Mothers-in-law (sigh)

To catch you up:

December (sometime before Christmas): Mother-in-law comes to visit, all sweetness and smiles, with candy for the heathens. Husband and I had had a discussion beforehand.

"School," I said "is the heathens' job. They can't skip school just because Nana is visiting. I don't care if she wants to take them and pick them up. They can miss day care, big deal. But, I want them to go to school."

"You're right" said my Darling Husband. "You're such a great mom."(no, he didn't say that, but he should have.)

So, it's 9 o'clock on a school night and snowing and we schlep our tired butts to the airport, with out out-past-bedtime kids, to pick up Nana.

Right off the bat - "No, you don't have to go to school. You can stay with me!"

Me: Uh. No. They're going to school.
Her: It's only 3 hours!
Husband: Yeah, it's only 3 hours!

And all in front of my darling, impressionable, over-tired children. Shit.

Ask anyone I work with, at that moment in time Husband became "Mamma's Boy." Only 3 hours my left tit. It's school.

So, by Saturday that weekend I had moved past grunts into the monosyllable range and Mamma's Boy and I went to dinner. He says "I know you're mad."

DUH! Yes I'm mad.

We talked it out. He agreed that I'm right and school is their job and Nana can't expect them to skip school just because she can't (won't) visit during the off-season. And, yes, he loves me and would rather be married to me than her. Good boy. He's husband again.

April: Nana strikes again. "Please honey, Granny (Nana's mom) isn't going to be around forever. This might be the last time the girls ever see her. Please? Mom will drive over Thursday to pick them up from school. They'll only miss one day." *sigh* OK. If she's willing to drive two hours, ok, fine. But, it's only for Granny. And it's not happening again.

By 11am Thursday, Husband is going to get off work at 7 and drive our children 50 miles because Nana can't possibly make it to our house in time for school to be out. Can I pick them up from daycare? Damn. I was going to work late with no guilt because Nana was picking them up. Yes, I'll do it.

At 3:50 my phone rings. It's the school. Our lovely children swore up and down (even though there was no parental notification to back it up) that they were being picked up at school. The school didn't have the get on the day care van. The school kept them. Where is the parent who is picking them up? Damn.

Mamma's boy gets the kids and takes them to day care. I leave work (an hour and a half early) and pick them up from day care, because I know that they are disappointed and I want to soothe their little fledgling psyches. (Ha! Tough nuts, both of them.)

At 7:30, Mamma's boy calls. He's stuck in a seminar with a sales rep. Nana's ready to meet him, can I please, please, please take them? Fuck.

I gave a single inch. She took 100 miles and 2 hours (yes, two hours - fucking construction) of my life. Not to mention the 3 hours of work that I had to make up because I got to work late thinking I wouldn't see my kids again until Sunday then left early because the bitch contrived to leave my darlings abandoned at school.

Two fucking hours! Do you know what she said to me? Are you ready?

"You look tired."

Thank whichever god(s) that I don't own a gun. I was completely matri-in-law-icidal. While I was sitting in construction traffic on the way home, I informed Mamma's boy that I was finished. Done. Over it. Never again. Our children will be allowed to miss school for her again when we attend her funeral.

Memorial Day Weekend - Yes, she came in last weekend. Purposely flew in at 10 on Friday morning. She was completely pissed at Husband because he a) wouldn't let our girlys skip their last Friday at school. And b) listened to me and wouldn't even take them to the airport to pick her up (because I pointed out that it would be pulling teeth to get them to go to school if he did).

Here's our conversation Friday evening:

Nana: If you have something to do, go do it.
Me: I don't have anything to do, I've made all of my plans for Saturday, when you have the girls. (She got a hotel room for two nights and took them away, it was nice.)
Nana: Well, are there any fairs or festivals going on this weekend?
Me: There's the Rib America festival, but I don't think they'd really get into that.
Nana: Where is it?
Me: Downtown. (wrinkles her nose)
Me: (looking online) Oh, there's a Renaissance Festival.
Nana: Where is that?
Me: It's just down the road. I can give you directions.
Nana: Do they have rides?

Yeah. Sure they do. They have paddle boat rides in the moat. There's the Catapult and the Iron Maiden, but those are really for thrill-seekers. Maybe you and the girls can play Rack. And, there's a really cool ride called "Draw and Quarter"

Sigh.

To censor or not to censor.

Husband asked tonight if he could read my blog. "Of course, but you have to promise not to get mad." Why would he get mad? Well, there's this.

Yeah, I was cranky the other day. Big deal. But really, do I need him getting mad about something that I wrote on the spur of the moment that most likely kept him from getting hit with the skillet he gave me for Christmas?

Men are funny. Extremely lovable and vexing, but funny.

I got yelled at this morning for starting to dig my own car out of the snow. Sorry, you were indisposed and I needed to leave for work.

I got flowers this afternoon. Really pretty flowers. Not even roses (which he knows make me sad). Non-Valentine-ish, really colorful tulips.

I got stainless steel measuring cups and spoons tonight (for my birthday, which is tomorrow - he can't keep a gift until the day; he's always giving it up early). I love them honey. They're heavy and shiny and chained together so I'll always know where all of them are.

He's a good man. Silly and vexing, but good. I'm a lucky woman.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Pros and Cons of Working at Home on a Very Blustery Day

Pros

• Husband is home and corralling the heathens - one of whom is feeling better but lolling about on the couch.
• I can work and do laundry. This will help greatly when it's time to pack the heathens up for the weekend.
• My desk phone can ring all it wants. I won't answer it.
• My boss isn't here.
• The weather is bad enough that I can say "No." and mean it when The Well One wants to go to McDonald's for lunch.
• I didn't have to fight weather-addled drivers just to get some work done.

Cons

• My monitor on the laptop doesn't have high enough resolution to be able to effectively QA my own work.
• The Queen had to email me a font I needed, twice. (Long live The Queen.)
• I miss my friends.
• I had to do a conference call while locked in my bedroom this morning.
• My stupid wireless connection keeps dropping.
• My work computer isn't set up for VPN.

Ironically, I'm reading The Plague

Bear now has whatever the hell it was that Bug had last Monday. The biggest deal? She pretended to be sick last Tuesday. When the day care called today, we told them to tell her to go play. We didn't believe she was sick until the school nurse called and said she'd thrown up.

Naturally, she has to be symptom-free for 24 hours. She can't go back to school tomorrow even if she's perfectly fine. Bastards. This means that I can't go back to work tomorrow even if she's perfectly fine.

Husband claims he's sick too. Whatever. It's not enough that I do the laundry, shopping, cook the meals, make sure they do their homework, work 40+ hours a week, pay the bills and clean the bathrooms. Now, I have to be perfectly functional while he stresses out about the sick fucking kids.

I want to go away. Just a weekend. Somewhere clean and quiet with no cell phone reception. I'll take 6 books and my pajamas. That's it. Maybe I'll take my iPod. Maybe.

All in all, it's been a pretty shitty past week. Wait. Don't tell me. Wednesday is Valentine's Day. It's a holiday (ear infection).

Six year olds have a penchant for the understatement.

We went out to dinner and shopping tonight after work/school. Wow. Family dinner (ear infection).We had them try on a couple of dresses at Old Navy.

In the dressing room, Bear pulled Bug in front of the mirror, giggled in her Bear way and said "We look like twins!"

Uhm. Duh.

Blog, take me away

It's Wednesday. Oh Holy Night, is it ever Wednesday.

Of two children, only one has been in school every day this week. And it isn't even the same one. Bug started puking about 5 Monday morning, she stayed home from school and threw up until about 1pm, then spent the rest of the day lying on the couch in a dehydrated way, staring at the TV.

Bear, jealous of her sister, pretended to be sick yesterday. She wasn't. So, instead of staying at day care and going to school like a normal, healthy child, she was forced to sit on the couch and watch TV all day (by her father, I went to work - I miss work...). She didn't go to sleep last night until after 11.

Bug woke me up about 4:30 this morning, crying that her stomach hurt and that she was going to throw up. She went back to sleep clutching a sippy cup of water and a plastic ServNSaver Rubbermaid "bucket" around 5:30. At 6:30 she comes wailing into the bathroom, interrupting my shower with "Daddy won't help me!" Daddy offered her a cracker because, well, she's barely eaten in two days.

Husband took them both to day care this morning. I escaped to work only to remark to my boss, "I expect a call from school/daycare at some point." I was worried about strep. Seems it's going around. (When isn't it?)

But, my kids don't get strep. They get ear infections. They get ear infections like dogs get fleas. Step outside? Ear infection. Take a bath? Ear infection. It's a holiday/birthday/vacation? Ear infection. You say it's Black History Month? Holy cow, ear infection.

For Bug, this is her third ear infection since Thanksgiving. She hasn't even lost one of the tubes she got last January yet. It's still there. Currently, it's leaking pus. The other ear would, but that tube fell out 4 months after it was put in. (Hooray! A growth spurt! ear infection.)

At some point, kids grow out of this, right? When? Just tell me when. If I could know that in six months, I'll never have to deal with another ear infection again, I would be fine. Yes, sir, just slim freakin' shady fine.

Of course, it's been Bear who's complained (intermittently) about her ear hurting since Sunday. She's fine though, just jealous of her sister.

And people think it's funny to ask "Do they get sick at the same time." My general answer is "No. But they tend to get sick in the same week." The main reaction to that is a blank look.

Duh, people, come on. They share everything. Everything. They shared a placenta. They shared a crib. They share a bedroom and a closet and toys and games and clothes and parents and, yes, even viruses. Everything. Why is it so difficult to believe that when one is sick on Monday, we expect (and try to plan for) the other to get sick on Thursday? That's the way it works.

So here I sit, work laptop filled with work to do, escaping into the Blog. I'd rather be in the office. It's quieter there and more amusing too. Maybe I'll get to go in tomorrow...

The Antimicrobial Properties of the Paper Towel

Has anyone looked into this? It has to be amazing. 450 telephone nurses couldn't be wrong. Or could they?

First of all, these women are the most disgusting bathroom users on the planet. They rarely flush, they pee all over the seat, the counter tops are generally covered with water. They talk on the freaking phone in the stalls, for Christ's sake. Who calls their insurance agent while they're taking a whizz? I certainly don't.

They do the normal "I'm afraid of the Bad Germies" door thing with the paper towel. Too bad they can't actually get the paper towel into the trash can when they're done. Too bad, too, that they can't pick up after themselves after they throw their paper towels on the floor.

So. Paper towels have an amazing capacity to keep Bad Germies off your hands when you open the bathroom door from the inside (supposedly, we've all washed our hands, right? Those are some strong Bad Germies.) The also have an amazing capacity to keep Bad Germies off your hands while turning off the faucet after you've washed your hands. (Remember! The last time you touched the faucet, your hands were still dirty.)

The other day, I saw one of these women bring her McDonald's sack into the bathroom (even I draw the line there and I touch the door handle with my bare skin!). She pulls 4 or 5 of these wondrous little paper towels from the holder, slaps them down on the counter top (ew!) and sets her lunch bag on it.

Tada! McDonald's lunch, free from the Bad Germies! And now, she doesn't even have to carry the Bad Germies back to her desk with her! She can leave them in the bathroom where they belong!

Amazing.

I'd like to make a call, right now. Anyone who has the time, energy and training to study the Bad Germie repelling powers of the average public bathroom paper towel, please do some research on this. I'd love to post it on the bathroom mirror and see the reaction.