On the long ride back from Chicago on Sunday, Mark and I got to talking about New Year's resolutions. Per an article I had read in Good Housekeeping, we decided to make resolutions for each other. The ones Mark assigned to me were pretty tame: make more time for myself and lower my expectations, i.e. when things don't go exactly as I had envisioned, try to relax. These were good ideas, I thought, but I want to go even further.
Many of the resolutions I came up with for myself involve the boys, all revolving around one central theme: be the mom I want to be. I need to yell less, be more consistent in my discipline, try hard to remain calm and patient, and, most importantly, enjoy my kids more. I have resolved to do these things many times before. I hope I find it in myself to follow through.
Some of my resolutions address my previously mentioned organizational deficiencies. If I could get my kitchen more organized, I think it could improve my whole mood. Maybe this will be the year we tackle the messy side of the basement. Or maybe not. If not, I guess that invokes Mark's resolution for me about my expectations.
More than any other area of my life, I want to focus on bettering myself. Sadly, myself could use a lot of bettering. Sure I want to eat healthier and exercise more. Those I can do. But the real change I want to achieve is tougher. I want to give more, consume less, be a more positive person, be more joyful, be a better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, live in the moment. How do I achieve this? Focus on it every day, I guess.
Will 2009 be the year I become the person I want to be? I hope to have some success. (See, Mark, I'm keeping my expectations realistic.) The holidays are nearly through and the long winter looms ahead. I like to think I can use that time to work toward becoming a new me. Happy 2009! I hope you become the person you wish to be in the new year.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Our 15 minutes of fame
The time when Gus was born was filled with lots of strange happenings. Mark fell ill with a stomach bug and barely made it through the delivery. My mom was a floor below us recovering from her surgery. But the strangest of all happened the day after he was born.
Ben and Paulie had come up for a visit. We were watching a DVD in the room when our nurse popped in and asked us if we wanted to be photographed. "Okaaaaaay ... for what?" we said. For the newspaper, she thought but would get clarification. Why would the newspaper want to take a photo of us? we wondered. A few minutes later, Mark's old boss, who now manages the birth center, popped in. "Mark!" she cried. It turns out she was looking for a family to appear in a photo for some marketing. It looked like we were in now; no turning back. We agreed, not knowing exactly what to expect.
Ben and Paulie had come up for a visit. We were watching a DVD in the room when our nurse popped in and asked us if we wanted to be photographed. "Okaaaaaay ... for what?" we said. For the newspaper, she thought but would get clarification. Why would the newspaper want to take a photo of us? we wondered. A few minutes later, Mark's old boss, who now manages the birth center, popped in. "Mark!" she cried. It turns out she was looking for a family to appear in a photo for some marketing. It looked like we were in now; no turning back. We agreed, not knowing exactly what to expect.
They wanted a picture of the family resting comfortably in one of the beautiful new rooms the hospital had recently completed for a renovation. In came the manager, a woman from marketing and two photographers. "Do you want me to be your beauty adviser?" the woman from marketing asked me. "Do I ... need one?" I asked. "Well, you could brush your hair," she replied. You know, she's right, I thought. It has been 27 hours since I gave birth, I really should be investing more time in my appearance. No matter. I went into the bathroom and dutifully dragged a comb through my hair and even applied some makeup.
I knew getting a decent picture could prove quite a challenge. Ben tends to plaster on this big, fake smile, while Paulie simply can't sit still. The photographer, trying to get a natural smile out of the boys, made a funny face. Paul immediately emulated it, pulling out the sides of his mouth and sticking his tongue out. An hour later, the crew packed up and left, hoping they got something usable.
Fast-forward a couple months. The picture was used in posters in the hospital and a ThedaCare newsletter. People still come up to Mark and ask, "Are you the guy from the posters?" I like to joke about the experience, but I'm glad we did it. We now have a funny memory, a great story and some good material for Gus's scrapbook.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Have yourself an obscene little Christmas
Warning: for mature readers only. :)
I've done it again, folks. I've gone and embarrassed myself. In this year's Christmas letter, I decided to tell a charming little story about an exchange I'd had with a friend from Spain. Some of you may have read it already. Carlos had written on my Facebook page that I looked so happy and that he was happy for me. I told him yes, I was happy - and exhausted, but in a good way. He responded, "I guess you are tired and happy. We say, 'jodido pero contento.'" That sounds lovely, I thought. I will include it in this year's Christmas letter.
As someone who fancies herself a writer and good editor, I should have done my research and looked up the phrase. I found this out when my mom read the letter I had sent in my presence. I was sitting in the living room when suddenly I heard her laugh uproariously. "What is it?" I asked. "Don't you remember Carlos saying this all the time?" she asked. Panic. Oh my God. What had I done? My friends, please don't be offended. I don't talk like this ordinarily, really. "Jodido means f*cked up," she said, laughing hysterically. So the phrase I had written - in my Christmas letter (!) - translates to "f*cked up but happy." My flight or fight response kicked in. What could I do? The letters were mailed already. There was no going back. "Don't worry," my mom said, getting her Spanish dictionary. "It says it means 'copulate,'" she said. "But it can also mean 'for heaven's sake."
Here's the last line of the letter I wrote: "We wish you a peaceful 2009. If, like us, peaceful isn't realistic for you, we hope you will be jodido pero contento." I was mortified. I had told my nearest and dearest that I hoped in 2009 they would be f*cked up but happy. The more I thought about it, however, the more I thought it was perfect. At least for my life right now. I never, NEVER would have written it knowingly. I had meant to sound all smart and cultured and it backfired on me in a major way. Oh well, like I said, the phrase is me through and through right about now.
Go ahead, have a laugh at your unintentionally potty-mouthed friend/loved one. I can take it. I think.
I've done it again, folks. I've gone and embarrassed myself. In this year's Christmas letter, I decided to tell a charming little story about an exchange I'd had with a friend from Spain. Some of you may have read it already. Carlos had written on my Facebook page that I looked so happy and that he was happy for me. I told him yes, I was happy - and exhausted, but in a good way. He responded, "I guess you are tired and happy. We say, 'jodido pero contento.'" That sounds lovely, I thought. I will include it in this year's Christmas letter.
As someone who fancies herself a writer and good editor, I should have done my research and looked up the phrase. I found this out when my mom read the letter I had sent in my presence. I was sitting in the living room when suddenly I heard her laugh uproariously. "What is it?" I asked. "Don't you remember Carlos saying this all the time?" she asked. Panic. Oh my God. What had I done? My friends, please don't be offended. I don't talk like this ordinarily, really. "Jodido means f*cked up," she said, laughing hysterically. So the phrase I had written - in my Christmas letter (!) - translates to "f*cked up but happy." My flight or fight response kicked in. What could I do? The letters were mailed already. There was no going back. "Don't worry," my mom said, getting her Spanish dictionary. "It says it means 'copulate,'" she said. "But it can also mean 'for heaven's sake."
Here's the last line of the letter I wrote: "We wish you a peaceful 2009. If, like us, peaceful isn't realistic for you, we hope you will be jodido pero contento." I was mortified. I had told my nearest and dearest that I hoped in 2009 they would be f*cked up but happy. The more I thought about it, however, the more I thought it was perfect. At least for my life right now. I never, NEVER would have written it knowingly. I had meant to sound all smart and cultured and it backfired on me in a major way. Oh well, like I said, the phrase is me through and through right about now.
Go ahead, have a laugh at your unintentionally potty-mouthed friend/loved one. I can take it. I think.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A week for the books
Last week is one that I will remember forever. It began with Paulie vomiting - on Mark - in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. Unfortunately, my kids getting sick is a fairly ordinary occurrence in our household. It turned out this was no ordinary sick, however. By Wednesday morning, the vomiting hadn't let up, and Paul was looking awful. Mark brought him to the clinic, and the nurse immediately recommended that he go to the hospital. So I headed off to Children's Hospital to see my boy. Whether your child is in the hospital for something relatively mild like dehydration or something much more serious, it is hard to take in the sight of him in a tiny hospital gown. Paul had an IV put in for fluids, a process made easier by the numbing patch the nurse applied. He spent most of the day listless and in and out of sleep. Since he still had not perked up by night, the doctor recommended he spend the night, another first. By Thursday morning he was much better. The entire staff at Children's is wonderful, and I feel lucky to have it so close. Paulie received the star treatment, coming home with a fleece blanket, pillowcase and stuffed puppy, all items donated to Children's Hospital.
The story doesn't end there. Thursday morning Mark began to feel sick. Then my mom, who had been helping us, fell ill. I wasn't surprised, then, when I got the call that Ben was sick and needed to be picked up from school. And it wasn't long before I began to feel ill. So there we all were, feeling awful. Except Paul, who was hyper. It was a long, hard day, fighting our various nausea, vomiting, fevers and chills. My mom still talks about the time when she and my dad both fell ill when Sean and I were little. Let's hope this is the only time it ever happens for us.
Lucky for us, that is the end of the story. We all felt significantly better by Saturday. So though those days were tough, this Christmas I'm giving thanks for our health. We are blessed.
The story doesn't end there. Thursday morning Mark began to feel sick. Then my mom, who had been helping us, fell ill. I wasn't surprised, then, when I got the call that Ben was sick and needed to be picked up from school. And it wasn't long before I began to feel ill. So there we all were, feeling awful. Except Paul, who was hyper. It was a long, hard day, fighting our various nausea, vomiting, fevers and chills. My mom still talks about the time when she and my dad both fell ill when Sean and I were little. Let's hope this is the only time it ever happens for us.
Lucky for us, that is the end of the story. We all felt significantly better by Saturday. So though those days were tough, this Christmas I'm giving thanks for our health. We are blessed.
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