Memorial Day Weekend in Pictures

We decided to stick around town this weekend, unlike the rest of D.C.  The thing is, when your parents have a beach house the beach becomes the last place you want to be on a holiday weekend.  A 6 hour drive takes 10, and the city you live in can become your playground instead. 

I finally downloaded hipstamatic, the iPhone ap I've seen all the other bloggers talking about.  And man, is it fun to play with.

I present, our weekend in pictures.  Look pictures!  Like a real blogger.

Playgrounds-

(A year ago there is no way in hell Michael would have done the balance beam in this picture.  Yeah OT.  And gymnastics.)

Games-

Date Night-

The Zoo-  (Not that zoo.  DC has a great free zoo, but we decided to drive an hour and pay for a zoo, because we are crazy.  No, in all honesty it was awesome.  You can get really up close to the animals and they take you on a safari ride and Michael thought it was possibly the best thing ever.

Roasting Marshmallows in The Backyard.  A year ago we were in the midst of moving hell.  I could not love this house more.

Happy Memorial Day.  And to all who served or the families who served and lost someone, thank you. 

Shoe Friday #79

Elizabeth's Yellow Box Terra's.  I was going to start this new feature on jodifur where I link to the shoes and show you were to get them but these are out of stock, EVERYWHERE.  So, um, maybe next week? 

Coming Around Again

I feel like I have not had a minute in the past year where I have not been concerned about Michael's school placement.  His first school broke his hand.  Then I stressed about moving him.  Then we moved him and that went oh so well. Then we stressed about moving him again.  Then we moved him again and things got better.

This is not normal.  This cannot be normal.

But now we have to make another decision, and I have spent the last three days doing nothing but thinking about that decision.  Well, more like the last 3 months.  And I'm squarely in the the last person I talk to wins camp.  Yesterday Michael's teacher told me he is still having a hard time sitting at circle time (once he leaves preschool I never, ever want to hear the term "circle time" again) and he is high energy.  And a new one, he can be disrespectful to teachers.

On explanation, her version of disrespectful and my version of disrespectful are a little bit different.  What she explained as disrespectful I understand to be garden variety not listening, but fine, it is not okay school behavior.  And I thought fine, he stays here another year.  To learn to not do these things.  Which is what his school thinks should happen.  (Clarification: The school does not think we should hold him back. The school thinks he should do kindergarten there.  I'm not sure that is clear.  And this is the new school, which I really do happen to like.  Sorry if that did not come across.)  

We got the report from the specialist he went to forever ago also yesterday, who diagnosis him with nothing but gives a list of recommendations that no public school will follow, nor do I really believe he needs, but does say he believes Michael will be successful at public school.  So fine, he'll be successful at public school.

And then I spoke to the Assistant Principal at the the public school who assured me that the "problems" I am describing are not enough to keep Michael from being successful in a public school setting and she  knows no reason not to send him.  Next year.  If he is going to go anyway, why not go next year?  Which is what I have been saying all along.

But on the other hand we have "circle time," and "disrespectful," and "high energy."  But I will say I am grateful this is what we have, because at the beginning of this year I was being told by his old school things like "aggressive" and "too high functioning for special needs but can never go to public school and will never read."  So I'll take what I have.  But it is not making my decision any easier.

I can't make another mistake in the school arena.  I have made two.  Pretty significant ones.  If we move him and it blows up, I've done it again.  It we keep him where he is and first grade is a disaster I have done it again.

I CAN'T WIN.

I will make you guys a deal.  One of you make the decision.  If it goes well I'll give you all the credit.  But if it goes poorly, you are getting all the blame.  And if it helps, Doug is leaning towards public school.  Maybe I should let him pick and then blame him.  I seem to do that anyway.

*****For some reason my comments on both here and mamapop are not being emailed to me.  You know that I always respond to my comments via email, and I'm still trying to do that, but if I do not email you back it is because I am not getting all my comments.  Typepad can not figure out the reason.  I am not ignoring you.  I really want your thoughts.

Why You Should Feel Bad For My Husband

Doug is in charge of bath time.  Which has become shower time.  Michael showers in our bathroom, because he doesn't like any other shower.  (On another note, can I please shower without a floor full of toys, please?  Just once.)  Doug came downstairs Sunday night and looked at me and said, "Michael needs more soap." 

"I just bought that soap, huh?" 

"Yeah, he poured it down the drain."

So instead of laughing, I got mad. 

"He poured it down the drain.  That's a $5.00 bottle of soap.  (Michael has crazy sensitive skin and we have to buy ultra sensitive organic soap.  But really $5.00  I got mad about $5.00?)  And what were you doing?"

"I didn't think he would pour soap down the drain.  I was in our room."

"Don't  you think I have better things to do then go get him soap everyday?"

"Forget it, I'll get it myself."

Now really, come on.  I couldn't just suck it up and get the kid soap (And I did.)  And keep my mouth shut.  When Doug gets home from work he basically does everything and I sit on my butt and surf the internet.  And It is not like I've been parenting all day.  Michael's been at school and three days a week l've been at work and I've just picked him up at 3:00 and Doug got home at 5:30 and I made dinner and driven him to various activities and wait, I do kind of deserve to sit on my butt.  But Doug gets very little sitting on his butt time.  So yes, I could have just shut up. 

But wait, I didn't.  Right before we were going to sleep I came up with this.  I decided to ask him why he LET ME start doing couch to 5k.  And which point he burst out laughing.

"At what point have I LET YOU do anything?"

"Why when I came to you and told you I was going to do this did you not tell me this was a terrible idea?"

"Would you have listened?"

"No.  BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED."

"Jodi....what exactly did you want me to say?"

"I don't know, maybe you hate to run."

"I'm still not entirely sure how you deciding to run became my fault."

"Because it is.  Part of your job is to save from my own craziness.  And this running thing is insane."

"I'm going to sleep."

"Your not listening to me."

"Goodnight."

I will point out that this conversation was said in good fun.  And we were laughing the whole time.  But I think Doug was laughing at me, not with me.  Probably rightly so.

On Perfection

Your comments on this post were so lovely.  And I love that post so much I'm moving it over to my favorite posts page.  (New to jodifur?  Great way to get acquainted.)

But I have to say, the idea that my family is perfect?  Oh guys, we are so, so not.  My friend Jennie often blogs about she hates reading "shiny, happy" blogs where everyone's lives are sunny and wonderful.  And I would hope that jodifur is not that.

I can honestly say that there are problems I don't blog about.  Not because I am hiding problems from my readers, but because I CAN'T.  I can not blog about my job.  I choose not to blog about extended family issues because that would get me no where but in trouble quickly.  I don't often blog about fights with my husband unless there is some kind of humor value in them.  One, they are private, and two, how uncomfortable is that? 

I was very open about Michael's behavior problems at school.  And some may say even a little too open.  But Michael is now FIVE.  And some day he may find this blog.  And he is entitled to some modicum of privacy, however small it may be.  So every little thing he does wrong, doesn't go up on this blog.

But please, please know this.  My life is not perfect.  My family is not perfect.  This is not a "shiny, happy" everything is wonderful all the time blog.  

Thursday I had one of those horrible parenting days.  Michael was in time out more times that I could count.  I yelled, too much.  By the time he went to bed there was wine and I was ready to tear my hair out.  And I tweeted, "you know why I am only having one.  BECAUSE I SUCK AT THIS."

Yesterday Michael had a play date with a friend from school and we ended up hanging out with the parents upstairs while the boys played in the basement.  And the mom told me that she had noticed that Michael often sticks up for a child when he is being picked on by other kids.  And my heart soared.  Because if my kid can do that?  Stick up for a kid who is being picked up by other kids?  Then we are doing something right.  Then he is all the perfect I need.

   

Shoe Friday #78

Shoes from a girls night out!

Mine, Kim's, Nicole's and someone else who was at the Playseum mom night outs' shoes.  Please comment, claim your shoes!

On Having An Only

I get asked (a lot) about having an only child.  The whys, the hows, the what ifs.  And truth be told I'm not sure it is all that different than any of your lives, I just have one child.

When Michael was born, actually before Michael was born, when I was pregnant, I adamantly said I would never have another child.  My pregnancy was rough, I was on and off bed rest with pre eclampsia and my doctor told me a second pregnancy would be tougher.  And then Michael was a really, really easy baby. But still, the yearning for a second baby never came.

But the summer before I got sick, right before his 4th birthday, Doug I considered trying again.  Not really trying, but not not trying I guess.  But it never happened and then the Lupus diagnosis came, and with it came a strong caution against any more children.  

But still I asked doctors, what if?  What if I wanted more, had more, what would happened?  There would be high risk doctors and so much medicine and so much bed rest and risk, risk, risk.  But we could do that.  We could talk about it.  But we should do it before you turn 35, the doctors told me.  Because then the risk becomes even more.

And I always thought after we moved.  After we moved we would talk about it.  We would sit down and Doug would come with me to a doctor's appointment and we would weigh the pros and cons and figure it out.

And then we moved.  And then the pre school nightmare happened.  And I thought we were going to have private school and specialists and a diagnosis. And a baby?  Are you kidding me?

And I never really had a yearning for another one.  And I turned 35 two weeks ago.  The door is officially closed.

But Michael has started asking why so and so has brothers and sisters and he doesn't.  And I don't know how to answer him.  "Because you were enough" doesn't seem fair.  "Because I couldn't have anymore" isn't exactly true and puts way too much pressure on a five year old.

The truth is in a perfect world I think I would have had another child.  But life isn't perfect, and mine is still pretty damn good.

"Because our family is complete," is the only answer I can come up with.  And it is.  

Our family is complete.

In Which Cheese Makes Me Wax Poetic About Blogging

I have been in a weird place about blogging lately.  I think the whole internet has been really.  I have been harboring these fantasies about just quietly going away in the night.  Not doing a final post, just fading to black.  Shutting twitter down, shutting jodifur down....silence.

No real reason, I just lost my footing.  My place.  My blog soul.  If you don't want to "build your brand," than who are you anymore?

Last night I ate cheese and drank wine at an event sponsored by The Melting Pot.  But for me, it was a reminder of why I blog.  Surrounded by so many friends.  True friends.  People who know and love me and who have touched me and connected with me in a real and profound way.  

No one failed to ask about Michael.  If we had made "the decision yet?" (No)  Choruses of, "you look fabulous" and "wow, the running is paying off."

And many of them commented and how amazing my readers are.  How loyal.  How I have the most sincere, supportive comments.  And I hear this time and time again, at each PR event I go to, from different people.  And I do, I have fantastic readers.

I don't need, nor do I want to build a blogging empire.  I don't need, nor do I want to get anything from blogging, other than sitting around a table, drinking wine and eating cheese with the amazing women that I get to call my friends.  That Michael gets to play with their kids.  And even though I didn't, I gladly would have payed for that meal.

Blogging has brought people and places in my life and opportunities that I never would have had.  But it is not my whole life.  My friends and my family are.  

Thank you Jessica for you reminding me of that.

(For those of you confused by the title, read this)

The Long Tortured Story of the Caterpillar and the Terrarium

When I was in New York last weekend Michael called me to tell me we had a new pet.  "What?"  I exclaimed, practically yelling into the phone.  "We are NOT GETTING A NEW PET. "

"I got a caterpillar Mommy.  I made him a terrarium."  (Who the hell says terrarium?  What the hell 5 year old says terrarium?")

"Michael, the caterpillar needs to live OUTSIDE.  OUTSIDE."

"But Mommy, I want him inside, he is my pet."

"OUTSIDE.  Caterpillars live OUTSIDE."

"But Mommy...."

"Can I talk to Daddy please?"

"He found him at the campground," Doug said when he came to the phone.

"Doug, that caterpillar is not living in my house."

"But it is in a closed box."

"OUTSIDE."

When I came home the caterpillar was in fact OUTSIDE.  In some bug kit we had bought him a gazillion years ago that I had long since forgotten about.  That came with plastic bugs.  He had made him a nice home with leaves and sticks and some plastic bug friends.  I'd show you a picture but I'm writting this at 9 o'clock at night and it is pouring rain.  It's cute.  Except that he begs me to bring the Caterpillar inside because he is cold! and wet! and my favorite, "Foster is going to eat him." (Never mind that Foster is inside.)

Here is the thing.  I'm a girlie girlie.  I like things that are pink.  And frilly.  I love the Disney Princesses.  I went to the flagship Juicy Couture store this weekend.  And was happy.  Give me sparkles.  And makeup.  I don't do dirt.  And bugs.  And mud.  And caterpillars.

Can't we send the caterpillars home?  To the wild? Does he really need a Terrarium?

And what did Michael name him?  Baby Caterpillar.

I blame the camping.  Nothing good comes from camping.

Rock Of Jodi

I spent the weekend in NYC with my mom and sister for our annual girls weekend of shopping and theater. And food. There was a lot of food. (But you guys, I couch 25ked twice! Be so proud if me.  Running!  On Vacation!  You would think I liked it, but I don't.)

One of the shows we saw was Rock of Ages. It is an 80's Hair Band musical. I know! How come no one thought of this earlier? They give you a fake lighter when you walk in and sell beer. In the theater. Like a rock concert. I was in heaven. In fact, I'm listening to the music on my iPod while I draft this on my iPad on the train ride home. I downloaded the music before we even left NYC.

We also saw Promises, Promises. My opinion on that whole mess is over on Mamapop today.

Poor Doug. He took Micbael camping this weekend. Camping. (I'm so sorry I missed that.) While I was rocking out and shopping and drinking on Broadway, he was sleeping in a tent. Michael also decided this was the weekend he was going to stop all forms of listening. I felt terrible when Doug called me to tell me that he invoked the "no screens" punishment on Michael and things were going down hill quickly. I bought him cupcakes.  Doug, not Michael.

But there is nothing that will ever, ever make me as happy, or make me laugh as hard as Rock of Ages again. How can you not support a show that has you rocking out with this?