The computer is back up and running. Fried power supply, not logic board, so that's good.
I, however, am feeling rather slow as it was a hectic day getting the computer fixed, meeting with an Early Intervention social worker, going to work for a few hours, dealing with cranky children, welcoming my father here for a visit, and running out the door to meet a long-lost grad school classmate for dinner.
Off to bed with me. This hardly qualifies as a post, but keeps my hat in the NaBloPoMo ring, at least.
Showing posts with label EI. Show all posts
Showing posts with label EI. Show all posts
09 November 2007
26 July 2007
Plan
So many great comments on the boring toddler feeding post! Thank you.
Here's my plan for tonight:
Give them all their food at once, at least what they can self-feed (tonight that would be some kind of fruit, pasta/red sauce/ricotta casserole, some kind of veggie, and Cheerios or crackers or some kind of starch). Let them eat what they want while I wash up daycare cups and containers. Food that goes on the floor stays there.
Once I'm done cleaning up the daycare stuff and they are done eating and have moved on to playing with their food, wipe down trays. Give them each a spoon and a bowl with some of their oatmeal in it. Feed them the oatmeal while they try to feed themselves (with occasional success!) Use the "three strikes, you're out" rule with spoons and bowls on the floor, emphasizing that "spoons/bowls stay in your hand or on the tray," and "if you throw that again, it stays there." Continue until oatmeal is gone or meltdown ensues. Clean up toddlers and release them from the torture that is dinner.
We'll see how it goes! I feel like the most important thing is to be consistent. If I'm going go with "three strikes, you're out" on utensil throwing, then I need to do that every. single. time.
I don' t think I was entirely clear in my last post about the suction cup bowls. I do expect that the kids will be able to un-suction them. But the bowls the kids have now slide all over their trays when they try to scoop something onto their spoons. They get the "spoon into food, food on spoon, spoon into mouth" concept pretty well, but they often can't achieve "food on spoon" because the bowl is sliding all over the place. Then they get frustrated and throw the whole shebang. I think if they can accomplish getting some food on the spoon, they might be less frustrated by the whole experience. Maybe? Maybe.
I talked to my mom for a long time last night and she pointed out that some of this evening kid crankiness could be due to going back to daycare this week. They love their daycare, but being there makes them quite tired in a way that they don't get tired when they are at home. Good insight, Mom! I know this is just a rough patch, made rougher by me feeling like crap due to having a cold.
I am so tired today. I didn't sleep well at all due to being all stuffed up and drippy-nosed. It didn't occur to me until about 5:00 am that since I'm no longer nursing, I can take cold medicine! Revelation. Of course, I don't have any in the house. Will go get some at lunch.
Also, I am seriously behind at work. Yikes! Part of me fails to care, but that's not good. It's so hard for me to focus lately. I just want to hibernate: read, write, be home. I think it's a grief thing. Wish I could take a leave of absence, but not sure that's possible.
I've been doing art therapy twice a month with a social worker from Early Intervention. Last time I saw her, I made a mandala. The exercise was very therapeutic for me, and I've been wanting to do another one or more. No time! Wish I could stay home and make mandalas all day. Sigh. Maybe I could just take an isolated day off, but I have a big deadline on 6 August, so I don't see that happening before then.
Here's my plan for tonight:
Give them all their food at once, at least what they can self-feed (tonight that would be some kind of fruit, pasta/red sauce/ricotta casserole, some kind of veggie, and Cheerios or crackers or some kind of starch). Let them eat what they want while I wash up daycare cups and containers. Food that goes on the floor stays there.
Once I'm done cleaning up the daycare stuff and they are done eating and have moved on to playing with their food, wipe down trays. Give them each a spoon and a bowl with some of their oatmeal in it. Feed them the oatmeal while they try to feed themselves (with occasional success!) Use the "three strikes, you're out" rule with spoons and bowls on the floor, emphasizing that "spoons/bowls stay in your hand or on the tray," and "if you throw that again, it stays there." Continue until oatmeal is gone or meltdown ensues. Clean up toddlers and release them from the torture that is dinner.
We'll see how it goes! I feel like the most important thing is to be consistent. If I'm going go with "three strikes, you're out" on utensil throwing, then I need to do that every. single. time.
I don' t think I was entirely clear in my last post about the suction cup bowls. I do expect that the kids will be able to un-suction them. But the bowls the kids have now slide all over their trays when they try to scoop something onto their spoons. They get the "spoon into food, food on spoon, spoon into mouth" concept pretty well, but they often can't achieve "food on spoon" because the bowl is sliding all over the place. Then they get frustrated and throw the whole shebang. I think if they can accomplish getting some food on the spoon, they might be less frustrated by the whole experience. Maybe? Maybe.
I talked to my mom for a long time last night and she pointed out that some of this evening kid crankiness could be due to going back to daycare this week. They love their daycare, but being there makes them quite tired in a way that they don't get tired when they are at home. Good insight, Mom! I know this is just a rough patch, made rougher by me feeling like crap due to having a cold.
I am so tired today. I didn't sleep well at all due to being all stuffed up and drippy-nosed. It didn't occur to me until about 5:00 am that since I'm no longer nursing, I can take cold medicine! Revelation. Of course, I don't have any in the house. Will go get some at lunch.
Also, I am seriously behind at work. Yikes! Part of me fails to care, but that's not good. It's so hard for me to focus lately. I just want to hibernate: read, write, be home. I think it's a grief thing. Wish I could take a leave of absence, but not sure that's possible.
I've been doing art therapy twice a month with a social worker from Early Intervention. Last time I saw her, I made a mandala. The exercise was very therapeutic for me, and I've been wanting to do another one or more. No time! Wish I could stay home and make mandalas all day. Sigh. Maybe I could just take an isolated day off, but I have a big deadline on 6 August, so I don't see that happening before then.
22 May 2007
Blah Diddy Blah Blah Blah
Yesterday was my first day back at work. In a word, it was boring. I had thought that it might be emotional to see all my coworkers for the first time since John's death, but it was surprisingly not. Mostly I had that feeling that I get after a vacation, that strange sense that I was never away at all. I jumped right back into old projects after a meeting with my boss, and I'm starting on something new today. I continue to feel like I'm being mommy-tracked a little bit, but as time goes on and I get back in the groove and figure out just how much challenge I want, I should be able to talk with my boss about getting some more demanding projects on my plate.
I was quite tired when I got home last night, but not too tired to watch the two-hour season finale of 24. I missed a bit at the end because Riley woke up screaming around 9:40. Turns out that his leg was stuck between the bars of the crib. I brought him out to the living room and cuddled him and he went right back to sleep in with me in the glider while I watched the end of the show. I had not held a snuggly, sleeping baby for a while. It was so cozy and nice.
*******************************
I had my first one-on-one meeting with a social worker from Early Intervention last Friday. I'd met with her before, when John was alive and when I had the twins home on Fridays. She happens to be a reiki master, and during most of her visits she would do reiki on John. This past Friday, it was my turn to be in the spotlight. She didn't do reiki on me; instead, she broke out a bunch of art supplies—oil pastels, colored pencils, watercolors, and a big sketch pad—and we did some expressive therapy. At first, I was intimidated. Even though I knew full well that the goal was not to create a masterpiece, I was worried about the quality of what I might draw. I put on some music to try to help me along, and the social worker and I chatted as I got to work.
It turned out to be a lot of fun. I did five pieces, mostly oil pastel and watercolor. I focused on color and shape, and tried to think about what I wanted to tell John. The overriding thing that I wanted to communicate is that I'm OK and the twins are OK. John worried so much about me and the babies, much more than he ever worried about himself. I want him to know that we miss him, but that we're doing fine and being well taken care of. I think he knows that, but I used the art as a way to try to get that point across even more clearly.
There are lots of things that John and I didn't talk about before he died. I do not know for certain what he believed about the afterlife, for instance. He was not religious; I don't know that I ever heard him declare himself an atheist, but I think that's how he thought of himself. I'm not even sure what I think about what happens when someone dies. In the abstract, I've always thought that once you die, that's it. No heaven, no hell, no judgment, no nothing. That's it. You live on in the memories and lives of people who are still living. I still mostly feel that way, although at the same time, I'm quite certain that John became cancer-free and that a huge burden was lifted from him when he died. I don't know how to reconcile those two beliefs—that death is quite simply the end but that something changed in John mentally and physically when he died. I also have a sense that he knows that the twins and I are OK. Maybe it's just what I want to believe.
******************************
As I was getting out of the shower this morning, I suddenly felt a wave of anger. Oddly, my bathroom is filled with things that make me think of John's parents: the honey-scented lotion they insisted on massaging on his legs, makeup my mother-in-law has given me, fleece-covered hot-water bottles, Korean toothpaste. I started thinking about the time John and I had together before he died. And I started to get angry, really angry at my in-laws. There are so many things John and I didn't get to talk about because his parents were there during those last two weeks. Constantly, unrelentingly there. Sitting in the hospital room. Sitting in our house. Sitting, sitting, sitting.
There's nothing that John and I needed to say that didn't get said. There's just a lot I wanted to say and discuss. I know that there never would have been enough time and that some of the things I wish we had discussed would not have occurred to me in the moment. I also know that I got the honor and privilege of being the person who was with John when he died, and that John wanted that person to be me.
I'm just feeling some selfish anger. John's parents had him in their lives for 32 years. I think they have some regrets about how at least some of that time was spent. I think they wanted to make up for things at the end. Their need to make amends got in my way. I only got John for four years.
Life can be so fucking unfair.
Of course, John's parents lost a child, the pain of which I can only begin to imagine. But it's the same thing with them that it's always been. I feel like I am the one who makes all of the accommodations. I was the one who made room for them in the hospital room, who stepped aside when they wanted time alone with John in our home.
I just need a minute to play the martyr.
I was quite tired when I got home last night, but not too tired to watch the two-hour season finale of 24. I missed a bit at the end because Riley woke up screaming around 9:40. Turns out that his leg was stuck between the bars of the crib. I brought him out to the living room and cuddled him and he went right back to sleep in with me in the glider while I watched the end of the show. I had not held a snuggly, sleeping baby for a while. It was so cozy and nice.
*******************************
I had my first one-on-one meeting with a social worker from Early Intervention last Friday. I'd met with her before, when John was alive and when I had the twins home on Fridays. She happens to be a reiki master, and during most of her visits she would do reiki on John. This past Friday, it was my turn to be in the spotlight. She didn't do reiki on me; instead, she broke out a bunch of art supplies—oil pastels, colored pencils, watercolors, and a big sketch pad—and we did some expressive therapy. At first, I was intimidated. Even though I knew full well that the goal was not to create a masterpiece, I was worried about the quality of what I might draw. I put on some music to try to help me along, and the social worker and I chatted as I got to work.
It turned out to be a lot of fun. I did five pieces, mostly oil pastel and watercolor. I focused on color and shape, and tried to think about what I wanted to tell John. The overriding thing that I wanted to communicate is that I'm OK and the twins are OK. John worried so much about me and the babies, much more than he ever worried about himself. I want him to know that we miss him, but that we're doing fine and being well taken care of. I think he knows that, but I used the art as a way to try to get that point across even more clearly.
There are lots of things that John and I didn't talk about before he died. I do not know for certain what he believed about the afterlife, for instance. He was not religious; I don't know that I ever heard him declare himself an atheist, but I think that's how he thought of himself. I'm not even sure what I think about what happens when someone dies. In the abstract, I've always thought that once you die, that's it. No heaven, no hell, no judgment, no nothing. That's it. You live on in the memories and lives of people who are still living. I still mostly feel that way, although at the same time, I'm quite certain that John became cancer-free and that a huge burden was lifted from him when he died. I don't know how to reconcile those two beliefs—that death is quite simply the end but that something changed in John mentally and physically when he died. I also have a sense that he knows that the twins and I are OK. Maybe it's just what I want to believe.
******************************
As I was getting out of the shower this morning, I suddenly felt a wave of anger. Oddly, my bathroom is filled with things that make me think of John's parents: the honey-scented lotion they insisted on massaging on his legs, makeup my mother-in-law has given me, fleece-covered hot-water bottles, Korean toothpaste. I started thinking about the time John and I had together before he died. And I started to get angry, really angry at my in-laws. There are so many things John and I didn't get to talk about because his parents were there during those last two weeks. Constantly, unrelentingly there. Sitting in the hospital room. Sitting in our house. Sitting, sitting, sitting.
There's nothing that John and I needed to say that didn't get said. There's just a lot I wanted to say and discuss. I know that there never would have been enough time and that some of the things I wish we had discussed would not have occurred to me in the moment. I also know that I got the honor and privilege of being the person who was with John when he died, and that John wanted that person to be me.
I'm just feeling some selfish anger. John's parents had him in their lives for 32 years. I think they have some regrets about how at least some of that time was spent. I think they wanted to make up for things at the end. Their need to make amends got in my way. I only got John for four years.
Life can be so fucking unfair.
Of course, John's parents lost a child, the pain of which I can only begin to imagine. But it's the same thing with them that it's always been. I feel like I am the one who makes all of the accommodations. I was the one who made room for them in the hospital room, who stepped aside when they wanted time alone with John in our home.
I just need a minute to play the martyr.
09 February 2007
O Blogging, How I Miss Thee
GH has the twins out on a late afternoon drive, so I'm finally stealing some time to blog. It's been so long that I don't even know where to start!
As mentioned in the previous post, I've been rather overwhelmed at work. Tasks keep getting handed to me, and none of them are things that I find particularly interesting. This is frustrating. While some of the tasks actually offer some fairly significant opportunities for growth, they all also come with the privilege (or so she'd have you believe) of working with a colleague who is the ultimate in condescending. She's an awful combination of know-it-all, bad listener, terrible communicator, and narcissist. She's smart and experienced, but her way of sharing her wisdom is just horrible. Combine that with my extreme sensitivity to people talking down to me and it's a really bad combination. Argh.
So work is taking its toll on me lately. That's kept me away from blogging just because I've been too busy during the day to sneak in postings. The other thing that's kept me away is that I've just needed a mental break. Not from the blogging, per se, as I've actually really missed it. But since I haven't been able to blog at work, that leaves me the evenings to get a post up. And lately, I've needed the evenings to myself. This week, once the twins have gone to bed, I've taken care of the essentials around the house and then it's been about the big glass of wine and a DVD. I'm getting hooked on Grey's Anatomy.
The mental break is partially from the stress of work. An even larger part of it is from the aftermath of my mother-in-law's visit. She was here for two weeks. She left last Saturday. Overall, her visit went like most of her visits do. We were polite to each other, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you could cut with a knife. On the day before she left, I just couldn't take it anymore and we ended up in a screaming match.
It was awful on one hand, but cathartic on another. While nothing was really resolved, the air did feel more clear after it was all over.
What set the screaming match off is of no consequence--it was minor thing on the surface, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The undercurrents at work are mostly cultural. Coming from a Korean perspective, where she has the wisdom of age on her side:
1. She honestly can't comprehend why GH and I would not do what she says. We are the children. She is the mother. It is not our place to question, it is our place to do.
2. The idea that she is a guest in our house is quite literally foreign to her. She is family. In her mind, it's her house, too, and when she's here, I start to feel like a guest in my own home.
There is another, noncultural element at work too, a problem that I think most mothers- and daughters-in-law struggle with. It's one that's embarrassing for me to admit, but it's true. I want to be number one in GH's life. I want him to love me best. I want him to love me more than he loves his mother. Rationally, I know this is crazy--it's not a matter of loving her more or me more. I'm his wife, she's is mother. It's different. But there's still a part of me that wants to know that he loves me more. I know she feels the same way. That creates it's own tension, which, because of our situation with GH's cancer, is even more acute than it is for most couples.
Regarding the cultural stuff, I really don't know what to do. I like to think that I'm very respectful and aware of cultural differences. At the same time, I am a born-and-bred American and we're living in the United States. The idea that my home is my space is very, very important to me, as is the understanding that I'm an adult who makes her own decisions. My own parents are very respectful of both of those boundaries. While I may ask them for advice, they know that I--or GH and I together for couple-type things--ultimately make decisions on my own. When they don't agree with those decisions, they accept them even if it's hard for them to do so. When they visit, they make themselves at home and do things to help us, but in the context of asking us what it is that we would find helpful and only getting so comfortable as to not invade our privacy.
We have a small house. It's a two-bedroom, one bath, 1,100 square foot condo. We have two kids. I work full-time. GH and I don't get a lot of couple time and I get virtually no alone time. Having someone living in our living room (oh, the irony of the room's name!) meant that I really didn't get any alone time at all while my mother-in-law was here. Couple that with the stress I was under at work and I was wound pretty damn tight while she was here.
So we screamed at each other. As I said, it cleared the air in its own way. But it didn't resolve anything. I can't change her culture. She can't change mine. I feel like I'm willing to meet in the middle, but she's said that compromise is not a part of her game.
How can it be so difficult for us to get along when we both want the same thing? We just want the best for GH. Us not being able to work on that together is causing him stress that makes me feel awful. I feel like it's my mother-in-law who is being unreasonable. I'm having so much trouble seeing my part in this. The only "solution" I see is to let her be in charge, even in my own home. That's a bitter, bitter pill to swallow. Is that my only option?
What I wish could happen is that we could play by her rules at her house and GH and my's rules at our house. Another aspect of this problem is that when GH and I make decisions that she doesn't agree with (about medical treatment, kids, whatever), she thinks that I'm the sole decision maker, that I push GH do do things he wouldn't do if I weren't around. This is patently not true, but I make a very convenient scapegoat. (You can extrapolate that to the idea that if GH dies, his parents will blame me, but that's a post all of it's own.) If GH asks that she not send us so many care packages because we can't possibly eat all that food, for example, she hears me talking, not him. This, of course, only serves to make GH feel all the more trapped in the middle, which is stressful to him and counterproductive to the whole situation since we are all working for the same outcome.
Madeleine's physical therapy is a part of Early Intervention services. As part of EI, we can talk to a counselor about family stress. I met with the counselor for the first time today. Maybe she can help me with some of these issues. I'm probably going to be seeing her weekly. GH can join me if he wants. Hopefully she can help me work through some of these issues.
I want to end by saying that I don't mean to sound ungrateful to my mother-in-law for all the things she does for us. She is an amazing cook. She is very intuitive with the babies. She loves GH and I know that she also loves me. And I know that everything she does for us she does because of that love and because she truly believes that she is helping us. Ultimately, what I don't know how to resolve is that she's never asked GH or me what kind of help we want. She makes that decision on her own. When we've tried to guide her, she just does her own thing anyway, and then she gets mad if we ignore her advice, throw away what she sends us, etc. That kind of "help" creates stress for both me and GH. How can we balance her needs with ours? How can we all work together? I asked these questions during our screaming match, but that was hardly the circumstance under which to have a productive discussion. I go around and around and around in my head about this and ultimately come back to what I said earlier: If she's said flat-out that she's not going to change, all I can change is my attitude and my reactions. I'm just getting so worn out and stretched so thin that I don't know if I have the strength to do that. I'm so tired of managing other people's needs. So very tired.
As mentioned in the previous post, I've been rather overwhelmed at work. Tasks keep getting handed to me, and none of them are things that I find particularly interesting. This is frustrating. While some of the tasks actually offer some fairly significant opportunities for growth, they all also come with the privilege (or so she'd have you believe) of working with a colleague who is the ultimate in condescending. She's an awful combination of know-it-all, bad listener, terrible communicator, and narcissist. She's smart and experienced, but her way of sharing her wisdom is just horrible. Combine that with my extreme sensitivity to people talking down to me and it's a really bad combination. Argh.
So work is taking its toll on me lately. That's kept me away from blogging just because I've been too busy during the day to sneak in postings. The other thing that's kept me away is that I've just needed a mental break. Not from the blogging, per se, as I've actually really missed it. But since I haven't been able to blog at work, that leaves me the evenings to get a post up. And lately, I've needed the evenings to myself. This week, once the twins have gone to bed, I've taken care of the essentials around the house and then it's been about the big glass of wine and a DVD. I'm getting hooked on Grey's Anatomy.
The mental break is partially from the stress of work. An even larger part of it is from the aftermath of my mother-in-law's visit. She was here for two weeks. She left last Saturday. Overall, her visit went like most of her visits do. We were polite to each other, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you could cut with a knife. On the day before she left, I just couldn't take it anymore and we ended up in a screaming match.
It was awful on one hand, but cathartic on another. While nothing was really resolved, the air did feel more clear after it was all over.
What set the screaming match off is of no consequence--it was minor thing on the surface, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The undercurrents at work are mostly cultural. Coming from a Korean perspective, where she has the wisdom of age on her side:
1. She honestly can't comprehend why GH and I would not do what she says. We are the children. She is the mother. It is not our place to question, it is our place to do.
2. The idea that she is a guest in our house is quite literally foreign to her. She is family. In her mind, it's her house, too, and when she's here, I start to feel like a guest in my own home.
There is another, noncultural element at work too, a problem that I think most mothers- and daughters-in-law struggle with. It's one that's embarrassing for me to admit, but it's true. I want to be number one in GH's life. I want him to love me best. I want him to love me more than he loves his mother. Rationally, I know this is crazy--it's not a matter of loving her more or me more. I'm his wife, she's is mother. It's different. But there's still a part of me that wants to know that he loves me more. I know she feels the same way. That creates it's own tension, which, because of our situation with GH's cancer, is even more acute than it is for most couples.
Regarding the cultural stuff, I really don't know what to do. I like to think that I'm very respectful and aware of cultural differences. At the same time, I am a born-and-bred American and we're living in the United States. The idea that my home is my space is very, very important to me, as is the understanding that I'm an adult who makes her own decisions. My own parents are very respectful of both of those boundaries. While I may ask them for advice, they know that I--or GH and I together for couple-type things--ultimately make decisions on my own. When they don't agree with those decisions, they accept them even if it's hard for them to do so. When they visit, they make themselves at home and do things to help us, but in the context of asking us what it is that we would find helpful and only getting so comfortable as to not invade our privacy.
We have a small house. It's a two-bedroom, one bath, 1,100 square foot condo. We have two kids. I work full-time. GH and I don't get a lot of couple time and I get virtually no alone time. Having someone living in our living room (oh, the irony of the room's name!) meant that I really didn't get any alone time at all while my mother-in-law was here. Couple that with the stress I was under at work and I was wound pretty damn tight while she was here.
So we screamed at each other. As I said, it cleared the air in its own way. But it didn't resolve anything. I can't change her culture. She can't change mine. I feel like I'm willing to meet in the middle, but she's said that compromise is not a part of her game.
How can it be so difficult for us to get along when we both want the same thing? We just want the best for GH. Us not being able to work on that together is causing him stress that makes me feel awful. I feel like it's my mother-in-law who is being unreasonable. I'm having so much trouble seeing my part in this. The only "solution" I see is to let her be in charge, even in my own home. That's a bitter, bitter pill to swallow. Is that my only option?
What I wish could happen is that we could play by her rules at her house and GH and my's rules at our house. Another aspect of this problem is that when GH and I make decisions that she doesn't agree with (about medical treatment, kids, whatever), she thinks that I'm the sole decision maker, that I push GH do do things he wouldn't do if I weren't around. This is patently not true, but I make a very convenient scapegoat. (You can extrapolate that to the idea that if GH dies, his parents will blame me, but that's a post all of it's own.) If GH asks that she not send us so many care packages because we can't possibly eat all that food, for example, she hears me talking, not him. This, of course, only serves to make GH feel all the more trapped in the middle, which is stressful to him and counterproductive to the whole situation since we are all working for the same outcome.
Madeleine's physical therapy is a part of Early Intervention services. As part of EI, we can talk to a counselor about family stress. I met with the counselor for the first time today. Maybe she can help me with some of these issues. I'm probably going to be seeing her weekly. GH can join me if he wants. Hopefully she can help me work through some of these issues.
I want to end by saying that I don't mean to sound ungrateful to my mother-in-law for all the things she does for us. She is an amazing cook. She is very intuitive with the babies. She loves GH and I know that she also loves me. And I know that everything she does for us she does because of that love and because she truly believes that she is helping us. Ultimately, what I don't know how to resolve is that she's never asked GH or me what kind of help we want. She makes that decision on her own. When we've tried to guide her, she just does her own thing anyway, and then she gets mad if we ignore her advice, throw away what she sends us, etc. That kind of "help" creates stress for both me and GH. How can we balance her needs with ours? How can we all work together? I asked these questions during our screaming match, but that was hardly the circumstance under which to have a productive discussion. I go around and around and around in my head about this and ultimately come back to what I said earlier: If she's said flat-out that she's not going to change, all I can change is my attitude and my reactions. I'm just getting so worn out and stretched so thin that I don't know if I have the strength to do that. I'm so tired of managing other people's needs. So very tired.
04 December 2006
Monday
Hello, Monday that fits all Monday-related stereotypes. Kids wanted to get up at 5:00, and no attempts to convince them that was a bad idea would work. Had argument with husband at 6:15am. First snow (not enough to be a problem on the commute, and it's actually rather pretty, but still!) Forgot my lunch. Have waaaaay too much to do at work and waaaaay too little motivation. Have to spend afternoon at company sales meeting. First phone call of the day was to Early Intervention to make an appointment for Maddie to get evaluated (more on that soon; nothing serious, but still).
On the plus side, I'm wearing pre-pregnancy dress pants (have to look nice for aforementioned sales meeting) that I pulled out on a whim thinking they would never fit, but what the hell, why not try. And lo, they fit just fine. Shocker, in a good way.
On the plus side, I'm wearing pre-pregnancy dress pants (have to look nice for aforementioned sales meeting) that I pulled out on a whim thinking they would never fit, but what the hell, why not try. And lo, they fit just fine. Shocker, in a good way.
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