The Grinch Who Stole New Year's!

I really enjoyed the holidays up until New Year's. We kicked off the season with 22 people and Thanksgiving in Jamaica. It was a great way to get in the festive mood for the weeks to come. I rode that high through decorating for Christmas and hosting a dinner for 30+ people at our house. Last year we weren’t home for Christmas so this year I really decorated with two trees, poinsettias, and decorations of some sort in every room on the main floor. I was really in the spirit and it seemed like every day had a party, a get together, a lunch, a movie or a combination of the above. So it was good times – sort of.

My sister and her family were supposed to come into town but my nephew got sick so they had to stay home hoping to come out later. But there was no way my mom was going to miss Christmas at the house with Parker so she arrived Christmas Eve. I don’t know WHAT she caught from my nephew or on Amtrak, but upon arrival she complained about not feeling well, laid down on the floor in my family room and was knocked out for the night! Larry was like “What the hell did you do to her?” For the next week she coughed, blew her nose and primarily stayed rolled up in sheets, waking only to take medicine eat or force herself out to do something with us.

A few days later here comes Larry – he’s hot, he’s cold, his stomach hurts, his stomach doesn’t hurt, he has a headache – now HE was sick! My house went from holidays to The Walking Dead as they dragged, coughed and sniffled their way through the house, returning to the crypt after only a few hours up. All I could think of was how many blankets, sheets and comforters I’d have to fumigate when it was all over. But at least I had my little road dog happy and healthy to roll with me – WRONG.

Park had been so well through it all. She even survived the “too much jumping in her new bounce house upchuck” on Christmas Day. All was well – we went ice skating, to birthday parties – she was hanging with me. Until New Year’s Eve. I was determined that we not stay in the house with the sickos all day so at 9:00 a.m. we went to the public skate session again. But it was cold out – and despite clothes, a snow suit, a helmet and gloves, she uncharacteristically started to feel cold on the ice. Usually she’s begging to take her coat off. Now she was cold and wanting to leave early. By noon she was sniffling and her nose was running – son of a b*****!!! Now EVERYONE was sick!

I got her home and resigned myself to doing absolutely nothing for New Year’s Eve. My sister was going to try to come up but we had to put the kibosh on that for fear the cycle would start all over again. We didn’t have big plans but were at least going to get together with friends. Mom was pretty much in bed all day and Larry was a close second to that schedule. At 5:00 p.m. it was me, Park and every version of High School Musical on the Disney Channel. By 9:00 p.m. I figured what the hell, since we’re not going out and everyone is sick, I might as well start taking the Christmas stuff down. I snatched off every ornament and ripped the tree skirts off of the trees, dragged the greenery wrapped around the staircase bannister, threw the baubles and pinecones into a box, put the fake poinsettias in bin like a coffin – by the time I was done the only thing hint of the holidays was the two naked trees. Larry came out of his coma at one point and was like “What the hell happened?” Christmas – and every memory of it was gone!! I felt like The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and Larry was Cindy Lou Who going “Why Santy Claus, Why???!!!”

I wasn’t trying to erase the holidays but, since I wasn’t celebrating New Year's I figured I could at least be productive, clear everything out and start the year with a clean house! Then I could enjoy the what’s left of the holiday. I’d still have four days left - maybe everyone will have recovered by then and we can finish like we started – with a bang. But wait is that now MY throat feeling itchy???!!! Ugggghhhhhh!!!! Happy New Year!

Dump Diver: A Husband, a Tooth and Sainthoood

Today my husband reached Saint Status. Parker has been saying that her tooth has been loose for a while now. At six year’s old, she’s had yet to lose them when all of her friends have lost theirs. Her annual doctor’s appointment showed that she’s grown four and a half inches this past year, jumping from the 48th to 70th percentile in height – a big leap for someone with gigantor cousins who have been in the 99th percentile since birth. She was on track with everything except her teeth and I feared she’d have baby teeth until 5th grade. Her doctor assured me all was well and then said “She’ll probably lose them all at once.”

Fast forward to today. I managed to complete my third ice-skating class without knocking any of my teeth out and Parker’s tooth started to wiggle a lot during her class. By lunch time at Panera, she bit down and it started to bleed. Parker, who had been anxiously waiting to join her peers in the toothless league, started wailing about wishing she still had all of her teeth – I think the blood freaked her out and she reverted to baby status hopping right onto my lap.

She calmed down long enough to tentatively get into the car and head to her friend’s Christmas party. By arrival she was back to normal showing everyone her loose tooth. I was frantically sending Larry texts about having to pull her tooth when she got home because I could not bear to do it. As I’m texting away Park comes over with a smile on her face and a conspicuous hole in her mouth – her tooth came out on her own! Problem was, it was no where to be found – I think she ate it with her pepperoni pizza.

I took pictures texting them to family members and she proudly showed her smile to Larry when we got home. Then she complained her stomach hurt and she had to go to the bathroom – and she had to do number two. Larry runs in there like a surgeon yelling back to me “get me some plastic silverware.” No… no!!!! I began thinking, do not tell me this man is going to dissect a bowel movement to find her first tooth. I thought, that is a saint; that is a man who worships his daughter; that is my husband! That’s the kind of man you want to marry: one who dives in a toilet just for a tooth. Five minutes later he emerged defeated with sweat on his face and a tightly wrapped plastic bag with plastic ware. The tooth was no where to be found.

As I screamed at him to double wrap the bag, Park complained again of her stomach hurting, at which point he yelled to me “You’ve got round two!” So much for Sainthood! I said a few choice words back to him and we resumed our very human lives – he ran back to watch the football game, Park celebrated her milestone with the Disney Channel, and I found another thing to write about.

Over Sold: In Trying to Protect My Daughter, Have I Made Her Afraid of Everything?

I try to be honest with my daughter about everything and that includes things that come on the news. I try to tell the truth in terms that a kindergarten student can understand, but I am starting to think I am over selling things.

When I see another poor young woman’s destiny lie in the hands of a psychopath who takes advantage of the fact that she is lost, has drunk too much, etc. I warn Park about the dangers of alcohol and drugs and how, although it is certainly not a young woman’s fault, crazy people will target your weakness and take advantage of a situation. Her take a way “Mommy, I don’t want to go to college because someone is going to force me to drink and I don’t want to!”

Every time she sees someone on a TV show who is sick or hurt she goes “Mommy are they dead,” because I’m always telling her about foolish acts that lead to despair. I feel like the father in The Croods, where every story he told ended with “.., and then they died!”

When I counsel her to choose a mate carefully and not tolerate anyone who hits, hurts or abuses her, her take-a-way: “I’m not getting married;” “I hate boys” or the latest “I’m going to marry Daddy.”

I’m proud of the fact that I’ve tailored a life that allows me to work from home and set my own schedule, giving me the freedom to volunteer at her school, take time as I want, schedule my day as I see fit and most importantly, be there when she gets home from school. Her take-a-way: “Daddy works, Mommy I don’t know what you do!"

When I try to convince her to be a big girl by ditching a bath and taking a shower, I show her by bringing her in with me to demonstrate how easy it is. Her take-a-way: She loves to shower, but ONLY WITH ME! So now she showers AND sleeps with me! Larry has her like Gulliver still in her converted crib-to-bed. Although, to his point, she still fits, I’ve tried to bribe her with a big girl bed of her own of which she informed me she will never sleep in unless it is in our bedroom. Who needs a house when we could have apparently gotten a one-bedroom apartment and been fine!

What I am actually attempting to do is to get her to make good decisions, to be wise about her choices and to choose her friends and situations with great care but sometimes I think I am having the opposite affect and will have a kid who never wants to leave the house.

And yet, when we are on vacation or playing with her friends she is fearless. She wants nothing to do with me – only stopping to ask permission to go with her friends, order food, or get back in the pool. I can go an entire day and barely see her! She’ll jump in ten feet of water, go down the gigantic water slide and is apparently so fast and fearless that she was asked to be on the swim team.

This is not the same little girl that comes home to me, that doesn’t want to marry, go to college or take a shower. This is an independent little spirit that runs the world when she is not up under Mommy. I guess there is a reason you kick them out of the nest, so they can make their own, hopefully wise decisions without a parent’s panic. That being said, I will try to think a little more before I speak. I will try to encourage her to fly not only when she is away from me but when she is with me; after all, with her in my shower and my bed, it is starting to feel a little cramped!