They never told me it would be like this...

Life, that is. I don't even know who "they" are (but "they" seem to have an opinion about everything, don't they?). I have these moments or trends of self-reaization. I can trip myself out thinking about how people have lived their lives and died and I never knew them--entire lives spent without my apparent influence--which definitely starts making me realize how small and insignificant I am. Maybe not to those around me, but in light of the billions of people on this earth. My God is an awesome God just to get everyone's names right. I can't even remember what I ate two days ago or what I wore. Probably the same jeans.

But two days ago I subbed at Lancaster High, my alma mater. I graduated TEN years ago! I remember high school, but it doesn't feel like ten years ago, and yet it does. Just ten years is a milestone. I could go to a reunion, if there was one. I wouldn't, but I could.

[As a side note, I find it funny that every time I mention my age or how long ago I did something, I always get casual comments from Older People who tell me things like "Wait until it's been 30!" or "If YOU'RE old, then I must be ancient!" or "You don't know what age is, child!" There is always someone older out there. But I can experience joy and sorrow and amazement at my own life and how quickly it's passing. It is OH-KAY for me to do this, despite that I am ONLY 28, which is not an "ONLY" to me but a "REALLY????"]

Anyway, so I graduated ten years ago. That year, all the seniors had the opportunity to decorate a brick that would be attached to a concrete wall to make a mural of sorts. So I see my brick there, with my maiden name and it takes me way back. To anatomy class, cross country, an exboyfriend that (thankfully) dumped me two weeks before I graduated. [Don't pity me: the NEXT DAY I was introduced to John] All these parts of my life that felt like the entire world then and now are just a fraction of a percent of my life experience now.

And now I'm married and "babied" and while I am so happy, it doesn't feel like I thought it would. Not bad. Just different. Like I thought I'd become an "adult"--whatever I thought that would be. I'd feel responsible and be busy and dress different and feel mature. ...... Well, I'm busy. And I HAVE responsibilities, but I don't necessaryily FEEL responsible. Most of the time I'm shirking on some duty or the other. And I definitely don't feel mature. John may jokingly (?) tell me I am a "mature lady" but that's not what I mean. So it's foreign to me that I am cycling through these major stages of life without dramatically changing as I'd hoped/feared/expected.

So I don't really change dramatically as I go through life then? Not really. It's kind of like a new haircut I guess. New look, but still the same. Just a couple wrinkles here. A rogue grey hair there. A little muscle tone loss residual from birthing a giant. That weird bulging vein thing on the back of my hands when I let my arms hang at my sides that I marveled at my mom for. Good ol' cellulite. I think that's why life feels so foreign sometimes. I am essentially the same inside and yet my circumstances & body are so different than ten years ago.

What is different about your life now that you never expected?

Cleaning house...

I really believe that God does work in our best interest. It's obvious. We really wanted that house on L-4 on 2.5 acres. We loved it, even though the house was very old and run down (the hallway wall was wavy!). We were excited about having space between neighbors, no lawn (save money on water!), the ability to go for walks without leaving the property and a fenced in yard for Jack and Brownie to play. Then the landlord said we couldn't use about 2.25 of the acres. And we couldn't park in the back of the house using the second gate that would have afforded us the luxury of not worrying if Brownie ran out in the process. And that was before we even met the ownwer or John even signed the lease. So it was great when Century 21 let me out of the lease.

Now we're four miles north of that area in a beautiful, newer house. Four and two. Nice neighbors on one side and vacant house on the other. Close to a school (which hopefully equals no child molesters nearby). Close to family. Much MUCH smaller property, but no real restrictions. That makes me very happy. God is good.

But now I have to clean it.

Luckily it was fairly clean to begin with. Stains on the carpet won't come out, so that's not my problem. We sold about half of our stuff when we moved into Allen's house, so we don't have a whole lot of clutter. That makes the house pretty clean all the time as it is. (Praise God!) That also means we don't have a whole lot of decorations, but I can't really put anything below waist level or Jack uses it as a bludgeoning device, so perhaps it's for the best.

With a little one, I am trying to go for all-natural cleaning products. With a tight budget, I am trying to go for cheap materials too, like using vinegar and water to wash the linoleum. With a job, I am trying to clean with minimal time and effort.

My question is, how do you clean house? What's your schedule, or do you have one? What tips and tricks do you have for cleaning? So...what do you do to keep house? What shortcuts have you discovered and what products do you use that are efficient and inexpensive?

Long overdue

Sigh...it seems like there are always great periods of time between one post and another, which is completely and utterly unacceptable considering the frequency with which I log on to facebook in order to harvest imaginary fruits, flowers and vegetables on Farmville. Blech. Although I *have* "downsized" by planting crops that take several days to "ripen" as opposed to each day. A woman's got to prioritize, after all.
Anyway, I can honestly say that several times each day I think about this blog, thinking about little tidbits and moments that I want to cherish. But I am usually feeding/holding/changing Jack. Or cooking or cleaning or unpacking or starting/switching/sorting/folding laundry. Or praying that for five minutes--just FIVE minutes--Jack doesn't realize that I am not sitting behind him as he watches "doooooooog" or "choo choo" so I can PEE in PEACE. That is always a prayer God answers with a resounding "No." Which I guess is proof at least that God answers prayer.
So...life has been exceedingly hectic but is starting to get back to normal. Maybe. *We moved out of my father-in-law's house and into a rental in west Lancaster. Now we're on the opposite side of the planet from all of our friends, but exceptionally close to most of our family. My mother-in-law is only a couple miles away and my parents are a little over half a mile. But Littlerock High School is now a 50-mile round-trip, so I will try to sub in Lancaster more often.
*One of my sisters moved to UCSD, which I might expand on later.
*My youngest sister is about to start school again and her FIRST JOB! Woot!
*I'm applying for a handful of jobs at AVC (Oh, I lust after good benefits. Oh, and more money.).
*Jack is talking and copying everything we say. Even the less agreeable words that occasionally slip out. He is also gigantic and is in 2T clothes now and size 5 diapers. Ugh. He is soooo big! And handsome. And perfect.

It is wonderful at night when Jack falls asleep in my arms, "beet-ah" (binky) in his mouth and I can imagine that he is still a baby, still sweetly curled in my arms, even if the legs and arms hang off the edges a bit more than ever. I love the completely surrendered state of sleep he often slips into when he hasn't had a nap during the day. His binky slips out of his mouth and I could probably juggle him and he wouldn't wake up.
I think a lot about how I'm going to handle him getting old enough that he won't let me cuddle him. Am I really going to get to a stage when I'm okay with not covering his face with kisses or ache for him to hold my hand with his little fingers? It's absolutely bizarre to me.
I also think a lot about how much work being a mom is, having ONE is...and then the thought will cross my mind, maybe I'll just have one. Then this overwhelming sense of responsibility washes over me that I need to give Jack a brother or sister. That he needs a playmate, a friend, someone to fight with and play with and love and hate. Someone other than me, I mean. And then I think about how I miss getting pregnant (hey, I can't lie), being pregnant and even wearing preggo pants again and going through labor, as painful as that can be. And how I will treasure a new one so much more even than Jack, since I mostly know what to expect and can delight in his/her differences rather than jump in panic everytime they squeak, squeal or cry. So I think we'll have another one. Not now, not for awhile, but we do want about three. I think.

Sorry for all the disjointed-ness in this post. I'm always a little rusty whenever I plop myself down here to actually write something.

Tiny words

Just wanted to record all the words my dear one can say now:

Mama
Nana (nurse...Now, when I come home from work he runs into my arms with a huge grin, takes out his pacifier, points to the couch and says "nana." The man knows what he wants!)
Dada
Bampa (Grandpa)
Peeeese (please...spotty, but we hear it occasionally)
Ho (hot)
Col (cold)
Ta-day (today...he actually spent ALL day yesterday saying "taday taday taday taday" Love it)
Pi-tee (pretty...he repeated "pi-tee Mama" when John told him that my hairtie was to make Mommy pretty)
Buu (book, with appropriate sign language)
Moe (more, with appropriate sign language)
Dog
Dat-dat (belly button...I don't know)
Key-ka (kitty kat)
Burrrr (bird)
Shuuuuuu (shoes)
Shees (1. FISHies..used to sound like "f-shee" but now he's abbreviated it to "shees"; 2. Cheese)


...and I'll add more as I remember them.

He can also point out his toes, hair, ears, eyes, nose, belly button and chin. Yay!

Things I Like Sunday

I've seen other blogs list things they like once a week and, while I am in no way suggesting that I will be that predictable, I admire the practice nevertheless. So here are a few things I've looked at recently that I really enjoy:

Sonrie!

So today I feel like a bad mom.

Nope, you don't have to comfort me and make me feel better. I know I'm NOT a bad mom, but I'm sick and therefore irrational. And I took my sick 18-month-old son to Kaiser for his 18-month checkup.
So he screamed during the height check.
And the ear check.
And the oxygen level check ATTEMPT by the teenage candy-striper.
(I dunno what her actual title WAS but she looked like she couldn't possibly be out of high school yet so I don't know how much responsibility she could possibly have.)
This is what she says to me as she tries to wrap a Band-Aid-like device around Jack's index finger:
"You need to keep him still."
[Jack struggles furiously to move as much as possible]
To me: "He's not staying still."
[No crap...]
To Jack: "Hey, buddy! Relax. Just take a deep breath and relax, buddy, okay?"
[I am laughing to myself that this KID is trying to take my toddler through a relaxation exercise as if he's a middle-aged man in therapy.
Jack continues to cry, scream, squirm and otherwise cause a scene. Did I mention all this was occurring while we are STANDING?]
"Well, we really need to check his oxygen level. I can't get an accurate reading because he's crying. Can you get him to stop crying?"
[Ha ha ha...not while you're doing this, lady...]
I say, "He's not going to stop crying."
She says, "How will I get the reading then?"
"You won't."
"Oh..."


But that's not even why I feel like a bad mom. I feel bad because he was way behind on his vaccinations and they made me feel like a complete idiot for not keeping him up-to-date. I'm not ashamed that he was behind. I wasn't that worried. He's never really out of the house or around any other kids or even adults for that matter. (Now I sound like a bad mom for keeping him locked away like a hermit, I know. He's a year and a half. C'mon.)
They ask for the vaccination card. Okay. The teenager takes it away. Another, older lady comes in asking, "These are ALL the shots he's had?!?"
"Yes."
"So he's going to get more, riiiiiight???" She nods her head slowly as if I need prompting for the right answer.
"Yes."
"Good."
She disappears.

The doctor comes in. She is quiet and gentle with Jack. Well, as gentle as you can be with a boy that screams when the stethoscope touches his chest, nose-thingy touches his nose and ear-thingy touches his ear. How can doctors hear what's going on with a kid when they're practically yelling INTO the stethoscope?
She tells me that Jack's way behind on shots. [Sigh. A nearly-empty immunization card must scream ignorance, stupidity or mental handicap.] She says that we can get him all caught up today. For free.

I panic inside, thinking about all the bad things that everyone who likes to do things naturally says about vaccines.
Autism.
Mercury poisoning.
You'll only be able to walk backwards.
I think about all the bad things that everyone who does things traditionally says about not getting vaccines.
The big, bad diseases are coming back because of people like you, you bra-less, hairy-armpitted, hippie herb taker you.
The big, bad evil, flu-ridden pigs will sneak into your child's crib and steal their breath. Or something like that.

So I had them give him all the shots, with a chaser of Tylenol. Six shots. And I felt helpless and good for getting him caught up and bad for causing him so much pain all at once. He looked up at me with betrayal in his tear-filled eyes, breaking my heart! I know it's for his best interest and all of that common sense, but it's not really any easier to deal with at that moment.
He cried on the way to the car.
He sat with his head in his hands on the way home, looking through the English/Spanish board book that the doctor gave him. The book was filled with pictures of smiling babies, leading him to believe that at least one point during this exercise, he might actually have a reason to smile.

No un pucherito
Una sonrisita
Y si quieres
Una risa chistosa

Not a chance, Jack. Not a chance.

A tiny mouse goes looking for some cheese

Halloween was a lot of fun for us. John had to work during the day, but we decorated the house and carved pumpkins. One was Mickey Mouse, inspired by the Disney character pumpkins on top of the entrance turnstiles in front of Disneyland.

Our yard decorations were pretty nifty, but the crowd favorite was our pyro pumpkin, fueled by a roll of toilet paper drenched in kerosene (who needs tealights?)

We liked the effect so much that we burnt one more roll just to enjoy it longer.

And here's our little love, dressed as his #1 hero:


The only thing that really sucked about trick-or-treating was that so few houses on our street participated. I don't know if everyone had parties to go to, everyone was too poor to buy candy for strangers or everyone just failed to participate. Either way, we only had three houses other than us to participate. *pout* At least Jack is still too young to care about quantity. It's not like he can really eat any of the candy anyway.

Jack hated his Mickey hat at first, but once we took him outside and walked him down the street at night he was a little too intimidated to care about the hat! He clung to John's hand with all his might and curiously studied the dark neighborhood.





I've always loved Halloween because to me it's the spark igniting the excitement of the holidays. Most of the time I get irritated that Christmas stuff gets put out sooooo early, but at the same time it's fun to be excited about something for so long. Halloween was a great spark. Or, in the case of the pyro pumpkin, it was a great inferno!