A Big Bug

"Okay, Boy, take it easy.  You can still play with the cars.  You just have to move out of the middle of the circle because all the other children are enjoying Santa Claus doling out presents and you're kinda stealing the spotlight."

This morning The Boy described the breakfast set before him--

BOY:  Toast!

ME:  That's right, french toast.

BOY:  Orange!

ME:  That's right, Mama's orange.  Do you want to eat it?

BOY:  NO.

ME:  Okay, what else?

BOY:  Raisins!

ME:  Yep

BOY:  Mook!

ME:  Yes, you have milk.

BOY:  And a big bug!

ME:  Huh?

The Boy's FAVORITE phrase to say is "a big bug."  It gets thrown on the end of any basic conversation we're having.  Now I think I should buy him A Bug's Life.  Is it too late to get to Target?  This is how my brain works these days...    

Cords Uprising

Boy and Daddy playing with toys at Toddler school.  Once Santa left we could get back to fun!
(He had no interest in Santa whatsoever.  It might be genetic as I was exactly the same.)

I was just complaining about this to my friend Natasha (Natasha, stop reading now if you don't want a repeat rant)---

WHY ARE THERE SO MANY CORDS???!

I can't take it.  I need a suitcase just to pack all the cords that accompany the small appliances I'm taking on my travels.  The portable DVD player, my cell phone, the camera to download to the computer, the computer, the white noise machine I can't live without...there's something else and I can't remember right now.

Now technically I don't need the camera/computer cord THAT badly but why not toss it into the mix if half a dozen others MUST tag along?

My friend was impressed that I loaned her a portable dvd player that was all packed up in it's box and included all necessary cords and instructions.  Well, I am not that anal and put together.  I simply lose these things CONSTANTLY and then lose my mind shortly thereafter!  It's called survival now.  If I don't keep it all together then I will lose my mind completely.

The last time I didn't put the DVD player cords back in the box I totally freaked out the charger was lost forever.  Then Mr. Jarcy found the charger on top of my dresser (a wasteland of other odds and ends that I can't even begin to address).  See what I mean?  I'd been sleeping less than 3 feet from the damn thing for months and STILL had no clue as to it's whereabouts!  I can't be trusted so into it's original packaging it goes!  Where it's safe and so is my sanity.

Now I'm worrying about how much I worry about cords.  I better have another glass of "Mad Housewife" chardonnay to dull the fear the cords will strangle me in my sleep.  (Too dark?  Sorry!  I'm a poor judge of what's appropriate sometimes.)

Giki Had An "Accident"

Boy at Toddler School

Part of parenting is becoming a really good liar.

The Boy LOVES his Giki.  What's a Giki, you ask?  A blankie that he's named Giki.  As he chews on it for security throughout the day (he sounds like a puppy doesn't he?) you can imagine how gross Giki becomes.  If you wash Giki, however, you run the risk of him either abandoning Giki all-together (I'm not ready for that to happen as we're flying across the country Wednesday) or having a major meltdown over Giki getting clean.

My inner liar took over today's operation--

Phase 1 of deception:  Today we washed Giki in the washer behind Boy's back but didn't dry him.  Then I tossed him into the dry bath tub when Boy wasn't looking as if Giki had slipped/fallen/been pushed in there without any of us knowing.  It was our little Giki crime scene, if you will.

Phase 2 of deception:  "Boy," I called out, "have you seen Giki lately?"

Boy called out, "Giki!  Giki!"  (He calls out as if Giki will come running.)

Phase 3 of deception:  We led Boy to the bathroom where he stumbled upon Giki in the tub and we gasped, "Oh look!  Giki took a bath!  How did that happen?"

Boy stood over the crime scene...er, bath tub.  "Giki bath," he said.

"Yes, Giki took a bath," we said.

"Giki wet," Boy said.

He is now playing with damp Giki and, cross your fingers, has accepted him back into his loving arms (and mouth).  I feel a little dirty for this deceit but better my soul be slightly soiled than that smelly blanket.  I couldn't take it's stench for another minute...

One Apt. Dweller's Trash Is A Toddler's Treasure

The Boy has shown himself to be a salvager.

This plastic drawer and mismatched lid--that doesn't fit, by the way-- was left out by the garbage shoot on our floor.  The Boy just HAD to have them.  He kept calling the drawer a "car" because it has wheels on the bottom so you can slide it under the bed.  It has yielded an hour of entertainment this afternoon.

Now I'm wondering whether I haul it back out to the trash or find a use for it.  My inner greenie says to keep it.  My inner clutterbug says to scrap it.  My inner procrastinator will probably win out, leaving it in the middle of the living room floor for the next week.

Embracing My Hermit Ways

I have had a pretty wonderful day with The Boy above.  Here's my recipe for a great day...

1. Get all the planets to align to ensure a well rested night of sleep for all parties involved.
2. Upon wakening, don't get dressed.  In fact, don't get dressed at all.  Stay in those jammies all day long.
3. Don't leave the house.  
4. Play, read, watch movies.  
5. Nap in the afternoon.
6. Play, read, watch movies more.
7. Yeah...that's about it.

OF COURSE I needed to go to the grocery store, holiday shop, get fresh air, blah blah blah...I put it all off and just played with my kid.  It was lovely.  I feel renewed.

Tomorrow we will get back to the errands, the activities outside of the home, the struggle to put pants on The Boy.  But for today it was nice not having to do any of that.  After all, you can't force a toddler to dress when you yourself do not.  :-)

* Edited note 10 minutes after posting:  If #1 on the list does NOT occur then the rest can-- or just organically will-- but won't be nearly as fun.

Baby It's Cold Outside...Sorta

"My mother thinks it's cold outside and I think I'm my best friend Cat.  We're an odd bunch."

I'm about to do something real annoying to many of you reading my blog...

I'm going to complain about the cold(ish) weather in Southern California.  

I can't believe it either!!!  Listen, a year ago I NEVER would have even considered a single complaint to come out of my mouth (Well, regarding cold weather at least.  We all know I can complain about other things with ease.).  I would see locals bundled up in puffy coats and Ugg boots when temperatures dropped to 50 degrees and think, Oh brother!  You don't know the meaning of cold, people!  Toughen up! 

Now I'm one of those people.

The temps have gone down to the high 30's at night and in the 50's during the day.  And I've been freezing!  I shouldn't even mention the night temp because rarely am I out at night.  Regardless, I have requested Ugg type boots for Christmas (although I said it was so sand wouldn't get into my shoes while at the park with Boy) and I'm on the hunt for a wool coat more suitable to fall weather.

Wow, I don't recognize this California Mrs. Jarcy one bit (especially since I have more "internal padding" than I did before leaving Chicago).

The drama of living in a barely heated Chicago apartment are but a distant memory, thank goodness.  I have a feeling I won't know what hit me when we head back to the Midwest in a few weeks.  

The Sweatshirt Must Be Lined With Spikes. That MUST Be It.

Not sure why Boy is naked.  Oh wait, yes I do.  Because he hates clothes.  The inspiration for this post was prompted by a tantrum over wearing a hooded sweatshirt to go play outdoors.  Sigh.

I fear the neighbors will rise up and revolt against our loud, temperamental ways.

It may be irrational or unnecessary to think this way.  However, if you've ever met my kid--The Most Amazing Boy To Ever Live--you might see my point.  The Boy is "passionate."  That's what one of my friends calls her boys and it's a description fitting for Boy as well.  I don't know if it's the moody age two fast approaching or his recent illness or simply his personality but he is one loud and emoting individual.

I can't imagine where he gets it?  (I look down sheepishly before pointing finger in the direction of his father.)  Alright fine, he gets his personality from BOTH of his parents.  I was hoping it would be like how two negatives make a positive in math but that's not been the case.  We're all positives.  Wildly charged positives.  Mr. Jarcy took The Boy to the doctor to get checked out from his recent bad cold and even the doctor was like, "Woah, this kid is strong."  He probably said it more like, "WOAH!  THIS KID IS STRONG!" because Boy was screaming at the top of his lungs.  I know kids don't love the doctor but when he's as strong and loud as he is it tends to get mighty stressful.  That's why I stayed home (and yet still stressed out you may notice).

He's ours for life (a life he's promised me will be until he's at least 110 years old) and I wouldn't trade him for the world but there are moments when his dramatic screams are enough to send me to the nut house.  Or a house.  I need a house with walls independent of other residences so he can be as loud as he wants and I won't worry as much about him bothering others.

Somehow this post has ended as a plea to the universe for us to secure the sufficient funds for a house in L.A.  Oh boy...

Reaching New Heights

BOY:  Look, Cat!  I got up on the bed all by myself!

CAT:  Yes, Boy, I've noticed.

BOY:  Isn't this exciting?!

CAT:  Uh huh, terribly exciting.  Can't you tell by my squinty eyes, drawn back ears and twitching tail?  Yes, brimming with excitement over here.

BOY:  We can wrestle with the pillows together!  I love wrestling with the pillows!  Here, lemme bury you under a pillow too!

CAT:  Remember that word GENTLE Mommy and Daddy taught you long ago, Boy?  Yet again that word comes to mind...

THE Rick Springfield

My friend Natasha loves Rick Springfield so almost a month ago we went to his book signing/interview at a theater in L.A.

The man on the left in the photo above is Rick Springfield.  THE Rick Springfield.  The man on the right is interviewing Rick Springfield and I don't remember who is he is exactly.  I was too consumed with camera flashes going off all around me.  No really, there was an INSANE amount of cameras flashing at a constant speed all for pics of Rick Springfield.  It was too much if you ask me.  I looked around and nobody but Natasha and I seemed to be simply sitting and listening/watching the interview.  What...you didn't think Rick Springfield was still a big name?  Well I didn't either but, lemme tell you, he is.  And not surprisingly, his fan base is mostly comprised of women in their 30's and 40's.

I can't say I was particularly star struck by Rick but that's also because he didn't fawn over my friend like I had expected him to.  Natasha is very fawnable as far as women--and loyal fans-- go.  He had TOLD her to identify herself after she had interviewed him on the phone for a magazine and said she'd be seeing him at the upcoming event.  So yeah, I wasn't impressed.  I think he's too used to being fawned over himself that the act now is a one-sided activity in his experience.

That being said, I have been enjoying "Jessie's Girl" just as much, if not more, than before.    

Dr's Drum Solo

Turkey With A Side Of Vic's Vapo Rub

"WHAT ARE WE CELEBRATING?!  WHATEVER.  I'LL JUST HAVE JUICE, PEES!"

This is what The Boy looked like on Thanksgiving.  He has a cold.  We were thinking of canceling our plans all together but then he'd rally and be full of energy.  So we went to our friends' house and had a lovely and intimate gathering.  4 adults, 2 toddler boys (only a month apart in age) and enough food to feed an army.  The Toddler Boys ate NONE of the food so I managed to eat enough for them as well.

Camel

Mom and Son posing with a concrete camel.  It happens...

Coat

"How could you put me in this warm coat?!  HOW COULD YOU!???  WAH!"

While we're only venturing 3 miles down Ventura Blvd. for Thanksgiving, we will be traveling 2,000 miles back to Chicagoland for Christmas.  My parents picked up the winter coat pictured above (with accompanied snow pants) last year when we went home.  The good news is the coat still fits.  The bad news is The Boy is now old enough to realize he's not a fan of coats.

I have become one of those parents I used to see out in the world and judge (not all that discreetly I might add).  Why don't they have a hat/sweater/coat on that little child?!  What's wrong with those people?  Look at THEM all bundled up while baby goes without!  

Yeah, well I owe all those folks a big apology (except for the ones who really are idiots and didn't even bother to attempt a hat/sweater/coat).  It's a good thing we live in Southern California-- or perhaps because of it-- because Boy hates warm clothes.  Lately just getting pants on the little fellow is a battle.  And if you think pants are a struggle then don't even think about getting a hooded sweatshirt on his little torso!  No way, Sister, no way!

So yeah, winter in Chicago will be interesting...  

One Moment...

I have a problem... I am too helpful when I answer phones.

You see, I am used to working in the service industry.  I have answered phones for the better part of my life.  The first job was answering phones for my father's restaurant and I took down "to go" orders and dinner reservations.  I temped in a medical billing office.  I answered phones for a prenatal clinic.  I worked in nonprofit and trained/supervised volunteers in answering phones.  I worked as a receptionist at other offices.  And then I sold tickets at the improv theater and had to answer phones there.  All of these jobs required me to be friendly and helpful.  Standard procedure is the customer is always right.

But not my current job in a casting office.  Now I am a gatekeeper.  I've realized that the combination of training as an improv actor and the undying inner urge to please others has made it extraordinarily difficult for me to just answer a phone without wanting to help the caller as much as I can.  

I am all, "Hi!  Yes, he/she IS here!  Well, lemme see if he/she is available to talk!  I don't have the answer but would you like for me to find someone who does know the answer?  Let me see what I can do!" Sigh...

This may sound silly but I'm so used to selling (food, theater tickets, social services) or directing calls right away that taking this breath and simply answering "One moment..." does not come naturally.  Basically, I'm used to answering phones with a level of desperation.  Does that make sense?  The caller has always been the one in charge and I've been there to help get them what they need.  This job is not that.  Which is nice because I was ready for something new.

So I had to write myself a memo to simply answer the damn phone with "One moment..."  I'm not there to make sure the caller gets exactly what he/she needs for the first time in my life.  It's not going as smoothly as I would have hoped but still a nice change regardless of how petty and insignificant this may sound.  

 

Domestic Snafus

"Lemme get this straight...you bought ANOTHER cheap media console from
IKEA to replace the OLD cheap media console from IKEA?  That might really be the snafu!
(I'll watch the TV no matter where it is, you know)."  

AHHHH!  

Let me explain... First off, Mr. Jarcy and I bought a new media console from IKEA.  We bought it over a month ago and of course the dang thing is still in its box.  Wait a minute...what's that # 2 mean on the ONE box we brought home?  Why yes, that means there is another box with a #1 on it that we failed to bring home with us!  

AHHHH!

And to top it all off, we have no receipt.  So we have a partial media console.  It's now worthless and the piece was being discontinued (and super cheap) and even if we do find box #1 in the Burbank store they won't give it to us because we have no receipt!

AHHHHH!

It's the little things like this in life that make you want  to go ballistic.  So I have decided to do just that. Let's just say this week has been a bit rough and leave it at that...

Walks

The Boy, his father and I take walks.  We walk a lot actually.  And I don't mean the kind where he sits in a stroller for 45 minutes while his father and I walk, although, on occasion we do that too.  I mean the kind where Boy grabs our hands and we walk all around the neighborhood...hand in hand.  It's quite lovely and, yes, he is not even two years old yet.

I have always enjoyed walking.  My friends and I would walk for what seemed like hours in high school and college.  I love it.  And I'm so glad we can now do that with Boy.  He's not the fastest but with every month it seems we pick up the pace.  I'm already looking forward to walks when he's 10, 20, 45.  I mean, what 45 year old man doesn't enjoy a long walk with his parents!?  Sorry, Boy, you've started this walking pattern!  You established it LONG ago when nobody was allowed to simply hold you without pacing the apartment floors!

On one our walks this week we came across these rope thingies.  They were scattered about underneath what looked like a grapefruit tree.  I am so unschooled on plants in general.  I can barely identify a rosebush let alone plants, bushes and trees.  Either way, Boy and I thoroughly enjoy exploring the outdoors on our walks.

Flip Flops

"Of course I'm pushing my blankie and a large James train from 'Thomas' around
in my stroller, what else would I be strolling?!"  

Recent conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Jarcy--

MR:  "Making it in Hollywood as a no-name actor is like climbing Mount Everest in flip flops."

MRS:  Ha!  That's funny!  Where did you hear that?

MR:  From you.

MRS:  I told you that?

MR:  Yes.

MRS:  Well who said it originally?

MR:  You did!

MRS:  I did?  When?

MR:  Just recently!

MRS:  Huh, well that's interesting.

MR:  You're funny, Honey.

MRS:  Well maybe so but not when I'm writing a damn book!

Toddler Halloween

Don't I look sort of possessed?  That was my costume I guess.

MAAAAM!

Seemingly out of nowhere, The Boy began to speak actual words.  It all went down this weekend.

First lots of "Mom" and "Dad."  He says them like this-- MAAAAAAAM!!!!  DAAAAAAAAD!!!!  DAAAAAAM!!!!  (I can only assume that's his way of joining our two names like Bennifer or Brangelina.  We are a Hollywood power couple after all.  :-) )

Then he moved on to "apple" and "camel."  By chance we visited a park that has a big, concrete camel and, lo and behold, he said CAMEL!  How does he even know what a camel is, we wondered?  I don't recall any camels in our books or TV programs.  Huh.

Also in rotation is "baby" and "book."  Somehow baby is said correctly, however, book is pronounced "gook."  

It's all quite exciting!

Just Write The Damn Book, Woman

BOY:  Mommy says she's going off to write her book.

CAT:  Good.

BOY:  Well is "writing a book" code for shopping?  Most times she comes home an hour later with shopping bags from Target or Trader Joe's.  

CAT:  It's called avoidance, Boy.  Spending precious time running errands makes more sense to her logical brain then spending countless hours writing a book.

BOY:   But she's always wanted to write a book!  Why would she avoid doing what she truly desires?!  

CAT:  Yeah, I know.  She's weird.   

Zip It City Is Lovely This Time Of Year

"I feel free!"

I haven't been blogging as much lately.  It bums me out a bit.  I like when I was writing something to post daily.  It may be the path I'm on right now.  That path is towards Zip It City.

What is it about being a mom that gives me the uncontrollable urge to constantly talk?  It's maddening!

Have I always been like this?  (Don't answer that, I'm afraid to know the truth.)  Listen, I have never been one to deny myself the opportunity to talk.  My phone bills act as proof.  But since becoming a mother it seems I rarely allow a breath or two to escape my yapping mouth when conversing with friends.  I just don't stop!

So I've been talking less and listening more.

The behavior has come in handy while dealing with a state case worker in the attempt to secure The Boy speech therapy.  (The Boy talks constantly as well but in a language all his own.)  The case worker has made this process more complicated than securing a new liver, that much I know for sure.  It has been chaos creating.  So instead of yapping like a crazy lady I have shut the heck up and let her just go on and on.  It has given me a sense of calm.  Let her be the crazy one, I could use the break.  This whole path was the doctor's orders anyway, not mine.  If I have to continue then I have to cope by NOT talking so much.

So yeah, that's my new thing--talk less, listen more.

I learned a lot more in my parenting class (Toddler School) on Tuesday as a result.  Of course, the teacher was practically yelling over the group of mothers.  We all need a trip to Zip It City in that class.  At times I wanted to talk but then thought, "You know, these other gals have that covered."  I simply sat, listened and sipped my coffee.  Give some other stressed out mommy the floor to vent because I'm vented out.  Besides, the only way it seems I'm going to finish this book is if I start composing chapters in my head any chance I can get.  

Role Reversal

BOY:  Mommy's writing class takes up a lot of her time.

CAT:  She has been busy.  How does this make you feel?

BOY:  Okay I guess.  Daddy has been home with me instead.

CAT:  He has been home with you.  How does this make you feel?

BOY:  It's cool I guess.  He's a super fun daddy.

CAT:  He is a super fun daddy.  How does this make you feel?

Summoning Tim Gunn

"Mommy, what are you doing?
You're not supposed to be blogging, you have a one-page summary to write.
Use your time wisely!"

I'm in a little over my head here.  Okay, I mean a lot.  A LOT.

Tomorrow night for class I need to submit a one page summary of the book I will be writing over the course of the next few weeks.  I also need to spend the day at my new job before that as well as read over and critique 10-page submissions that two other students have completed.  So reading and writing before I go to bed tonight and then gone all day tomorrow...uh huh.  Well I guess that just makes me think of the following--WHAT AM I GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IN THIS CLASS????!

I don't know what to write.  I have about 500 different story ideas racing around in my head like bumper cars.  There is no winner, just a lot of bumping.  I start with an idea, get the motor running, pick up speed and then WHAMMO another stupid bumper car (I mean idea) T-bones me and I'm left wondering what direction I'm facing.

Is this analogy making any sense?  Can you feel the panic that is being unleashed from within?  AHHHHHH!

Tim Gunn would say, "Make it work, Mrs. Jarcy.  This is 'make it work' time."  He's right.  Tim Gunn is always right.  I wish I had one of his books right now because I would read that and gain insight and...woah, no time for a Tim Gunn Tangent here, Woman!  Make it work, make it work...

Now should I type on my computer or write in a notebook?  Make it work, make it work...

Tuesday Recap

Tuesday three things happened... (1) I interviewed to work at a casting agency, (2) Mr. Jarcy took The Boy to Toddler School in my absence, and (3) I started my commercial female fiction (chick lit) class at UCLA.  Now here's how that all played out...

I learned that I will be working at the casting agency one day a week.  I am happy, excited, terrified, sad to leave my boy.  I know it's just one day (just one day, woman!) but I am so used to being home.  It will be weird.  And probably very good for me.

I learned that getting to Santa Monica from my home in the Valley will be long and treacherous.  It is 16 miles one way and at least 40 minutes will be spent driving down Ventura Blvd for less than 2 miles to pick up the freeway getting me to Santa Monica. Thank goodness I have spent my entire life battling Chicago traffic.  This is not new, I must remind myself.

I learned that my butt is presently too big to squeeze into most of my pants.  Enough said on this.

I learned that The Husband loved taking The Boy to Toddler School.  This makes me happy/sad.  I love taking him there as well but won't be able to as routinely as before.  Boo to the Hoo.

I learned that The Husband is perhaps the most supportive and loving creature there is on planet earth.  Possibly the entire universe.  I knew this already but this week has sealed the deal.

I learned that UCLA's campus is beautiful.  Starting a class there in the fall only enhances it's beauty.  It is also vast and overwhelming.

I learned that I have no idea what story I am going to write for this class.  I am supposed to be writing a book!  I am currently at a loss over the minor detail regarding what it should be about.  No pressure.

I learned that I describe myself to strangers in a class as if I am doing a stand-up routine.  (Why am I not just taking a class on preparing a stand-up routine?!)  We had to partner up with a classmate, interview one another and then present our findings to the group.  Let's just say my partner didn't present any of my comedic bits in the proper order.  She made me sound very odd and not in a good way.  "This is Mrs. Jarcy, she lives here now after living elsewhere, her parents are tolerant, she's weathered and dated a lot.  She likes her husband because he buys her jewelry."  What?  That's sort of what I said but not really! Stand-up is definitely not her thing.  She also failed to mention The Boy while describing me which continues to haunt me.  Now the class thinks I'm a reformed hooker who's tolerated by her parents and is more concerned about jewels than her own son.  That wasn't the first impression I was going for.

Did I already tell you about learning more about my sizable butt?  I think I did so enough said...

Where's Mrs. Jarcy?

Photo of Boy, Mr. Jarcy and An Unidentified Weathered-Looking Woman

I came across this photo of The Boy and Mr. Jarcy on my computer.  Aren't they lovely?  God, I love them so hard.  However, I don't know who this woman is.  She doesn't look familiar...  I wonder why Mr. Jarcy has his hand on her backside? Hmm, it's all a mystery to me.

Mrs. Jarcy, that woman is you!

(Blink blink pause)

Say that again, please?

(Eye roll eye roll sigh)

Honey, the woman above is YOU.  I don't think you've looked in the mirror lately because that is what you presently look like.  

ME?  The woman above with her "perpetually 5 months pregnant" belly, ill-fitted t-shirt and hunched over shoulders is ME?  Since when?!  Why didn't anyone tell me this???

(Blink blink pause)

I know, it's tough.  But honestly if you just pulled your shoulders UP and BACK you would LOOK and FEEL so much better.  

Shoulders UP and BACK...you know, that reminds me I am certified as a yoga instructor.  I could work on that no problem!  And I still have Pilates classes to use at two different studios.  Well that would tackle the belly AND hunched over shoulders.  Huh.  And come to think of it, I do own tops that are not t-shirts... Wow, maybe I do have some control over this situation after all!

(Eye roll eye roll sigh)  

I Can Do This, I Can Do This...

Oh boy, I have been a terrible blogger as of late.

Yes, I've noticed!  What's happening over there?

Well, I've been ill.  It's hard enough getting me to do anything when I'm healthy so being ill really slows me to slug speed.

What else?

Well, I've been interviewing.  I might go work in a casting office one day a week.  Dipping my toes in this out-of-the-home work thing again.  It's been awhile since I've interacted/worked with others without it involving my son.  I'm nervous.

I see.  Anything else?

Well, tonight I'm starting a writing class at UCLA.  I'm very excited about it.  It's on writing commercial female fiction.  I hope to write a full book in the coming months.

It doesn't sound like you've been a slug.  Perhaps you're being a little too hard on yourself, Mrs. Jarcy.

Yes, I see your point.  I've been productive after all!  Yippee!!!  I should take a nap as a reward!

Sigh...

Make Mine A Double

"Hey, Daddy, did you by chance get my Americano?  Mine tastes more like your usual Macchiato." 

"Oh, never mind, this is an Americano.  It looked a little foamy on top so I got confused.  Yum..."

Don't worry, he's not really drinking coffee beverages (this is obvious to me but then again toddlers are on YouTube smoking so just to cover myself I will say that).  Lord knows he doesn't need any help with being alert and awake.  Between his desire to "drink coffee" and "apply lip balm" like Mommy I wonder what habits I'm really teaching him here.  Either way, it's cute watching him play "adult."  

Pick Your Battles

We're gearing up for Halloween here.  I found these gems above to dress up The Boy.    

Are those just t-shirts?  Is that what you plan on dressing up The Boy in for Halloween?

Yep.  One long-sleeved in the event it's cool outside and one short-sleeved if it's warm.  Blue pants or shorts will accompany the shirt and we'll be calling it a costume. (guilt building, guilt building, guilt building)  

But why just t-shirts?!

YOU try wrenching his mighty buns into an adorably cute and fuzzy costume!  Don't you think I'd prefer to put him in an actual costume?  Because I would!   But getting him in pants and shoes is enough of a battle!  We're going t-shirts route at this stage in the game and calling it a costume and praying he doesn't realize it's a costume.  Got it?!  Don't make me feel guilty about this! (anxiety, anxiety, anxiety)  

Okay, okay, take it easy, Mrs. Jarcy, nobody's trying to create more stress.  The t-shirts are a great idea.

Ooh!  You really think so?  I thought they were super cute too! (guilt subsiding, guilt subsiding, guilt subsiding)   

Bok Choy Bullying

I've been ignoring my locally grown produce this week.

Concord grapes.  Bok choy.  Lots of carrots.  Lots of celery... This week I have zero motivation to turn them into edible concoctions.  I know the carrots and celery can just be eaten basically as is, however, that seems boring as well.  There's only so much celery I can ingest.  I gotta push through this lack of desire, I know, but I DON'T WANNA!  That's right, I'm gonna be a toddler about it.  NO!  NO BOK CHOY!  WHERE'S MY PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH ALREADY?  THAT'S WHAT I WANT FOR DINNER FOLLOWED BY A BOWL OF CEREAL!

At a crossroads with the community supported agriculture.  Do I really want to buy from this farming group every other week?  At first I liked  how I don't get a choice in what produce I get and, therefore, was being forced to cook new things.  And now this week I don't want to have to figure out how to prepare foods I never buy.  I mean come on, concord grapes?!  You can't eat those things like other grapes!  They have seeds in them and are tart as hell!  So now I either let them go to waste or grudgingly haul my buns off to Bed Bath and Beyond in search of a cheese cloth and 12 qt pan to make juice.  GRRRR....

Now where's my precious take out menus and bag of candy corn?  I'm giving myself one more day of avoidance...

Pumpkins

We ventured 50 miles northwest of Studio City on Saturday and went to a pumpkin farm.  I think we all enjoyed breaking out of the comforts of home base.  The funniest part of this farm was the "ice cold apple cider."  At first I thought it was because it was warm out and surely as the season cools off the "ice cold" would be replaced by "piping hot."  Then I remembered I now live in Southern California instead of the Midwest.  That cider may never get warmer than chilled.  

Pictures from our outing...

Smile!

The Boy doesn't usually follow commands, however, if you tell him to smile he will do just that.    I don't know how his smile evolved but he always does the same thing--turns and tilts his head, squints his eyes and gives a big, toothy grin.  It's yummy goodness.  

Separation Anxiety

Toddler Therapy

BOY:  I've been having a hard time with separation anxiety lately.

CAT:  Tell me more about this anxiety.  What's going on there?

BOY:  Well it just sneaks up on me when I least expect it.  The park.  The bath.  Bedtime.

CAT:  I see.

BOY:  The first step is admitting I have this problem, right?  

CAT:  Yes, and then accepting your anxiety as a normal stage in toddlerhood.  Good talk today, Boy.  Should we plan for same time next week?  My schedule is pretty open most mornings.

Head To The Mall When It's 115 Degrees Outside

"FINALLY I get time in a race car!  Now is this the clutch?"

  

A Rocking Meditation For Two

Most Amazing Boy To Ever Live
(photo is just too irresistible to not post a second time)

You've all heard me complain about sleep on no less than several hundred occasions (I'm a broken record!).  Every night is a crap shoot as to how things are gonna play out.  Will he just play for a little while and then peacefully conk out?  Is he gonna scream bloody murder for 5 minutes and then conk out but awaken 5 times throughout the night for no reason apparent to us?  Am I going to make it emotionally, mentally and spiritually to reach his 18th birthday with all this sleep stuff screwing with me?  It's all a mystery.

After our usual routine of books, teeth brushing and "Nina Sleeps" from our cable On Demand feature I was ready for the night to end.  (That "Nina Sleeps" program could cause drowsiness after a week of sleep, it is that powerful.)  I put Boy in bed and prayed he would settle himself.

He did not.

Now this is the point in the story where I usually start to lose it.  "It" meaning my mind.  "It" meaning hope. "It" meaning my faith in whether I can successfully pull this Mommy thing off.  Fatigued myself, I start talking to The Boy on the video monitor as if he [a] can hear me, and [b] will follow my instruction.  "Go to bed, Boy!  Please," I plead, "Mommy will buy you your very own horsie, Ford F150 and city bus first thing in the morning if you just go to sleep now!"  My blood pressure begins to sky rocket and no matter what I try to ignore the crying toddler I just cannot tune him out.  I can't read, watch tv, prepare for sleep myself...I'm full of anxiety.  I get stressed, angry, sad, blah blah blah insert horrible feeling emotion here.

So tonight I switched tactics.

Why am I doing this?!?!  Who says I have to let him cry in there?  We both hate it!  Tonight he just doesn't want to do this sleep thing and tonight I am just not gonna force the issue or get angry and stressed.  Accept it, Mrs. Jarcy!  So I got him out of his crib.  I changed his diaper.  I stared at him for a long time as he laid there on the changing table staring back up at me.  I smiled and played with his lovely curls, caressed his smooth cheeks. We both were calm.  I touched my nose to his said, "Honk, honk."  He took his finger and touched my nose.  "Gah!" he said.  ("Gah" is the universal word used to identify everything.)  "Yes, Boy, that's Mama's nose."  Then he pointed out my hair, my eyes, my mouth.  I pointed out all his facial features in return.

I didn't know what to do with him next so I held him in my arms.  We rocked back and forth.  I simply loved him with all my might.  He put his head down on my shoulder and his body sunk into my torso.  It felt so nice.  Usually he's running all over the place and I can't get him to sit still longer than 5 seconds.  I'll hold him as long as he'll let me, I thought.  We rocked about the apartment as I turned off lights.  I turned on an Enya cd and we rocked for a good 15 minutes in the middle of the living room.  I felt so lucky to have that moment with him.  It reminded me of when he was a newborn and Mr. Jarcy and I would have to rock him for hours.  If we weren't rocking him then chances were he was not sleeping.  It was so stressful back then!  But not now, this rocking was like a moving meditation for the two of us.  My arms hurt from holding his 30 lb. body but I didn't care.  I just kept rocking, enjoying the music, really enjoying the lack of crying and really, really enjoying him.

He fell asleep.

There's no telling what the next bedtime will bring.  I don't think I can rock 30 lbs of Boy to bed every night nor do I think he'll want that.  But there are those moments in life when you think, "I am never going to forget this moment" and it was one of them.  For both of us.
 

Strike A Pose

How did this Boy get so cute?  HOW?!?!?!  I have no idea but I'll take it.  I hear him "renovating" in his room so I now must be off!  Last time I turned my back for 10 seconds he wedged himself under our bed and my blood pressure still hasn't come down to it's normal range.  I may start sleeping with my eyes open just to keep tabs on him.  

Holidays

A few things regarding holidays in October, November and December...

1.
I'm racking my brain trying to come up with a Halloween costume to dress The Boy in.  The trick is he can't know that he's wearing one.  He doesn't allow many clothing options as it is and I'm pretty sure a big fluffy bear outfit will send him over the edge.  Could I just scribble in dark eyebrows and a mustache while he's sleeps and be done with it?

2.
We're entertaining the idea of driving from LA to Phoenix for Thanksgiving.  Without small children the trip can take about 6 hours.  With small children it might take closer to 20 hours.  Are we crazy to do this?  We might all be sent over the edge as a result.

3.
We're entertaining the idea of flying home to Chicago for Christmas.  It will take 4 hours on a plane and who knows how long in an airport prior to flight.  It will also involve leaving the warmth and comforts of LA for the frigid temperatures of Chicago.  But my family will be there and I don't know if I can handle not seeing them at Christmas.  That will most certainly send me over an edge.

Lots of possible edges in the coming months...

Also More Babies Take Up More Room And More Money

BOY:  I've been noticing how many times people mention to Mommy that she should have another child sooner rather than later.

CAT:  Those people don't live with you, Boy.

BOY:  Well do you think Mommy and Daddy will have another baby someday?

CAT:  It's hard to say.  I know Mommy has a heart condition that requires her to have surgery first if she decides to go through pregnancy again.  

BOY:  Ouch, poor Mommy.

CAT:  Don't feel sorry for her, Boy.  Mommy already feels beyond blessed to have just you!  And me, of course.  If you want to know the truth, I was her first baby.  You're lucky I even talk to you considering the change that occurred when you arrived on the scene.  

Love Taps

The Boy played in this house for most of our time at Toddler School today.  He LOVED it and encouraged other children to come check out "his" humble abode.  "Look at the windows!  Check out this phone!"  He played host to all his guests.   As I comforted another little boy completely beside himself at his mother's absence,  I thanked the heavens above at my great fortune at securing The Most Amazing Boy To Ever Live.

Day 3 of Toddler School...

You've all heard me stress over The Boy's tendencies to "love tap" (hit) other children.  I signed up for Toddler School with this love tap issue hovering over my head like a dark rain cloud.  I know I sound dramatic but, frankly, it IS dramatic!  The Boy is strong.  Yes, I know, it's natural and expected behavior.  That's what folks tell me anyway.  But knowing that does nothing to reduce my anxiety.  So even though I was stressed out about this issue I still decided to sign up for the class.  I just had to try.  Because I am a glutton for punishment.  

Each time I have to leave The Love Tapping Boy in the care of another mommy who simultaneously wrangles her own child for 30 minutes and then we switch places.  Each time I give the same spiel.  "Listen," I start, "I don't know how to sugar coat this-- The Boy can get a little grabby.  He has been known to hit and push others.  I am very sorry.  Please don't be surprised if he does this.  Please feel free to come and get me if it gets too out of control.  Please let me still go off for 30 minutes like the other mommies regardless of this tendency.  Good luck."      

Lo and behold, The Boy has NEVER love tapped the other children.  Not once.  

Each time I come back and the other mommy says to me, "Mrs. Jarcy, The Boy was so well behaved!  He is just so cute and didn't even cry when you left him!  He really is just a love."  

Huh.  

I'm starting to look like a liar here.  That's a good thing.  Patches of sun are pushing through the dark cloud.  I know the love taps aren't gone forever but it has been a wonderful break from playing referee over the last few weeks.  I was beginning to feel like the security guard on Jerry Springer's show who constantly pries crazy folks off other crazy folks.    

I Am Not To Be Trusted With A Tube Of Crescent Rolls. Ever.

No cabbage left behind!  I'm very proud of myself for this feat.  

More cabbage.

This time I just grilled it in a pan with oil and then added water, sugar and cider vinegar per a simple online recipe.  And when that seemed too bland to consume I doused the whole concoction with white wine which helped immensely.  I served it with a turkey kielbasa, crescent rolls and more white wine.  Mr. Jarcy managed to eat most of the kielbasa and I managed to eat most of the rolls.  There is still a small portion of the cabbage left.

I thought I had signed up for the community supported agriculture weekly but it turns out I goofed and signed up for the every other week pick up.  I think that was divine intervention.  Do you know how much time and energy is required to cook new recipes with never purchased produce?  A lot!  Last week I made no less than 6 dishes I haven't prepare before and now my brain is ready to rest.  I've been fantasizing about take out dinner options since 7 AM and just about anything will do.

I also wasn't prepared for what a carnivore I'd become from preparing more locally grown produce.  This doesn't seem correct, does it?  That is what's happened, however.  Chicken, turkey kielbasa, 2 lbs of ground beef... if I start talking about venison someone stop me!  My former "nearly vegetarian" self doesn't know what to think here.

Update Update Sleep?

Cabbage Update 9/18/10:
You will all be happy to know I made something with the cabbage.  I made a runza.  It's usually a little pastry puff filled with meat, onions, cheese and cabbage.  Per my friend Lolo's instructions, I made one huge runza pastry and it was enough to feed four adults last night and two adults tonight.  The recipe required 4 cups of shredded cabbage.  After shredding 4 cups worth the cabbage was still the size of Texas. (What kind of magic grew this beast already?!)  So while our dinner guests brought super sweet and delicious scones as a host gift, we sent them home with a huge slice of cabbage.  It's safe to say we faired better in the trade.

The Fight Against Clutter Update 9/18/10:
We participated in our very first yard sale today.  I sold baby items at a ridiculously low price and sometimes tossed in freebies.  "Just take it, please!" I cried at the sight of a little clock radio I have no memory of buying in the first place.  I'm pretty sure I could have gotten more cash had I held out but this pregnant lady wanted so many of the items and it seemed more important for the goods to be put to use then haggle with her for ten more dollars.  I wasn't too happy, however, with all those who lifted items right from under my nose!  One minute I had 3 pairs of toddler shoes to sell and then next minute they had vanished.  Same with some little photo albums and gently-used shirts.  I kept telling myself it was fine if the items were gone because anything left was going to donation anyway. For some reason it's still not okay.

The Boy's Sleep Status Update 9/18/10:
The Boy has settled down in his crib (god willing!) for the night.  That means I need to prepare for slumber asap as well.  You still never know if you'll be getting a full night of uninterrupted blessed sleep or intermittent episodes of jarring sleep-like states.  If you don't have children or children younger than 19 months I am so sorry for you to read that statement.  It's true though (for us anyway).  And if I can just internalize my good friend's advice of "Just surrender to your new reality and you'll feel so much better!" then all will be good no matter what tonight brings.  This is the same friend who left my home last night with 3 lbs of cabbage and left a wonderful plate of scones in it's place.  Hey, can you make cabbage into scones?  Because I have at least 3 lbs left as well and I do so love scones...

Headed To Slaughter

Someone is headed to slaughter today.  That someone is obscenely huge cabbage.  I've invested in a bigger grater (how much money is this damn thing costing me already?!) and will be shredding mass quantities of cabbage in just a few short hours.  That's right, we're finally going to shred him up and make some equally huge runza pastry pie out of him.  I hope he's enjoying his last remaining minutes in the fridge because soon enough all will go black in his world.  (Yes, I am referring to the cabbage as a "he" and if you saw him in real life you'd understand completely.  I mean look at how his size compares to the damn toaster oven in the background above!  He's a beast!)

Why do you keep going on and on about this cabbage?!  A cabbage is not new, you know!  Enough already!!!

Enough already indeed!  Do you know how much I have thought about the cabbage?  Last night I had intermittent dreams about the cabbage!!!  (I also dreamt Conan O'Brien was requesting a meeting with me but that's not nearly as exciting as this cabbage for you readers I bet.)  Yes, I had dreams about shredding the cabbage.  First the cabbage was totally huge and overwhelming (like in real life).  Then I cut him in half and he became just a few pieces of usable cabbage (hopefully not like it will be in real life).  Don't worry, there should only be one more post regarding the cabbage to update you all on how he tasted.  Although since he is so big perhaps we'll have to make another meal out of the remaining leaves in which case be prepared for at least two more posts on...(wait for it)...the cabbage.  

Rug Angel

It makes sense The Boy stayed in this position for a good 15 minutes.  After the "run in" we had over getting the clothes and crocs ON I was spent as well.  Now where were we going again? I have forgotten...

Cabbage Fever

The cabbage has taken over my mother lovin life.

I keep wandering into my kitchen to take inventory of all the fresh produce and then worry about how I'm going to make the best use of them all. The cabbage, however, is clearly the front runner.  Question--How stressed out can someone get over a cabbage?  The answer-- Very!

I think I should have better prepared myself for this new local produce undertaking.  Last month I signed up for that writing a book in a week deal and then made sure I had a lot of free time to accomplish the task. For this project, however, I had not allotted extra time and now harbor feelings of guilt, bitterness and inadequacy.  That's right, I feel like a total loser and it's the fault of fresh fruits and veggies.  I don't want to let them go to waste and then become frozen in fear as to how to prevent that from happening! That bowling ball of a cabbage is taunting me as I sit here typing--  "Hello, Mrs. Jarcy?  What are you doing over at the cafe writing?  You don't have time for writing, you're supposed to be sauteeing me up with olive oil, fresh garlic and pepper already!  And after me the radishes have requested twenty minutes of your time and radishes do NOT like to be kept waiting!"

If there was ever doubt as to whether or not I'd make a good contestant for Top Chef I think this experience provides us with an answer.  Quick Fire challenge #1 would deduce me to tears rocking back and forth in the corner of a big meats cooler.  Padma told us to prepare an egg dish an airline could serve in their pre-flight lounge...it's just too much!!!  

Now if you'll excuse me, I must return home to cook up collard greens while snacking on celery stalks and radishes...

*Thank you to the lovely readers who graciously answered my plea for cabbage and leafy greens recipes.  That cabbage will NOT get the best of me yet!   

No Takeout This Week

Got my second order from the community supported agriculture group.  I couldn't go pick it up myself since I was taking my mother to the airport (boo and hiss) so Mr. Jarcy and The Boy went instead.  They  came home with a bag full of leafy greans, collard greens, broccoli, celery, assorted fruit and one humongous cabbage.  

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS HUMONGOUS CABBAGE?!  

That's an actual question and I'm accepting all suggestions.  I love cole slaw but not in bulk.  I'll take ideas on preparing radishes as well.  The Jarcy diet is getting quite the makeover this week...

Little House Was Memorable

Boy and Cat too fidgety to pose for a picture.  

I spent some time in the bookstore the other day.  The local library branch is only open for 45 minutes every other day (an exaggeration but barely) so I headed to the bookstore instead.  I'm not entirely sure what I was looking for--just doing some research I guess.

I wandered through the young adult aisle and discovered teens only read books pertaining to vampires and other mythical creatures as long as they are just as kissable and crushable as vampires (a centaur might be pushing it, I don't know).  It seems simply  crushing on the new boy who moved in across the street isn't an interesting enough plot unless there's a possibility he'll kill you after reaching second base.

From there I wandered through the cooking section.  Until I actually use the 237 cookbooks I already own more than twice a decade there is little reason for me to purchase another.  I moved on to self help (so over purchased there over the years), fiction and magazines (god I love magazines!).  

Then I found myself in the biography and memoir section.  Three of the Little House On The Prairie actresses have memoirs out right now-- Melissa Gilbert, Nellie, Half-Pint's older sister who did such a good job portraying a young blind woman that I've always imagined she is in real life (she is NOT it turns out).  A memoir by First Lady Laura Bush.  A memoir by a woman who lived in 39 different apartments. And a memoir by a soccer mom turned private dick.  To recap-- memoirs = way more exciting lives than I lead.   Although how exciting has the non-blind woman's really been?  Has it really been worthy of a hefty book advance (I'm counting anything above $5000 hefty).  That said, I may pick up her book over those other Little House ladies if only to find out how she's dealt with this blind or not blind situation since her teen years.

My memoir would be about a woman who simply wanted a baby and had her entire world turned upside down.  I'm guessing this experience has happened to at least one other woman who lived to write about it so then I'd throw in some centaurs just to spice things up.  That's right, I'm bringing the sexy into centaur/human relations. Maybe one of the centaurs can be blind and pining away for a married dog walker turned mommy...