Archive for the ‘memory lane’ tag
Pregnancy memory: 7.5 years ago today
Heh, I was just looking back over a pregnancy journal entry I made when I was pregnant with Mir. Man, that HM was one tough toddler!
And wow – 7 years! That seems like yesterday. In 7 years B will be EIGHTEEN and HM a senior in high school. It goes so fast. Too fast.
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Originally posted October 1999
Week 22: Rose-colored glasses
What have I gotten myself into?
The mom of two already, you'd think I would know better by now, but apparently I do not: I think I've been romanticizing life with a new baby. I think I'm especially guilty of romanticizing life with a new baby and a high-maintenance two year old. It's easy to do that when said two year old's current interactions with the new baby include patting and kissing my tummy and announcing, "I wuff you, Baby Brother or Sister." Mainly she's in denial that there ever really will be an actual baby in the household, but suddenly she is willing to bond with him/her in utero. All through this pregnancy so far I've been telling myself that HM will be well on the road to three when the new baby arrives and will surely be — not only more accepting of a baby in the house — but also in a calmer state of mind in general when it counts.
Well. Let me tell you a little about the rude awakening I had this weekend. Things seem to be getting worse, not better! We are right now in the most intense childhood phase I've ever had the dubious pleasure to witness firsthand. How can I even imagine a new baby in the house will result in less tumultuous emotions for anyone, let alone a two year old? I don't know what I was thinking.
Over the weekend, we attended a little kid's social during the afternoon. The kids painted pumpkins and ran around the recreation hall for awhile. Then we stopped by a local 50s-style burger joint for dinner. HM was a little wild, tossing menus about and the like, but that's nothing new. However, when I stopped her from dumping the salt on the table, she went into complete meltdown mode. No advance warning this was coming… no fair! She slid from her booster seat to under the table and descended into the dark pit of The Other Place, screaming bloody murder the whole way down. Tony took her outside, hoping to calm her down in time for our food (we've had success with this strategy in the past).
Trapped
Our food came within five minutes. They were still outside. B and I munched for a few minutes before going outside to let them know our food was here. HM was still going strong, banging her head on the blacktop in a complete rage. Yeesh. So I talked softly to her hoping to calm her down. We headed back inside, hoping that the sight of the food would calm her down.
Her response: I DON'T WANT TO EEEEEAAAAATTTTT. I DON'T WANT FOOOOOOOOOD. WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. PUT ME DOOOOWWWWWNNNNNN. So I immediately proceeded out of the restaurant, with HM practically doing backflips out of my arms (that girl is SO strong) while Tony collected our food in boxes and paid the bill. Most of the other patrons looked sympathetic to our plight, but if you can believe it, we did get some dirty, disappoving looks. Like I have any control over a two year old! Sorry, folks, I don't carry duct tape in my purse (note to self…. ).
Anyway, I stupidly had left the keys behind so I couldn't even straightjacket her in her carseat and turn up the radio to drown her out and no way I was going back in there. So we hung out in the parking lot, which has a grassy area off to the side with a low brick wall. I sat on the wall, while she went at it in the grass and gravel. After she took off running for the highway, with me waddling behind in hot pursuit, I was forced to hold her in my arms, which escalated the tantrum to an entirely new level. Let's see… this was about 25 solid minutes of tantruming now. I was dying for a way to put her in time out. It was simply not an option, although she had never in her life needed one more and I had never felt more powerless or trapped by her behavior. Make no mistake, I was never mad at her over it; I knew she couldn't help it. But the entire situation was beyond maddening. And my biceps still hurt from the effort it took to restrain her in my arms!
Finally, Tony and B showed up and I somehow managed to restrain the bucking bronco in her carseat. She screamed during most of the 15 minute drive home. Then it took another 20 minutes of tantruming in the utility room before she finally got a grip on herself and transformed before our eyes into the chirpy little girl we know and love. It was like bearing witness to a miracle. We were completely traumatized, however.
Wild child
Later that evening we maybe got some insight into her behavior. I've been sick for several days with a painful sinus infection. Not completely debilitating, but definitely enough to interfere with sleep and make me crabby. Around 11:30 pm the night after the tantrum from hell, HM woke up screaming bloody murder, and very congested. Poor bubs. At least that (hopefully) explains why she was so out-of-control. I know I felt terrible as I was coming down with this bug.
As you can probably gather from this entry, she is certainly a challenge. Even on a good day. She always has been, but I feel like I'm just starting to accept the reality that she is probably not going to be any easier when the new baby arrives. I'm getting seriously scared! This morning, shortly after Tony had left for work, I was sound asleep when I was awakened by the so
und of the door creaking open. HM plopped herself into bed next to me, cheerfully recounting all of the adventures she encountered en route from her bedroom to my bedroom. As I lie there with my forearm thrown over my eyes, I envisioned the same scenario five months from now, when I will have had perhaps two consecutive hours of sleep the night before and there will be a (hopefully) sleeping baby next to me who will probably no longer be asleep. Oh. My. What am I doing?! This is going to be so hard!
Not that it's easy now. At some point, when I was suspended half way between awake and asleep, HM got bored with my nonlistening and slipped back out of my room. In subconscious gratitude, I fell the whole way back to sleep. About ten minutes later, I jolted awake… I just knew she was up to no good. Sure enough, she had snuck into my office and was contentedly sitting at my desk, her face smeared all over with chocolate. She had found my stash of chocolate covered donuts.
There is no rest for the wicked. Or the wicked don't let me rest. Something like that. 
QotD: Dude, where are my keys?
What's the story behind a time when you got locked out?
It was a balmy 50F day in January 1991. The place: a Columbus, Ohio car wash. The car wash line: VERY LONG.
So I'm getting my car ('89 Ford Festiva) washed – de-salinized, if you will – like every other Midwestern car-owner does on a beautiful winter day. Everything is going swimmingly until it's time to go and I notice that the roller brush thing is still resting on top of my car.
I get out to investigate and automatically – ack! – lock the door behind me. Keys? In the ignition. Vehicle running… and locked up tight.
Had to call a locksmith. And endure the glares of everyone waiting in line for the carwash.
(Yeesh, apparently I've always been an airhead… !)
Vox Hunt: Worth A Thousand Words
Vox Hunt: Rocked My World
Audio: Show us cover art or share a track from the first band or solo artist you flipped for.
Submitted by Red Pen.
Eighth grade. I fell hard! I watched the soap. I saw the movie. AND his was my first ever concert.
QotD: Call The Fashion Police
You must have been a fashion victim at least once in your life. What hideous blunder did you commit?
Submitted by Tina.
I can plead only that "everyone else was doing it!" I think the now-vintage Scooby Doo lunch box makes up for a LOT, though!
Not that I haven't made any other fashion blunders since (I was a teen of the 80s – I wore stirrup pants for heaven's sake!), I just haven't carefully preserved those images for posterity.
QotD: It was Kismet
How did you meet your current, or most recent, significant other?
For our first date, my boy suggested we meet at the Phoenix Zoo. And so we did one Sunday morning in February (February mornings in Phoenix are lovely, by the way).
It was a perfect, perfect location for a first date. We could stroll, we could sit and talk – it was easy to fill those inevitable awkward pauses observing bald eagles or giraffes or ostriches.
About a month later we met up there again with the kids for their first meeting.
And then, later that summer, we got married!
Vox Hunt: Footprints
Show us some footprints
Ah, this photo reminds me of the good old days, when my daughter HM would meltdown at any provocation. In 2000 – June 16 to be precise – we completed a bunch of home renovations with a new sidewalk. To commemorate the event, we thought it would be cute to impress either handprints or footprints for each of the girls into the new sidewalk.
It seemed like a good idea at the time…
Well, HM had just turned 3, and she was not at all enthusiastic about this idea. B, age 4, very willingly handprinted. Mir was just a baby, only 3 months old, so I pressed her feet, leaving a gap for HM. HM tantrumed. The concrete hardened. She tantrumed some more.
We were faced with a decision. Let it go, forget about it. Or… pick her up and impress her flailing feet so that I wouldn't have to hear 10 years later that we must not have loved her very much since she's the only kid not represented.
She flailed. I pressed. Voila! Footprints! That resembled nothing so much as messy blobs.
About 10 minutes later, tantrum magically dissipated, and HM begged for a do over with her handprints. There was just enough give left in the concrete that she could. That's why you see 4 sets of prints for only 3 kids.
Anyway, wouldn't you know, we sold this house in 2002. And moved to Arizona in 2004. I had forgotten all about this incident until the Vox Hunt prompt reminded me…
Here's a picture of them in December 2000, when they were that little:
Vox Hunt: Heartwarming
Show us something that warms your heart.
What warms my heart? A peaceful birth.
I'm hoping for another one of these in July.
Mir was born at home March 1, 2000. In this photo, she was "between worlds." As she emerged from the water, the midwife put the cap on her head to conserve her body heat and her daddy snapped this photo. She has yet to draw her first breath. (Though she did just moments after this photo was taken.) She's my big, almost-seven year old now. She was the sunniest baby, and remains a happy little girl. See earlier entries for some examples of her antics.
And does my little Pisces love the water? Oh yes, she does. 
Mom to 4 kids and 2 stepkids, I am a writer writing in the heart of chaos. I am the co-founder and former editor of 
