Tuesday, January 31, 2006

It's Been Six Years And I'm Still Bitter

Ritu just called from a fundraising event he's attending.  When I answered, he said, "Somebody here wants to talk to you" and put me on the phone with Joshua Malina!  He was the featured speaker at the event and we've been following his career since his days on Sports Night.   He was very sweet and chatted with me for a few minutes.  He said my husband was "a good man".   (Besides being a good man, he is also the King of Schmoozers, so I'm not the least bit surprised that he'd managed to connect with the guest of honor.  It amazes me how Ritu will talk to ANYbody.  I'm all about sitting on the sidelines  watching things happen--and usually making snide comments-- while he gets right into the middle of the action.)  When Ritu got back on the phone, he said that Joshua had been sitting behind him during the poker tournament, so he'd gotten to talk to him a lot and that he'd been very gracious throughout the evening. 

As the giddiness starts to fade, I'm left with this:  WHY THE HELL DID THEY CANCEL SPORTS NIGHT? 

Thursday, January 26, 2006

David

Juliana gets a lot of bandwith on this thing.  That's because she dresses cute and, well, pukes a lot.  So let me balance out with a few David vignettes.

In Tucson, Ritu said something about "the freaking van" and David complained to me that Daddy swears too much.  After explaining that "freaking" technically wasn't a bad word,  I did admit that we're a family who likes to swear. David looked at me hopefully and said, "So, does this mean I can say shit?" 

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At dinner one night, he was working on a maze on the children's menu.  He's always liked mazes, and always been good at them.  He informed me that he'd finished the maze but when I looked, I saw that he'd followed the maze about halfway through, then stopped and used the crayon to draw a big dot.  Close to the exit of the maze, he'd again drawn a dot, then finished the maze from there.  He saw me looking, then gestured to the dots and explained "Those are portals."

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Last month, his class had "Pioneer School" where they were encouraged to dress the part and bring "authentic" lunches.  While Juliana cherishes every chance for a costume change (Going to the grocery store?  Better put on a princess nightgown!), David never likes to be told what to wear.  Getting him to put on a shirt with a collar once a month  for synagogue is a huge hassle.  When he was 4, right after September 11th, there was red, white and blue day at his preschool.  He REFUSED to wear anything with red, white, and blue.  Little communist.  So, imagine my surprise when he decided to pull together an outfit for pioneer day.  We settled on jeans and a plaid button down shirt.  That morning, though, he decided the jeans were uncomfortable and pulled on a pair of nylon wind pants instead.  And he would only wear the button down shirt unbuttoned, over a polo shirt with the collar up.  1880s?  Not so much.  1980s?  Nailed it.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Lord Voldemort is Angry

Remember when I said I wasn't going anywhere ever again?  Would it kill you people to hold me to my word?  Ritu goes to this same conference every year.  It alternates between the east and west coasts and is generally held at a fabulous resort.  When we were first married, it was our big vacation each year.  We were poor and the room was paid for by his work and we could go and hopefully some nice attending physicians would buy us dinner now and then.  Over time, we started taking the kids with us.  The last time we went, Juliana was 11 months old and the conference was in Florida.  We went from the conference to Disney World.  While in Orlando, Juliana came down with rotovirus and vomited and had diarrhea until it was necessary to take her to the emergency department for IV rehydration.  The Happiest Place on Earth, my ass.  Not surprisingly, that trip ranks as Worst Vacation Ever.  But there are lessons I should've learned from it.  Lessons I seem hell bent on ignoring. 

 We tried to go to this conference again 2 years ago.  Ritu was going to be gone nearly 10 days and we planned to fly down for a long weekend in Tucson with him.  The day he left, a huge winter storm hit Portland and snowed us in for 5 days.  We never made our flight and we literally didn't leave the house (except to slide down the sidewalk to a neighbor's house) from Monday after school until Friday at noon.  I was so out of parenting by the end of that week that I let my kids--ages 3 1/2 and 6 1/2 at that time--watch the DVD of Lord of the Rings.  (I remember some poor man brought his daughter around selling Girl Scout cookies and I blathered at him incessantly, desperate to talk to another grown up.) 

Fast forward 2 years.  The conference is again in Tucson and we again have our plan to spend that long weekend with Ritu.  I already chronicled Juliana's well-timed stomach flu.  What I didn't mention was how Sunday night, the night before Ritu left town, I started with this localized itching.  It went from the right side of my nose, across my cheek andupwards over the top of my head.  Bascially the entire upper right quadrant of my face and head.  It lasted for days, but there was no sign of a rash or other dermatitis.  Antihistamines didn't help, nor did any topical cream.  By Thursday, I was ready to claw off my own skin.  It was starting to burn a bit at that point.  I talked to my mom and Ritu and they both suggested that perhaps I had.....wait for it.....shingles. 

By Thursday night, Juliana had recovered from what seemed to have been a 24 hour stomach bug.  She went to school for a special art project with the morning class and, thanks to much sacrifice on my mother's part,  I was able to run to the doctor hours before our flight left.  She agreed with the diagnosis, although I didn't have any blisters yet, and prescribed me an antiviral and a painkiller. 

Having aborted the trip last time, I was determined to get there.  I'd had 5 days of single parenting, a sick child, and now shingles.  I needed some sun and some R&R.  Our flight was a bit delayed, but we got to Tucson uneventfully.  By the time we got to the hotel, Juliana was sobbing because she was so tired.  We all went to sleep and awoke after midnight to the sound of Juliana barfing.  She managed to stay asleep through that episode, but when she threw up again at 4 AM, we all were awakened.  She asked me why I hadn't packed the bucket, just in case.  I got smart and put the hotel ice bucket next to her, just in case. 

Next day, Ritu was tied up with the conference til 3:30.  Juliana wouldn't eat breakfast and was generally puny.  I was starting to feel painful raised bumps on my forehead.  After exploring a little, we mostly stayed in the hotel room.  Ritu came to check on us at lunchtime.  We were all in the bed reading or watching TV.  He came back 3 1/2 hours later and we were in the exact same spots.  Speaking of spots, mine were now extending down through my eyebrow to the bridge of my nose and into my hair in a line to the top of my head. 

Sunday morning it was David's turn to complain of a stomach ache.  Spent the morning in the hotel room again.  We planned to watch the Steeler game, but the hotel satellite lost the CBS signal.  Every other channel worked, but CBS.  Don't even TRY to tell me God wasn't punishing me for taking this trip.  Ritu was finally done with the conference and we decided to drive out to the Desert Museum.  We made arrangements for his brother (bless his soul!) to text us with scoring updates.  This was my first visit to Arizona and the landscape was fascinating.  As I looked around Tucson, various words pushed to the forefront of my consciousness.  Words like "jutting" and "nestled".  Words like "windswept" and "prickly".  Speaking of prickly, the shingles were really starting to hurt.  My face and head felt like somebody had slapped me about 200 times in a row.  The pain wasn't unbearable, but it was a constant and relentless feeling of burning and prickling with some sharp searing pains thrown in for fun.  It felt just like Harry Potter's scar. 

By Sunday night I'd had enough.  We paid the ticket change fee and came home on Monday, a day early.  Juliana dropped 4 pounds from being sick and when she got off the plane, Ritu overheard one of the stewardesses remark, "That little girl is so skinny!"  Thanks, lady.  We've got her in supermodel boot camp. 

Coming home was the best thing we could've done.  With a few days of small frequent meals, Juliana looks much better and happily went back to school yesterday.  I continue to feel Lord Voldemort's anger and my shingles have turned red and look like they may become pus-filled.  Now I just have to wait the 2-5 weeks for them to crust over and fall off. 

Note to self:  Just stay the fuck home.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Cosmic Balance

Apparently, all I had to do was ask.  Yesterday was mostly dry and there was a brief sun-sighting.  My God, people, I actually had to squint at one point.  After school, we were able to stay and play at the playground for an entire hour.  The kids got to use their large muscles and the cold air scrubbed our lungs clean.  It felt good.  But I should've known it was too good to be true.  Just before dinner, Juliana started crying that her stomach hurt.  Forty-five minutes later, she barfed on the couch.  (Let me make two observations:  1.  Leather furniture is a good thing and 2. Partly digested turkey bacon is easily recognizable.)  While she used to be an Olympic caliber puker, I don't think she's thrown up since we moved here 3 1/2 years ago.  And as you may remember, David was barf-free until he was 8, so this was my first experience with a 5 year old with the stomach flu.  When her stomach started hurting, I'd set up a bucket on a towel next to the couch.  Not wanting to defile it, she sat up and barfed in her own lap.  (Did I mention leather furnitue = good?)  So, at bedtime, I set the bucket up again on the floor next to her bed, hoping it's presence would act as a talisman if nothing else.  Around 11:30 last night, I heard that unmistakable sound and got out of bed to find her standing in the hall, crying that she'd thrown up again.  I shepherded her into the bathroom and asked where she'd done it.  Her response?  The bucket.  I raced back to her room to verify and it was true!  She'd  woken up from a dead sleep, leaned over and puked right into the bucket.  I tell you, I was practically giddy.  Everything was cleaned up and she was back in bed within 10 minutes. 

She slept the rest of the night and seems a little better today.  After a long dry spell (pun fully intended) we've now had three members of the family vomit in the last three months.  I think if we can get Ritu to puke in February, we win Barfing Bingo. 

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Just Don't

If you're going to a restaurant with your boyfriend, please resist the urge to sit on the same side of the table.  And if you're going to do it while wearing cream colored hose and cream colored shoes, just stay the hell home. 

Rain

I live in the Pacific Northwest.  This is my 4th winter here.  I get that it rains all winter.  Really.  I GET IT.  Now for the love of God, enough already.  It has rained here for something like 30 days straight.  I am not using hyperbole when I say that in recent memory, I can think of exactly 2 brief instances when I saw any blue sky or the actual sun.  Sometimes the rain stops and the sky becomes a brighter shade of gray, but that doesn't count in my book.  The last time the sun came out, I ran through the house opening blinds and when I found a good sized puddle of sunlight on the futon in David's room, I sat in it like a cat until it was gone again.  Even when the rain stops, there is a fine mist in the air wetting everything that passes through it.  Even when the mist stops, there are always those suffocating clouds hemming in the limited view.  Each morning I wake up and hear the rain slamming on the roof and I'm starting to feel like those pioneer women who endured the endless prairie wind until they snapped, took the shotgun and blew off their heads.  I'm tired of wet cars and wet shoes and the squish of mud.  I'm tired of shiny pavement and soggy newspapers.  I haven't put my sunglasses on in weeks and I have an odd dependence on them, especially when I drive.  I watch the rainwater on the driveway across the way, sheeting and rippling as it streams down to the street.  It has a hypnotic effect and I find it hard to tear myself away and get anything done.  As with most people around here, I've upped my coffee intake.  I've taken to adding a cup in the late afternoon to pull me through. A cinnamon dolce latte does a lot to put me back on track. 

The good news is that we go to Arizona this weekend.  Ritu has a conference there and we're going to join him.  I'm going to stick myself outside and recharge like a solar powered yard light. 

Monday, January 9, 2006

A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody

Just before the holidays, our mall opened an entire new wing of stores.  No way in hell was I setting foot in the mall at that point but now that things have settled down, Juliana and I made our pilgrimage.  Juliana loves to shop.  Way more than I do.  One of her favorite places on earth is the children's shoe department at Nordstrom's.  She is difficult to buy for, though, due to her adamant opinions regarding what she will and will not wear.  This tendency started at the ripe old age of 19 months when I took an outift out of her dresser and she told me NO.  (In contrast, David let me choose his clothes until he was 4 1/2. )   I generally don't buy her clothes unless she is with me because if I bring something home and she says she won't wear it, there is no negotiating.   At the mall, we discovered a clothing store called Naartjie (pronounced Nar-chee).  It was a relief that she and I both liked it as I am still stinging from her refusal to take a trip to Hanna Andersson over winter break.  Oh, the betrayal!  The outlet is minutes from my house and the clothes are so delicious.  How dare she move on? 

I think Naartjie will ease the pain for now:

Thursday, January 5, 2006

There Ought To Be A Law...

....against husbands who have a sleepless night and embrace the philosophy of misery loves company by waking you up at 4:10 AM by repeated heavy sighing and flopping around like a fish caught in a net. 

Wednesday, January 4, 2006

The Prisoner Pear

The Prisoner Pear : Stories from the Lake

I just finished reading this incredible book of short stories.  I highly recommend it.  The author is a friend of mine, which makes it especially cool.  Check it out at Amazon or Powell's. 

Tuesday, January 3, 2006

Happy New Year!

I am a creature of habit.  Possibly too much so.  I like my days to have a certain amount of routine and consistency.  Do you know what the polar opposite of that is?  Winter Break.  Given the trip to India and our slow recovery, I purposefully left the two weeks of break wide open.  I quickly realized my mistake:  I'd left the two weeks of break wide open!  What was I thinking??  Actually, the kids did well.  We scheduled playdates, visited the science center, went to the movies.  For the first time in my 8 1/2 years of being a parent, the children both slept in on a regular basis.  When school is in session, I get up at 6:15 and start my day.  I exercise, shower, and by the time the kids get up, the coffee maker is gurgling and I have a load of laundry churning in the washer.  The sound of appliances hard at work fills me with efficient satisfaction.  While sleeping in is glorious, no doubt, it leaves me anchorless and  I spend the rest of the day playing catch-up.  I could've continued to set my alarm, but it was hard to grasp that this late sleeping was for real.  Every night I assumed it was a fluke and I'd go to bed expecting to be awakened around 7 AM.  One morning we didn't wake up until 9:00.  That's like, noon in parent time!

On New Year's Eve, we went to a hockey game.  (Ritu and I are big hockey fans.  In fact, our first offical date was a Michigan basketball game followed by a Michigan hockey game.)  Every New Year's Eve, our local hockey team, the Winterhawks, plays a 5 PM game.  Afterwards, there are player autographs and games for the kids out on the stadium concourse.  At 9 PM, they show the ball dropping in Times Square on the jumbo-tron scoreboard and have a balloon drop there in the stadium.  We went with another family who have children the same ages as ours.  The Winterhawks played their biggest rival, the Seattle Thunderbirds.  The Winterhawks scored three quick goals during the second period.  With each goal, the crowd would erupt.  Each time, Juliana would shove her plate of pizza at me to hold, jump up, cheer and dance, THEN turn to me and ask "What happened?"  I fear she may be a candidate for a cult later in life. 

During the third period, there was a brawl.  An excellent brawl.  Even our goalie skated the length of the ice to fight with the Seattle goalie.  I'll admit, there I was, a few months shy of 40, on my feet cheering and singing along with the Beastie Boys song being blasted over the loudspeakers.  You know, you DO have to fight for your right to party.  All in all, it was a fun night and we were home by 9:45 PM.  That's like, midnight in parent time!