I told my boss today I needed my hour lunch back and I was granted the schedule change. I came home for lunch today and checked the mail, made my bed (first time since I've lived here), unpacked 2 boxes, put away 2 baskets of clean clothes, sorted the dirty laundry and hung 2 pictures. It was WONDERFUL!
A couple of months ago Big P. Co., in an attempt to cut costs (save money, suck more life out of its employees), changed from a 37.5 hr week to a 40 hr week. We are not paid anymore but we should be grateful we still have our jobs. We could come in earlier, stay later, or take only 30 minute lunches. I opted for short lunch so I'd have more time with E. It was a BAD decision. I can't get anything done with a toddler up my butt. Grocery shopping is better alone, vacuuming is better alone, cleaning anything is better alone.
From now on I will have 40 minutes at home (I live 10 mintues away) or 50 minutes of shopping time (the shops are much closer to work) at lunch. I can't wait to get this started. The entire rest of the week is booked with shopping for the Labor Day Fiesta at my place this Sunday. YaYa's place is under construction so she isn't doing it the year. I'm making the Chicago tribe trek to the 'blurbs for Mexican fare. I'd rather grill but don't have one yet -- these things take time -- and money. Chix enchiladas, guacamole, carnitas from the produce market, and whatever shows up in the arms of my guests. Can't wait.
It's good to have a party deadline for getting a house in order. So much to do and now I have a really good reason to do it. Dave Barry said something about the purpose of parties was to motivate you to clean your house. So true. If they see unpainted patches so be it, but dirt, never! ba ha ha
It's late and I need to start sleeping at night or I won't enjoy the party this weekend.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Seasonale depression, the lockout and the ears
Seasonale isn't for me. The website, the ads, all the literature put out by Duramed Pharmaceuticals, Inc., a subsidiary of Barr Pharmaceuticals, Inc. shows women so happy about their lack of periods and lack of pregnancy they're dancing and jumping for joy. You can imagine them saying, "Yea! I only get my period 4 times a year, this is fantastic!"
The fine print says, "Risks with SEASONALE® are similar to those with all birth control pills. Most side effects are not serious and those that are occur infrequently. The convenience of fewer planned menses (4 per year instead of 13 per year) should be weighed against the inconvenience of increased intermenstrual bleeding and/or spotting. Serious risks, which can be life threatening, include blood clots, stroke, and heart attack. Cigarette smoking increases the risk of serious side effects, especially if you are over 35. Women who use birth control pills should not smoke. Some women should not use birth control pills, including women who have blood clots, certain cancers, a history of heart attack or stroke, as well as those who are or may be pregnant. If you are a heavy smoker and over age 35, you should not take SEASONALE®. Birth control pills do not protect against HIV infection (AIDS) and other sexually transmitted diseases."
According to Drugs.com (http://www.drugs.com/meds/seasonale) "The following adverse reactions have been reported in patients receiving oral contraceptives and are believed to be drug related: • Nausea • Gastrointestinal symptoms (such as abdominal cramps and bloating) • Migraine headache • Mood changes, including depression" This is my short list. The complete list was MUCH longer. I felt like I was pregnant — the nausea was that bad and the depression was so bad that death seemed like a good idea. I took Seasonale® for 3 wks and have been off of for a week, the depression is better though not gone completely. Death no longer sounds like a good idea but, as long as E is taken care of, a 2-3 week coma sounds like an appropriate amount of rest.
-----
now what? is about the inevitable hiccups that come along in life, especially life with a toddler. This weekend has definitely had its share. Yesterday we returned our videos to the library, went to the Save-O-Rama warehouse and then came home. We had a gallon of milk and 2 trays (you gotta buy 'em in bulk) of frozen lasagne E actually liked in the store demo and half a slice of the pizza we got from the concession stand. We got home and I took the Wiggles DVDs E had thrown on the floor of the back seat and put them in my backpack, I leaned oven and opened the rear passenger door so I could get E out without unlocking the door. I got out of the car and opened the back driver's side door and got the milk and lasagne. I locked the driver's side door which locks all the doors, shut it and the rear door and walked around the car and got E out. Half way to the house I realized -- did you guess it?--I left the keys in the ignition.
now what? I just moved here a month ago, I know NO ONE. I knock on the neighbor's door and introduce myself and told her my tale of woe. I ask if I can borrow a bit of space in her refridgerator and a phone. The neighbor is kind enough to put the perishable items in her fridge and lets me use her phone. Unfortunately she has 3 yappy dogs who are very likely louder when crated up so I have to take the phone outside. I don't know if I set a precedent with that move but we spent the next 3 hours outside.
I called my mom, who has a house key, and my sister, who has my car key, but they are both 40 minutes away and neither of them was home. I left messages and sat and waited. After 45 minutes the weather had turned cold, the skies were growing darker and the wind was picking up. E and I were in shorts and Ts and I wasn't interested in staying outside in a storm. While going through my bag -- what else was I going to do? -- I found my AAA card and noticed I am still a member. Wish I had thought of that 45 minutes ago. I asked to use the phone again and this time called someone who eventually responded. I thank God we weren't stranded on the side of the road it took about 20 minutes to talk to a real person and at least that long for her to get my information and find someone who could help. I was told "it'll be 90 minutes is that ok?"
"Well it's getting cold, we're wearing shorts and it looks like its going to rain. I'd like to get something quicker but I'll take what I can get".
"Just a minute while I put you on hold again so I can call someone else who might be quicker." 5 minutes into this "hold" the phone batteries died. We waited outside for the next hour and a half hoping someone, anyone, would show up. I took a lawn chair out to the car and tried to get E to nap on my lap - he was so tired but so uncomfortable too. The neighbor's 5 y.o. and his 3 y.o. cousin came out to play. E would attempt to nap no more, He wasn't about to miss anything.
The neighbor's brother arrived and was told of our situation he came out with a coat hanger that had been bent out of shape and offered to open the door. After looking at it and learning it had electronic doorlocks he decided it was not a good idea after all. Perhaps I should call the police to open it.
As we were walking back to the house I saw a tow truck on the street perpendicular to our circle street. I hoped it was for us. As it rounded the circle I felt like Steve Martin in "The Jerk." "The tow truck is here! The tow truck is here!" The entire operation took about 10 seconds.
By the time we got inside I had a headache from Hades and E was more than ready for a nap. We spent the next couple of hours napping and had a late dinner which he wasn't too interested in. After watching The Best of Kermit the Frog on Sesame Street video we went to bed. I actually was in bed before 10:30.
This morning while I was getting him dressed E complained that his ear hurt. This is a serious thing for any kid but for a kid with tubes it seems even bigger. So I called the doctor's office and scurried our butts in. We haven't changed doctors after moving but we have changed offices. There is one that is only 15 miles away vs. 40 miles away. We get there and his regular doctor has the Sunday hours this week. She takes us in right away, listens to him breathe, looks in his ears and says -- they look good, there is nothing wrong with him. ARGH!!!!!!!! One of his tubes looks like it has moved and is likely to fall out soon but that shouldn't be painful at all.
Everyday it's something. Tomorrow it will inevitably be something related to me not getting enough sleep as it is now 1am. Hope you are all doing well.
Later,
Kalyber
The fine print says, "Risks with SEASONALE® are similar to those with all birth control pills. Most side effects are not serious and those that are occur infrequently. The convenience of fewer planned menses (4 per year instead of 13 per year) should be weighed against the inconvenience of increased intermenstrual bleeding and/or spotting. Serious risks, which can be life threatening, include blood clots, stroke, and heart attack. Cigarette smoking increases the risk of serious side effects, especially if you are over 35. Women who use birth control pills should not smoke. Some women should not use birth control pills, including women who have blood clots, certain cancers, a history of heart attack or stroke, as well as those who are or may be pregnant. If you are a heavy smoker and over age 35, you should not take SEASONALE®. Birth control pills do not protect against HIV infection (AIDS) and other sexually transmitted diseases."
According to Drugs.com (http://www.drugs.com/meds/seasonale) "The following adverse reactions have been reported in patients receiving oral contraceptives and are believed to be drug related: • Nausea • Gastrointestinal symptoms (such as abdominal cramps and bloating) • Migraine headache • Mood changes, including depression" This is my short list. The complete list was MUCH longer. I felt like I was pregnant — the nausea was that bad and the depression was so bad that death seemed like a good idea. I took Seasonale® for 3 wks and have been off of for a week, the depression is better though not gone completely. Death no longer sounds like a good idea but, as long as E is taken care of, a 2-3 week coma sounds like an appropriate amount of rest.
-----
now what? is about the inevitable hiccups that come along in life, especially life with a toddler. This weekend has definitely had its share. Yesterday we returned our videos to the library, went to the Save-O-Rama warehouse and then came home. We had a gallon of milk and 2 trays (you gotta buy 'em in bulk) of frozen lasagne E actually liked in the store demo and half a slice of the pizza we got from the concession stand. We got home and I took the Wiggles DVDs E had thrown on the floor of the back seat and put them in my backpack, I leaned oven and opened the rear passenger door so I could get E out without unlocking the door. I got out of the car and opened the back driver's side door and got the milk and lasagne. I locked the driver's side door which locks all the doors, shut it and the rear door and walked around the car and got E out. Half way to the house I realized -- did you guess it?--I left the keys in the ignition.
now what? I just moved here a month ago, I know NO ONE. I knock on the neighbor's door and introduce myself and told her my tale of woe. I ask if I can borrow a bit of space in her refridgerator and a phone. The neighbor is kind enough to put the perishable items in her fridge and lets me use her phone. Unfortunately she has 3 yappy dogs who are very likely louder when crated up so I have to take the phone outside. I don't know if I set a precedent with that move but we spent the next 3 hours outside.
I called my mom, who has a house key, and my sister, who has my car key, but they are both 40 minutes away and neither of them was home. I left messages and sat and waited. After 45 minutes the weather had turned cold, the skies were growing darker and the wind was picking up. E and I were in shorts and Ts and I wasn't interested in staying outside in a storm. While going through my bag -- what else was I going to do? -- I found my AAA card and noticed I am still a member. Wish I had thought of that 45 minutes ago. I asked to use the phone again and this time called someone who eventually responded. I thank God we weren't stranded on the side of the road it took about 20 minutes to talk to a real person and at least that long for her to get my information and find someone who could help. I was told "it'll be 90 minutes is that ok?"
"Well it's getting cold, we're wearing shorts and it looks like its going to rain. I'd like to get something quicker but I'll take what I can get".
"Just a minute while I put you on hold again so I can call someone else who might be quicker." 5 minutes into this "hold" the phone batteries died. We waited outside for the next hour and a half hoping someone, anyone, would show up. I took a lawn chair out to the car and tried to get E to nap on my lap - he was so tired but so uncomfortable too. The neighbor's 5 y.o. and his 3 y.o. cousin came out to play. E would attempt to nap no more, He wasn't about to miss anything.
The neighbor's brother arrived and was told of our situation he came out with a coat hanger that had been bent out of shape and offered to open the door. After looking at it and learning it had electronic doorlocks he decided it was not a good idea after all. Perhaps I should call the police to open it.
As we were walking back to the house I saw a tow truck on the street perpendicular to our circle street. I hoped it was for us. As it rounded the circle I felt like Steve Martin in "The Jerk." "The tow truck is here! The tow truck is here!" The entire operation took about 10 seconds.
By the time we got inside I had a headache from Hades and E was more than ready for a nap. We spent the next couple of hours napping and had a late dinner which he wasn't too interested in. After watching The Best of Kermit the Frog on Sesame Street video we went to bed. I actually was in bed before 10:30.
This morning while I was getting him dressed E complained that his ear hurt. This is a serious thing for any kid but for a kid with tubes it seems even bigger. So I called the doctor's office and scurried our butts in. We haven't changed doctors after moving but we have changed offices. There is one that is only 15 miles away vs. 40 miles away. We get there and his regular doctor has the Sunday hours this week. She takes us in right away, listens to him breathe, looks in his ears and says -- they look good, there is nothing wrong with him. ARGH!!!!!!!! One of his tubes looks like it has moved and is likely to fall out soon but that shouldn't be painful at all.
Everyday it's something. Tomorrow it will inevitably be something related to me not getting enough sleep as it is now 1am. Hope you are all doing well.
Later,
Kalyber
Friday, August 27, 2004
The Night Shift is Never Over
The Night Shift is NEVER out of your system. It may go into remission like some kind of cancer but it is never really gone, really.
I worked nights for Big P. Co. for 6 years. I met a few nice people at work but it killed any chance of a normal life, any chance to party -- this is important when you're in your 20s and single, any chance to meet decent men who work regular hours. Well the night shift cancer is back. I haven't been getting to sleep until the wee hours of the morning (or the wee wee hours if you're my son).
It's not for lack of trying at times. I will go to bed and just lie there thinking, "Ok…NOW!" and it never works I'm still awake. Perhaps it's the enormous stress at work, or the list of things going through my head that need to be done. It may even be a song that gets stuck there, "La Dee Da Dee Dum, La Dee Da Dee Dum, What's the Name of that Song?" (To anyone reading this who may have a toddler who has seen the Sesame Street video "What's the Name of that Song?" my apologies I'm sure I have infected your brain with my tune virus.)
Or like tonight perhaps its the night shift. In the past 2 days I have had more energy and have gotten more done than in the past 2 months. Last night it was unpacking some art supplies and other boxes in the office whose contents could easily be put away. 23, 24, 25. The boxes just never seem to end.
Tonight it was cleaning up the utility room. I have been tripping over bottles of detergent and cleaning products as well as misc construction supplies since I moved in -- it's got to stop! After the stuff on the floor was cleared out I sanded the puttied patches on the walls, installed a couple of brackets with hooks on the end so I can have a drying rod when I need it. I even found a piece of metal pipe in the aforementioned construction supplies that is just the right size. I vacuumed the room but stopped short of washing the walls and scrubbing the floor. (I had to patch a few more nail or other holes, things hidden by the junk, so either activity would be a waste of time, besides I have to leave something for a Saturday night.) I also did a load of laundry and changed the sheets on the guest bed (which has to be done in the dark and in silence as the bed is in my son's room and he is asleep).
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the Night Shift doesn't begin until after 9pm when my son finally goes to bed/sleep. That means that between this blog and the work I'm getting done it's often 1 or 2 am before I doze off. It sucks not getting any sleep (my alarm clock says "Mommy" at about 6:30 every morning) but the high of accomplishing something important carries me through until I fully wake up at 2 or 3 pm.
Time for the cute kid stories…
Every week, either Friday after work or Saturday morning, E and I go to the library to get new videos for the week. You can check out 7 total so we get several for him and one for me. Last weekend we exchanged 2 Bear in the Big Blue House, 2 Sesame Steet and 1 Once Upon a Potty for 3 Wiggles and 2 Sesame Street. We went to the library tonight after a rare stop and Mickey Ds for a "hammer cheeeez". He was very excited about going to the library and didn't want to get out of the car to go eat, he kept repeating a word I couldn't understand. It finally dawned on me that he was saying "Library". I told him to call the library the "Book House" so that I could understand him but that he could still try to say that mouthful of a word any time.
It's never ceases to amaze me the things that come out of his mouth. He has a wonderful vocabulary for a 21 month old and the parents of other kids at his daycare center are shocked that he talks let alone so much and so well. He generally speaks in phrases and occassionally will utter a complete sentence -- "I don't want it" "I don't like it". One day last week we were driving home from daycare and out of the blue and as clear as a bell he said, "Mommy, Jesus died for me." I was shocked at the clarity of each word. I have been wondering ever since if he has any idea what those words mean literally or what they mean for his life as a Catholic or a Christian.
I worked nights for Big P. Co. for 6 years. I met a few nice people at work but it killed any chance of a normal life, any chance to party -- this is important when you're in your 20s and single, any chance to meet decent men who work regular hours. Well the night shift cancer is back. I haven't been getting to sleep until the wee hours of the morning (or the wee wee hours if you're my son).
It's not for lack of trying at times. I will go to bed and just lie there thinking, "Ok…NOW!" and it never works I'm still awake. Perhaps it's the enormous stress at work, or the list of things going through my head that need to be done. It may even be a song that gets stuck there, "La Dee Da Dee Dum, La Dee Da Dee Dum, What's the Name of that Song?" (To anyone reading this who may have a toddler who has seen the Sesame Street video "What's the Name of that Song?" my apologies I'm sure I have infected your brain with my tune virus.)
Or like tonight perhaps its the night shift. In the past 2 days I have had more energy and have gotten more done than in the past 2 months. Last night it was unpacking some art supplies and other boxes in the office whose contents could easily be put away. 23, 24, 25. The boxes just never seem to end.
Tonight it was cleaning up the utility room. I have been tripping over bottles of detergent and cleaning products as well as misc construction supplies since I moved in -- it's got to stop! After the stuff on the floor was cleared out I sanded the puttied patches on the walls, installed a couple of brackets with hooks on the end so I can have a drying rod when I need it. I even found a piece of metal pipe in the aforementioned construction supplies that is just the right size. I vacuumed the room but stopped short of washing the walls and scrubbing the floor. (I had to patch a few more nail or other holes, things hidden by the junk, so either activity would be a waste of time, besides I have to leave something for a Saturday night.) I also did a load of laundry and changed the sheets on the guest bed (which has to be done in the dark and in silence as the bed is in my son's room and he is asleep).
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the Night Shift doesn't begin until after 9pm when my son finally goes to bed/sleep. That means that between this blog and the work I'm getting done it's often 1 or 2 am before I doze off. It sucks not getting any sleep (my alarm clock says "Mommy" at about 6:30 every morning) but the high of accomplishing something important carries me through until I fully wake up at 2 or 3 pm.
Time for the cute kid stories…
Every week, either Friday after work or Saturday morning, E and I go to the library to get new videos for the week. You can check out 7 total so we get several for him and one for me. Last weekend we exchanged 2 Bear in the Big Blue House, 2 Sesame Steet and 1 Once Upon a Potty for 3 Wiggles and 2 Sesame Street. We went to the library tonight after a rare stop and Mickey Ds for a "hammer cheeeez". He was very excited about going to the library and didn't want to get out of the car to go eat, he kept repeating a word I couldn't understand. It finally dawned on me that he was saying "Library". I told him to call the library the "Book House" so that I could understand him but that he could still try to say that mouthful of a word any time.
It's never ceases to amaze me the things that come out of his mouth. He has a wonderful vocabulary for a 21 month old and the parents of other kids at his daycare center are shocked that he talks let alone so much and so well. He generally speaks in phrases and occassionally will utter a complete sentence -- "I don't want it" "I don't like it". One day last week we were driving home from daycare and out of the blue and as clear as a bell he said, "Mommy, Jesus died for me." I was shocked at the clarity of each word. I have been wondering ever since if he has any idea what those words mean literally or what they mean for his life as a Catholic or a Christian.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Necessity and Co. Decorators cause Neurosis
When I was house hunting I thought for sure all the places I looked at were mute. Nothing spoke to me. Even though it was empty I knew the moment I walked though the door of my current place I was home. It was built in 1973, decorated soon after that and NEVER changed. It had the half wall, half post divider at the entrance and the open Brady Bunch stairway. The kitchen was tiled, floor to ceiling in white subway tiles that featured flourishes around the edges in harvest gold. Occassionally there was a tile featuring an off-center, highly-stylized tulip in harvest gold and avocado green. I thought the decor was awful, but the layout was good.
Beyond ugly the place was not livable, not because it was in ill-repair but because it had carpet. I have allergies and can't live with carpet it was all going to have to be removed and replaced with a hardwood, tile or laminate floor. Budget restrictions forced the issue and laminate won. Enter Necessity and Co.
My father, from here on out known as St. PawPaw, moved into the place after close and spent the next 7 weeks working all day removing the offending dust mites and their home, gutting the kitchen and replacing it with the beautiful new kitchen I designed (no cabinets were removed, relocated or otherwise altered in the remodeling of this kitchen) and of course installing a house full of laminate flooring. The list of executive decisions was extensive, toddler safety and budgets ruled the day. Necessity and Co. was firmly dug in.
My sister offered me a butcher block countertop for the kitchen. Beautiful, free (the designers loved that part) and installed -- perfect. But wait there's more, she tells me, "It needs to be seasoned. It needs to have oily sealant rubbed into it regularly and you can't get water on it until it's seasoned properly. It could take weeks." I have been so busy actually "living" in my home that I haven't been able to put the stinky, choke the life out of you sealant on it. The neurosis begins.
Laminate flooring is firmly packed cardboard with a picture of wood on it covered in a thin layer of plastic. It looks and works great if the plastic layer is unharmed. To install laminate flooring you have to whack one end with a hammer really hard so the other end's tab will go into the neighboring boards slot. Sometimes when you hit firmly packed cardboard with a a thin layer of plastic on it the a thin layer of plastic chips a bit when it bangs into the neighboring boards. The neurosis grows.
I called the seller and asked what to do about these ocassional chips in the laminate. "Get a small brush or a Q-tip and put water sealer on the exposed cardboard. Whatever you do don't get it wet." The neurosis begins to multiply bunny fashion.
I love my new home but I am going absolutely crazy trying to keep everything in the kitchen dry.
Beyond ugly the place was not livable, not because it was in ill-repair but because it had carpet. I have allergies and can't live with carpet it was all going to have to be removed and replaced with a hardwood, tile or laminate floor. Budget restrictions forced the issue and laminate won. Enter Necessity and Co.
My father, from here on out known as St. PawPaw, moved into the place after close and spent the next 7 weeks working all day removing the offending dust mites and their home, gutting the kitchen and replacing it with the beautiful new kitchen I designed (no cabinets were removed, relocated or otherwise altered in the remodeling of this kitchen) and of course installing a house full of laminate flooring. The list of executive decisions was extensive, toddler safety and budgets ruled the day. Necessity and Co. was firmly dug in.
My sister offered me a butcher block countertop for the kitchen. Beautiful, free (the designers loved that part) and installed -- perfect. But wait there's more, she tells me, "It needs to be seasoned. It needs to have oily sealant rubbed into it regularly and you can't get water on it until it's seasoned properly. It could take weeks." I have been so busy actually "living" in my home that I haven't been able to put the stinky, choke the life out of you sealant on it. The neurosis begins.
Laminate flooring is firmly packed cardboard with a picture of wood on it covered in a thin layer of plastic. It looks and works great if the plastic layer is unharmed. To install laminate flooring you have to whack one end with a hammer really hard so the other end's tab will go into the neighboring boards slot. Sometimes when you hit firmly packed cardboard with a a thin layer of plastic on it the a thin layer of plastic chips a bit when it bangs into the neighboring boards. The neurosis grows.
I called the seller and asked what to do about these ocassional chips in the laminate. "Get a small brush or a Q-tip and put water sealer on the exposed cardboard. Whatever you do don't get it wet." The neurosis begins to multiply bunny fashion.
I love my new home but I am going absolutely crazy trying to keep everything in the kitchen dry.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
And so it begins…
I have a sink full of dirty dishes, baskets full of unwashed laundry, a thin layer of dust has collected on the boxes I have yet to unpack from our move and here I am writing to you. Between a full time job, a full time toddler, and a new home I am stressed to the limit. Occasionally I need something more theraputic than dishes to keep me sane…so now it begins.
A little bit about the players in my life drama.
The lead female, Kalyber (that would be me) is a single mother fast approaching 40 and the end of her rope. She has moved her son, E, from Chicago to the suburbs so he can toddle -- because that's what toddlers need to do. Before the move Kalyber and E spent 3 hours a day in the car, now it's about 40 minutes total.
E is all boy, at 21 months he runs, jumps, climbs, and falls just like a real boy. He is extremely talkative but has a shy streak like all small children.
E's father is not in his life. When Kalyber told him of her pregnancy he slugged her in the arm like a she was a drinking buddy, said "Good luck with that" and walked away. He does pay a bit of child support but not what he owes according to the state and not enough to ease day to day money worries.
The stress level hasn't changed since the move but the stressor sure have. The cost of living went up quite a bit but the income stayed the same. Kalyber's employer, Big P Co., decided it didn't need all those pesky employees after all and started letting people go. They also decided those left behind should not only "pick up the slack" but should also create new products. Kalyber's supervisor decided adding insults would make her a better worker because nothing motivates like fear and criticism.
Now for the cute kid stories…
We are Catholic but until we moved we rarely attended mass in a traditional church. In the city we attended the folk (read "old hippie") mass in our parish's school hall. For the uninitiated most Catholic churches have holy water available at the entrances for the faithful to bless themselves with "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit (Ghost if you're old school)". Now that we attend services in the 'blurbs we go to a traditional mass in a traditional church complete with a cry room and holy water at the entrance.
Two weeks ago I dipped my fingers in the holy water when I entered the church before mass, made the sign of the cross for myself and then for E. That evening as part of our toothbrushing ritual I cupped my hand and filled it with water to rinse out E's mouth. He dipped his fingers into the water, touched his forhead and said "Amen." This weekend when we went to mass with PawPaw, my father, E walked in and saw the container of holy water hanging near the door. He reached out for it so I picked him up so that he could touch it. Now I know where all the holy water goes. Toddlers SMACK their hands into it and it splashes all over the place.
A little bit about the players in my life drama.
The lead female, Kalyber (that would be me) is a single mother fast approaching 40 and the end of her rope. She has moved her son, E, from Chicago to the suburbs so he can toddle -- because that's what toddlers need to do. Before the move Kalyber and E spent 3 hours a day in the car, now it's about 40 minutes total.
E is all boy, at 21 months he runs, jumps, climbs, and falls just like a real boy. He is extremely talkative but has a shy streak like all small children.
E's father is not in his life. When Kalyber told him of her pregnancy he slugged her in the arm like a she was a drinking buddy, said "Good luck with that" and walked away. He does pay a bit of child support but not what he owes according to the state and not enough to ease day to day money worries.
The stress level hasn't changed since the move but the stressor sure have. The cost of living went up quite a bit but the income stayed the same. Kalyber's employer, Big P Co., decided it didn't need all those pesky employees after all and started letting people go. They also decided those left behind should not only "pick up the slack" but should also create new products. Kalyber's supervisor decided adding insults would make her a better worker because nothing motivates like fear and criticism.
Now for the cute kid stories…
We are Catholic but until we moved we rarely attended mass in a traditional church. In the city we attended the folk (read "old hippie") mass in our parish's school hall. For the uninitiated most Catholic churches have holy water available at the entrances for the faithful to bless themselves with "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit (Ghost if you're old school)". Now that we attend services in the 'blurbs we go to a traditional mass in a traditional church complete with a cry room and holy water at the entrance.
Two weeks ago I dipped my fingers in the holy water when I entered the church before mass, made the sign of the cross for myself and then for E. That evening as part of our toothbrushing ritual I cupped my hand and filled it with water to rinse out E's mouth. He dipped his fingers into the water, touched his forhead and said "Amen." This weekend when we went to mass with PawPaw, my father, E walked in and saw the container of holy water hanging near the door. He reached out for it so I picked him up so that he could touch it. Now I know where all the holy water goes. Toddlers SMACK their hands into it and it splashes all over the place.
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