Searching for Mrs. Welby

A gift from Mrs. Arm

Mrs. Arm (Dr. Arm's mother) fancies herself a Crafty Lady. She loves mauve and lace, glue guns and glitter. She plants plastic flowers in her yard, outside. She hangs bird feeders with fake birds, inside.

She recently sent me a box with this inside:

 

   

 

If there was a way I could post a smell, I would. But I'll describe it as the aroma of pure toluene. Enough toxic fumes to make my eyes water. It's a miracle Mrs. Arm is still conscious after this craft frenzy.

Obviously, she'll expect to see these, all 42 of them, on our tree next week. 

What would you do?

What would Jesus do?

What am I going to do?

Free housecleaning

I may have found a cheap and easy way to keep your house clean: Crows

My son dropped some popcorn outside my back door the other day. When I came home (cause you know I left it there) there had to be 5 crows on the stoop. Freaky, yes, almost Hitchcock-ian, but I'll be damned if the stoop wasn't spotless.

What if I kept some in a cage? I could just let them out when I go to the store. Then let the dog herd them back in the cage.

Imagine the crumb-feast they would have! My kitchen floor would shine! I may never have to use the furniture attachment on the vacuum again!

If I find out these birds sleep if kept shrouded in darkness, I just know I'm on to something.

Bitchin' Brita!!!

http://www.fakeplasticfish.com/takebackthefilter/BritaFilterRecycleReleaseFINAL.pdf

Hypochondria

Every now and then I have a tendency toward hypochondria. Perhaps it is a learned behavior from my dad who is perfectly healthy and fit but gets "executive physicals" at Mayo every year and tracks his Lp(a) on a spreadsheet. Perhaps I watch too much House. Perhaps it is a deep seated psychosis that if I DID end up as a medical mystery, I would have Dr. Arm's full and complete attention? Whatever it is, I am currently suspicious.

The tipping point was a recent dental issue. I have prided myself on my oral hygine. I floss almost daily and brush at least twice. Now as a casualty of moving every year for 3 years, I just couldn't muster the energy to find a new dentist every 12 months. I banked on my sparkling records.

Three months ago my gums started bleeding when I flossed. Then when I brushed. Then, while on vacation, I had a dull ache in my back molars. So I stopped flossing.

I saw a dentist on Monday. I left feeling like a decrepit homeless person. I could sense the disgust in her voice when she asked, "when was your last cleaning?" The x-ray revealed nothing. She poked and prodded and prescribed me a vile mouthwash for 2 weeks. Then told the front desk to schedule me for a cleaning "ASAP."  I feel as though I have crabs.

So, left alone most of the weekend since Dr. Arm was on call, I began to go through my list of ailments over the years. Three years ago, the wacked out menstrual cycles. Two years ago, the bleeding but negative mammogram. Then, suddenly completely regular menstrual cycles since then, but with the recent development of raging PMS.

And now, (whisper it please!!!) gingivitis. Yes, I have it. I know, seriously, I should just relax.

But I keep thinking back to 7th grade science when we learned some mnemonic about cancer signs. Of course, I can't remember it and am unable to find it by Googling. I do remember "a sore that won't heal."

What if it's all connected? What if I have some pituitary tumor? Or some tumor on some other endocrine gland? Something that has shifted hormones and neurotransmitters? Thus changing the chemical balance in my saliva glands? Resulting in this more obvious sign?

I need to get out more. Or at least get my teeth cleaned from here on out.

Note to Self, Re: Preschool Thanksgiving

Dear Self,

Perhaps you need a gentle reminder of a few things:

• You struggle with food shopping

• You struggle with food preparation

• You have an insane desire to make a good impression

• Your mother annoys you

• Your mother is a far better cook than you

Based on those issues, please file this away in your 2009 October file. Do not volunteer to cook the preschool Thanksgiving turkey. Do not volunteer to be a class parent. Do not invite your mother to any related events.

Extend warm invitations to any events where your child may perform (as long as he is wearing a grandmother-sanctioned outfit), may have something on display, or be receiving an award.

Your idea that it would be "fun"  to cook the turkey, invite extended family, haul said people and food to a preschool where you have to bring it hot and bring the carving utensils was simply false.

Now, hit print, fold, tuck into 2009 planner. NOW.

Just trying to keep you sane,

Mrs. Welby

So do I have 5 years to go or 8?

http://www.phillymag.com/articles/the_existential_crisis_of_the_wait_at_home_mom/page1

"Staff had received inadequate preparation for their new responsibilities"

In my old job I used to edit consulting reports and root cause analyses for hospitals seeking to improve or fix medication safety issues. Inevitably if there was a problem or incident, one of the contributing factors was lack of staff preparedness.

In my old job, we looked at broken or failing systems and tried to dig to the root causes so we could adapt the system.

So as I drive along the interstate today, barely recovered from one of the worst nights in sleep history for my boys, I begin to think.

Uh oh.

What are the root causes of our family system issues? Well, for sure we have a lack of redundancy (i.e., no back up system/person) in many systems around here. I'm sure regular readers are tired of me beating that drum so I'll focus in other areas.

Was I prepared to become a wife and mother? Honestly, apart from the ovaries and mammaries?

It would appear, looking back, I was not. I was put in math and science classes, foreign language classes. I went to a feminist boarding school where I worked on Capitol Hill. I have 2 bachelors and a masters. It would appear the expectation was for me to live in a big big world doing big big things.

Additionally, my parents divorced when I was 13. Lots of chaos and convenience food around our home.

I seem to lack any textbooks or life experiences that might lend a hand when it comes to nutritious meal planning, stain removal, or efficient pantry stocking.

And so I am no good at this. I was not prepared. Organic chemistry and health care policy really don't tie into the home arts so directly.

Is it any wonder Martha Stewart has made millions? There is a whole generation of us out there. Women who want to be just as successful in the kitchen as they are in the conference room. We are readers, thinkers, possibly over thinkers. We can DO. But we also thrive on results and success, orderliness and schedules, reason and thinking. Not the kind of thing baby humans attain until about age 9 or 10.

And as I ponder a PhD in human factors engineering, I wonder if I really just need a 7th grade home ec text book and the quizzes that go along with it.

You see....I couldn't just say I wanted the book. I had to ask for the quizzes too. Gotta know where I stand, get my grade.

Obviously the staff here was not prepared for this role.

And I'm blue

Oh so blue...I'm blue

I've been told I'm not so pink lately. If being told you are not cheerful and delightful to return home to means not so pink.

Possibly I'd be pink, perhaps even do my "pink jobs" better if I wasn't also doing so many of the "blue jobs" around here.

In the last 10 days I have seeded and fertilized the yard, put sprinklers out each day, dug trenches in the yard to help with our storm water drainage problem, bought a 1 gallon gasoline tank, mixed the correct amount of oil and gas for the leaf blower, filled the blower with this mixture, blown and raked the yard (twice), pruned 2 trees, hauled it all to the curb, loaded my minivan with 2 kids and a whole vanload of rotten wood and taken it to the landfill, attached 2 bookshelves to the wall with the anti-tip kits, removed cabinet doors in our laundry room, and re-installed a carpet runner to our stairs.

I think that's it. At least those are the blue jobs.

Need I even list the pink jobs? I have 2 kids and a dog. All of whom have had major diarrhea attacks in the last 2 weeks. Yea, I had pink jobs too.

Oh, and let's not forget those white (as in white collar) jobs....bill paying, retirement planning, health insurance transactions. I'm sure you can guess who is doing those.

So, too much blue, quite enough pink, mixed with white. I guess the entire suite of jobs should be called lavender?

Not so fond of lavender.

Mackin

"...sippin on wine and mackin..." (Beastie Boys)

Oh hello there. 'Spen a while, n'est pas?

A thoughtful 2 weeks. Lots of reading up on Buddhism, past life regression, and a little fiction about a girl in Nazi Germany thrown in. A broken finger, another trip to the ER for an adventurous and disobedient 4 year old, and a tiny bit of nasty cancer for the dog. That and trying to figure out what to do with my life.

Tipsy, I sit before my computer. Sipping champagne. For my 8th anniversary. Alone. (Well yes there are 2 small children and a dog here but a sober man will be home soon and for God's sake he is a surgeon KAY?)

Lots of adjustment and low-lying here at the Casa del Brazo (Spanish translation). I have been here since mid-July but I still feel like I'm just getting going. Like every day I am still not in a routine. I still can't remember when the garbage goes out. I did carpool pick up today by mistake. I'm forgetting anniversaries and birthdays. Okay, I know what you're thinking...put the champagne down and perhaps this will solve itself?

Truthfully I think Dr. Arm is happy. That in itself is hard to get used to.

Still, not sure where I belong. Where I'm rooting. Seven years of delayed gratification is hard to come down from.

So, my new plan is to let it come to me as much as I know how to do that. Lay low. Breathe. Create. Visualize. Create. It seems to be working. The signs are there: new yoga place, new artsy craftsy friend, old friends, great neighbors, bookclub, Buddhist housecleaner, Ronald McDonald House....

So I toast to new starts. In my REAL champagne glasses we recently unpacked after 2 years in storage! Thanks to my Philly friends, I still had a bottle of bubbly in the fridge, carried down 8 weeks ago. Gosh it seems so long ago but still so fresh.

And, with any luck, I'll be clanking this flute with Dr. Arm in the next hour. And we will smile!

Good impressions

For all those times someone has caught me:

• yelling at my kids

• wiping my kids' boogers on my own shirt

• asking my child to remove his hands from inside his pants

• with glasses on, rain-induced afro, and lime green Crocs at the grocery store

• just after an eyebrow or lip waxing appointment

I have had a breakthrough.

The department chair's wife happened to be sitting at the counter of the UPS store. The same store I decided to take 2 trash bags worth of packing peanuts in to be recycled.

"What a wonderful idea!" she exclaimed.

"Oh helloooooo, Mrs. Chairman's Name. Yes, it's Mrs. Arm, so nice to see you again. Oh, this, yes ma'am, its just something I always do." [huge smile, shoulder shrug]

And to top it off, I had on a white blouse, jeans, eye make up, lipstick, a cool Chinese necklace, and clogs.

I was wearing glasses though.