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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel doesn't know this, but I am (kind of) waving the white flag.

Rachel doesn't know this, but I am (kind of) waving the white flag.  At the age of 2, she owns me.

On Saturday, Laurel, Rachel and I went to Laurel's soccer practice.  About 15 minutes into the game (which Laurel loves because her friends are there but hates because people crowd her if she is near the ball), Rachel and I are trying to make use of time.  We run around, find sticks and rocks.  Rachel and I will also sing songs and play Little Piggies on her toes.  We,then, find a coin at the bottom of the tote that has everything...Moms you know the tote.  For those who aren't a mother, this bag is one step up from a diaper bag.  No diapers, but everything else.  If we were abandoned on an island for 48 hours, we would be totally fine.

Rachel is very excited about finding the coin.  (Oh yea!  She wants to play the coin game taught to her by her Great Uncle George.  This game is "which hand is the coin hidden?")

Oh no..not the game that Uncle George taught her.  She takes the coin and puts it into her mouth.  Rachel turns to me, opens her mouth, holds out her tongue.."Look you silly woman, look what I have put in my mouth?"  And then she takes off.  (Of course, in front of 50 other Newton mothers..awesome.  Like she knows that I didn't want people to notice that I haven't washed my hair in 4, well, 5 days..)

Oh Christ..she starts running on a field that is bumpy and slippery from the morning rain.  I know her intent is not to swallow the coin but I am so afraid that she is going to fall and choke.  She seems to know this because she is three feet in front of me, stops, turns around, opens her mouth and waits. (Dude..is she gesturing me with fingers?) She knows that I can't pounce because I don't want her to take off.  So I stop too.

Is this the way it's going to be?  Flash forward to a Thanksgiving when Crazy Aunt Brendi's wine is out or Nana's drinky drink of choice is just lying there..tempting her.  Not to drink but just to torment me.  I see her getting close.  She picks up it, looks at me and then gulps.  I imagine she will do this at 16.  Smokes could be the same way...Hey mom, look at me light it..and then take a huge drag.

Because I have monkey like arms, I grab her hard.  She won't open her mouth.  (Why couldn't the coin be a dime..this wouldn't make her choke.  She has swallowed pieces of pork bigger than a dime.)  I have no idea how, but she opens her mouth and I grab that nickle like it was a God damn diamond.  Crisis adverted.

I make note that we have got to change her bedroom very soon.  It had a little landing right outside her window..just like a nickle, my worse nightmare.

With this entry, I am taking one for the sisters...because too many of us have freakin' been there.

Prologue
Let's get squicky, shall we?  Initially you may read this and think, "Holy Cripe, you are sharing a lot."  My mom may want to crawl under her desk or add something stronger to her coffee when she reads that I am writing about my OB/GYN/birth control consult conversation with Ching.  But this conversation is not about what was said but that one person is taking responsibility while the other is clueless.  With this entry, I am taking one for the sisters...because too many of us have freakin' been there.

CCW:  "How was your day?"
JCW:  "It was fine--work was fine.  But I did go to the doctor."
CCW: "Why?"  Eyes darting right and left.  "Is everything okay?"
JCW:  Never sure why men don't see a doctor's appointment as preventive medicine, only as something bad...or a god damn pregnancy confirmation.    "Ching, if you mean fine by a confirmation that I am 40 (with a follow up mammogram appointment) or that I gave birth naturally to our girls (and now have to address a leaky bladder)...yeah, totally fine."  (Son of a bitch.)  "But I am thinking or really have made a choice about changing birth control."
CCW:  Says nothing but looks blankly and then worried like he is going to have to do something.
JCW:  "To avoid taking the pill everyday..."
CCW:  Still looking confused..
JCW:  "Because, you know, the pill is everyday...I was thinking about an IUD"
CCW:  Again, confused.  Really this guy knows 1940 World War 2 Europe but current birth control?  I think the last time he heard the acronym IUD was back in 1985 when he was in the 7th grade health class...just waiting to see a picture of a drawing for a naked woman while spitting paper at the douche bag in front of him.
JCW: "I am choosing (his ignorance has led me to my choice) the IUD...I can have it placed and not worry for five years."
CCW:  "How does it get in there?"
JCW:  "In my uterus Ching..that's the place where it goes.  There is only one entry and I believe you are familiar with this.  I can't swallow it."
CCW:  "Wow, it sounds like you are getting a tune up."
JCW:  Awesome.. "I don't have to do this unless you want to get a v.."(I am baiting him.  I know even the letter gets him to turn white.)
CCW:  "No..."
JCW:  "Then IUD it is, if the vasectomy is not an option.  In case you are online, it is the Mirena..this is what your wife is getting."
CCW:  "Should I do something?"
JCW:  "No, continue what you are doing now...nothing.  I will take care of it."

I should have had this conversation closer to a gift giving season...rookie move JCW!

I haven't seen my girls since 8:00 this morning, I haven't eaten since 11:30 and I would like to take a piss.

Last week, Ching declared that Laurel's teacher is "kind of hot."  I met her tonight at the First Grade Open House.  She is attractive but holy cripe, she is like me! And after how she handled the night, I kind of want her to be my new best friend.

Let me set the stage.  (Can you tell that I was pretty fired up on the car ride back to write this?)  The Open House was not an opportunity to meet one on one with the teacher or mingle. (Exactly my kind of event)  It was a brief presentation of the community of first grade with a question and answer period.  The questions were going pretty well:
What if my kid thinks her books are too easy?
How are they grouped in learning levels?
How much independence should I give them?  (I say leave them at the curb and let them find their way to the classroom.)

Fielding the questions are the three first grade teachers:  Laurel's teacher, a male teacher whom you know every kid thinks is cool and funny, and then the young newlywed teacher whom most would consider "nice."

Immediately my attention is on the dude because very rarely do you see a male first grade teacher.  He is so personable with the crowd (but very masculine..like a buffalo.)  I am starting to think I should have tracked Laurel into his class.  (God dammit JCW!) I could care less about the nicey nice teacher.  I keep staring at Laurel's teacher, trying to find Ching's "hot factor."  It was there, perhaps in 2002.

Then, it happens.  After 45 minutes of general, normal questions, there is a lull.  I thought, hoping that we may get out early.  The room was getting very warm with approximately 45 parents jammed into one class; all of us sitting in first grade chairs so our backs hurt while our asses are 3 inches from the ground.  Then this happened:
"May I ask about sending my kids to school with peanuts?"
(Freak me.  Your kid is in the first grade...this was covered in kindergarten.)
The dude tries to appease the mom...classroom specific rules, only sitting at the nut table, etc.
Then she asks, "What about tree nuts?"
(Who is this woman?  I crane my neck and holy crap!  This is the weirdo from my 12/15 entry--you know the one with the fishtail braid down to her ass, knitting mittens for her advent calendar, ready to ride a tandem bike home after her kindergarten daughter is dismissed?)
The dude, again, tries to appease with taking the cautious approach, always.  The nicey nice teacher won't touch this one.
"There are lots of nut butters and then sun butter. I am just not sure what to send."
(Are you kidding me?  There is a Whole Foods within walking distance that practically offers consultative service.  If I had a magic power, it would have been acid shooting eyes.  It is 8:30.  I haven't seen my girls since 8:00 this morning, I haven't eaten since 11:30 and I would like to take a piss.)
Then another mother.."You know sun butter is made out of sunflower seeds.  It is not a nut butter but a seed butter."
(What is happening? All the while, I know that Laurel eats none of this shit..her sandwich of choice is jam on wheat, no crusts.  Help me!!)

And then she does.  Laurel's teacher shuts it down.
-Call the nurse if you have concerns with your child and what you are sending in regards tonuts.  She will ans..
-But..
-Call the nurse..next question.

It may seem harsh to some but not to me.  Laurel's teacher is like me...she will let you have some space but will shut it if time is being wasted.  Prior to this nut fiasco, she had a great sarcastic, a tad self deprecating sense of humor.  My girl is good for this school year.  And if Ching thinks she is kind of hot...I am okay with that.

And (this behavior) kept me away from the secret file of doom.

It's confirmed...Laurel is good at school...like me.  When I mean "good", she is well-behaved.  Not like some little twerp (Ching) sent home with a note, not once, but twice for using an F-bomb. (He was seven!) His (immigrant) father didn't even know the meaning of the word but getting a note sent home like that doesn't need translation.  He also got in trouble for soaking gobs of paper towels and tossing them up to the ceiling, making it a nightmare for the custodian.  You can probably assume that it was downhill from there.  I won't even start with the Ching Wang, The Wonder Years or Ching Wang, Save by the Bell years.

I was good as gold, all the time.  I was quiet when I was asked to be quiet and I did my work when I was asked to.  Sounds boring but whatever.  My good behavior suited me just fine.  And (this behavior) kept me away from the secret file of doom.  For some reason, I thought all of my naughtiness (at school) would be documented.  This documentation would prevent me from the next grade, college, perhaps even a job.  I think I was 19 when I realized that there was no file.

During dinner, Laurel expressed lament about being paired up with Shannon (not her real name) during math stations.  Apparently Shannon, very new to Laurel, doesn't do her work when she is supposed to and talks constantly.  Since the kids sit at tables, the more behaved tables get first privileges.  Today, Laurel was not at one of those tables and she hated the association.  Perhaps the teacher thought that Laurel's goodness would influence Shannon but it did not. Regardless how good Laurel was, Shannon sullied Laurel's rep.

I sit at dinner, listening to Laurel's story revelling that I have at least one well behaved girl.  Because Rachel is not going to be well behaved.  She is rolling her eyes and throwing food at me.  Today a handful of peas, tomorrow a wet wad of paper towels on the ceiling.

No...I am not ready for some.

No...I am not ready for some.  I have always been ever since I started dating Ching.  I studied it, was enthused and excited.  Now, not so much.  For some reason, this season, regardless if it is college or NFL, I am just not ready for some football.

Ching lives for the game.  At a very young age, he gravitated toward it.  He likes the strategy of the X's and O's.  As a child, he was a frequent guest of his Aunt Angela and Uncle Ming-Luh.  Now, residents of Columbus Ohio, but then, Miami, Florida and there wasn't a team better than the Miami Hurricanes.  Ching told me that he liked the inner thug, bad ass like play.  (As he described this to me when we first met, he pointed to himself like he was a thug too.  That's right..Mr Ching Wang..inner thug.  I think this was the only justification of his pants hanging mid-ass and showing his boxers.)

Miami was and still is his team...regardless of his attendance of Boston College, undergrad, while some of his best friends playing against Miami.  How ironic is that?  He goes to Boston College and doesn't know a soul.  He ends up being friends with players who are still his best friends to this day.  But regardless of friendship, he always cheered for Miami.  I am glad to say that they are still his friends...some of his best.

We had our first fight during the Boston College/Miami game of 1999.  This was an amazing Miami team.  I learned more about football watching my favorite guy, Santana Moss. (And I would like to think that my quick knowledge was my way of wooing Ching.)  So it was quite a surprise that at the end of the 3rd quarter, the score was 28-0, BC.  Ching is not a gracious loser...he throws the f-bomb, yells, and does that "old man whatever gesture of dismissal".  This was a very hard game for me because he wouldn't talk to me and then this mo-fo gets up and leaves.  My assumption was that he was leaving the game so I follow.  I get caught in a crowd and lose him but decide to meet him at the gate.  No Ching Wang...I decide perhaps he is outside the stadium, no Ching Wang.  I was so disappointed, even after six weeks of knowing him, I thought he was a really good guy.  I stomp 1.5 miles to his car.  It's locked and I can't get my bag.  (I was planning on spending the night.)  I leave him a very sassy voicemail telling him where I am and he better freakin' get there.  About 20 minutes later, I see this little man running toward me from a distance.  It's Ching...  He gets to me..he is out of breath, sweaty, still in his Miami sweatshirt. (And I think it's 80 degrees.)
CCW:  Jude, where did you go?  I didn't leave you.  I went to the bathroom.
JAC:  But he didn't tell me where he you were going!
CCW:  True, he said. (With that finger...the index finger of reason.)  But guess what?  Miami came back and won the game! Jude it was so good!
JAC:  Wait a minute, you knew I was gone but stayed to watch the game?
CCW:  Jude it was really good, they came back to win!
JAC:  Didn't you wonder where I was?
CCW: I asked people around me, but they didn't know where you went.  Jude..they won the game!
JAC:  (Christ..that smile!)

We joke about how he stayed.  We still joke about how he stayed.  He also jokes that I still ended up spending the night.

I love his exuberance of the game.  He does get pissy when his teams lose.  (He has other teams-MN Vikings, BC and the Hurricanes...right now they are all in that building, sucky stage.  Some Saturdays are kind of tough.  I just ask that he closes the door.)  But he has softened a bit.  Rather than focusing just on the game, he will take Laurel to fan fests at BC before the game.  She will get her face painted and eat ice cream (first quarter) and popcorn (second)...she is good for about a half of a game.  Soon Rachel will get good for a half of a game too.

I am not sure where my interest has gone for the game.  Maybe I am weary of the loses.  It doesn't matter how many W's you have during the season, it's that last W that is the killer.  But recently I have come to the realization that I am just happy the Miami won that game back in 1999.  That is the only win that I should appreciate.  I don't want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't won, 31-28.

But uttering, "the new f-word", that is not going to happen.

Dear Laurel,
This is your mother...JCW.  Tomorrow is Monday and I don't want to hear anything like what you said on Friday morning.  I know you were tired and it was a very hectic first week.  But uttering, what I consider, "the new f-word", that is not going to happen.

There are going to be days, weeks when school isn't "fun".  Perhaps you misunderstood your kindergarten teacher last year.  She wasn't teaching you that school should be fun.  She was showing you that the potential of learning could be fun and creative.  Sometimes (the learning process) can be hard.  But the sheer exhaustion and the finished product of what you have learned, can be so satisfying that maybe it may feel fun.

But Holy Cripe, you are in the first grade!  You are a smart girl.  I don't think that you struggle and not only that, you wear really cute, comfy clothes.  Looking back, you are going to regret not appreciating the cake walk you have to Cabot Elementary.  I hate to say it, but school will be harder and there will be so many days that are justifiably not fun.  Those are the days when you do something embarrassing like accidentally farting in front of a group of people or realize that your body looks different.  There will be exams that you will not be properly prepared to take.  Or perhaps exams, while going in, you think you are prepared, but as you start, you realize that you are totally sunk.

I don't want to hear "fun" said like that again.  The word isn't a given for school.  Again, my f-word.  But you probably have another f-word that you hate.  You know, the one that Daddy uses all the time:  Focus.  Yeah, I know, I hate that word too.  We will address that one later.  One F-word at a time.

Love,
Mom

September is the month that could make or break me.

September is the month that could make or break me.  This has nothing to do with money, work or marriage..it is about the girls and school.  I can either be the queen of my cul-de-sac or hold my head in disgrace until next June.  Anyone out there feel the same way?  Please, throw me a bone...

My first reason to be on edge are the forms from the PTO.  The last time I talked about the PTO of Newton, some readers were insulted while one reader suggested that I attend a meeting to see where the Wang's dues go.  (We pay dues along with all of the activities that we attend. The dues amount is suggested.  We haven't seen lower than $30 per child.)  The PTO of my daughter's elementary school meet either at 8:45 or at 5:00.  I am either at work or in commuter stage...so is the PTO is catering to a group that I don't belong OR am I not catering to the PTO?  Granted I would like to go for the former since I don't like most people.  The meetings aside, I had a manila PTO envelope filled with forms that I needed to fill out for them.  The forms were activities that I should plan for the next school year.  Would I like to volunteer for activities next year or make a pie for the next event?  Really?  I am lucky if I have enough tampons for the next month.

September is also a time when some activities need to be booked until May.  Really.  Hip Hop (because Ching will see that his oldest girl has my rhythm) and Math (because that is Ching's version of dance/rhythm) need to be registered and paid for now.

Lunches...holy shit.  For Laurel, her lunch has been pretty much the same for the last three years.  Rachel gets pissed with too much repetition.  I am trying to show her a lot of variety, hitting color, the food groups AND the "funky smell test".  The funky smell test is specific to Chinese dumplings (pork and cabbage)...so good while you eat them but holy cripe, they smell funky...so I can't pack that.  Right now, I am hoping on my new friend, Joe...Trader Joe.

Then there is the prep during the month for the weather...mittens, hats, jackets, costumes.  While Halloween is a given (and good costumes need to be ordered NOW!) , the weather in New England is not a given.  While this week is in the mid 80's, next week could be a frost, and if I am not prepared, some twenty something teacher will be telling me that my girl wasn't warm enough.  So..Trader Joe..meet my other good friend, LL Bean.

My mom taught for over 30 years.  September was and is my families' wheelhouse.  My calendar is a school calendar, not the pagan one that starts in January.  September needs to start out right...perfectly.  September seems to be my hot tin roof and I am the cat.  (Can you tell that I just watched Beverly Hill 90210 with Brenda doing her version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?  No?  You are too young and you don't have kids...move on...)

I always thought the smart color was green.

Holy crap...no one prepared me for the meltdown at night following the first day of school. I didn't realize that I was still a novice.  (Hear that?  That is a corkscrew.)

The lead up to the first day seemed okay.  Last week, the Wangs took just a short vacation so we had time to prepare for the beginning of school.  (There is really no "we"...Ching had work things, I prepped the girls.)

I can look past Rachel's behavior at Target where she took my keys out of my pocketbook and tossed them down a random aisle as I was telling Laurel how much I loved school supplies. (Another mother had them, whom I found before she was about to hand them to the customer service desk.)  Notebooks, crayons, erasers (shaped like ice cream cones) are all Laurel's.  Thankfully I am just in Target.  If I was in Staples, I am complete putty.  With Target, there are other distractions...yes, Laurel, you can have three sizes of notebooks, but sequins on your clothes...no way.  (Apparently Laurel thinks she is Neil Diamond.)

I can look past which classroom Laurel was placed in for the year.  There are 63 first graders.  Only 2 of the 63 have the same last name...Laurel and that little punk that I have mentioned before this entry.  My nemisis who tells Laurel lies (Oh, yeah, I know Katy Perry) and tells her that she should count calories.  Oh yes, they are are the same class.  I will deal with the situation when I absolutely have been pushed (to go apeshit).

This morning was okay.  Everyone got dressed dutifully but...Rachel wouldn't pose for a first day of school shot and Laurel wouldn't let me make her hair look neat---just a messy high pony with a pink headband.  According to Laurel, pink makes her look smart.  (I always thought the smart color was green.)

So as the day (for both girls) went very well, the night is here.  All I could say is..."Oh Shit".

Rachel didn't want to go to bed and demanded that she go to sleep holding coins...really, she wanted to be paid to sleep.

Laurel can't find her umbrella.  Apparently, it is going to rain again tomorrow.  I think she left it on the camp bus months ago but I try to appease her by telling her I will check the garage as one last ditch effort.  Nothing...and then she tells me that her whole year has been bad luck.
Mom:  The year just started.
L:  I am talking about the last twelve months.
(Oh Christ...I am not opposed to Prozac...for her.  I am all set in that department.)

Perhaps I am pissy because this is the only way that I can enjoy the first day of school.  I miss the first day of school with the outfit, fresh school supplies and a kicky new hair cut.  Next year, JCW is getting a great first day of school outfit.  Screw the spreadsheet.  I say this because when I asked how Laurel's day was and "it was great."  Ching also added that Laurel's teacher is "kinda hot."  Well that is great because now I don't have to schedule time for the parent teacher conference--it will be all CCW!