Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Go West, Young Man but take a non-stop flight

We're enjoying our little break in Palm Springs. Until today, the weather has been unseasonably cool (65 degrees) which is fine by us since its sleeting in DC and quite cold. Sorry suckers. Our flight here was hell. We left at 3:30 on Saturday and thought we'd barely make the connecting flight in Dallas and luckily they held it for us, but after two and a half hours it began to get ridiculous. All the flights were inexplicably delayed, and we learned that the Dallas airport is so busy that one glitch can make the whole damn system tumble like a house of cards.

Finally at 8:30 or so they let us board but then we were forced to wait on the jetway for 15 minutes while, we found out later, the staff fixed a broken armrest. The jetway was freezing cold, like 30 degrees, and I thought Dallas was supposed to be warm?!

The actor Richard Dreyfuss had flown with us since DC (I couldn't talk to him because the only movies I remember are Jaws and Mr. Holland's Opus) and as Kaj and I boarded, Kaj dropped his plastic Tigger toy. He scrambled out of my arms and a man sitting across the aisle from Richard picked it up for Kaj and handed it to him. Kaj exclaimed, "Oh! Fank you, sir!" Everyone laughed. It was awesome.

However, the glow of pride was overshadowed by the fact that we were forced to linger on the tarmac for another hour and a half because we were 14th in line to get de-iced. By now it was like 11 pm Eastern to my body and I was so tired I wanted to cry. I kept falling asleep sitting straight up and then jerking awake as I fell forward. Finally the ice age was over, and we were allowed to take off. Kaj and I slept the whole flight and we got in to Palm Springs at 11 PST. Which is 2 am our time. Next time we'll opt for the non-stop. There's just no easy answer when you're flying across the country.

Friday, February 17, 2006

I think I've entered the stage of pregnancy where you get more energy. I don't think it lasts all day because it's 7:30 and I'm knackered, dudes.

Okay, so I woke up at 4 am and couldn't go back to sleep. For some reason sometimes when I wake up really early so does Kaj. His crib music started blaring at about 4:30 and we ignored it and he seemed to go back to sleep. However, I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about all the things I needed to get done today before we fly to California tomorrow...you know how that is? Plus, I really wanted to get a manicure/pedicure and I started feeling really bummed because I knew I was going to have to work really hard doing everything and I wasn't going to have time to reward myself for tasks well done. Then I realized I could just get up and start packing. So I did. At almost 5. Eric made me give him my pillow so he could cover his face when I turned on the light. Poor baby.

By 7am I had packed my clothes, cleaned the kitchen, took care of Kaj and made his lunch for school. I was unstoppable. I took Kaj to school and returned home to work an inital design presentation for a new client (my mother's kitchen). I finished that at 11, put it in an envelope and raced over to the toy store to get Kaj some bribe toys. We say if he's good on the plane, he gets a new Thomas the tank engine. It works like a charm, and I see nothing wrong with rewarding good behavior.

As luck would have it, across the street was a "Nails" sign and I ran right over. It was blessedly dead in there and I had time to get just a pedicure....alas, not both. I chose an adorable shimmery shell pink nail polish and because I didn't want to ruin my $30 feet by putting on my socks and clogs, I asked for the paper flip flops and figured it wouldn't be a big deal to wear them back to my car. Well, it was windy as hell and as I shuffled across 4 lanes of traffic, my right flop blew off. I'm sure i looked like a homeless person. I just kept walking cuz what else could I do? So I got to my car with my left foot shod (if a paper flip flop is considered shod), and the right sole contaminated with Wisconsin Avenue schmutz. Actually, I looked at the bottom of my foot when I got in my car, and I think I've seen my feet dirtier just from being in my own house. Sick.

I picked up Kaj in plenty of time and I just felt so productive. Of course, no one at Kaj's school knew or cared, all they noticed was my bare feet. But they are SO cute!!! Posted by Picasa

Thursday, February 09, 2006

I've been reading a series of essays on motherhood. There is some great and very moving writing, but as a whole, we are a burdened lot! At least some of us are. Divorces, miscarriages, disease, accidents, birth defects, mental illness. You name an issue, somebody's grappling with it. I cried over every other essay. Remember? I'm pregnant, people. Reading all this has made me feel very, very lucky and secure. And I got to thinking, my struggles are small, they are day to day, maybe a tantrum or two and some nausea, or a faucet installed upside down. Upon close inspection I can certainly handle it gracefully and I hope I do. Or I will try to. Or I'll pretend better. Or something.

I haven't called my contractor back since the bathroom was (sort of ) finished. He called to make sure the ceiling was painted completely and wanted to talk about money. The ceiling wasn't done, it looks like they primed but didn't do the actual paint. And here are some other sloppy things that could be improved but I'm really, really tired of arranging things and having workmen in the house. It is unexpectedly draining. Plus, after all the stuff that got screwed up, I really don't feel like having to pay any more money unless he insists on it. I know that I'm going to have to revisit my opinion on this, since they did rebuild the floor joists and that was not built into the initial estimate, but I think that if he needs that money he needs to spell it out to me.

That damn cake is gone, we ate the last of it yesterday and it was so delicious.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

FOOD

I made my special lemon bundt cake for Eric's birthday. Doesn't that sound so 50s? But really, it's our favorite cake around here. It's basically a pound cake with buttermilk and lots of fresh lemon juice and so much zest that you almost go insane shaving lemon after lemon after lemon. But it's for a good cause!

We recently re-calibrated our oven because we had an incident with a whole roasted chicken that took over four hours to cook. We ended up eating at 11pm. Eric decided that Something Had to Be Done and he, the darling, read the oven manual, which you can find online. Did you know that? You can find pretty much any owners manual online? So after reading said manual, he fiddled with the controls and fixed the oven so that it was more accurate. Now that it's more accurate (and I also have a separate oven thermometer on the oven rack for a second opinion) my baked goods come out perfectly done.

As a result, this lemon cake is damn, damn good. Possibly my best. So good in fact, that I constantly think about it sitting there on my counter. All lemony and buttery and moist. I just had a good sized slice of it (i rode the exercise bike) and sadly, it filled me up about as much as a breath of air. Don't you hate it when that happens? I could eat another slice so easily. I'm definitely going to have another slice after dinner. I'm so afraid of gaining 400 pounds during this pregnancy!

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Today is my beloved husband's birthday and he is comfortably ensconced on the couch, in his jammies, reading the paper. Our son is sitting naked next to him, watching Bob the Builder. Kaj has taken to ripping his clothes off whenever he feels like it. Luckily, this aids potty training because he knows that if were to have an accident (which has happened while eating in his high chair) he'd be in big trouble. So, he'll scamper off to the bathroom by himself when nature calls. We bribe him with chocolate to get him to go #2, but that's only worked like, three times.

I am trying to find a school for Kaj next year. His current preschool--the DC Jewish Community Center preschool--is changing their format for next year. Three year olds have to go five days a week ALL DAY. Of course I could pick him up daily at 3:30, but we have to pay the same as the people who pick up their kids at 6pm. Over a $1000 a month. Ideally, especially with kid#2 on the way, would be to find another three day, morning program. It's hard to find them, and emotionally, I'm really attached to his current school. I feel absolutely, 100% confident with this school every day I leave him there. Every MWF morning, when we enter the JCC, he runs down the hall and barely lets me take his coat off because he's so excited to play and see his friends. Of course I know that he will adjust to a new school and be fine, but I'm not so sure the transition will go as smoothly for me.

There are a few decent public and public charter schools that offer preschools. Do you know what charter schools are? This concept is so weird. The public schools in DC are almost all really crappy. Well, people have gotten sick and tired of it and get people together and raise money to start their own public school. Apparently it's easier to start from nothing than it is to rehabilitate the corrupt bureaucracy of an existing school. You have to apply to a school in your area and you're entered into a lottery. They only take a certain number of out-of-boundary students per year, so we have a pretty slim chance of getting in. But once you're in, you are in forever and it's free. We'll see how it works.

Friday, February 03, 2006

No details, you'll die of boredom, but here's something

I'm about to blow a gasket. My mom and I have been having a disagreement for the last hour over an email that someone forwarded her. Our disagreement has to do with her lack of reading comprehension. It's not her bag baby. She don't have time for it. Yes, we all make mistakes, but I've emailed her three times to ask her politely to re-read this email message so that she will realize that YES, I am right! She refuses to do so and I'm going to have to put my head in the oven. I'm waiting for the email "ding" to see if she has been cowed yet by my superior email thread reading skills. Good lord. DING. gotta go.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Cry, Cry, Cry

I've had a bad cold, caught from my son. We both sound like we smoke a pack each a day. I've been lucky enough to spend most of the day either sleeping or resting in bed, thanks to preschool and a two hour nap afterwards. I feel so groggy and out of it, right now. I've got to get myself moving, do some stretching or something so I can wake up. I'm hoping these pork chops can thaw before dinner. I'm so envious of people (if they really exist) who can plan a whole week's worth of menus. It's not the planning part that I'm incapable of, its what am I going to feel like eating on the actual day? Because there's times when I've planned to make something on a certain night and the mere thought of chopping or grating or even eating the concoction makes me want to hurl. So then we eat pancakes or cereal. Which isn't really all that bad, and you can always postpone the planned thing for the next day. A big part of the eating issue for me right now is that I'm pregnant. So all bets are off in the eating department. I'm about has reliable as Kaj is as far as making food decisions. Something will sound horrible, but will go down fine. Something will sound great, like the oatmeal I had this morning, but will be horrible.

I'm also emotional. This is so lame, but I was channel surfing while Kaj was napping and I came upon Little House on the Prairie. I love the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and I loved the show as a kid, but when I watch them now I realize it is just horrible. Anyway, when you're pregnant, quality is not a criteria for anything. All I had to see was Almanzo's proud face when he drove them out to a deserted farm and he ran up the hill and yelled to Laura that this land was theirs! to build a home on! to raise children! To start our lives together! "Oh, Manly!" She sputtered and he ran down the hill to embrace her.

The waterworks didn't stop...especially when Ma was comforting Laura about having to quit her teaching job ("Manly" won't let his woman work)..."You'll be a teacher Laura." Laura, confused, looks at her Ma. "H-h-how" she sniffles. Ma replied with a smile, "Because a mother is so many things: a cook, a dressmaker, a displinarian, and above all, a teacher. And you'll be a wonderful one."

I'm pathetic. I cried at the end of "40 year old virgin" last week too. You've got to see that movie, it is really good.