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November 24, 2004
I'm back from an S.O.S.
I have never in my life been so freaking busy. Generally speaking, I KNOW a statement like that should open me up to a lecture up one side and back again, you know the one about making my own problems, but save it (please!) because I will fight back. I=m overwhelmed but not miserable. An AI don=t know how you do it@ would suffice. Toss a little AI=m over my head too@ my way or at the very least, believe me when I say I plan to rewire my priorities. I will. It=s hard. It=s like when I=ve been on a shopping streak and I'm due for an inevitable lecture and I KNOW Remo is absolutely right, and I promise this is it, I=ll be more careful. Two days later the credit card bill for the streak arrives. That I haven't shopped for two days, doesn't actually wipe out the 24 days straight that I did. But I still haven't shopped for two days!
I don't know how to explain that last month. If I feed you details you'll either fall asleep at the wheel or wind up covered in blood pressure splotches. Ah, what the shell, snore away.
We started off October with two sensational bunko parties at our house. 16 people at each one, a fair amount of inebriation, a lot of competitiveness - no, not me, I wasn't one of them. Wink. Thanksgiving weekend I had a bunch of school moms come over so we could sort out the four hundred and fifty million orders for the lunch fundraising that I'm in charge of, every second Friday we do a pizza/spaghetti lunch at the school. Most of the people who came to our Bunko party had parties of their own and we got invited back to one of them. Over there they fed me something like twelve cosmopolitans in twelve minutes. I took them because I have four kidneys. The ten glasses of water I drank before I went to sleep worked.
Speaking of commitments, we try to go to Mass every Saturday because Brandan is doing his faith first programme for first communion. Two, two and a half hours of every Saturday go to Brandan's hockey, an hour and a half on Sunday. I HATE to miss a game because they are so cute on the ice and amazingly good and we have a little gang of parents that all hang together and talk so much we miss half the games. Remo brings Kaillan and Brandan to swimming lessons every Tuesday after school. Brandan has Italian class after school on Mondays and I don't see him making a career out of it. The teacher takes the whole thing very seriously and the kids are having a hard time getting serious. He's half Italian, don't get me wrong, I'd love for him to learn another language, but he's learning French all day every day and really, how much Italian can he pick up in an hour a week? If he pulls off an ear for it, or she teaches him how to roll a perfect r, I'll be satisfied.
We pulled Kaillan out of hip hop because I couldn't catch on to the moves. Kaillan loved the idea of dance class, loved that her best friend (when she feels like it) was going to be in the class with her, we'd pick clothes to wear, pack a snack bag and giggle the whole way to the studio. We'd race towards the front door squealing with excitement and then it was all down hill. Kaillan would cling to me, begging not to go in. She started daycare two days a week in September and it was the same thing. She fell apart every morning. She'd be quietly sad and uninvolved all day long. This side of her took me completely by surprise because she's so different at home, a really happy, enthusiastic kid. The teachers frowned upon my begging, bribing, one more hug tactics, instead preferring to take her away and shut the door behind them. Shelley and I would peek in the window and see her standing by the door all class long. After a month Remo sat in the class. He learned the moves and taught us. Then I joined the class. Two times into it I realized there was no flipping way she would learn to hip hop at three years old. Six different steps or routines, whatchever you call them, a class? We dropped it and next year (when she's four), I'm going to put her in ballet/tap lessons to learn all the cutsey calm moves little girls should be made of. When she's old enough to want it, she can do hip-hop.
Emmie's still not talking. There's no question her vocabulary is huge, you can send her all over the house running errands but ask her to repeat something and nothing doing. She stares at you. Her favorite person in the world, he has been since she was born, is Remo's 93 year old grandfather. She calls him Pops and if he's holding her, she will push everybody away. If she's flipping out for something, we pass her off on him. Favorite person number two is without question Brandan. For sure I've written it before. These two adore each other, light up when they see each other and would give their candy even to each other. Thank God Kaillan is so sure the world revolves around her, she has no clue. The girls are only two years apart, I wonder if things will change when Emmie's a bit bigger and they can play together. Emmie is very into babies, she will go nowhere without one of them. She has one of Kaillan's, a real looking one that probably weighs more than her that she has to have in the car seat with her even. The other two were not as loyal to things, except for maybe that time Brandan carried around a pet toothbrush everywhere.
So anyway, back to the last month. We went to a 40th birthday 70's party and had a blast. Remo was adamant he would not dress in just anything, he had to look cool. We went shopping in his father's closet because they keep everything and for all the lovely things they had, only a rust colored blazer fit him. I bought Remo an Afro and a peace necklace; I had a cool pant/vest suit but we were so busy that week it wasn't till three hours til the party when we hit a full fledged panic over his clothes. We double-parked in front of Value Village, this massive second-hand store. Remo stayed in the car with the kids because I knew he was not value village material. I found him cream and blue pants and a gold shirt for $28. While in line I crossed my eyes even and prayed it would fit because there was no plan B. In the car, Remo wondered if we would have time to wash it, I wash everything I buy before we wear it, but he had to be kidding. It was the first time we were having Michelle (Kaillan's sixteen year old swimming teacher, love her!) babysit, I had to make trails for her in the house, buy a gift for the birthday boy and make coleslaw and 60 jello cocktails. What would you say? I told him everything in the store was brand new. I had some esplaining to do when he tried it on at home and pulled a Kleenex out of the pocket.
I spent Halloween day at the school and loved it. The kindergartens, grades one and twos got together for a super Halloween day, with crafts or activities in each class and a massive air bounce in the gym. My classroom was a game room and one of the games, I have to say, was pretty gross. We gave each kid a gumball that they had to chew like crazy and stick on the poster, and the closest to the end of the witches nose would win. I had to pull off all the slobbery pieces of gum and they were all winning and we didn't have enough prizes. Now that I think of it, I don't think I told them to scrap that venture for next year. That night we had a family dance at the school and all our friends went. I wanted to be Dorothy really bad because last summer I bought ruby-red slipcovers for my shoes. I was so excited because I found a pattern and bought $67 worth of gingham and gear to make it. When I got home with everything and showed Remo, to help him see my vision, I ran and got the slip-ons. Wouldn't you know, they didn't fit my shoes. In a panic I went to value village and found this knockout dress. It was a custom made (oh it was custom alright) gold and bronze and rust colored maid of honor spectacular wonder. It went perfectly with this waist long red ringlet wig I have. I had a pair of ballet slippers died bronze by the same shoemaker I had dye a pair of Remo's loafers white (you had to see his face). I HAVE to get my hands on a picture and load it up on my babiesonline site. Watch the board for a link, I'll try to do it before I forget. Brandan was an army guy. My aunt gave him a real army helmet and I bought him camouflage clothes. Emmie was a little lamb. Kaillan was a princess at day care and the dance and a ladybug for trick or treating. She was unbelievably into trick or treating. I have to be honest, I saw so much of myself in her, it came as a shock. It was a cold, sopping mess of a night and she desperately wanted to keep going. She was leaping over hedges to get to the houses, bellowing thank yous, slipping under people to get right there in front, THERE.
Cooking club started and I have a couple of amazing cake recipes to share, one apple and one pumpkin. Shelley was the first to host and she served a butternut squash soup (you'll want this one too), a spinach and apple salad, stuffed Cornish hens with a mushroom rice. Last week we went to Kelley's and we had a chef come to teach us how to make Thai. If I could be so honest, I'd have to be retired to try any of it again. I'd make the peanut sauce chicken satays, maybe the lemongrass soup but modified and the noodles for sure, just to see them pop up again. In two weeks, Molly is going to teach us how to make sushi.
One of my colleagues has been fighting Ovarian cancer for a while now, a horribly devastating disease, the one that whispers. About a month ago, they asked if I would be willing to help cover for her, doing half days of her job and half days on mine. Of course I would, I admire Brenda because she's an amazingly sincere and warm and brilliant lady. Sadly, she passed away last week and it really affected me. The service was held in the same place we just had Grandma Jackie's, on the grounds where Matthew is buried. The night before, at the visitation, Remo and I walked to the car considering how horrible it was for her husband and her fifteen year old daughter and how brave they are. We were talking about her age and Remo told me I would be 45 when Emmie is 15 and that, for whatever reason, hit me. Very hard. There's a lot I'm not ready for. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm not ready to go, and God forbid something should happen, I haven't got anything ready. Sure, we have insurance, I've told people I want to be buried in warm, fuzzy pyjamas and I want them to use the makeup from my purse and not something hot pink. I've said I want a room full of flowers and people and if I'm on my dying bed, people I've only just met should come and visit. But I want to write letters to my children and everybody who's important to me. I want my wishes for my children and my things to be respected. We bought the plot where Matthew is buried and I expect to go there. Back then, the plot beside us was available and I decided after the funeral I was going to go in and buy it in case the other kids wanted to be buried with us. So I went into the office and discovered the plots around us are gone, there are actually very few left. I was disappointed. Worse, when she told me no one is actually buried in our direct neighbor spot, I wanted to ask if those people would consider turning a profit on it. I still might. When I used to hear about prearranging funerals I used to think it was a rip off racket. But there in that plot bible was our name beside spot 521A. Thinking about dying gives most people heebee-jeebies, but when you're suffering a loss, whether it's someone old or not, you're so caught up in your heartbreak, you don't need those kind of decisions on top of everything. We don't have our will. I'm admitting it because I know I'm not alone and it's probably one of the most irresponsible things we have done for our children. We met the notary and left with a list of decisions to make before we met again, but we have the future of THREE children to protect, insisting I cannot die before they get married is nothing short of foolish. This is my solemn vow, with you as my witnesses. I will take care of this before the end of the year. I better not be freaking jinxing myself.
Now tell me, which one of you will take my kids?
We did a hockey night where a bunch of couples went for dinner and then when the guys went to play hockey, the girls went to see the movie Alfie. Jude Law is cute; he looks like Ryan Seacrest, but I wasn't into the movie, it didn't help that staying awake was becoming painful. So other than the part where I could really use a week off, seven hours a day all by my lonesome self, to for once and all, organize every corner of my life and house and commitments, nothing else is new. I know there's more to tell you but I'm short on time and I have Christmas cards to start. I' trying really hard to get all my Christmas stuff and shopping done before December 1st so we can really, REALLY enjoy the holidays this year. I have SEVEN DAYS.
I must say I'm sick and tired of all the food we eat during the week. The same old, same old, we'll have to get together and share some new ideas. The boards? Tomorrow. Promise.
Allisun
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