do this so badly (with an ax no less.)
"I just wanted to feel manly."
"Manly?  How about I make you a big dinner of meat and potatoes and no vegetables."

Thankfully that did the trick..

To hear Laurel explain this routine makes Ching and I sound like absolute slugs.

Ching and I have a lazy, horrible habit that has gone on every weekend since Laurel was born.  I wish I could say it is sordid and dirty but again..just kind of lazy.

Before becoming parents, Ching and I loved a lazy weekend morning..sleep late, good coffee and breakfast, etc. But by 11:00, we got stuff done.  (In the name of holy crap on a cracker, that seems like a lifetime ago.)

During the weekend, we split who gets up in the morning with the girls.  Rachel usually gives us a break and will get up around 7:30..but not Laurel, she will always get up at 6:45..7:00 the absolute latest.  So on Saturdays, I will get up at 7:00 (or when Laurel demands breakfast) while Ching will sleep until 9:00.  But here is where is gets really bad..When Ching gets up at 9:00.. (small voice), I will go back to bed until 11:00.  And on Sunday, the opposite routine happens.  Granted this method doesn't really work with tennis, dance, math and that music class with the bohemian singing weirdo that Rachel favors..but this routine will start in the summer when there are very few classes to attend. (To hear Laurel explain this routine makes Ching and I sound like absolute slugs.)

It is also amusing what happens during the two hours when I get up first as opposed to Ching.  If I get up first, by the time it is 9:00, the girls are dressed, fed, groomed (you know, teeth and hair)..and honestly probably on their first snack of the day.  When Ching gets up first...a lot of this doesn't happen and usually I say something like "You gave her chips for breakfast?"

I should stop going back to bed..while I am not a morning person (just ask Laurel), it seems that this time of day is my wheelhouse.  I kind of own it--things get done.  Just going back to bed and sleeping just makes me tired and freaked out.  (Usually I have a really weird dream like not being able to find my shorts in the locker room when spinning is going to start in two minutes..tick, tick, tick!! I look in every locker, every stall..nothing..)

I know I could get so much more done..while I would pledge to not going back to bed next Saturday, I would also be pledging it by drinking a glass of wine. (Yeah, I know..)

The key is using your chin to hold the roll and the free hand to rip

(My apologies for missing two entries this week.  I seem to have a little block of creativity.  I call this block Bart..I am hoping to kick him to the curb soon but he is a real lurker. I think I would rather be constipated than have a writing block.)

So I guess you can call me Lefty.  Over the past couple of weeks, I have needed to do everything with just my left arm/hand.  Rachel has decided that she likes me best (over Ching) but with this decision, she has become a barnacle on my side.  She constantly wants to be picked up and or held.  If I try to put her down, her little legs wrap and squeeze around my waist.  Her strength is quite amazing..a little quadzilla that slightly takes my breath away.

While I appreciated the initial favoritism, this is getting old..fast.  I want to go back to the way it was..when she looked at me with disgust or ignored me.  And I was free and had two useful arms/hands.

I am right handed.  Do you know how hard it is to pour a glass of milk (from a full gallon container) with your left?  Getting dinner ready is ridiculous and don't get me started on trying to pee.  (In case you only have one arm in the bathroom, the key is using your chin to hold the roll and the free hand to rip.  Christ..I have truly stooped to a low level.)

This sounds terrible (but hasn't stopped me before) but when is she going to go back to Ching?  (And I think he could use the exercise.)  Perhaps she could be thought of similar to a wrist weight but more like a waist weight. Yeah..he could so use that.

I am talking- dirty-undies-in-the family-room disaster.

A couple of months ago, I was given the best compliment since I was carded at a liquor store last fall.  After I complained that it was hard to befriend other moms, a young man that I worked with, casually mentioned, that perhaps (the other mothers) were jealous since I was so put together.  Me?  GET OUT!  I don't care that this guy is still a child himself..a compliment is a compliment.

Flash foward to this morning..I keep the "together" this mantra in mind..I AM together..even when I start my day writing an e-mail to Lindsey, our sitter.  On Wednesdays, Lindsey picks up the girls, brings them home and makes them dinner.  This gives me the opportunity to stay late at work to get some things done.  While Lindsey has been with us for over three years, I still feel the need to e-mail her warnings:  Laurel is in a terrible mood, Rachel has a cold or the house is an absolute disaster--I am talking- dirty-undies-in-the family-room disaster.  So..this is my e-mail:

Good Morning,  (Good Lord, I should have said..hope you are well.)
        Just a few things that I wanted to give you a head's up about:
                I forgot to turn on the dishwasher before I left (this morning), so the pots that you would normally use to cook with are dirty (in the dishwasher).
                Tonight is bath night for Rachel..when you pick her up, would you double check her day sheet or ask to see if she has pooped?  This will gauge if her bath will be shorter than usual (You know..how Ching screams like a girl at the sight of poo floating.)
                AND..the Wang household is dangerously low on toilet paper.  There is none in the downstairs bathroom, about 1/3 of a roll in the girls bathroom and a full roll (well, it was full before Ching got in there) in our bathroom.  So feel free and move the rolls around.  I will be home with more TP.

thanks
Jude

Holy Christ..(My afterthoughts are in parentheses.)  I didn't even say please for freak's sake.  This morning I was afraid of not being together, now I cringe because I sound like...like...Kate Gosselin.  I would like to think then when I walked through the door with 12 rolls of TP, I also had some manners.

I am convinced that in a past life Laurel was a man that couldn't commit.

I am convinced that in a past life Laurel was a man that couldn't commit.  Her art of stalling is matched by no other. For example.....well, please read for yourself:

(This is bedtime.)
Just a few minutes more of t.v. before jammies (I so want to change the station..Freak you Nick Jr.)
I love this song..not yet. (This song sucks)
Two more minutes..(Longest two minutes of my life)
I need you to stand with me while I brush (Really?? You need an escort? Is something happening in the bathroom that I don't know about?)
At least, put my toothpaste on the brush.  It is hard to get the cover off.. (Your fingers are nimble. I have seen them work on a pack of fruit snacks.)
Let's floss..(Stay calm..Good blog!..happy place, happy freakin' place!!)
I need to re-arrange my stuffies..they don't look right.. (They are probably full of bugs.  I swear they smell funny.)
I think I need a band-aid..look at my toe (There is nothing there..but dirt)
My covers are so messy, I need to fix them.. (I believe you get an allowance for making your bed..no allowance this week.)
I am so thirsty (No you are not.)
Where is my lucky rubberband? (In Hell!  I didn't say that..yeah, I did.)
I don't like that book..I need to choose...(You have 22 minutes left..)


I try not to rush or be stern with Laurel. (Stern--my ass..it is about avoiding shrieking like a monkey.) This is not the way I want her to end her day (or mine).  While my example is before bed, her stalling happens before to school as well..or and if I have to pick her up and she is hanging with Paul, Oliver or some kid named Eddie. (Oh Christ..) Again, I try to stay calm as possible..

Perhaps, soon,  she will know my version of hustle (and no stalling)..right now, because of her Saturday dance class, she just knows it as an old lady dance.

Rather than showing less skin, they are using less fabric.

When I told my mother of my topic of the day and then started my rant..she said that I sounded old  My own mother said that..(Reminded me of the time that she announced that I was 31 years old during her wedding toast to Ching and me. Good times..)

I remember picking out my senior prom dress--it took a lot of time.  I wanted to look mature, stunning and classic.  Everyone that graduated from high school with me seemed to want that..granted this was 1990, you got as tasteful as you could with shiny fabrics and sequins.  But we covered more skin..less was more.

I have a hard time looking at prom photos of today because there are some girls that take "less is more" to a totally different level.  Rather than showing less skin, they are using less fabric.  (There is where the ol' biddy comes out..)  I don't like backless gowns with just a shade of butt crack.  C'mon at 18?..you might as well tramp stamp it right now.  I have a friend Meagan P that jokes with me that the ultimate tramp stamp would be "hit me with your best shot."  Every time I see a backless gown..I hear Pat Benatar.  I don't like a lot of cleavage but I do understand that boobs happen.  (Hell, they didn't happen to me.) But mainly, I don't like a young girl spending a lot on the dress but not a lot on the undergarments.  Your puppies shouldn't be droopy at 18.  Let's lift them up and cover them, just a tad.. Don't get me started on the waist cut outs..I blame Jennifer Lopez for that crap.  The tables turned in 2000 when she wore that green Versace.  You know the one..at the Grammys..butt crack in the back, glance of kitty cat in the front.  I swear, when she did this..all bets were off when it came to demure..

I guess I am sad that there is so much effort on looking so grown up at the prom.  There is plenty of time for that.  And I hope they are not dressing up for their date.  You could be wearing Versace or a garbage bag...a teenage boy just wants you out of it.  At least, I hope they feel pretty for themselves.

Laurel doesn't know this but (in 2024) I am going to bribe her with a major designer but a discreet design.  I will keep my cards close to see what she chooses.  She won't get my offer until she tries to look like Angelina Jolie...

When Rachel was a week old, the Wangs bought an elliptical.

First of all..I feel compelled to tell you that the not drinking for 38 days is not going well.  I don't want to discuss it but I felt like I should fess up.  Enough said..for now.

For the past couple of weeks, every time I bring up CNN.com, there is another mothering story.  Apparently the pre-school kid suckling on his mom's boob opened some sort of floodgate.  The latest subject was about new mothers "bouncing back".  I believe the latest article was initiated by a TMZ photo of Bryce Dallas Howard walking with her 4 month old daughter.  Prior to getting pregnant with her child, she was very slight.  Now, 4 months after the fact, she is still quite a bit heavier compared to that former slight self.  (I wish they had picked on someone else to criticize.  This actress did such a good job portraying a terrible woman in "The Help" that I can't separate the actress from the character.)

My anxiety of "bouncing back" was through the roof.  Prior to getting pregnant, I was always considered petite.  (Except a handful of months during the latter half of 2003---my fatty stage.)  With each pregnancy, as I was getting bigger and bigger, I would freak out a little to my sheer mass.  I felt like I had the girth of a whale.  As I would use the stairs and my knees would feel like jelly with the extra 35-40 pounds, I vowed that I would get rid of the weight as soon as I could.  It just felt so foreign. And I wanted my old body back.

I am curious if other woman feel the same way?  Were there any of you that breastfed just to get the weight off?  Were there any of you that wanted to jump on the scale as soon as you brought your newborn home from the hospital?  Are there any of you that feel guilty that part of your time went to your body rather than your newborn?  I had a harder time with Rachel's "post birth body physique" compared to Laurel's.  Laurel was born in the winter--nice comfy bulky clothes.  Since Rachel was born during the summer, my regular summer clothes were a pipe dream.  (When Rachel was a week old, the Wangs bought an elliptical.) Before Rachel, I was also going to the gym..I wanted to get that back.  But mainly I liked the control, with an additional child, my life was now a whirlwind.  With a mere 40 minutes a day, I felt like I was showing my body who was boss.

The irony is that you can lose all the weight but it (for me) was unlikely that I could fit into my "normal" clothes for several months since my hips were still in baby mode.  And then the boobs--none of my shirts fit.  I hated my breast feeding boobs. So..that was a bitch..the baby pounds were gone but my hips wouldn't let my pants fit; my skin was all saggy; AND my Dolly Parton double D's killed my hope for a size 4 shirt.  I wish I had the courage and just kept the weight on and felt comfortable in my own "new mother" skin.

Bouncing back was for nobody but myself.   My lunchtime is gym time. I run 3 miles a day, Monday-Thursday.  On Fridays, I do a spin class.  While I am quite proud of the way my body looks now, all the exercise in the world won't make my boobs less wonky or turn my former inny to an outie..With clothes on, I have bounced back.  But without, I will never truly be "bounced back"...unless I bypass Cartier and go for a lift and a tuck.

At that moment, the day is my bitch and it is going to be a good one.

Today, a garage door made my day.  I was insistent that the day would be good..this was a good day!  (God dammit!)

About the garage door--Ching left it open last night.  Not particularly pleased about that oversight since we have that issue with squirrels and then there is that family of turkeys..but I let it go.  Ching is dropping off both girls so as I am finishing up getting ready for work.  I can hear him moving things in the garage (?)  And then the inevitable "Juuuuuuude" yell up the stairs.  Ching tells me that the garage door is broken..he will call someone when he is at work to fix it.  Not a big deal..we make nicey- nice and wish each other a good day.  As I am ready to go to work, I look at the garage door.  I know the problem and the door is not broken.  There is a container of grass seed too close to a "door sensor" causing the door not to budge.  I move the container and I solve the problem.  At that moment, the day is my bitch and it is going to be a good one.

There are so many things that try to get into the way of my good day:
Commencement day with regular morning traffic? Nope!
Creepy weird guy in the cafe..that saps my time because he can't make change?  Don't think so!
The guy that gets on the elevator on the 2nd floor to go to the 3rd floor?  You know there are stairs for that. But that's okay..look away JCW!
My main woman that owns spinning on Friday at 1:00--she is vacation.  That's okay..get on the treadmill and run a hill for 10 minutes more.  Big fist pump!
And then a conference call with a guy that could make a cup of espresso go to sleep?  This call when for a hour and 9 minutes.  JCW..you are better than that!  No epidural..you gave birth sans drugs.

As I am leaving work, I am still willing the day to be a good one.  I am going to a "Taste of the World" potluck with Laurel's after school program.  Holy Christ..I don't want to go. (Really on a Friday?) But the sun is shining...I get there and Rachel runs to me without abandon.  I watch Laurel do an Indian dance with ankle bells and bindi.  She sees me prior to the dance and waves with such pride, excited that she sees me.

Garage door..bizarre..a mood that was good all day..Thank You.

The peeps behind me as I am running on the treadmill will truly appreciate "without beans".

CCW pitched some major woo tonight!  My man brought me a burrito from Chipotle.  (This time..finally..without beans.  Tomorrow, the peeps behind me as I am running on the treadmill will truly appreciate "without beans".)  Bringing home this huge morsel is his way of cooking for me.  While I do love to cook, I have been asked several times if Ching has ever cooked dinner for me.  When I say "cooked dinner", I go with what I serve..protein, carb, veggie..maybe a salad.  Over the 13 years that Ching and I have been together..he did this once.  We had been dating 7 months--this was in 2000.

At his apartment, I was told to be prepared for chicken, "a potato dish", veggie and salad.  (Honestly, prior to dating me, I don't think Ching knew what a real salad could mean.  But granted prior to me..not real women.  I mean, they were women but not that creative in the kitchen. I will keep mum on other areas..)

So I sat down to the dinner that he has cooked for me. He has set the table.  (Keep in mind that those plates and utensils were disposed of when we moved in together in 2003.)

Okay..the chicken was glowing pink.  It had been marinated in a bottled raspberry vingarette.  I think he thought that with the color, the flavor had soaked through..no so much..and it certainly didn't help avoid the dryness.  There is a fine line between under cooked and dryness of a chicken breast.  This crossed the line of dryness about 8 minutes into cooking.  I believe the chicken was cooked 13 minutes.
Holy Crap..the potatoes looked grey..why was that?  They were covered with cheese which would be okay if Ching knew how to time a dinner.  The 'taters come out 15 minutes earlier so the cheese was congealed.  And what kind of cheese congeals like that..it looks like he used government subsidized cheese. Pulling just one slice of potato off the top was like pulling half of the nachos of the plate.
For a veggie, he cooked a can of corn.  Vegetables should not be in cans.  Last time I checked, we weren't hobos putting a can on a fire.  And corn?  It's a starch, not a vegetable.
While my gaze goes toward my right, I see a bowl of iceberg lettuce.  I ask Ching if I could finish the salad.  He tells me the iceberg lettuce is the salad.  And the dressing is the raspberry vingarette..holy crap, like my insides aren't pink enough.

Not a great dinner..but I loved this man.  I choked it down..because I am a good, awesome woman...in love with my man Ching.  (He never cooked for me again.  And I didn't ask.)

Flashfoward..to 2012..when Ching cooks for me..it's from a takeout menu...and it's delicious.

I joke about my drinking--my continual search for the perfect gimlet or white wine, painfully cold.

So here is an experiment..there are 38 days until June 24th.  (I believe that this is the third time in three entries that I mentioned my 40th b-day.  This is a last mention until the 24th. I promise--I swear I am not trolling for gifts.)  But I want some clarity and to feel refreshed as I turn 40.  Funny that when I turned 10, I just wanted to be a double digit age.  When I was 20, I just wanted to be closer to 21 (Well that is bitingly ironic).  When I turned 30, I wanted to feel validated for any success because in my 20's it was a fluke but in my 30's, it would feel earned.  But turning 40, I just want to feel healthy and rested.

Since after having a few glasses of wine last night caused me to not sleeping well at all, I thought it would be best to give up the grape for a while (and the Citron).  Other than not drinking during my pregnancies, I can't remember going 38 days.  Holy Christ, it is going to be hard.  I drink when I am social, when I cook, when I want to celebrate the weekend or bitch about a bad day.  I joke about  my drinking--my continual search for the perfect gimlet or white wine, painfully cold.  Oh my God..I sound terrible and weak.

But I can do this..it is kind of like my personal lent.  And to stay honest, I am letting you, my 22 readers,  know as well.  (If you would like to join me, feel free.)  I will have to fess up if I slip--I would feel guilty if I didn't.

So tonight is day 1--I am curious what I is going to happen--am I going to get more done? Have more Wang family focus? Be less funny? Lose some weight?  Be really bitchy?  Not sure, but for Ching, I am going to be a really cheap date.

I felt like I owned it tonight--like a point guard in an amazing Big East game..

Tonight..I should go with this.  Prior to coming home, I had a different topic.  But coming into the cul-dul-sac..I feel like a Superwoman (Alicia Keyes Superwoman.."Even when I'm a mess, I still put on a vest with an S on my chest, Oh yes, I'm a Superwoman--if you don't know this song..Know this song!)

When I write my entries, I feel like I am complaining about my downfalls.  Tonight I didn't feel that..and I believe it is my responsibility to tell you that I felt like I owned it tonight--like a point guard in an amazing Big East game..

Tuesday is a night where (the Wangs) has a sitter just to pick up the girls but I meet her home a little before 6:00.  I met my goal but.. Rachel is clingy..looking for something that I couldn't comprehend.  It wasn't an apple, or snack, etc.  She just wanted my inner thigh (unlike her dad..)  But regardless..and then Laurel's request for three separate snacks..I was able to get chicken nuggets (yeah, I know..roll your eyes), yogurt and two fresh (!) fruits in front of Laurel and Rachel.

While Ching finally calls at 7:05, saying that he is going to be late--no shit, but I don't say anything.  The girls are eating and I can make the adult dinner..steaks, grilled veggies and couscous..and I did it.  Holy Shit..he walked through the door and I felt like Carol Brady (sans Alice doing all the work).  His dinner was ready and he ate uninterrupted (yeah, that's right!) while I stayed with the girls..I ate after he was done.

I owned tonight..I hope that you did too (not you single, childless folk eating ice cream sandwiches for dinner--not talking to you.)

Maybe I am just trying harder so I get Cartier next month?  The buzz word is Cartier..but you didn't hear that from me.. Tonight was just a really good night.

My outside may say skinny but my soul screams full fat with whip.

Have french fries become the national symbol of obesity?  Since my attention was fully on the kid with his mother's boob on Time, I didn't even notice Newsweek's cover.  It showed a baby, perhaps a year, holding a container of fries.  The headline was about this child's likelihood of growing up obese..hence the french fries.  He could have been holding something else, a donut, a cookie, a slice of pizza.  Nope..fries.  Frequently, when I see a story on obesity, fries are displayed.  A black bar covering the eater's eyes but what they are eating?  Yup, plain as day..about 5 getting shoved in at once.

By no means, do I think the subject of obesity is funny.  What I do find interesting are the same "bad foods" especially for teens that are mentioned:  fried foods and soda.  (Dude, yesterday, I saw a 24 oz can of Mountain Dew.  Couldn't believe it.  Started talking to myself right there in Aisle 5 of Shaws)  But there is one that seems to be slipping under the radar.  Have you noticed who is in line during your morning Starbucks run? There are just as many high school students as adults and they are getting what I call a liquid cupcake in a cup--the frappacino.  Similar to a large McD's french fries in calorie count, it does have that zip of caffeine that just says Good Morning..

For me, the frappacino is as deadly to me at 3:30, as a bottle of wine is at 6:30.  I try to avoid them strictly because I run at lunch.  Running and then buying one of these drinks make my exercise efforts futile.  And yes, you can make them skinny.  My outside may say skinny but my soul screams full fat with whip.  Last week, I succumb to the pressure.  Starbucks was having a happy hour where all fraps were half off.  So I go down to our local Starbucks and decide to get my moneys worth.  I get a venti with whip.  The size of the cup could have doubled for an infant tub.  I was embarrassed to carry it back to my desk--so obscene.  But I didn't want to waste, I drank that bad boy so fast that my head was killing me from the brain freeze for a good hour.  Yeah, that won't happen again..for about six months.

Watching kids drink this stuff day after day..they need to stay away from that.pretty soon their pants will be venti.

Dude, there is no way that she wanted you to buy a 5 lb. container of cashews or Hormel Chili

Happy Mother's Day--Just going to say that I am feeling a little bit of pressure with this entry..

I got a lot of help this weekend:  some nice dinners, paper flowers and some beaded jewelry.  There were some things that I had to do myself..the laundry so it actually got put away and the grocery shopping so we had actual food in the house.  (As I went to the grocery store today, there were so many dads making the trip. With full snark,  I quickly looked in their carts. Dude, there is no way that she wanted you to buy a 5 lb. container of cashews or Hormel Chili--that shit is gross.  Any fruit of veggies in there?--nope..)

Anyway, rather than take today and write about another motherhood tale or talk about my own mom..I thought I would talk about another maternal figure...Ching's grandmother. Her name was Yu-Chen Wang.

Ching's grandmother took the role of his mother when he was very young.  Ching's mother passed when he was a few weeks old and at 62,Yu-Chen, assumed the role of mom.  Can you imagine?  At 62, she had all ready raised six children to adulthood.  She was a grandmother.  Four out of six of her children were living in the United States.   Now her son, Ching's dad, wanted to give Ching the opportunity of living in the United States. They all agreed that the quality of life would be better in the U.S.   He left to get a job and a place to live (for his parents, himself and Ching) but, in finding that opportunity, had to leave Ching with his parents in Taiwan.  This couple, in their mid-60's, are now new parents to an infant.  Holy Cripe...

Ching and his grandparents came to the United States when he was two.  They were an extended family until Ching came to Boston to go to college.  But it was Yu-Chen that got him to eat more when he wanted to leave the table to play.  It was Yu-Chen that feared for his safety when he wanted to play football in high school.  And it was here that taught him the word that Laurel knows quite well:  focus.

By the time that I met Yu-Chen, I was well aware of the above stories.  While I was told she was a tad demanding, I found this surprisingly comforting.  I am demanding.  AND Ching seemed very comfortable around outspoken, strong women..another good trait.

I can't put into words how scared I was to meet her.  I wanted to be okay for her Ching.  There was also the fact that she was now in a nursing home and needed to be fed.  The role reversal squicked me out a bit.  And she spoke no English.  Since I spoke no Chinese, I told Ching to not leave my side when we went to visit.  (The nursing home was not a place where I could get a glass of white wine and mingle.)  I met Yu-Chen and immediately I was kicking myself because I didn't bring flowers.  Ching said it wasn't necessary and the sweet potato was enough. (I had no idea what he meant.)  And I met her, made eye contact and said hello..she kind of dismissed me.  I was afraid that she wanted Ching to be with a Chinese woman. Honestly, my "whiteness" seemed to glow.  Ching immediately said to her "Isn't my girlfriend pretty?"..and then translated it to Chinese.  She spat out something..which Ching translated to, "Yeah, she is young.."  Holy crap..that is full blown snark...she is one of my peeps!

Not only did I feel like I had bonded without a direct word.  But I watched my man feed her a mashed sweet potato.  Apparently this was her favorite and Ching told her that we had prepared it for her. Watching this, I immediately wanted to ingratiate myself to this woman.  I did what ever I could do to help.  Frequently, when several family members were together, there was an expedition out to a Chinese restaurant.  Everyone would help in some sort of way when transporting her to the restaurant, I was right there offering what I could.  Usually, I was given the task to carry her false teeth in a clear plastic container.  That's right..I carried them and was proud to do it.

While we were planning our wedding, Ching had a terrible sense of guilt.  We were getting married in Maine and since she was in Minnesota, he knew that she couldn't attend.  Not a problem..we would have a separate ceremony with her..With a whole heart, I was very happy we could do this with her.

After we got married, I started to take Chinese classes at Harvard Extension.  It was so time consuming..not hard but it took several hours of prep each week for each 3 hour class that were held twice a week.  I thought I was making progress when I saw Yu-Chen at Thanksgiving.  I kept saying Happy Thanksgiving to her and she nodded and smiled.  (Maybe, the smile was a stretch.) Obviously, Thanksgiving is not an international holiday so the translation to another language seems odd.  When you say Happy Thanksgiving in Chinese--you are actually saying Happy Fire Chicken since a turkey, with the plumage, looks on fire.  Of course, what I was saying was "Fire Chicken..Happy."  I couldn't even get the right order.  I didn't realize my mistake until I got back to class, the Monday after the holiday.  Son of a bitch..

She passed away in May of 2004.  Every time Rachel is stubborn and flashes a devious smile, Ching knows that she is still with him.  Happy Mother's Day Yu-Chen.  Thank you..

She give and then she (freakin') take away..

She give and then she (freakin') take away..

Rachel is usually a very good napper.  Every Saturday, I can depend on a good three hours when I can get stuff done.  During this time, Laurel is either having a friend over or at a friend's house.  This is an irony that just bites me hard in the ass.  During the week, while at work, I want to be with the girls.  And during the weekend, after spending a short amount of time with them, I either want to shoo them to nap or go off with a friend.

Today was an odd day.  Rachel was asleep coming home from morning activities but she wasn't napping as I put her in her crib.  She stayed up for 45 minutes before I got her..it was like her own "Rachel way" of saying "Happy Mother's Day" and "Don't Take me for Granted", at the same time.  (God damn, this girl is going to kick the shit out of me during her teenage years..)

I was so out of my element that I didn't know what to do?  I tried to "cuddle"  (not my gig) and watch the weirdos of Fresh Beat with her.  While intrigued, she was still wide awake.  I have no idea what I can do..(Ching and Laurel are gone to some sort of Newton festival where he is bending over and paying $17 to have Laurel's face painted.)  Laundry..not so easy..she tosses to the clothes out of the basket.  My blog is not an option..she keeps wanting to go up!  Even if I sit down to make a grocery list..it isn't happening.  My daughter is holding me hostage.

At least if she doesn't sleep now, she will sleep through the night.  And even if she doesn't..this is my weekend, Ching will get up with her..

Move along Time Magazine..I doubt myself enough..You are just a speck.

When I saw the headline on the cover, I couldn't even see the picture.  I was intrigued, disgusted and thankful for the nugget of gold for my blog.  While this has been talked about constantly for the past two days..I have to talk about it too.  This is my sweet spot. (Cut the giggling, Sue.)

On this week's cover of Time magazine, there is a mom with 3 year old attached to her boob.  I am fine with breastfeeding (please read, "Do You Think You Could Pump Just a Little More?" from 1/2/12) but my issue..well, I have two issues:
1.  There is a 3 year old kid shown, full face, with his mother's name.  This picture will live forever.  Flash forward to his first year of college.."Hey weren't you the kid sucking on your mom's tit back in 2012?  Dude, how was that?"
2.  Breastfeeding is not as socially accepted as one thinks.  If it were, why are there breastfeeding blankets sold to cover your child if you have to breastfeed them in public?  Thank you Time, for alienating just another mom that needs to feed her kid while she is in Target.

So the title, Are you Mom Enough?  You are asking me on MY weekend?  (This is my weekend..God damn it!)  Are you doubting my abilities..making me guilty of my shortcomings?  Move along Time Magazine..I doubt myself enough..You are just a speck.

The article is about attachment parenting which is based on three premises:  breastfeeding (until the child is a few years old), co-sleeping (sharing a bed with your child) and baby wearing (slings and such).  I feel like I am the anti-Christ to this idea.  Breastfeeding for me was driven by two reasons--it was free and I wanted to lose the weight.  Also, my body wouldn't produce breast milk after each girl was six months old.  Most nights I don't want to sleep with Ching, let alone my kid.  And baby wearing--wasn't that months, 1-9?

I do feel the need to share that the majority of doctors quoted were men..never had a child attached to their nips.  The minority was one woman..she was not a mother but she did have a cat.

Overtime, while I have doubted, I have accepted my mothering style.  Some  is good, some not so much..most of the time (the style) is dependent on the day.  I laugh about it, some days lament, but I write about my journey so other mothers can perhaps relate so they realize that being a parent is hard.  No one method works all the time and (please) accept with what you can do for your child.

There are too many views to shun one and accept another.  If the child is loved, fed, clothed and physically safe, I believe the method is just fine.

I found it ironic that while I was trying to prepare for this entry, this is what I told Laurel:
JCW--Laurel, I need you to let me have 15 minutes to read this article and take some notes.
LAW--That blog again?(There is a tone in her voice that kind of makes me go yay(!) and swear at the same time.)

Not textbook attached but aware..Not perfect..but it gets me through my day.

The honeymoon period lasts about 3 months..shorter if someone gains a few or stops shaving their legs.

The subject is same sex marriage..my reaction is the same regardless if you are gay and in a relationship, or straight and in a relationship.  For me, it is not about being liberal or conservative.  It is not religious issue with me.  My question comes from me being a (close to) middle aged married woman.  You exclaim that you want to get married?  My answer will always be "are you sure about that?"  (There is a lovely young couple in the outskirts of Newton that just sent the Wangs a "Save the Date" card that are now saying WTF?)

I have heard serious couples talking about marriage like it is the final step.  Final step, to me, is not marriage.  (To me, final step would be death...but that is just me.)  Final step gives me the impression that it gets easier.  Marriage does not.  Theoretically, you are all in when married..in reality, half cannot.  Some try but some bail after 72 days.

Do you think (your relationship is) going to get easier? I love hearing engaged couples talk about separate money accounts.  (Bite the bullet, have the money fight and invest in a spreadsheet.)  Going to allot your own space? (Just let it go, it's not going to happen.)  Didn't like the inlaws at the wedding? This is a look into your future.  This is what every major holiday will be like and it will only get better once you have kids.

You know, forever is a long time.  When I was 31 and getting married..I had no idea of what two years of marriage would feel like, let alone 50.  The honeymoon period lasts about 3 months...shorter if someone gains a few or stops shaving their legs. Even shorter when you walk in the bathroom and realize that someone occupied it 30 seconds earlier.

There is no day that is equal--there is no 50/50.  Some days I give more and some days, Ching gives more..and we accept this.  We work at it and it is just not about the bad days or weeks..maybe there is a year hidden in there too.   When we got married, Ching and I looked at it as a project and we were a team.

There was a movie from the late 1980's called War of the Roses.  The line spoken (from Barbara Rose)
"When you eat, when you sleep..I just want to smash your face in.."
When you get married..even though you don't think so...there will be (several times) when you want to smash too..

Regardless..I am lucky to have him..I am lucky to be a part of the team..I am lucky to have the choice..the choice and right to be married..and that, my friends is what it is about...

You can't fall asleep or you will fall out of the tree

I have a tendency to lose interest when I am tired.  This tendency can, at times, get awkward but tonight I am not talking about that activity.  I am talking about my blog.

First, let me tell you why I am tired.  Rachel had a bad dream last night and wanted to be held from 1:30 to 5:00.  (I went to sleep at 10:30.  I did succumb to rest from 5:00-6:30--I wouldn't say that this morning was my best morning for quality lunches for the girls. Lots of pre-packaged crap. )While I would hold her, she would sleep, but God forbid if I put her down. She would wake right up and cry hysterically. What would be even worse is if I fell into a deep sleep and dropped her.  (Holy shit, it would be 2018 before she would forgive me for that one.)  So I assumed  my position was like one of a hunter in one of those tree stands, looking/waiting for whatever.  You can't fall asleep or you will fall out of the tree.  So after little sleep and a full day of work, my lids are very heavy.

But my blog page of the day stares at me. Blanky, blanky blank.  And of course when I look at the page, I start talking to myself.  (Jesus I just said, "Blanky, blanky blank.") I have to write something.  If I don't, I feel like I am not going to it tomorrow, and then the next day.  Just another thing that I give up/quit..like marching band in high school, Chinese lessons after Ching and I were first married or the worst thing to this day: a tablecloth.  When my dear friends Kathy and Jon got married in 1996, I decided that one of their wedding gifts would be an embroidered tablecloth.  I worked on it for months but prior to their wedding day, it still wasn't done.  But  I wanted to show her what I was working on for them both.  It is 2012 and that tablecloth is still not done.  There is always something else that pushes the tablecloth aside.

On the positive, there are things that I haven't quit but I believe it is sheer circumstance.  I am still a wife and a mother..you can only quit that for so long before those people want a snack or a meal.

The blog is shorter tonight..but I pushed through and wrote something.  Now I just need to figure out how to embroider something.

I am sharing this genius with all parents..you can thank me later..

I formulated the best lie..it is good because it adds off of a traditional lie that we tell to our children and I still don't feel guilty.  I am sharing this genius with all parents..you can thank me later..(I know you are skeptical..but read on..)

Within the Wang household, there is Santa, Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy.  We also use the "Move Fairy" and the "Trip Fairy".  The Move Fairy is a tiny sprite that gives a little girl a gift when she changes bedrooms while moving from one home to another.  Believe me, this tiny gift is minor because when we were moving our family to the cul-de-sac, Laurel thought her new room would have all new furnishings..new bed, dresser, shelves, toys, etc.  I am not joking.  At the time, I was hoping for a new king size bed, a grill and Ching just wanted a bigger t.v.  Laurel wanted full boat..to reel her expectations in, I told her that her bed and other furnishings will be the same but perhaps the "move fairy" will bring a small gift to help you get used to the new house.  (This is where that God damn pillow pet was introduced.)

The Trip Fairy..I will fess up, this is a bribe.  Ching and I would tell Laurel that if she shows the manners that we taught in Newton and is behaved during any trip, she will get a small gift at the end.  Judge if you must...During the last trip, the great thing was is that (Ching and I) never had to leverage this gift.  Every other day, Laurel would ask if she was still getting (some sort of stuffy) as confirmation but it was never used as a threat.  She was truly very good and a help with her sister.  (Honestly, I would have given her $50..but let's just go with a stuffy, for $8.)

So in April, I had a potential of the Easter Bunny and "the Trip Fairy."  I told Laurel that they both hang our and the Easter Bunny is going to leave a small toy while the Trip Fairy will watch and reward you after our vacation.

Laurel:  "The Trip Fairy and the Easter Bunny know each other?"
Me:  "Of course Laurel..Santa, Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Move Fairy and Trip Fairy all hang out.  Who do you think there friends are?  (This is where it gets good.)  Who do you think they hang out with and share ideas? They want to know how to not wake you up and leave the treat.  They need to know if you are really good..they show each other their notes."
Laurel: "Really?"
Me: " Would I lie to you?"

So Laurel's Easter basket was very small.  And she got a moderate gift after our family vacation for such amazing behavior. You may judge..but think about the time that your kid loses a tooth a day before Santa is supposed to adorn the tree?  Or have some sort of event prior to the Easter Bunny?  Believe me, the networking of mythical figures works.  Remember, they all know each other and they all talk..

(For those childless..just eat your hunk of cheese on the couch in your underwear..yes, I am jealous..)

I can't waste empty calories on soda..I save my empty calorie allotment for liquor.

I am getting absolutely no money for this entry.  I feel like I should make that perfectly clear.

I don't have high expectations for a lot of things.  I expect to be satisfied but not dazzled.  Most days are good if my reaction is just a mere "meh"  It's the way I am.

But every once in awhile, I am astounded by how great a simple product is.  I would like to share with you three things that make me say "Holy Christ on Crutches" (that was for you Heidi!):

Coke Zero:  I have a terrible weakness for soda.  As a kid, I loved the sweetness of Coke but as I got older and my metabolism slowed, I had to switch from full sugar, empty calories to diet soda.  (I can't waste empty calories on soda..I save my empty calorie allotment for liquor.)  I got used to that bitter Diet Coke taste..no calories and a little caffeine jolt to boot.  But Coke Zero..no calories and sugary sweet!!  I would like to think that a woman thought of this.

Chipotle:  I have heard very good things about this place but never went inside.  Ironically, the reason why I went in on Sunday was due to my ol' standby McD's being renovated and not available.  I decide on a steak burrito with everything.  If they are going to offer fillings, why not have them all?  They glance at me with a look when I say "everything" like I better be making myself throw up or use a laxative later.  I ask for guac too..while they tell me it's extra..I don't care.  I look into the vat of green and know that it wasn't previously frozen.  Holy cripe, I want to jump into that vat. I wish for a big cartoon Scooby Doo tongue.  One fell swoop and my entire body is clean.  This burrito was like heaven.  I know it is about good ingredients..free range and stuff.  But they could put chicken nugget pink goo in there, I am still all over that burrito like white on rice.  Speaking of the rice..hints of lime and cilantro.  Trying to figure out when I am going to get there again during the weekend.  Ching asked me where I wanted to go for Mother's Day..but he never thought I would say Chipotle.

Febreez:  I have never liked air fresheners especially for the bathroom.  If you make the bathroom stink, don't fill it with a fake floral smell.  Once you do that, the bathroom now smells like poo and cheap flowers--open a window or light a candle.  But my friend Lesley told me about the magic of Febreez.  And it's amazing.  The ultimate test was the diaper genie.  When you have a toddler in diapers, the genie doesn't mask the odor anymore.  Hold the diapers, yes..but cover the poo..absolutely not.  I put a Febreez cartridge below the bag and no smell!!  Lesley and I think the the slogan should be.."no shit..you won't smell it."

I am not sure if I should laugh or cry at the fact that I am ecstatic about a sugary liquid, a burrito and something that takes away the stink?  They seem to tie together nicely..

During the weekend (or if I am Vegas rockin' awesome eyelashes with my girls) 5:00 is the night.

Is it bad that I gave both Laurel and Rachel the stink eye this morning? (Of course the stink eye came as they were staring at me as I was having my morning pee. God forbid if I ever get some privacy.)

First of all, the night of Saturday, transitioning to Sunday seems precious--it is going to be another five days before a Friday night's sleep and knowing that I may get up rested and not in a rush (and not greeted with the those freakin' lunchboxes.)

Not one, but both girls got up last night.

Laurel was up at 1:30.  She said she had a bad dream.  (How come she never runs over to Ching's side of the bed?)  I offer to go back to (her) bed and (I) will stay until she is back to sleep.  This will take 20 minutes maximum.  Oh no..of course not. Not only is she insistent on sleeping in the vast space between Ching and me (Switzerland), but she hurdles over me in record speed.  She is between us within a matter of seconds, snuggling in for the rest of the night.  And you know, she didn't come alone..that God damn pillow pet is with her, along with her favorite blanket, "Pal".  This set up would be fine if she slept vertically but over time, she does not.  Laurel starts sleeping at a slant and then her feet start resting on my butt.  I had enough around 2:00.  I go to the den.  All the while, Ching has either slept through this or is a very good faker.

Rachel is at 5:00.  During the week, 5 (a.m.) is in the morning but during the weekend (or if I am Vegas rockin' awesome eyelashes with my girls) 5:00 is the night.  She is crying and very much awake--usually she fusses and goes right back to sleep.  Not this time, she is wide awake and wants to be with me.  I take her to the den with me, thinking she will sleep if she is next to me.  Freak me (!), no!  So, I do what any desperate mom does--I turn on the television to Sesame Street. This seems to soothe her..for 3 minutes.  Immediately, she says "bubba"..which means she wants a bottle of milk.  I will do anything at this point (even a grilled cheese, maybe an awesome pulled pork?) so we go downstairs and get her middle of the night snack.  While I cradle and feed her, she is insistent with her whining, that she wants to be held a certain way to be comfortable and perhaps fall asleep.  Since I am currently her bitch, I comply.  It is a very awkward hold, kind of half sitting up, half propped with pillows. God damn..no sleep for me!  For any of you childless folk out there (and you know who you are), try holding a 25 pound turkey in your left arm and then try to sleep comfortably while half propped up.  And you can't let that turkey move..not a sliver of an inch or that bird will cry.  This is the best way I can describe it.

At 6:30, Rachel has been asleep for about 45 minutes but now Laurel is up because that is what Laurel does. She can hear the television and thinks there is a party going on without her.

Where is the hell is Ching? Really?  Freakin' really?  But revenge comes in a way that I just happen to stumble upon on a lone Sunday afternoon.  I dropped Laurel off to a b-day party early afternoon. Since the party was only 90 minutes, I decided to stay in the area rather than going home.  I got some lunch at Chipolte..Holy God..Heaven..more on that tomorrow.  I come home with Laurel and tell Ching that I had the best burrito of my life.  I know he was about to ask me if I got him one too..but he knows better than that after the 3/6 entry about the hunk of cheese winning my love. Smart man..(and me) for now..

Ching isn't there..Either he has run away or is now sleeping in the den.

At 3:30 Friday morning, I had a feeling.  I peak over to my right.  The covers are in a disarray but empty.  Ching isn't there..Either he has run away or is now sleeping in the den.  Oh crap..I hope I wasn't snoring.

In reality Ching told me that he couldn't sleep so decided to read and try to sleep in the den.  (Dude..I don't think the burrito before bed was a good idea.)  While Ching hasn't slept well, he does get the girls dressed as I am rushing around..doing whatever it is that I do.  After he does his morning task, he comes into the kitchen, checks his blackberry and then says, "I know you don't like when I do this but I have made the decision to work from home."  He also has a slight cowering in his stance like I am either going to hit him or make the vagina gesture in his face.  Let me make this clear:
1.  I absolutely don't hit.  I mock..but I would never hit.
2.  I don't hate when Ching works from home.  I just seethe with jealousy.

I would love to work from home.  I would avoid the commute and that creepy guy in the cafe that takes my $2 for coffee.  I wouldn't have to be nice..I wouldn't even have to shower.

Granted, there are things that I would only do at work--like working out at lunch.  That would be an issue for me.  (Honestly, I don't think that is an issue with Ching.)

But how much work does he actually get done?  I honestly don't think that I would do much.  I would find everything to do..90210 re-runs, picking up..Christ, I would even dust.  I would talk to myself like a mad woman and maybe even take a nap.

Of course, if I didn't go to work, no one would see my awesome vanilla fashion sense, see any of my eye rolls or hear my very slight mumbling snark.  While some days it is painful, selfishly, I need an audience.

Holy Christ on Crutches..they are charging two tickets for my sorry ass brownies?

Tonight, as I approach the door, Ching is standing there in his tennis whites.  (Did I tell you, he signed up for tennis lessons on Thursday nights?  Well, my Friday night are now free!)
CCW-We forgot an event.  Laurel really wants to go to the book fair.
JCW-(I didn't forget.  I thought we should say no..we should say no!)
CCW--While I have to go, Lisa said she could stay longer if you take Laurel for 30 minutes.
JCW--(I still haven't said a word)  Laurel, let's go..(30 minutes..let's get this over with..)  I hope my mother of the year award has a purple cheesy ribbon on it.

This is another PTO event that Laurel's elementary school is hosting tonight.  A book fair where we pay retail for books (that I could get much cheaper from Scholastic book order) to the PTO and they do what with it? I am not making accusations but where the hell is my money going?  Every time, Laurel and I go to a small school event, there is some sort of gouging.  At the "Back to School Picnic", there were t-shirts and trinkets along with tickets to buy so you could get a dessert.  (Some sad dessert that I donated.  Holy Christ on Crutches..they are charging two tickets for my sorry ass brownies?)    Then there was some sort of holiday activity that I blocked (actually, I think Ching took her).  Laurel and I attended a version of the Suessical.  While Laurel was going to see it for free on a Wednesday morning with her class, she insisted on being seen at opening night.  This was $7 for me and $5 for Laurel.  Cotton candy and t-shirts were also lurking..I rush Laurel by. And then there is freakin' book fair..

While we are on the way,  Laurel and I are negotiating books:
JCW-Two books max..I buy one, you buy one. (Believe me this girl has been squirreling cash.)
LAW-I would like to get two books myself..and could you get one?
JCW-(God damn..why am I negotiating?  I am the boss.  I AM THE BOSS!)

As soon as we get to the fair, Laurel targets a Barbie book.  Oh, freak me..hard.
LAW: Mom..why do you hate Barbie?
JCW:  (Wang family focus..) Laurel, when I was a girl, Barbie wasn't a smart girl.  She hung out at the beach house with Ken.
LAW:  Who is Ken?
JCW:  Her pretty boyfriend.
LAW:  Mom..in this book she is a vet.
I look at the book..This is book is crap and I eye a Fancy Nancy book..so much better.  In the Barbie book, (Barbie) isn't a vet.  She is a pet owner that decides to help the vet.  With the white coat, she helps her friends' pets.  Her friends are named Lacey and Nicki..apparently, she hangs out with strippers.  And then Barbie loses someones kittens?  Yeah, not bright.
JCW:  Barbie isn't a real vet in this book.
LAW: Please..(her eyes are pleading with me.)

If I were stronger, I would have argued my point.  But I don't.  I acquiesce just to get out of this crappy book bound circus.  But it doesn't end there.

LAW:  Mom!  There are used adult books in the library.
JCW:  (Of course my stuff would be used.)
LAW:  I would like to buy you a book.
JCW:  Laurel--that is very kind of you..(but Mommy is reading 50 Shades of Porn (Gray) and trying to avoid the crap parts..the crap parts that interest Daddy more than Mommy.)

We escape without a used book for me.  I have given $17 to the PTO..again, not sure where that goes.  And I go home, knowing that I will have to read this Barbie book four times before bed.  Good thing I bought I bottle of wine prior to meeting Ching at the door.

I start to stammer like I am covering up something illegal.

Do you want to cut me at the knees and see me look like a deer in the headlights? Want to see me sweat a little and get tongue tied?  Just ask me one question.  The hardest question for me is:  What does Ching do?

I know where he works. I know what his title is. I know his boss' name..her boss' name and several colleagues' names.   I know how much money he makes and more importantly, I know where all that money is kept.

But I don't have a good explanation what he does..the nitty gritty.  So when someone asks the follow up question to "where does he work" with "what does he exactly do", I start to stammer like I am covering up something illegal.  I can't just say "meetings, Power Point presentations and conference calls."  Not only the mother of the year but I am the wife of the year award too.

I don't feel like I am Karen Hill talking about my husband enterprising or hustling to make a few bucks (Mom--This is a Goodfellas reference.)  He is a smart guy..amazing educational background but what I wouldn't give for someone asking me what he does and I could just say, "he is a surgeon." Bam..done.

I have already asked him three times to explain what he does..I can't go in for a fourth.  I should know!  And these past couple of weeks has been particularly busy for him.  He has been working several hours after the girls go to bed and during the weekend.  Every once in a while, I will lurk..stand behind him as he works, trying to understand the Power Point presentation that he is putting together.

I need to get my story down about what my main man does during the day.  His job shouldn't make me stammer; it should support me in the manner I deserve.  Also, when he says he day wasn't great, I should know it is about the work, not the cafeteria grill guy messing up his breakfast burrito.

Not only do I yell at them with my eyes, but I can visually flip them off too.

Do you know about Family Game Night?  It is a game show that is on Friday night at 8:00 on The Hub.  Two families of four play popular board games that are larger than life.  For instance, Yahtzee dice are made into huge bowling pins or Connect 4 is played with yellow or red basketballs rather than checkers.  Laurel loves this show and she thinks that the Fab Four of Wang will participate when Rachel is 6 and she is 10.  (Can you imagine me on a game show?  I am sure that you assume that I cannot fake enthusiasm..or anything else.  Why settle?)

This past Friday, there was a version of Cranium played.  One part had the dads guessing U.S. Presidents.  The faces (of the Presidents) were blurred out but there were several other features shown that were obvious clues.  But the dads still had a hard time.  With President Clinton..his hair was shown; Obama..his hand: JFK, while blurred his pic included his wife and kids and lastly, President Reagan was shown blurred but next to Nancy.  This wasn't even challenge and these dads were taking a few seconds to study the picture.  Holy Christ..can they even tie their own shoes?  I had to yell out the answers quickly just to make myself feel better.  I told Laurel that it was an embarrassment that they delayed their answer.  This was an issue of simple Civics.  Laurel was absolutely amazed that I knew the answers. Her amazement could be compared to me hugging a real life Backyardigan.  Really Laurel ?

Laurel, at this stage of her life, doesn't realize that her amazement of some one's intelligence is a blatant insult.  Some adults haven't grown into this either...these are adults that start a question with "You probably don't know this.." (Yeah, you know who you are..) When someone does this to me, not only do I yell at them with my eyes, but I can visually flip them off too.

This exchange with Laurel also reminds me of a letter I got from my Nana in college (back in 1993).  She would write to me every week..telling me about comings, goings and specials at Mister Market.  When I was a junior, my sister Jess was graduating from high school.  When Jess graduated, she did it with full flourish..scholarships, awards, and choice of several schools.  (This was Jess' gig but you all know that when I was in high school, my gig was being a looker..refer to entry dated 2/22)  When I graduated, I was lucky to get a $250 scholarship from the Women's League..but it didn't matter..I was at UConn and keeping off the academic probation list and thoroughly enjoying myself.  But my Nana didn't want me to feel bad comparing myself to my sister.  She told me that my academics were fine and that I was "smart in my own special way"  Holy Cripe!  I knew that I was not a Mensa member but I wasn't a dope either..I think my Nana thought that I needed extra tutoring.  Good Lord..

While Laurel will learn this over time..I know that I am smart.  Not "in my own special way" but flat out smart.  I have never questioned my intelligence.  Have I questioned my sanity? Hell, yes.  But intelligence? Ab-so-freakin'-not!