Lay off my time!

I'm on vacation next Tuesday & Wednesday. It's quite by mistake - I had thought that next Monday was Memorial Day and had decided to take a five-day weekend. Once I realized my mistake, though, I decided to take those two days off anyway. I have a garden to plant (i.e., putting my sprouting green beans in the actual ground along with my peppers, harvesting some herbs and other tasks) and a house to clean. And, dammit, I want some time to relax and maybe even write a little.

So, even though it's not convenient for my work, since I'm going to be deducted those days anyway, I'm not going to be here. Even though someone (who is also taking vacation and is senior to me but not my boss) is trying to get me to not take that time off and instead come in for a two-day meeting on the Health Information Portability and Accountability Act, one of which falls on one of those days off. Um, no. However miguided, I requested that time off a few weeks ago. I'm NOT coming in, though I'm happy to attend the second day-long session - I've got plans even if they're not concrete plans that take me out of town. Given that you have no say in my hiring or firing, you can find an alternate for day one.

So lay off my time off.

A stupid rant, you say? Why yes, yes it is. But I'm becoming a crusty old lady. Then again you knew that aready.

Homecoming.

This weekend was fantastic. My sister's house is beautiful, Charlotte, NC seems like a wonderful place to live, her neighborhood is fabulous and cohesive and friendly and Ragsy had the time of his life. My husband got to play his fill of video games and I got to spend some time with family. The only thing better than going to their house was coming home.

Have I mentioned I love my house? It's not the house, per se, though that's certainly part of it. Mostly it's what it represents. The schedules that have fallen into place, the echoes of my son screaming with joy, making off-color, lecherous jokes with my husband and knowing that I can relax completely when I get there. That's home. But I also love the hot, wet scent of our yard in late spring and early summer. When I got home last night and walked around to get the mail, I was greeted with the greenest smell. My herbs were going wild in the garden, spilling out of their pots, the green beans I planted a month ago are nearly eight inches high and my peppers are starting to shoot up.

I can feel the humidity on my skin and the promise of hotter days, and that green smell is mine, and so is the satisfaction of making my garden grow and creating memories of playing there with my son and husband.

The only negative thing about coming home was the mess at the house. I'm not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but I find it hard to relax in a home that looks like a paper and kitchen utensil bomb went off in it. It's not about keeping up with the Jones's (meaning, having things as nice as my sister), but that it's pretty clear that even going to school and working full time, she still manages to spend a lot of time cleaning and making her house someplace she loves to live in. Yes, I get it - we've got a toddler, who contributes significantly to the mess. And we've begun that process of organizing and it's coming along, but it's time to advance beyond the baby steps we've already made and put together a larger plan. Ragsy is older and more than capable of following directions, so we can no longer use the toddler excuse since he knows well enough to pick up his toys.

We've done really well so far, but seeing the clear effort my sister has put in has given me renewed desire to put the same effort into my house and to keep doing it. Because I love the way it feels when it's clean and nice. And if we do ever have another kid, I want to have a foundation in place to keep it that way (somewhat, anyway).

Memorial Day weekend.

As the title implies, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend. My husband, Ragsy and I will be going to Charlotte, NC to see my sister and brother-in-law. I'm really looking forward to it - now that we're older, I thoroughly enjoy spending time with my sister and my brother-in-law is one of Ragsy's biggest fans. The only thing I'm not looking forward to is leaving the house at 6 a.m. Unfortunately, the only flight we could get for the weekend takes off at 8 a.m. or something like that. Ah, well.

At least this time he's got his own seat! Now to keep him sitting in it... I had mentioned to a friend on her blog that one of the best "toys" Ragsy ever had for an airplane was an empty water bottle and a straw. So, in addition to a DVD player and some Fraggle Rock, we'll be bringing our recyclables (at least one, anyway) for our son's entertainment. I'm actually looking forward to having him in the airport. Security aside, I've found that he's ridiculously easygoing during travel. In fact, traveling with him is pretty fun (famous last words). Then again, I guess traveling to India will do that to you. You either become easygoing or you completely lose it. I appreciate that Ragsy took the latter route, not the former.

Well, off I go. It only just occurred to me that since we'll be in the US and not India, we need to figure out what to do about a car seat - do we just not worry about it for a weekend, bring our own or get a super cheap one for them?

I am ungrateful git.

I've been suffering some serious guilt lately over my reaction to Mother's Day. I feel like an ungrateful dork. Oh, well. Things are getting better - I've apologized and my husband has declared a do-over this weekend since he was so under the weather with allergies last weekend.

By the by, if you were over last weekend, Ragsy never did get sick - it was all teeth and transition from one daycare room to another. Still, when people came over last weekend, we felt obligated to let everyone know as they came in. Understandably, most parents don't want to have a sick kid around. Still, just one person who was over last weekend expressed concern over whether Ragsy would get anyone or their tot(s) sick, but if you were worried, rest assured. Or, at least, if someone did get sick it didn't come from us!

Anyway, Ragsy will be attending another sleepover at daycare tonight. I'm not 100% convinced it's a great idea to do it right now given that he's transitioning; however, my husband is. I guess we'll just deal with any fallout tomorrow. I don't think there should be any serious issue, but those are famous last words, aren't they?

I can't believe how much difference just these past couple weeks have made with Ragsy - he's speaking in full sentences about half the time, can carry on a conversation somewhat and his fine motor skills are going through yet another subtle evolution. The pretend play has commenced in earnest, with blocks being pirate's treasure and a pile of pillows the perfect place to hide the booty. The covers on his bed and ours are still both Ali Baba's cave, but Ragsy now swims in the pool with bears and other animals in his dreams, occasionally stopping in the kitchen to eat some chicken. He pretends to be a frog sometimes and says that he flies when he jumps. I can't believe how fast he's changing. He is my baby no longer, and definitely my little boy.

Yes, no, maybe so.

Three posts in one morning. Jeez, I must be either a) bored, b) malaised or c) a combination of the two. Yes, it's definitely c. So, I'm feeling conflicted and, consequently, I'm feeling a tad idiotic for it. Apparently I've been giving off the "Get that kid the hell out of my house" vibe to my husband without realizing it. Which sucks because, particularly on Mother's Day, I'd like to be with the creature I've mothered.

However, my husband in a rare spurt of ambition, has taken our son out. They've been gone since 8:30 a.m. Normally, I'd be fine with that. However, given that our little one is still mildly warm, plus the fact that this appears to be a response to a feeling I didn't intend or realize I was emitting, I must admit to feeling a tad nonplussed. And conflicted.

They're not out at India Palace eating lunch while I hang out at home, writing. I called once after they went to the Bread Company to see how things were progressing. Our son is cheerful - not eating a ton, but chugging liquids like no one's business - and wide awake, which is great because it's normal. So my husband said they might be home in a while. So I took a leisurely bath, got dressed, cleaned up the kitchen a bit and called again. No answer, so I made some muffins. Then I called again to hear that they were headed out for lunch. Strangely, I felt somewhat left out. Which is stupid. So my husband asked if wanted to come, too, and I waffled for a while before saying no.

I am a huge dork, both for writing this post and for getting what I apparently seemed to want but didn't and not really liking it much. Ah, well. Such is the story of my life. I always thought I was fairly straightforward. But as it happens I'm really not.

Weekend.

I thought I'd do this in a separate post from my previous because this post will be a lot of random crap that comes flowing out of my brain. We had a bunch of friends over last night - I think we wound up with about 30 people in all, including various kidlets. We had a great time. Every time I have people over, I wonder why I don't do it more often.

Sadly, our son developed an unexplained fever about an hour before people began showing up. I warned people as they arrived, but no one seemed to mind. Ragsy had a rough night last night. I'm very glad we decided to save the party for after his birthday. Since we don't entertain a lot, he was kind of overwhelmed. Not particularly upset, just a tad uneasy. So I wound up as transportation most of the evening. No biggie, though. I've got strong arms.

I just wish he had slept better. Since he had a fever and it kept breaking during the night, he'd wake up sweaty and uncomfortable. I wound up sleeping with him, which was just as well since he kept trying to take off his diaper in his sleep. Still, he woke up his usual cheerful self this morning, yelling "Boom!" as he slammed all the doors shut in the house before taking off down the hall to play. He was a little cranky and more tired than usual, but if someone kept feeling my head while I had a fever and was trying to sleep it off, I'd be ticked off and tired, too.

Oh, well. I can't explain this one, except that he's probably getting another couple of teeth. As he's gotten older, the severe illnesses during teething have lessened and have been replaced with the occasional longer-lasting toddler version of a hot flash accompanied by lots of snot. Blech.

Mother's Day.

It's Mother's Day. Time to honor your mother by giving her a break and telling her how much you love her. Well deserved, too. I never appreciated before I had a kid of my own how much work it must have been to be a single mom with two small children, especially ones so close in age as me and my sister (we're just 13 months apart).

So call your mother.

Don't take my vacation.

I'm taking the day off. Sort of. My mom is in town (hence the lack of blogging, which is also caused by having little to say), so I thought it'd be nice before she goes back tomorrow to have a toddler-free day where she and I could go out to lunch. Sadly, I have to call in to work for a half-hour meeting. It drives me nuts that I have to do that on my day off. I guess it happens to everyone sooner or later, but any time off I take is generally sacrosanct, including evenings whenever possible and weekends. It's hard to have that mentality in my job and get ahead. And I wonder why I haven't gotten a promotion. Huh.

The weekend was actually quite lovely. We spent most of the day outside yesterday, with me laying down some mulch and Ragsy protesting loudly because I was covering up his beloved mud. Today I think we'll be stopping by the plant nursery, going to lunch and hopefully doing some shopping, though I hate being one of those jackasses with a phone plastered to her cheek bellowing about whatever incredibly-important subject (to me) while being a jerk to my mom and any sales clerks or nearby patrons. I'll try to keep it down and keep it short, I swear. With any luck, I'll forget entirely and get to say oops tomorrow. If I remember, though, my conscience won't let me just not call in.

So, that's the bulk of my weekend. Saturday was spent primarily running the cats to the vet for a regular check up and dealing with a tired, cranky kid. Yesterday was much, much better. And made even better by the pomegranate margaritas and pina coladas we made last night. Note to self: more than one margarita makes you tipsy. Not hammered, but very, very...relaxed.

Just like college.

I am exhausted for several reasons, the primary one being that my husband and I procrastinated so much in cleaning our house before my mom visits today that we were rushing around with bags and rags last night after our son went to bed, frantically de-cluttering and scrubbing. It's irritating and just like college and grad school when I did the same thing, only earlier sans kid.

There are many things that make this annoying, not the least of which is knowing that I've reminded both of us about this several times, indicated that I hate doing this at the last minute because I wind up not sleeping (something I need to deal with my mom, who's a little high maintenance), have cleaned several times over the previous week by myself to reduce clutter and still have to help clean those areas my husband had agreed to clean the week before. Ugh. I was complaining about this to a friend of mine and she gave me some very good advice that helps me not get so mad as I used to (now it's just a buzzing, low-level annoyance):

1. He's an adult - if he can't get to it despite having ample warning, it's his problem not yours (this helps sort of, but not when it's 11 p.m. the night before we have guests and there's so much crap all over the place he can't possibly get it done by himself).

2. We have a fairly big house (larger than our condo) and a toddler, so the likelihood of it ever being spotless is nil (this is actually very helpful).

3. If there is a huge mess we need to clean up, if we need to, we can put all the clutter in a bag and worry about it later.

4. You can't change other people, only the way you react to them.

This is all true, sometimes painfully so. And I've taken a lot of it to heart and don't get as mad as I used to. Key phrase: as mad. I still get annoyed, but I don't experience the same level of rage I used to. Still, such annoyance - and the cleaning that causes it - can be draining, especially when you're already not sleeping thanks to a little boy who likes to wake up before dawn sometimes and won't have anyone but mommy.

Eh, whatever. It could be much, much worse.