How Not To Enjoy Blow-Off Day

Michael’s been away on a business trip all week, so you know what that means. After a week of struggling with two kids on my own, Friday arrives and with it comes Blow Off Day, the day where I do absolutely nothing but what I want to do, outside of taking care of the kids.

It should have been a breeze. My plan was to get up extra early and blow some fun time on computer graphics. Then I would wake up Cassie, get her dressed and fed and dropped off at preschool. Then Sam and I would head out for a nice lazy walk. Then we would head out for the morning. First stop, the hospital to pick up copies of my last mammogram (yep, coming up on time to get the boobs ironed out). Second stop, Barnes and Nobles because I have a coupon burning a hole in my pocket. I thought we might look through some manga and cook books and whatever else caught my eye. I’d have a frou-frou coffee with extra whipped cream (the baristas always give me extra whipped cream when they see Sam because they think she’s so cute). Then I’d hit the toy store and pick up a small gift for the party Cassie is going to tomorrow. All of that would be followed by a trip home, during which Sam would fall soundly asleep. I’d carry her to her crib, lay her down, and sneak off to do some more fun stuff on my computer. I’d pick Cassie up from preschool around 4 PM. At home, the kids could enjoy cartoons while I whipped together a quick dinner. We’d eat, pop in a movie (we only watch TV on Fridays and Saturdays around here, so yeah, Friday is a big day for the boob tube), and head up for bath and bed around 7 PM. After stories, both kids would be in bed by 8 PM, 8:30 PM tops, and I would have the rest of the evening to myself.

Yeah, that was how the plan was supposed to work. Here’s what really happened.

I got up early, just like I planned and spent some quality time with my graphics programs. I put together a really nice graphic for the podcast I’m starting up next month. I puttered away on my laptop happily until 6:25 AM, and then went to wake up Cassie to get her ready for school.

Only to discover that her right eye was glued shut by greenish-yellow goop. Twenty minutes later, when I had finally soaked away the last of the super-goop, I discovered my child had pink eye.

You know that put a kink in my plans.

I can’t take Cassie to preschool when she’s got pink eye, so I called the school to let them know she’d be staying home today. No biggie, I can still enjoy Blow Off Day with both kids. Of course, I’d have to take Cassie to the doctor, and to do that I’d have to make an appointment…

Since the doctor’s office doesn’t open until 9 AM, I had to delay my walk. I let Cassie watch some TV while she ate a waffle and I went back to work on my computer graphic. It was really turning out beautifully. I decided to let Sam sleep, since we weren’t going anywhere until after I called the doctor. When she finally woke up around 8 AM, I pried myself away from my graphics program and fed her breakfast. Then I let her wander around the living room, destroying everything she could get her hands on while I went back to my computer graphic. Cassie continued to nibble at her waffle and watch the Wiggles with one eye glued shut again.

At 9 AM, I made the call to the doctor’s office and spent fifteen minutes on hold. When I got through, I was told I could have an appointment that afternoon at 2:30 PM. Great. That would be right smack-dab in the middle of Sam’s nap. But Cassie has pink eye so I had to take it. I hung up the phone and started herding kids upstairs to get dressed. The afternoon was shot but I could still make it to Barnes and Nobles and enjoy browsing through books.

Unfortunately, we didn’t exactly hustle. For various reasons, we didn’t make it out of the house until 10:30 AM. No problem, though, I could still get in a short trip before lunch, and then put Sam down for a short nap so I could have some quiet time. Cassie could read in her room while I went back to work on my graphics. Right before we hit the parking lot of B&N, I remembered I was supposed to pick up my mammogram films, so I had to keep going and circle around to the hospital. Not a huge trip, but it did eat away that much more time from my book browsing.
At this point, Cassie started complaining of being hungry. “We’ll get something to eat at the book store,” I said, envisioning us all smiling as we shared a cheese-stuffed herb pretzel and I happily sipped my frou-frou coffee. “But I don’t want to eat at the book store, Mommy. I want to eat at Wendy’s.”

“Wendy’s?”

“It’s my favoritest place in the whole world!”

We debated the advantages of the B&N café versus Wendy’s all the way through the hospital and back out again. We were still debating it as we headed into the bookstore. Sam started to fuss. I gamely tried to pick out a cook book while Cassie went on and on about Wendy’s and Sam’s complaints about being stuck in the stroller grew louder. Then Cassie said she really needed to go to the children’s section of the bookstore, so we went. I thought maybe the kids would get engrossed with the train table and I’d get to look at the cookbooks I’d picked out at random. Instead, I spent most of my time chasing after Sam as she ran amok in the kid’s section, yanking books and toys off the shelves. We didn’t stay very long (although somehow I did manage to pick out one cookbook and use my coupon; I hope I bought a good book…).

Upon leaving the bookstore, Cassie immediately announced that it was now time to go to Wendy’s. Since I obviously wasn’t getting any frou-frou coffee now anyway, I relented. It was close to home, so why not. We headed back across town, found the Wendy’s and I enjoyed what had to be the absolute cheapest meal of my life. I can’t really eat the food at Wendy’s – the burgers give me heartburn – so all I ever get is the baked potato and chili from the value menu. Cassie and Sam seemed to enjoy their meals though, so at least someone was happy with the cuisine.

After lunch, we went home and played outside for a while. Sam was thrilled with this. She’d had enough of the car for the day and was anxious to stretch her fat little legs. Too bad we only had 30 minutes before we had to head out for Cassie’s doctor’s appointment. Oh, the screaming we had when I put Sam back into her car seat. And the thrashing too. Kid nearly knocked me on my butt in the driveway. Somehow, I managed to get her strapped in and we all took off again. Sam’s screaming sounds a lot like a police siren, so we made good time as other cars pulled off the road ahead of us.

We spent an hour and a half at the doctor’s office, most of that in the waiting room. I had expected to spend much longer there, but I guess they were having a quiet day. My diagnosis of pink eye was confirmed and the physician’s assistant prescribed an antibiotic. It was at this point I remembered that I still had to get a toy for the party Cassie is going to tomorrow. Naturally, the toy store is on the exact opposite end of town from our pharmacy. Could the doctor’s office call in the prescription for me, so I could pick it up on my way home? Of course they could! Thinking I had just made life easier on myself, I took the kids back out to the car and headed for the toy store.

By now, Sam was getting seriously pissed. She’d missed her nap and had been stuck in the car seat most of the day. When she wasn’t in the car seat, she was in my arms to prevent her from trashing whatever location we happened to be visiting at the time. She screamed all the way over to the toy store and…

Fell asleep. I had to carry that little lump all through the toy store, and man was she heavy. I also had to argue with Cassie over what to get her little friend for the birthday party. Personally, I can only afford to spend so much on birthday gifts, especially since all of Cassie’s classmates seem intent on inviting everyone in the class whenever a birthday rolls around. The present buying thing gets expensive, you know?

Cassie eventually found a toy horse set that fell within my price range. After paying for it, we headed off to the pharmacy. I had this plan (again with the plans; you think I’d learn by now) to pick up Cassie’s prescription, rush home, turn on the cartoons, and whip together a quick dinner just like I’d planned. We’d all relax after running around all day and maybe even have time to play.

That plan went to hell in a hand basket when I got to the pharmacy and was told I’d have to wait another 30 minutes to get my prescription. It had been called in, but they were busy, so that was that. It turned out to be an hour long wait in the end, during which time I once again chased both kids around the store, trying to prevent them from breaking anything. Cassie started to complain about being hungry again, so I bought a ginger ale and a granola bar and the three of us split that while we waited. When we finally got the prescription, we headed home. By now Sam was furious about being stuffed in the car seat again, and not only did regular cars pull over as we drove, but so did a police car as well. At least we made good time on the drive.

Well, I did manage to get dinner out quickly. I had cooked chicken stew the day before, so all I had to do was heat it up again and serve it. Neither Sam nor Cassie wanted the stew though, and that started the nightly food wars up again. I did cave to Sam and let her have some baby raviolis, but only because they’re so easy to fix. With Cassie, I finally had to turn off the TV and tell her no more cartoons until she’d eaten her dinner.

“How many bites?” she asked me.

“All of it,” I said.

“But how many bites is that?”

“All of it means you eat every bit of food on that plate, young lady.”

“But I can’t do that! I don’t want stew!”

“Well too bad, because I’m not cooking you anything else. You either eat the stew or you go to bed. TV is not coming on until you’ve cleared your plate.”

And so on and so on… That particular argument lasted for over half an hour. I let Cassie sit at the table and whine over her stew while I finished eating and then went on to do my evening chores. I told her once I was done with the chores, her plate was going away and she was going to bed. Did she listen? Did she even attempt to finish her stew? Nooooooooooo. She sat and whined and cried and pouted and then threw a screaming fit when I finally came for her plate. Oh well.

Cassie did calm down in time to get a bedtime story. Sam sat through one board book and then tried to mug me for breast milk. I made her wait while I read to Cassie. Then we did our usual bedtime routine of rounding up monsters (we give them to Cassie to eat before she goes to sleep) and saying good night. Well, I said good night. Cassie said, “Mommy, I need someone to stay with me tonight!” This is her latest delaying technique. I always answer with, “I’ll be right down the hallway if you need me. Good night sweetie.” Then I walk out of the room. We’ve done this often enough lately that Cassie no longer cries when I leave.

After getting Cassie down, I tried to nurse Sam. She was more interested in chewing on my nipple than in nursing, so she went to bed early too. She screamed all the while as I worked on this blog entry, but now she’s quiet. It’s 8:30 PM. I finally have the house to myself. I’m dead tired and the only thing I got done that I had planned to do was my graphic for my podcast. Everything else just got derailed. I’m so pissed. I hate it when Blow Off Day gets screwed like that. Maybe I should try again next Friday. We’ll see.

Anyway, Michael will be home later tonight. Once he’s home, he gets the girls all weekend. I’m going to be busy working at Fantasci 6 this weekend, handing out brochures and promotional materials for EPIC. Should be fun.

My Trip To Hell

Just a quick update to let folks know what’s going on. We’ve had a slight change of venue since my last post. On Sunday evening, Michael, Cassie, Sam and I arrived in Hell. Well, it may not be Hell for **them** but it’s definitely Hell for ME. For the curious, Hell looks a lot like the Hilton Head Marriott Resort in South Carolina. To get here, we had to make a NINE-HOUR CAR TRIP, during which Sam decided to practice her scream-, er, singing skills. She sings very loudly, and several cars pulled off the road ahead of us, thus facilitating our entry in Hell that much more quickly (and yet the trip still seemed to last an eternity; what a paradox!).

We arrived late Sunday evening. I must admit, the scenery in Hell is lovely, but the conditions of my being here are sucky. I am not here because of any sin **I** committed. No, I’m here because I married a geek. Okay, maybe that is sin. Any way, Michael is attending a never-ending geek-fest on aeronautical modeling and simulation. Meanwhile, I am stuck in a hotel room with the kids. Since yesterday afternoon, Sam has running a fever of 103+. She was up all Sunday night and up all last night screaming. She’s also been screaming a lot during the day. When Sam’s not been screaming, she’s been actively trying to dismantle the room (I believe she has a future as a rock star). Cassie has been well-behaved, but is chomping at the bit to go to the lower pits of Hell (i.e. the beach) so she can drown herself in the surf while Sam screams about the sand (to which she is apparently violently allergic).

Meanwhile, I want a shower (to wash away the sands of Hell which have become stuck in my nether-regions), but I can’t seem to get one without some disaster occurring while I’ve got shampoo in my hair. I’d also kill for a decent cup of coffee, but we all know that there is no good coffee in Hell (that’s why it’s called HELL, right). There is this brown-colored urine the locals call coffee, but it is still actually urine.

While the coffee sucks big time, the food is slightly better. Not because we’re eating at any of Hell’s fancy restaurants, but because Michael has thoughtfully stocked our hotel room with goodies from the local Piggley Wiggley (yes, there are Piggley Wiggley’s in Hell). So while Michael enjoy-, er, endures the string of luncheons and receptions hosted by his geek-fest, the kids and I are surviving on PBJs, bananas, and microwaveable soup (we brought our own microwave just for this purpose).

I had had hopes for wireless internet connection during our stay, but broadband in Hell costs $10 a day and we can only afford one day, so this is it. Not a huge loss though, as I’ve had dial-up that runs faster than Hell’s broadband. In any event, you won’t hear from me again until I manage to escape, a feat of daring which involves making another NINE-HOUR CAR DRIVE back through South Carolina, North Carolina, and part of Virginia. Hopefully this will happen on Monday. Oh, did I mention Sam hates car trips? Pray for me.

Of course, my current trials are nothing. Michael’s geek-fest is an annual thing, and next year it’s being held in a different part of Hell known as Hawaii. Getting there involves a NINE-HOUR trip on a plane. Michael says we’re going. I say only he’s going… In a shoe box.

Signing off now. See you in a week.

Maybe.

If I ever get out of Hell.

My Trip To Hell

Just a quick update to let folks know what’s going on. We’ve had a slight change of venue since my last post. On Sunday evening, Michael, Cassie, Sam and I arrived in Hell. Well, it may not be Hell for **them** but it’s definitely Hell for ME. For the curious, Hell looks a lot like the Hilton Head Marriott Resort in South Carolina. To get here, we had to make a NINE-HOUR CAR TRIP, during which Sam decided to practice her scream-, er, singing skills. She sings very loudly, and several cars pulled off the road ahead of us, thus facilitating our entry in Hell that much more quickly (and yet the trip still seemed to last an eternity; what a paradox!).

We arrived late Sunday evening. I must admit, the scenery in Hell is lovely, but the conditions of my being here are sucky. I am not here because of any sin **I** committed. No, I’m here because I married a geek. Okay, maybe that is sin. Any way, Michael is attending a never-ending geek-fest on aeronautical modeling and simulation. Meanwhile, I am stuck in a hotel room with the kids. Since yesterday afternoon, Sam has running a fever of 103+. She was up all Sunday night and up all last night screaming. She’s also been screaming a lot during the day. When Sam’s not been screaming, she’s been actively trying to dismantle the room (I believe she has a future as a rock star). Cassie has been well-behaved, but is chomping at the bit to go to the lower pits of Hell (i.e. the beach) so she can drown herself in the surf while Sam screams about the sand (to which she is apparently violently allergic).

Meanwhile, I want a shower (to wash away the sands of Hell which have become stuck in my nether-regions), but I can’t seem to get one without some disaster occurring while I’ve got shampoo in my hair. I’d also kill for a decent cup of coffee, but we all know that there is no good coffee in Hell (that’s why it’s called HELL, right). There is this brown-colored urine the locals call coffee, but it is still actually urine.

While the coffee sucks big time, the food is slightly better. Not because we’re eating at any of Hell’s fancy restaurants, but because Michael has thoughtfully stocked our hotel room with goodies from the local Piggley Wiggley (yes, there are Piggley Wiggley’s in Hell). So while Michael enjoy-, er, endures the string of luncheons and receptions hosted by his geek-fest, the kids and I are surviving on PBJs, bananas, and microwaveable soup (we brought our own microwave just for this purpose).

I had had hopes for wireless internet connection during our stay, but broadband in Hell costs $10 a day and we can only afford one day, so this is it. Not a huge loss though, as I’ve had dial-up that runs faster than Hell’s broadband. In any event, you won’t hear from me again until I manage to escape, a feat of daring which involves making another NINE-HOUR CAR DRIVE back through South Carolina, North Carolina, and part of Virginia. Hopefully this will happen on Monday. Oh, did I mention Sam hates car trips? Pray for me.

Of course, my current trials are nothing. Michael’s geek-fest is an annual thing, and next year it’s being held in a different part of Hell known as Hawaii. Getting there involves a NINE-HOUR trip on a plane. Michael says we’re going. I say only he’s going… In a shoe box.

Signing off now. See you in a week.

Maybe.

If I ever get out of Hell.

My Lovely, Lovely Day

6AM – I clean two piles of Fritti’s cat diarrhea off the living room carpet. Joy.

7 AM – Fritti returns to the scene of the crime and turns himself inside out by vomiting. Verily, it is explosive and wet, and I dare you to find more impressive special effects in any horror movie known to mankind.

7:45 AM – Cassandra stages a pacifist protest against the current tyrannical parental regime by putting her toothbrush in her mouth, but then refusing to brush. Do I possibly have the next Ghandi on my hands, or is my child deliberately trying to make me strangle her?

10:30 AM – Sam has a poop to rival Fritti’s early AM offering. But since it’s contained in a diaper, it’s far easier to clean up.

2:30-4:30 PM – I bang my head against my laptop as it repeatedly locks up while trying to make a DVD. Tell me, what is the point of having a DVD drive if the frikkin’ thing will not burn DVDs?

6:15 PM – Once is never enough. Fritti wanders back into the living room, faces east, and then vomits. Then he faces south, west, and north, each time leaving more vomit. I swear, he pukes more than his own body weight. Has he somehow become a receptacle for other cats’ vomit? Is he puking for Lydia and BJ as well? I ponder the metaphysical possibilities as I yet again get down on my hands and knees to scrub the carpet.

7:30 PM – Sam rams her head into a dining room chair and leaves a big red mark on her forehead. Ouch!

7:45 PM – Anything Sam can do, Cassie can do better. While getting a horsie back ride on her daddy, Cass throws up both her arms and legs, balances her pointy little butt for two seconds on Michael’s spine, and then topples head first into the exercise bike in the living room, smacking her head on one of the pedals. After the screaming is over, I see she now has a huge goose egg between her eyebrows and a small cut on her left cheek. It’s a miracle she still has her left eye.

7:55 PM – As a grace note to the evening, Fritti wanders into the dining room and attempts to turn himself inside out again, this time by crapping next to my chair. Oh joy of joys.

I am now going to bed so I can look forward to yet another day in the life of Helen Madden. If I do not show up for the playdate tomorrow, it is because either Social Services or the ASPCA has shown up to take me away. God knows I could use the vacation.

The Early Bird

Know what I love about getting up early in the morning? I woke up at 4:45 today and so far I’ve nursed Sam, cleaned two piles of cat poop, folded the laundry, dusted the downstairs, made my bed, got Cassie up and dressed, fed myself and the kids, cleaned up the kitchen, bathed Sam, and taken a shower. And it’s only 8:30 AM! Go me!

Know what I hate about getting up early in the morning? It’s 8:30 AM and so far today I’ve nursed Sam, cleaned two piles of cat poop, folded the laundry, dusted the downstairs, made my bed, got Cassie up and dressed, fed myself and the kids, cleaned up the kitchen, bathed Sam, and taken a shower. God I’m beat.

When It Rains…

Michael is out of town, so you know life around here is a living hell at the moment. The morning he left, I had to hop into my car six different times to run six different errands – doctor’s appointment, bring Cassie a blanket at preschool, banking, grocery shopping, etc. Only the doctor’s appointment was planned. Sam got a little pissed the fourth time I strapped her into the car seat to head out the door again. “Fer cryin’ out loud, lady! Can’t a baby get a break?”

Naturally, Cassie came down with the stomach flu last night. She came running into my room at 1 AM complaining that her tummy hurt. Dumb me, I thought she was just hungry because she blew off dinner. I took her downstairs to get a bite to eat. The first time she threw up, it went all over the kitchen floor. The second time, I was carrying her over to the mop bucket. She got it half in, half out. The third time she puked, she finally made it into the bucket. Of course, there was a lot more puke the first and second time around.

So Cassie stayed home today, we all slept late, and we’ve all been way off schedule today, which I hate because that makes it impossible for me to get any work done. Somehow though, a miracle occurred around 2 PM. I managed to nurse a screaming Sam to sleep, then came downstairs and found Cassie zonked out in her bean bag chair. She was so out of it I was able to mop the entire downstairs before she woke up. So at least that got done.

My folks show up tomorrow. My sister shows up the day after that, the same day Michael gets home. His parents show up on Friday. Sam gets baptized on Saturday. I won’t have the house to myself again until Tuesday. I wonder if I’ll be able to get anything useful done between now and then?

Holiday Miracle

I never thought it would happen. Last night, after weeks of dealing with sick children, after weeks of having both kids in bed with us crying and fussing, last night for the first time in ages, Sam and Cassie slept through the night in their own beds!

It’s a miracle! Can I get an amen? AMEN!!

If this happens again, I’m calling the Pope.

Of course, Sam probably thinks it was a miracle that I didn’t stick a thermometer up her butt when I changed her diaper this morning.

Birth Control

To paraphrase Bill Cosby, the reason I have two children is because I do not want to have three.

On Thursday, Michael and I were actually having sex. Yes, folks with kids do get to have sex every now and then, even us. And it was good sex too, the kind you usually only get to have during your anniversary or when you buy a new car. I was in the throws of ecstasy, enjoying every moment, when Sam started to cry.

It was just a little snuffling at first. Then the snuffling turned into fussing, which then turned into wailing and finally screaming. Needless to say, it killed the mood.

I swear, on Sam’s wedding night, I’m going to call her on the phone. Six times at least. Just to make sure she’s okay.