Five resolutions I should have (and one that I actually do).

I simultaneously love and hate the end of the year.

I love the idea of a new beginning - the hope that comes along with starting a new year. It's a warm & fuzzy feeling. But I hate the concept of making a resolution for the new year. Actually, I hate the idea of committing to the resolution(s). That is a nauseating feeling - so much pressure! Do I really need more opportunities to fail? However, it's probably a good idea to encourage the masses to be a bit more self aware. I can't think of any other occasion for which we are encouraged to improve ourselves with such public acceptance.

I'm sure if I asked those close to me, they would volunteer some resolutions for me, so here are some resolutions I should have, but don't (and my guess at who would offer the resolution):

• Quit forgetting stuff. (my daughters)
• Start running. (my husband)
• Clean out my minivan more regularly. (my entire family)
• Quit obsessing about my hair. (my husband and my sister)
• Just go to the damn Container Store already. (my husband and my friend Shannon with whom I feel I'm sharing my plans for future purchases there every time we talk)

I have issues with committing to things. For some (please don't analyze me) reason I have trouble jumping in with both feet. So my actual New Year's Resolution for 2012 is to commit to...

Myself.

I am not the best wife or mother in the world, but I do a pretty good job of making sure my family has everything they need to grow and develop and be happy. I can't really say that I've done the same for myself. I used to see putting myself first as a selfish and inappropriate choice, but now I see it as something that is necessary in order for me to be the best I can be for my family.

And myself. Dammit. See how hard that is?

Cup o' the Day: Candy

So, the way I remember it, two friends of mine brought this cup back for me from a church trip to Branson when we were in high school:

Who knows if my memory is accurate. As my five year old constantly reminds me, I "forget a lot of things". Regardless if that is exactly how I came into possession of this cup, the sentiment is the same: it was a gift.

When I use this cup, I am reminded that at some point in my life I had friends who felt like the verse it contains fit me well enough for them to spend their money on it. And that makes me feel good.

Flying (with Children).

We have just returned from a trip to see my husband’s family in Costa Rica, which is a three and a half hour flight from Houston. Not too bad, right? Well. That really depends. 

This is not the first time we have flown since we’ve been parents, but this was the first time we’ve flown with both kids in tow. Our five (and a half!) year old is quite the seasoned traveler, having flown more times than I can count. She has been easy to fly with since she was around three and a half - the age at which she didn’t mind the headphones on her head so she could watch DVDs on the plane. Prior to that, flying was a bit of a challenge and required all of my energy to keep her happy. And, to the dismay of our fellow passengers, I didn’t always succeed. 

I had very realistic expectations going into this trip with our family of four (with seats for three) and felt relatively prepared to handle the plane travel with the children.

The flight to Costa Rica was OK. The first challenge was getting someone to change seats with us, because only two of our three seats were together. Luckily my smooth talking hubby was able to gain the sympathy of fellow Spanish speakers to solve our problem. Holding our toddler on our laps was not super fun (she’s at least 25 lbs), but we managed to keep her mostly entertained, and she eventually took a short nap in our arms near the end our flight. This was enough to refresh her and keep her somewhat happy for the remainder of our flight. This was a morning flight, which may have been the key to our relative success.

Our view as we waited at our gate.

Our return flight was... not awesome. Our three seats were already together (no smooth talking required), but it was an afternoon flight for which we arrived to the airport with *more* than enough time. Prior to boarding, we tried to wear our darling toddler out by letting her run around the gate area. Surely this would result in an in-flight nap, no? NO. No, it did not. 

We are able to pre-board, but watching the other people board only entertained her for so long. She didn't want any of the books or toys I had for her, so we tried to get her interested in the baby across the aisle, and when that didn’t work, we went through the Skymall catalog. Then we went through whatever dumb airline magazine was there. She tore the safety card in half. She sat next to her sister for a few minutes to watch a video. Once she got irritated with that, we started the cycle over again: Skymall, dumb airline mag, tearing safety card, dvd. To change it up a bit, we tried to feed her a little when they gave us food, but it really just made things worse because she wanted to eat everybody’s food. Then we tried a nap, but she only wanted to be held - didn’t want to sit on our laps, or lie down, she insisted in being held up in our arms. Did I mention that she is at least 25 lbs and that I am very weak? 

She would get quiet for a while and then irritated all over again, so my husband decided to get up and walk down the aisle to calm her down. He was away for several minutes, and my older daughter was watching a video, so I leaned forward and put my head on the seat in front of me to rest and to enjoy some peace and quiet. As I was focusing on my breathing and starting to drift off, I felt a hand on my arm: my five year old. “Are you OK?”, I asked her gently. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t asleep,” she says. And she said it so sweetly I couldn’t even get mad at her. (No, I don’t know why me sleeping would have been a problem for her. I was too tired to ask.)

A few minutes later, my husband returned with a sleeping baby! Success! Finally! And just as I start to get comfortable again... She. wakes. up. 

At least at this point we were less than an hour from landing. So... I get over it and decide to go change her diaper. Not an easy task on an airplane. Apparently toddlers should be out of diapers by the time they fly, because she does not fit on the changing table. But we make it work and head back to our seat and I am prepared to deal with whatever because I know we will land soon. My husband takes her from me, so of course my over-tired child protests. But because I can feel that we are starting our descent, I don’t let it bother me. Until her protest turns into, “Poop.” She was seriously pooping just after I changed her diaper and just before they were going to turn the “Fasten Seatbelts” sign on. So OF COURSE I got my ass up as quick as I could and raced to the back of the plane to change her again on the too small changing table so she would not stink up the plane. (After all of the crying she had done, it was the least I could do for my fellow passengers.) 

I was surprised the flight attendants didn’t knock on the bathroom door to get us to go back to our seats, but they didn’t and we got back to our seats with no problem. We landed just a few minutes later. However, we had to sit on the runway a few minutes longer because the other plane hadn’t left our gate yet. THEN they requested over the PA that if we didn’t have a connection, to please let those who do go first. Which is all wonderful news when you have an overtired toddler on a airplane. So, because Houston is home for us, we stayed put to let other people go. I’ve had to make a tight connection before and I know how much it sucks. I thought - despite Miss Crankypants - those five minutes will make a much bigger difference to them than to us, so we stayed put. And, wouldn’t you know it? Apparently we were the only people on the flight who didn’t have a connection to make... 

So when nearly every other person had exited, we deplaned as well and made it through immigrations and customs unscathed. We got to our car, drove home, made cheese sandwiches for the girls (because that was the only thing we had in the house after being gone for a week) and put the girls to bed. And had a drink.

The lessons to be learned from this experience are as follows:

1. There is nothing you can do to adequately prepare for traveling with a toddler.
2. Always make sure there is alcohol at your destination.
3. See #2.

Partial solution to my Santa conundrum.

I know I have established my Santa issues, so I thought I would share that I am working through them.

One *awesome* solution for me is to take "his" power away a little. I was inspired by a friend's Facebook status when she stated that she was going to make the underwear and socks be from Santa this year (thanks, Angie!). It occurred to me that I am part of my Santa problem. 

So I'm not going the socks and underwear route, and my five year old will get what's on her list to Santa from Santa (she didn't ask for much), BUT... The awesome play kitchen for the girls that I scored on sale on Amazon? That's from Mommy & Daddy.

Take that, Santa.

Keeping it simple, keeping them happy.

Santa.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am not a huge fan of the Santa ruse. However, I feel pressured and obligated to keep it up as long as necessary. I fear if I don't keep it up my children will be weird, not succeed in school, not get in to college, won't be able to get a job, will have no friends, and will generally be unhappy for the rest of their lives.

Parents seem to be pretty divided on this subject, but thankfully I have discovered some folks share my opinion about our absurd parental behaviors. Take this discussion on Babble, for example. Any conversation about Santa that includes Bradley Cooper is a winner in my book. I'm pretty sure all conversations would be better if they included Bradley Cooper in some way.

Succumbing to peer pressure (sorry kids)

Because I'm not big on the Santa business, I have never forced the whole "sit on Santa's lap for a picture" thing with my girls. When my oldest was our only child, she was way too scared of him to even consider a picture. I was OK with that, except I felt horrible and stupid for even making an attempt at a picture. Last year when our baby was a baby, we had a neighborhood party that included Santa so I just went with it (so my children wouldn't be weird - damn peer pressure). The baby was OK - my oldest not so much. So again, I felt bad for putting them through the experience.

Fast forward to this week when we happened to be at a mall with some of our family. While spending some time with these family members we rarely see, my darling five year old was very easily talked into to visiting Santa. My toddler would have no part in it, but my big girl just went right up to Santa to tell him about all the My Little Ponies she wants and posed for a picture. I'm pretty sure they are best friends now.

One year later: BFFs

So now I am knee deep in the Santa business. And my daughter is happy. So basically, I just need to get over it, right?

Yeah, that really doesn't work for me.

For now, I just try to not talk about Santa. If my daughter talks about him then I will just go along with her. I would rather just omit him from the conversation than force my point of view on her. The thing I don't want to do is use him as a threat. I have already found myself doing that with our Elf on the Shelf when my five year old is being difficult. Again, I feel foolish for even uttering the words, "Edward can see you - do you want him to tell Santa how you were acting?" Yuck. I can't believe I really said that.

So, what is my problem with Santa, you ask?

My first problem with Santa is the lying. This is the same problem I have with the Elf on the Shelf.

My second problem with Santa is that Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, and Santa (as he is viewed today) has nothing to do with that and everything to do with the "buy your kids more stuff they don't need so they will be cool (and you totally suck if you don't)" thing.

My third problem with Santa is he gets all the credit for giving my kids cool stuff. Bastard.

Inappropriate Elf.

Turns out our creepy sweet Elf, Edward, has some unresolved issues about reindeer. I caught him just as he was about to act on his issues:

If you'd like to give me a chance at winning an iPad 2, you can vote for this picture here.

Oh, and Merry Christmas! Bwahaha...

There's an Elf on my Shelf.

Ok. Fine. I bought one. I hate buying into all these Christmastime shenanigans and tomfooleries (I forgot "hijinks") but it is SO HARD not to!

So now we have an Elf on the Shelf. His name is Edward. My daughter named him, and don't even think that I persuaded her to choose that name because I am obsessed with Eddie Vedder because I didn't. (And it's not 1994 so I really wouldn't call it an "obsession" - let's agree to "extreme appreciation" and call it a day.)

So for real: once you start with the Santa business it just kind of all snow balls from there (pun intended). Telling your children about Santa is one of those things that you don't really realize how crazy it is until you have to explain it to your child. Why have we all been carrying on with this craziness for so long anyway?

"Yes, children of mine: A very large man sneaks into our house at night - while we are all asleep - and leaves us presents. And eats our cookies."

"How does he get in, you ask? He, um, comes down the chimney... except we have a gas fireplace so he, um, uses, um... magic?" 

"Oh, and, by the way, this year Santa sent an 'elf' to *watch* you. It goes back to Santa at night, and when you wake up in the morning, it could be anywhere. Good night." 

Parents be crazy, yo.

It is kind of fun to create a magical story for children, but is it really necessary? I think the Santa thing stuck around our culture to coax kids into behaving (yes, I am aware of Coca-Cola's involvement. I have Nerd TV, too). So then my guess is the ole "Elf on the Shelf" thing started gaining popularity because the Santa thing wasn't enough to keep the kiddos in line. So, WHY DID I BUY ONE??? My children are well behaved! My behavior makes NO sense!

Crap! I hate it when I do stuff like that. Stupid peer pressure never goes away.

Next thing you know, I'll be trying to convince them that a small, furry animal left them some chocolate, or that some winged creature takes their teeth...

Changing it up.

Every once in a while, you need to shake things up in a relationship. It's too easy to get comfortable with the way you've always done things. Sometimes you just need to leave your comfort zone and try something new in the bedroom.

At first I felt weird even suggesting anything different - I mean, what if he doesn't want to do it? What if it's uncomfortable for him? What if it's uncomfortable for ME? It's been years since we've done anything like this. What if it doesn't work out? Then I have to switch the nightstands around again... I'm not sure if I'm ready to try this...

That's right: we're switching sides of the bed.

Of course this is all my idea - I'm trying to create a space for my yoga practice and that space is currently on my husband's side of the bed. I feel like the space would work better if that whole side was "mine", so here we go.

My soon-to-be yoga space

The real problem here is that I'm having trouble trying to fit my (very neglected) yoga practice into my life. Physical fitness is part of the reason I practice yoga, but the real benefit for me is the quiet time that is pretty much nonexistent in the rest of my life.

I am NOT fit - at all. I have had quite a few obstacles in my pursuit of fitness since my second child was born (she is nearly 20 months old). As any mother will tell you, it is difficult to fit exercise in to a child dominated life. Especially when you are breastfeeding - which I was up until July. And if your baby doesn't nap - my baby was seemingly nap-averse until recently. (I celebrate one hour naps with a happy dance, but that doesn't really count as exercise.) Or if you have GI issues - I have recently been diagnosed with and treated for a couple, which is actually good because now I know why I have been short of breath. And I have tried the childcare at the Y so I could work out even a *little*: it was very much a FAIL.

So. Anyway. I have my work cut out for me. I mean, belly dancing doesn't start again until January!

But what I really need is time to quiet my mind. A time when I am not corralling children or changing diapers or making dinner or picking up toys or checking my email (or, um, blogging) or recapping the day with my husband. I love all of those things (even changing diapers - it's "our" time), but it makes for a lot of busy-ness from which I need to unwind. It is difficult to do that when you don't have a space for your yoga mat without rearranging furniture (like I need *one* more thing to do).

Well, I have a place now, so we'll see how it goes. I hope my husband doesn't slap me in the head when his alarm goes off in the morning.

Something else to be Thankful for.

Health Insurance - so thankful I have it.

If you have ever not had it and really needed it, you know what I am talking about.

I get frustrated with people making up stories about "Obamacare" and I assume that the people employing these scare tactics have never been without health insurance, OR they have always been pretty healthy and never really *needed* to use it.

I also get frustrated with people who blame people for being sick - claiming if people would just take care of themselves they wouldn't need health insurance.

Well, I really need my health insurance and I take care of myself pretty well.

So this was me yesterday:

An example of an uncomfortable place for an IV

Yesterday I had (another) endoscopy, or an EGD, as my doctor referred to it. (She likes to use fancy names for things.) If you are *really* keeping up with my life, you know I had this procedure done a few weeks ago, too. Well, after the first procedure she discovered I had an esophageal stricture which was causing the problems I was having (basically, my food was getting stuck in my esophagus so I could only eat soup). During the first procedure, she dilated my esophagus, but because she could only dilate it a few millimeters at a time I needed a follow-up procedure to give me a few more millimeters to work with.

Long story short, all went well despite them either running an hour and a half behind, or screwing up the schedule. I have quite a lot of experience being treated at this hospital and have always been very pleased with the staff. What I am not pleased with, however, is having to get a freaking IV. 

Needles are stupid.

And it doesn't help at all that most of my veins are shot (repeated IV drug use will do that to you), so I only have one good place for an IV: in the bend of my right arm. So my arm pretty much has to be straight for the duration of the IV. Awesome. Needless to say, the delay of my procedure was very annoying.

But I am a "glass half full" kind of gal, so I took full advantage of having to stay in a bed in a room by myself and took a little nap while I was waiting. So that was nice.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot - I also have a hiatal hernia. What the frick? How old am I anyway?

None of these problems are huge. But it would be a HUGE pain in the ass to even get them diagnosed if not for my health insurance. I think the way the so called "health care" system in the US is run is a total crock, but it is what it is. I have no clue how to fix the problem, but I sure as hell support any attempts to improve it and/or provide access to health insurance to those who don't have access to it otherwise. If there was more of an emphasis on preventative health care instead of prescribing a drug for everything, maybe people would actually get better. But then the health insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies wouldn't make any money, would they?

Despite my disdain for the providers' business tactics, I am still very thankful I have health insurance. I just wish I didn't have to use it so often.

December.

Holy crap. It's December.

Where did 2011 go???

This creates A LOT of problems for me. Not only is it nearly Christmas, for which I am completely unprepared, but it is nearly New Year's Day, for which I am equally unprepared.

This means resolutions, people! Not only do I need to *make* resolutions, but I need to *commit* to resolutions, and, frankly, I just don't see that happening.

I mean, really - I am supposed to change my life just because it's January? Well, maybe. January is my birthday month, too. So not only do I get the opportunity to reflect on the year that has passed and speculate on the year ahead - but I get to do it *TWICE* thanks to my birthday.

Yay.

Let me just tell you this right now: there will be no Christmas cards from me this year. That would take a freaking Christmas miracle at this point. I don't have a problem with Christmas cards - I *love* showing off my girls and sending good wishes to family and friends. But a picture of my girls is just not going to happen. The other day during the Razorback game I tried to get a picture of them in their shirts and this was the best picture:

Lovely. I know.

Tis the season. 

Don't even get me started on the creepy little Elf on the Shelf.