Mish-Mash

1.  What is with all the celebrities having twins these days?  I just read that Rebecca Romijn is next on the list.  I’m afraid I’m going to pick up an issue of People and read that “Multiples are the New Singles.”

2.  Something I wrote in my last post has been bothering me.  While Raisin is very much like me emotionally (sometimes too sensitive, often prefers imaginary worlds to the real one), I realized after I wrote that post that there is a lot more of the Jellyman in her than I sometimes realize.  She is adventurous like her daddy; they measure her against every amusement park ride you-must-be-at-least-this-tall sign, and he can’t wait for the day when she can ride the real coasters with him.  She has his gift of negotiation, too.  I swear, never before in my life have I met two people who can so easily talk me into things I was dead-set against.

3.  Although I will admit to repeated attempts to decide who-got-what-from-whom with Apple and Orange, I have not yet succeeded.  What I have noticed is a definite gender difference, which suprises me.  I don’t think I pushed Apple to play with trucks or Orange to play with dolls, but there it is.  Our own little nature-vs-nurture laboratory.

4.  Does anybody know how Tivo works for something like the Olympics?  I am sure there is ample information out in the interwebosphere about this, but I am lazy and not very technologically inclined.  If I want to watch gymnastics and swimming but abhor weightlifting, what do I need to tell my Tivo to do?  Do I need to know the schedule and record by time?

I Survived!!!

I think we can call this camping trip a success: we all returned in relatively* good health, no one fell into the fire, and although sleep was hardly plentiful it was not non-existent.  More importantly, I think the kids had a good time.  Raisin is even old enough now that she might remember this trip. 

My brother and I, as teenagers, used to tease our mom about family vacations.  The trip to Yellowstone was the trip where our cousin threw up all over the geyser trail and I fell and cut my face**.  The trip around Lake Superior was the time we saw that bad accident.  I got carsick on the drive to Texas.  My brother lost a shoe somewhere in Iowa.

It used to drive her nuts that we would only talk about the bad stuff, but the truth was that we loved every minute of it.  In 13 years, if Raisin remembers her first trip to Itasca as the time she threw up in her sleeping bag, then so be it.  If she is anything like me (and all signs thus far indicate that she is everything like me), she will also see that vacation as proof positive that she, Apple, and Orange are members of a family that enjoys each other.***

*As noted, there were a few vomiting incidents. 

**Even as a child, I was noted for my gracefulness.

***Pictures at Flickr.  If you can’t see them, and want to, send me an email at grapemn AT comcast DOT net.

Restful Vacation

We are leaving tomorrow to take the kids camping.

I am sure I will come back with some fun story involving tent poles, mosquitoes, or maybe even some wildlife (human or otherwise).  I hope to also have some excellent pictures of thekids dipping their toes in the beginnings of the Mississippi River, because it’s a thing that seems like a quintessential part of growing up Minnesotan.

I also hope to sleep at least a little.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Wishing I’d Been Wrong…

If you are a praying person, please send one up for my neighbor.  (She of the SWAT-team-necessitating husband.)  She stopped by yesterday to ask us to call 911 if we saw him in the neighborhood.  She’s had enough and is sporting a restraining order and what I hope will be her last bruise ever.

My only previous encounter with her was to ask her to keep an eye on my house while we were on vacation, so I’ve never known for sure that he was beating her.  It’s silly what keeps us from really knowing each other, isn’t it?  I mean, in retrospect I wish I’d been a little less worried about her privacy and a little more concerned about a neighbor’s safety.

Let’s all pray that she’ll be safe now, and that he will be motivated to get the help he needs.

Unprecedented*

So, last night when the Jellyman and I returned from a party, a police officer knocked on our door to ask if we were the neighbors who had called 911.  We were not, so he moved on after instructing us to keep the outside lights off.  Then several other officers swarmed around our house, using my dad’s truck as a shield as they surveyed the house across the street.**

After a while, things seemed quiet, so my mom and dad, tired after a night of babysitting, turned on our front light so they could go home.  We were quickly rebuffed by a cop who informed us that a SWAT team was on the way, and that we should turn off ALL the lights and GO TO THE BASEMENT.  Holy hell.

So we woke up the kids and huddled in the basement for 45 minutes until they told the Jellyman that they were packing up and that we could come upstairs.  The whole thing ended uneventfully, thank God, but I could wish it were a little more … resolved.

Also, what does one say to the neighbor who started all this the next time one sees him in the street?  “Thanks for endangering my kids lives and making me spend 45 minutes trying to get them to sleep in the basement, asshole,” somehow seems inappropriate, right?  What if I leave off the “asshole” part?

*And hopefully never to be repeated, please God.

**A neighbor who has always been perfectly pleasant to us, but who does have a tendency to sound violent after a night of drinking.  I have contemplated 911 calls in the past because I fear for his wife, but the noise has always abated before I did it.

Mixing It Up

Zoot’s post on Independence Day mentioned a phenomenon that bugs me: the idea that a liberal cannot be a patriot.  It’s akin to the idea that Christians are never liberal.

As this election season drags on, I become more and more irritated at the boxes the party leaders try to put voters in.  I do enjoy answering the phone when it’s a pollster, though.  It is my secret ambition to convince them of something I have long believed: that most Americans actually live somewhere in the middle.  We compromise and vote for the candidate who seems to agree with us on the most important issues, but we generally do have to compromise.  We have complicated feelings about a lot of things, and our opinions and concerns cannot always be addressed in a 10-second soundbite.*

So, when they call, I like to explain that I believe in a woman’s right to choose, but that I wish no woman ever had to make that choice.  Or how I think the war in Iraq was ill-conceived, but I have reservations about leaving the country before it is stable.  I am willing to pay for government programs, because they often do things that otherwise would never happen, but I expect my representatives to be responsible with my money and use it as sparingly as possible.  Although I generally do lean to the left, I will not vote for a Democrat just because he or she is a Democrat.  Neither will I ever (ever!) stay home on Election Day, because I believe my vote matters.  I resent the hell out of any party policy that implies that only certain demographics (ew) are welcome at the polls.

It’s especially fun when they want me to choose one-word answers from their list.  “I don’t really like any of those,” I like to say.  I can practically hear their eyes roll!

*Am I wrong about this?

It’ll Be OK

The problem with the job thing, I think, is that I don’t really know what I want.  (Other than to be independently wealthy.)  I can’t decide whether to keep my head down and just get through this for the short-term, or to try to look further ahead and possibly make myself even crazier.

In any case, I slept more than three hours last night and am feeling more optimistic about life in general.

In unrelated news, is it lame for a 30-year-old to throw herself a birthday party 3 months after her birthday?  My excuse is that April is a crappy month for a picnic in Minnesota, and I really wanted a picnic.

I Don’t Know What To Do

I worked until 3 a.m. again.  Just when I think I am adjusting to this job, and that I can handle the hours, the hours get worse.  I feel like the frog in the boiling water: they keep turning up the temperature, and I’m not sure anymore how hot is too hot.

I come home on those late nights so frustrated.  It’s not just that I’m tired, it’s that I feel like such a failure.  I don’t know why I’m not … good?  strong? … enough to make this work.  And I’m also angry.  I feel like I deserve a job that I can be excited about, and I want to set that example for my kids, too.

On the other hand, I so want this job to work out.  It may not be my dream job, but it lets me stay home with my kids and still contribute financially to our family.  I keep telling myself I can stick it out another year, maybe two.  The Jellyman will be done with school, and the kids will be starting.  I don’t have to do it forever.

I just don’t know how long I can keep it up at this price.  My time with my kids is precious, but is it really that good for them if I am so tired that I cannot concentrate, and so caffeinated that I snap at the slightest provocation?

This blog entry feels familiar; certainly I’ve been having this argument with myself internally for months.  When I make big decisions, I am used to hitting upon a solution that suddenly just feels right, and this time nothing does.  I don’t know where to go from here.

Is It Just Me…

or is it … uncomfortable … to drive under an overpass while workmen are jackhammering at its supports?

I mean, I don’t think it’s just the bridge collapse talking, right?  I’m not just paranoid?

The problem is, the Minnesota Department of Transportation (MnDOT, pronounced “min-dot” as a term of — let’s say affection — around here) seems to be trying to make up for the 35W bridge by fixing EVERY road this summer.  I will continue to take Raisin to her swimming lessons, but I may have to hold my breath most of the way.

What a Marvelous Day!

My holiday did not get off to a great start, as I had to work until 3 a.m.  I like to imagine that some jerk in Arizona is responsible for the bad staffing decision that led to this.  This fictional guy probably left his office about 2 on Thursday, in time to squeeze in a round of golf before hitching up his boat and taking the kids to the lake for the weekend.  It’s easy to hate that guy.

Fortunately, it was all uphill from there.  The Jellyman took the kids outside as soon as they got up so that I could sleep.

I awoke to a beautiful day.  We took the kids to a waterpark (my kids are old enough to enjoy a waterpark!  woo!) and had a fantastic time.  We picnicked with my parents, which means I get to sit in a lawn chair for minutes at a time while the grandparents spoil the children.

The Jellyman found his first geocache, a hobby which I think he is now going to be addicted to.

On the drive home, the kids and I all fell asleep, so the Jellyman drove around in order to not wake us up.  We were all in bed before the fireworks even started.

It was perfect.