beanski

scabies

The itching started two weeks ago. I figured it was another round of poison ivy because I seem to be able to catch it every single year even if I don't step foot outdoors.

It started after a night at the beach that ended with ski and I jogging four miles down the beach through the brush to try to get the babysitter home on-time. So it totally fit.

I figured it was my penance for going out because this girl doesn't run. Unless she's being chased and even then? There better be something SCARY behind me. Like a rabid dog? I'll take my chances. An angry toddler after too much sugar? Bet your ass I'll run like hell.

I'd run my chubby bum straight to the liquor store.

I worked like a million hours this week because I stupidly told someone my work would be done by the end of July.

Guess what? Tomorrow is August and I'm still not done.

I am awesome!

Instead of working, I'm sitting on my deck drinking wine because I'm out of gas. And there is at least 30 more loads of laundry to do.

I finally went to the doctor on Friday because I couldnt take anymore itching and needed something stronger to take the edge off. And you know what the poison ivy really is? SCABIES.

SCABIES as in little mites borrowing under my skin laying eggs and get this: POOPING. Their poop is making me itch like you wouldn't even believe.

And don't get me started on the number it's doing on my mind. You try sleeping knowing there are mites under your skin pooping.

I'm just saying.

400 loads of laundry, 10 hours of scrubbing and disinfecting and I still feel like I'm crawling. And itching. The potent lotion that's supposed to kill them right away and the THREE different kinds of antihistamines are doing nothing for my mind. I can't stop thinking of the fricking little mites pooping under my skin.

So tonight, I'm turning to wine. I just hope it works and I can get some sleep. And that my kids, especially Mr. Dramatic Himself, doesn't get it.

Because you guys? YOU try to yell him there are mites pooping under his skin. It won't be pretty.

urge

I have this overhwhelming urge to change something. Buy something big. Change jobs. Start a business. Book an expensive vacation.

I have had a hard time putting my finger on just what I'm looking for or what I feel like I'm missing.

It is just stress, I think, but it is suffocating. The work deadlines that I have been working towards for three years are looming and I have a lot of work left to do. That's fine and everything, I do know how to work hard or at least I used to, it's just that I don't really care if it gets done on time. And shouldn't I care?

The kids are getting bigger and I guess I magically expected things to get so much easier once we got out of the baby stage. I didn't account for the three-year-old phase. The phase where she talks back about EVERYTHING. About how she takes all of her frustrations out on me on her brother and her dad. Gone is my little snuggly girl wanting mommy time and in her place is this bossy little being who doesn't do anything she doesn't feel like doing. Like, she WILL NOT nap anymore but then turns into a raging lunatic around 4PM because guess what? SHE'S FRICKING TIRED. She doesn't believe me and insists that she's "not tired" because she turned three and now she knows everything and I know nothing.

Apparently.

I spent a weekend on Rainy Lake for the first time in a few years where I actually got to take the time to feel my hair floating in the water. I spent time sitting on my parent's boat drinking white wine with my mom and talking to my dad about Twins baseball. I want more. More lake time. More mom and dad time. More husband time.

So, when we got home, I bit the bullet and I hired a babysitter. I spent a night on the beach with my husband and my long lost friends and it was awesome and then we got stuck by barges going under the lift-bridge coming home and I LOST IT because I didn't want to be late getting home to the first babysitter I've ever hired.

It doesn't matter how many babysitters I hire or how many weekends I spend on the boat or how many beach vacations I spend hours planning in my head. At the end of my little mental break, I'm still The Mom. The pressure, the worry, the responsibility, it never goes away.

There is always someone in need of new shoes or a trip to the pediatrician for the well-baby visit that isn't covered by our crappy health insurance. There is always swimming classes and ballet classes that I never actually register the kids for because I forget or don't have time but then I spend so much time feeling guilty that they aren't getting those experiences that I should have just taken them to class in the first place. There is another week's worth of dinner to plan and another 14 baskets of laundry to put away.

Most days I can handle it. I do my job and I kiss my children and I thank my lucky stars that I have them and that I am married to a really kind man.

And some days I just want out. I want to quit my job, sell the kids on ebay, and run for the mountains.

Today, I read this post and for long enough for me to write this post I felt it was OK for me to complain. She must have broken in and stole those thoughts from my own head. I know someday Ski and I will have all the time in the world and twenty bucks says that I spend most of it sitting around missing my babies.

the ski family

Ski's mom scheduled a photographer to take pictures of the whole Ski gang over the 4th of July. We got four kids under five all dressed up, along with eight adults and drove the 40 minutes out to the U of M Aboretum and guess what? The fricking photographer didn't show up. I have half a mind to link to her website but I won't go there. Can you believe the nerve?

Ski and I had discussed the merits of me lugging my 7D along with all of my lenses through the Aborteum with two kids, a stroller, diaper bag, etc. and against his will, I decided to take the camera anyways because it's SO PRETTY there and gosh, I just have to have my camera. Lucky too because we decided to see what we could get without the flakey photographer who didn't bother to show up. I'll post the rest on Facebook, guys and get a DVD of the high resolution files in the mail to all of you. You're all cute and fun and you make me smile.



Unrelated but CRIPES, I am soooo far behind on pictures. Like, I have pictures from MAY that I haven't edited. I wil never catch up. I did get my computer fixed up courtesy of my brother-in-law Colin and got PS5 and Lightroom and now I have a lot to learn. I feel like I'm starting all over. Boo.

nineteen-and-a-half and thirty-six months

I spend approximately 97% of my time lecturing my children about the importance of sharing so it is fitting that their poor, deprived little selves will have to now share my monthly ramblings about their awesomeness.

The injustice!

Guess what, lovies? Mommy doesn't have time to do them separate because she is too busy refereeing and keeping track of who took which toy from who first. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. LEARN TO SHARE.

I buy two of everything and guess what? IT DOESN'T MATTER. Cameron got his own Zhu Zhu pet for RENEE'S BIRTHDAY for the love of all things holy and they are still fighting about them. STILL.

Now that I got that off my chest I really do like the little turkeys and I really do want to take the time to write down the funny things they do and say so that I remember something from this time in my life other than PLEASE STOP BITING YOUR SISTER and PLEASE GIVE HIM BACK HIS BALL RIGHT THIS INSTANT.

You know it's bad when the first words out of Renee's mouth when Cam so much as looks at the toy she is holding is "You can't take this or you're going STRAIGHT to time-out." I reckon they've heard that a few times. I should just buy a tape recorder.

They are best when they are on the go. We can actually do things like go to the zoo and travel for their cousin's birthday parties without upsetting the delicate balance of the universe too much. C-Man still has some adjustment issues when we get home from a busy trip and generally gets up about 19 times a night after we get home just to make sure that things are still cool on the home-front but for the most part it is getting to the point where it's actually fun to leave the house. This is the first time in 3 years  that I can actually say that with a straight face.

We've been all over the state in the last month or so and they have been pretty much melt-down free. We spent all of Father's day out in the yard splashing in the pool and playing on the playground and they had a great time. They were dumping water on each other and laughing. And then crying because Renee dumped water on me! But I did it to her first! But I'm still crying!

They generally both nap in the afternoon so by the time I get one down and then the other I have about 15 minutes to clean the kitchen before the one I put to sleep first wakes back up and is ready to party. What that equates to is from 6AM when Cam starts talking to 9:30PM when Renee gives up her stall tactics and FINALLY just closes her blessed eyes and goes to sleep, I have a sidekick. Either it's Renee who wants to "help" me bake and clean and do laundry (she doesn't follow recipes yet though so my banana bread last night was pretty moist. READ: MUSHY) or Cameron who is screaming and throwing his body around trying to reach some object that is off limits to him, I have one of them at my side at ALL MOMENTS OF MY LIFE. One of these days I'm going to take a pee in private and it is going to be WONDERFUL.

Cameron went back to the allergist where we learned that either the egg allergy has gotten worse or that it was more severe than we had thought initially. We've been on a strict no egg diet (I used to slip him a bite of a cookie here or there because I feel bad for him). The allergist said that he shouldn't have any of it ever and that I am probably making the allergy worse by giving it to him. It sucks to try to travel and feed him not knowing what has eggs and what doesn't. I pretty much have to pack everything for him. I also had yet another wave of guilt after the appointment about how miserable he must have been that first year and how many signs I missed in not getting the allergy diagnosed sooner. I failed him. My poor little baby and his upset belly.

Renee started a new preschool this month. She never liked the last preschool and would FLIP OUT every day when we dropped her off. The final straw for me was going to conferences and having her teacher tell me that she hasn't communicated other than a head nod or shake in SIX MONTHS. It told us that she didn't feel safe there and that they weren't spending any time with her. So we pulled her. The new school is a totally different atmosphere. They do a ton of field trips and take the city bus to the pool once a week and while I have some anxiety about my baby on a city bus (okay, I have a LOT of anxiety about it), I think it will be good for her. She seems to like the action. She has her whole life to learn sign language and the days of the week, I say take her to the park and let her run around like a crazy person all day. Her little boyfriend from daycare, the boy who she insists on sitting next to at the lunch table, is going to the same school too so she was pleased about that. I'm not sure the love affair is mutual but I do know that Renee has her first crush. She talks about him all the time :)

Nena and Grumpa gave us their piano a few weeks ago and it has been so magical to watch the kids sit on the bench that their dad learned to play on and slam on the keys. Nothing makes me happier than getting out of the shower and hearing piano music drifting up the stairs. There is so much history that came with that 30 year old piano, we are truly blessed that our kids will get a chance to learn music on it like their dad did.

Cameron really likes BIG TRUCKS! DIGGERS! MOTOR GRADERS! AIRPLANES! and he calls them out to me as we're driving down the road. It makes me smile. He also tries to get the attention of other people driving on the road and when he makes eye contact he always smiles and says "HI!" He is the polar opposite of her. She would glare at anyone that had the audacity to look at her and he's running over to complete strangers saying "HI!!" He still won't get over his fascination with the drawers and cupboards that have childproof locks on them and he stands at them shaking them with all of his weight trying to get at the scissors. Mom, those scissors are the coolest thing EVER. I want to cut my tongue off! Give them to me RIGHT NOW!

Renee refuses to get over her Dora obsession regardless of how many other TV shows I try to brainwash her with. I'm so sick of Dora that I could puke. The other day she said to me "Mom, I'm back on the Dora wagon." And then she asked for more milk and said "I'm back on the milk wagon too." I just about died laughing. She won't read any book that doesn't have a ballerina in it and spends most of her days talking about princesses and ballerinas and I have no idea where this nonsense comes from. I was a total tomboy and never took a ballet class in my life and when I ask her if we should get her signed up for swimming class she flips out and says "NOOOOO, I want to go to ballet class." Shoot me now, please. And then after I'm dead we'll be off to ballet class because what princess wants, princess usually gets. Princess also refuses to drink out of cups that aren't pink or eat food off of plates that aren't pink. PINK, PINK, PINK. She'll even say "I want the pinkie one" like PINKIE is a term of endearment. Oh you pretty, pretty pinkie, I love you so.

They are a fun bunch and I can't imagine a single day with without them in it. Wait, I can sort of imagine it. I would lay on the couch and eat cereal for dinner and not even once would have to scrub the floor from the mess they made to stop the ants from taking over the house and after I got done laying down for a few hours eating whatever I want, I would miss them so much that my heart would ache.