Best of 2009: Best Trip
(based on Gwen Bell’s Best of 2009)
I’m not 100% sure of the guidelines to this Best of 2009 Blogging (I was unable to access her website when I posted this — will update later), but the one site I saw said the Question for Dec. 1 (that would be today) was: What was your best trip of 2009?
As much as I enjoyed our trip to New York wine country for Dr. Sis’ graduation, the best trip we took this year was our week-long sojourn as a family in Cape Cod. It was not without its challenges (conclusion: next time we’re flying), but it was a great, great time.
The girls’ favorite spot was undoubtedly the Trampoline Center. And, really, can you blame them?
I suspect Dan’s favorite spot (aside from his daily symposium) was Arnolds.
My favorite thing? I can’t decide.
That the girls were not sick.
Exploring. Finding fun stuff to do. (Even if I got us lost a little bit.)
Having our own little cottage to ourselves.
Actually, I think the best thing about the trip was that we were on vacation as a family of four (instead of an extended family of 10 or 50). Don’t get me wrong: I have vacationed with Dan’s family, and with my own family, extended and otherwise, and I have NO complaints about doing so. It was just a change of pace to be on our own. A good change of pace.
I had my guidebook, and I wasn’t afraid to use it. We weren’t waiting for anyone, and we didn’t have anyone waiting for us. Aside from picking Dan up each day (usually after lunchtime), there was no co-ordinating, no synching of watches. That was nice.
Really nice. It was, definitely, the best trip of 2009 for me.
(Updated to add: The guidelines of the Best of 2009 are here. I am wavering about doing them all, although I think a “Best of” or “Year in Review” would be fun for me to do in December. I just don’t feel like committing to anything. I’m overcommitted as it is!)
Life with Kids
It took me four hours to make mashed potatoes yesterday.
I had originally intended to cook exactly nothing (just bring some faux meat — and not of the Tofurkey variety), but then I discovered about 14 potatoes from my CSA in my refrigerator. So I called my MIL Wednesday and offered to bring mashed potatoes to dinner as well. I had butter and milk, even, so I didn’t have to make a store run. Bonus!
I should probably know better than to think I would just ‘whip up’ some mashed ‘taters. But I truly didn’t think it would take me four hours.
I got the potatoes out of the refrigerator around 11 a.m. I wasn’t whipping those puppies until 2:30 p.m. It was ridiculous.
But life with children is all about interruption, and I don’t know why or how I forgot that.
I got the potatoes out of the refrigerator — and had to make Kate lunch.
I got out the vegetable brush to scrub the potatoes — and had to make Flora lunch. Actually, since she wanted eggs, Dan was pressed into lunch duty (1. He makes better eggs. 2. He had slept until 11 a.m.). I just had to make Flora’s toast.
I ate some lunch, too.
I started to clean the 14 potatoes — and had to help Kate down from her chair.
I went back to the sink — and had to rinse lunch dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
And on and on. The washing, peeling, cutting, and cooking of the potatoes were interrupted by: asking my children to stop screaming in the other room; asking them to clean up the other room; trying to get Kate to go on the potty; changing Kate’s diaper; helping my children clean the other room (which had been ritually toy bombed while Dan & I were… well, reminding each other of one of the reasons we were so thankful to be married); reading Skippyjon Jones; helping Kate brush her teeth before her nap (she had had a lollipop); getting Kate in for her nap — twice; and sending Dan upstairs to help Kate actually fall asleep for her nap. (He was cleaning the office.)
I had no clue that making mashed potatoes was going to be so exhausting.
Apparently, the secret to great mashed potatoes is lots of butter and four hours. Because there weren’t even leftovers.
Rant: Troll
I do not understand Internet trolling. I do not understand why you would visit someone’s blog (in this case) and call her names and belittle her — especially if the post in question is about trying to bring joy to sick kids.
It’s one thing to be mean on a news site or call fellow commenters on those sites names. I can understand a difference of opinion. Although when it gets to the level of flaming, hate-filled speech it should just stop. People certainly have big cojones on the Internet, I’ll give them that.
I have never posted anonymously on any site anywhere. (Well, okay, when Niobe has her confessions, I have commented anonymously there; it’s the rule.) Even when I have disagreed with a blog author, I have simply stated my opinion, without calling anyone names, and without hiding behind the “anonymous” button on the comment page.
I also have never had a troll. I am a little, itty bitty mostly-mommy blog. I probably know (virtually or otherwise) everyone who stops by for a visit. I am sure that my daily stats are a mere fraction of Ginny’s. And I’m okay with that. I do this thing for me.
When I was talking to my husband about this last night, he said two things that hit home. One, about the nature of the comments from “UPMSee”, was, “Sounds personal.”
Sounds personal. Someone with a mean streak who doesn’t like Ginny. Coming to her site and making trouble because he/she doesn’t like Ginny, or her husband, or maybe her family. Maybe it’s jealousy; maybe it’s one of the many Pittsburgh people Ginny has — non-anonymously — lambasted on her personal blog. Mayor Lukey? Skippy Skeeve? Probably not one of the big dogs; after all, to be a big dog a certain amount of skin thickener needs to be applied. So, probably a little dog.
A little, mean-tempered dog.
The other thing Dan said that gave me pause was: “Why doesn’t she just delete the comments?”
I think I stuttered something about ‘censorship’ and ‘being fair’ but he just kind of snorted at me. “Come on,” he said. “It’s a personal blog. If someone came to your blog and said something rude about one of our children, you would delete it.”
He turned back to the Penguins’ game. “You media-types,” he said. “You’re too quick to call censorship. When someone’s being nasty [on a blog], you have the right to stop them. Screw ‘em.”
I have to say, I agree with Dan on this one. Here’s why:
1. He’s right; it’s not censorship. “Censorship is the suppression of speech or deletion of communicative material which may be considered objectionable, harmful, sensitive, or inconvenient to the government or media organizations as determined by a censor.”
That’s Church is a personal blog — a very entertaining, funny, and sometimes touching personal blog, in my opinion. It’s not exactly a hotbed of government or media communication. (I hope Ginny doesn’t take offense to that.)
2. As in the case of many trolls, the comments are not this person’s opinion. They are mean, nasty, name-calling comments. Whoever this person is, he/she does not like Ginny, does not like That’s Church, and he/she feels the compulsion to disparage Ginny and her blog and, for some reason, her effort to give something fun to sick kids.
3. The presence of a troll brings everyone else down. While trying to chant the mantra “Don’t feed the troll” sometimes the compulsion to name-call right back is… well, it’s hard to overcome. I am guilty of feeding the troll. Not often, and not a lot. But I have done it. And you know what? The troll likes to be fed.
Here’s what to remember about trolls from classic and popular literature: They are loud, dumb, and smelly. They come to bad ends.
I know that, really, this is none of my business. Whether or not Ginny decides to delete her troll’s comments is completely up to her. But I would love for Ginny to toss out the meanest of UPMSee’s comments, keep the one where he/she promises to give $100 to the fundraiser Ginny has organized for the kids, and get the number of comments on that post to 100. Which will probably happen by the time I post this.
And remember: Don’t feed the troll.
/rant
Problem Child*
Kate and I are having some issues. More to the point, I am having some issues with Kate and her behavior.
She is an energetic child, and she does not sit still. It has become much more of an issue in public than anywhere else, and it’s exhausting. I felt like my Friday evening and most of the day on Saturday was spent literally wrestling with her.
On Friday, the combined mis-behavior of my two children lead to us leaving a restaurant for the first time ever (we got our dinner to go). (So much for all that Progress.)
Saturday, we were at an indoor craft fair in Dormont (organized by my SIL), and I was unable to relax and look at things. Kate had to touch everything, run, kiss the metal frogs, and just generally be my Wild Child in spades. I wanted to buy pottery mugs (or goblets) for Dan and me, and order personalized books, and check out a couple other booths, and Kate made it impossible.
I worried that I was going to have to bail on Saturday night dinner with ClumberKim and her family, plus two other tweeps (Abby and Beth). The girls were tired of running around (truth be told, so was I!), but I wanted to see our friends, too. It turned out to be okay (although putting a party of 9, including four kids, in the middle of the restaurant was a risky decision on our hostess’ part), but Kate barely ate, and I barely got to eat, and I did not get to have a conversation with anyone. Despite Flora and Oliver being happily occupied, I was fielding questions along the lines of “How do you spell ‘publicity’?” from Flora and trying to keep Kate from falling out of her booster seat (although Mr. Clumber should be lauded for his ability to occupy two under-3s at the same time).
And then there is the whole potty issue. At one time, Kate was willingly peeing on the toilet — she had to be prompted WAY more often than she asked to go (I mean, like, 15-to-1), but I figured we were making headway.
But she refuses to poop on the potty. And lately, that refusal to poop on the potty has turned into a refusal to poop at all. She goes two days at a time between BMs, and by the end of the second day, she is a miserable, cranky, non-eating almost-3-year-old. This refusal to poop on the potty has lead to extreme reluctance to even sit on the potty to pee, so every half-hour turns into a struggle just to get her into the bathroom.
Dan says my expectations are too high, but we haven’t gotten to discuss this in depth yet. I’m not sure if he doesn’t think she’s ready to potty train (he has tried to be encouraging in this endeavor too) or if my exasperation at some of her other behaviors is out of hand.
She is a terrible listener; she is stubborn; she is aggressive (Flora was never aggressive). Trying to channel her behavior is futile, whether I’m trying to play a game with her, get her on the potty, or otherwise occupying her time. Hallmarks of a typical almost-3?
Conversely, I am impatient. I’m not sure if I am more impatient than I was with Flora or if I am more impatient in general, or what exactly. My stress levels are definitely different now, with Kate at this stage, than they were when Flora was here.
Good points: Kate will occupy herself (she just doesn’t like direction). Her attention span is good. She will clean up when asked (three times out of five, anyway). She still naps. (Whew.) She is dang funny.
I’m not sure what to do. Stay home a lot more for awhile on the weekends — I think that would be good for all of us, frankly. Pull back on the potty training? They are trying to get her to go on the potty at daycare, too. (I haven’t trained a kid as a WOTHM, so I’m not sure of the most effective approach to this.) Anything else?
*Just to clarify: Kate, of course, is not a problem child. She is, simply, MY problem and a child, and this is really about me and not about her. Okay, it’s a little about her.
Lost in the Supermarket
I briefly referred to this on Saturday, that my grocery shopping trip to the new Market District in Robinson Township was an utter disaster. This is partially my fault and partially the store’s fault.
What I Did Wrong
• Went shopping on a Saturday morning. Unfortunately, that’s when I have time to shop.
• Went shopping with two children. Unfortunately, that’s with whom I have to shop. And the girls were, for the most part, well behaved. Not perfect, and far from holy terrors. (Kate, as per, was quite… er, restless, let’s just say.)
• Used the of the mini-van of shopping carts. Flora wanted to stay with Kate and me, not go into the Learning and Activity Center. I would have insisted she go in there if I had known then what I know now. Shopping with two children necessitates the use of large, unwieldy carts.
• Went shopping at a new, unfamiliar, HUGE store in less-than-optimal conditions. (See above.)
I am completely willing to accept my portion of “blame” for the worst grocery shopping experience of my life (excepting the time I vomited in the South Side Giant Eagle; I was 13-weeks pregnant with Flora and morning sickness won that day, all over aisle 5).
What the Market District Gets Wrong
I am certain that the new Market District is a very nice store — unless you actually have to get some shopping done. Then, the vast selection of products and the numerous specialty sections dotted throughout the store, combined with the sheer size of the store and the Saturday morning crowd are utterly overwhelming. I had a list of about a dozen items that it took me three hours to get. THREE HOURS. Unacceptable.
The prepared food section is a hot mess. Not in a good way. People mill about; there are no lines and no customer flow; ordering food is a free-for-all; and paying for food is a guessing game. The seating area — for a mom with a mini-van sized shopping cart, two children, and a tray of hot food — was nearly inaccessible. Note to whoever stuck that elevator in: IT IS NOT BIG ENOUGH FOR PEOPLE USING SHOPPING CARTS, even normal-sized ones. My children and I barely fit in there alone with the cart, and there was no way any combination of more than one normal-sized cart and any number of people (or strollers or wheelchairs, etc.) fit in there. BAD PLANNING. Thank goodness for helpful patrons — note: not employees, to whom it appeared I was invisible. This portion of my shopping trip 1) almost made me break down in tears and 2) almost made me abandon the effort of shopping at the store all-together.
If you provide mini-van-sized shopping carts for parents who choose not to use the Learning and Activity Center (no “Eagle’s Nest” here!), you should provide wide enough aisles for said shopping carts. Please and Thank You. There were certain areas of the store where I was sure I was going to get stuck and/or knock over whole displays. They were also the areas I didn’t mean to wander into, but I was unfamiliar with the layout, and by hour two I was completely disorientated.
It’s nice to be able to pick up a six-pack of beer (and a being able to pick up a bottle of wine will be even better), but it’s way too expensive. And the location of the beer purchasing area makes this just about not worth it.
It may seem that putting organics with all the other products — mainstreaming them, as it were — is a good, intuitive idea. It’s not. It just makes them that much harder to find. And I never did locate organic butter.
I like and support the idea of sampling stations. Unfortunately this Saturday morning with the crowd and my massive cart (have I talked enough about that yet?) they just added to the congestion and made everything take longer.
What They Get Right
The deli area is the picture of efficiency. No lie.
The coffee area (right near the deli) is loverly, and the free sample sure came in handy.
The bulk foods area. Although there should be more than one scale — and since there’s only one scale, it better freaking work every time.
Providing a map. In the end, it didn’t help me much, but it’s a great idea. And I’m sure it will help me IF I ever shop there again, and it probably did help others on Saturday.
Finally, to the other people shopping at the Market District on Saturday:
An “excuse me” goes a long, long way. Huffing at me, elbowing me, crashing your cart into mine, and/or rolling your eyes at me? Gets you NOTHING. I know the “excuse me” thing, combined with a smile, worked wonders for me, my giant-ass shopping cart, and my children. I had to use it several times, and I got a lot of “that’s okay”, “I’ve been there” and nice smiles in response. So next time, if it seems I don’t know you’re there, simply say, “Excuse me.” I will maneuver out of your way, and I will smile at you as I do it.
Options for me in the future should I decide to return to Market District:
Shop at a different time and/or day.
Shop with my husband as well as my children.
Shop without my children in tow (will necessitate employment of a babysitter).
Wait until Kate turns 3 (in January) so I can stow both girls at the Learning and Activity Center.
Forgo the prepared foods section all together OR only visit the grocery store to have lunch.
Incidentally, I heard from other (child-free) people who declared their experience at Market District pretty terrible on Saturday as well.
What should they do differently? What else do they get right? Or wrong? What else could I have done? Should I give the store another trial run, or just wait until the girls are older (college graduates or married with their own kids?)?
Against the Grain
With it being November, there are a lot of people writing novels and/or on their blogs every day.
Me? I’m starting to skip days like crazy.
This week has been especially trying. It’s lasted forever. And although I have things to say, I have too much to do to say them! I cannot believe that it’s not yet (as of this writing) Friday already.
And due to what’s on my docket for the weekend, I know it’s going to be gone in a BLINK.
Friday night: Brewfest, for which I won free tickets.
Saturday morning: Grocery shopping. At the new Giant Eagle Market District. Even though I’m sure it will be crazy. (Note to self: Make a shopping list. Don’t sell one of the kids to pay for groceries.)
Saturday afternoon: Cleaning house? At least some of it. Like, oh, the bathroom. (Note to self: Put “new shower liner” on shopping list.)
Saturday evening: Parents showing up for sleepover (as Flora calls it). Dinner. Entertainment.
Sunday: Church? Church. Pick up cake and ice cream. Drive to Children’s Museum for birthday party. Don’t forget to leave early to account for game-day traffic. Get home by half-time, and watch rest of game. Take MIL out to dinner for her birthday.
Monday: You’re back at work already??
Yeah, so. That blurred woman you see running by you this weekend? That’s probably me.
Rest for the Weary
Saturday night, I got home with the girls from a very busy day. We all got into our pajamas and settled in for the night.
It was barely 6 p.m. We popped some popcorn and watched T.V.
I finally threw in the towel at 10 p.m. Dan was out having a beer with a buddy, so it wasn’t like I had anything to wait up for. I think I was asleep before 10:15.
I woke up Sunday at 6:30 a.m.
I haven’t slept that well in a long time. I didn’t even know I needed to sleep that well.
We had a pretty low-key weekend — obviously. Sunday was spent putzing around the house and yard. What great weather. Sundays without the Steelers seem so formless, but Dan and I got a lot done in terms of cleaning.
We’ve plennn-ty more to do, however.
Meatless Monday: Consolation Prize
Because I have been almost completely housebound this weekend (and looks as if I will be into the near future as well), and also have had a well-stocked refrigerator, I have managed to do a lot of cooking.
On Friday, I made a crockpot minestrone soup recipe. This was my second stab at it, and it still needs some tweaking. If I get it right next time, I’ll post the recipe.
I joined a CSA farm for the first time this year (Kretschmann Farm), and I was placed on their waiting list in May. I was finally to pick up my first box of veggies a few weeks ago. Beets are big this time of year. For Saturday night’s dinner, I roasted them. Holy heck, roasted beets are tasty! I’ll be doing that again.
Then for Sunday night, I made more roasted veggies from the CSA, carrots and potatoes. The kids balked at first, but then sampled a few. Flora preferred the carrots, and Kate preferred the potatoes. Dan liked them all. Also with CSA produce, I made this risotto recipe. Next time, I should make sure I have all the vegetable stock I need because substituting in two cups of water made it too bland. But I will be trying it again, and in the meantime, I think I’m going to try some fried risotto patties with the leftovers. Also to try: this recipe for red cabbage.
Flora’s temp hovers at the 99.5-100 mark, which her pediatrician’s office tells me is part of “this” virus. (She’s also got a runny nose and one heck of a cough.) When I brought her to the doctor’s office Friday, she was diagnosed with an ear infection. After two doses of the antibiotic hadn’t killed the temp, I knew something else was up.
The most remarkable thing is her pallor. Flora is drawn and pale; her lips are too puffy (I am making sure she drinks plenty of fluids, even stooped so low to offer her Yoo-hoo — a ‘treat’ from my FIL); and she’s got dark brown circles under her eyes. The time change didn’t help her — she was up Sunday at the new 5:30 complaining of how thirsty she was; and she was up early today, too — screaming about a “ladybug” on her ceiling. Her appetite isn’t that great; she mostly prefers butter bread. She’s restless as all get out, but doesn’t have either the sustained energy or attention for doing much. (So much for having her help me dust.) (I kid. Kinda.)
Anyway, at this point, the pediatrician says she’ll probably need to be at home at least two more days. I am monitoring her temperature rather obsessively, even going so far as to take it both via an ear thermometer and an oral digital thermometer. I keep checking Kate, too. I wonder if this is the virus she had not too long ago, or if this is something else she’ll pick up.
At least we’ll have lentil soup to feast on this evening. That’s some consolation.
