Mommy's Pen

A writer's notes on family

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Adulthood

Interruptus Fairy

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Our summer schedule has not been very conducive to spousal communcation. Ben is leaving for work around the time I wake up. My commute is extra long, heading up to North Portland everyday for Nora’s nanny. By the time we get home, it’s time for dinner. Then chicken and garden maintenance. Then bedtime. I fall asleep before Ben and I have a chance to connect.

So on Sunday, we identified the problem and made a plan of action. I’ll wake up at 5:00am, with Ben. Nora’s been sleeping until around 7:00am, so there will be plenty of time to chat before she wakes up. We can relax and have coffee together, just like old times.

We made these plans when Nora wasn’t at home.

So can someone please explain to me why it is that Nora has awoken every morning this week at 5:00am?

Is there some interruptus fairy who flits around tipping kids off when parents are plotting for alone time?

10 Things I’ve Learned in 10 Years of Marriage

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10 Years of marriage.

I can hardly believe it’s been that long, yet I can’t remember what it’s like not to have Ben by my side.

I’ve been in a list making mood since my birthday post.  So here’s another list of things I’ve learned, this time marriage specific.

  1. There should be nothing you can’t talk about.
  2. Never drag your partner somewhere (s)he doesn’t want to be, at least not if you want to enjoy yourself.
  3. Don’t play games; ask for what you need.  Then ask again 3 months later. (Everybody needs reminders.)
  4. Keep working your biggest issue
  5. Make sure it’s not always the same person doing the accommodating, both of you need to give.
  6. Little notes, telling old stories and inside jokes are great ways to stay connected.
  7. Make sure both of you are getting plenty of vitamin D. Grind the pills into spaghetti sauce if you have to.
  8. Make common goals and work together to attain them (especially financial ones).
  9. Let your limbic system cool down. If you can’t talk without yelling, wait it out.
  10. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself, you can’t be a good partner if you’re not doing what you need to do to stay emotionally and physically healthy.

One final note, ten years later, I am more sure than ever that I married the right man for me.

I love you, Ben.

Party Like it’s 1925

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Here are a list of things I did on Saturday that I don’t normally do:  

  • Glued peacock feathers to a head band
  • Filed my nails and put on clear lacquer
  • Put on make up and curled my hair (actually, I had my dear friend Monica do this for me, as I’m completely hopeless at it)
  • Wore panty hose and high heels
  • Posed for photos
  • Hired a babysitter
  • Drank Vodka

At long last, it was auction time! The fundraising auction for Nora’s school was finally here.  

The theme was “The Silent Movie,” thus the flapper garb.  Everyone looked fabulous.  Again, I love the way Waldorf people are not “too cool.”  Singing and dressing up are to be embraced, not scorned.  

The evening was divided into silent auction, dinner, dance performance by the Body Vox dancers, the live auction and dancing.  

Ben and I agreed not to buy anything, but once we got there, we realized the starting bid prices at the silent auction were quite reasonable.  However, I was outbid on everything in the end.  Happily, the items I placed in the silent auction both sold — the knitted elephant and hand-spinning lessons.  

Dinner was catered by one of my favorite local bistros: Carafe.  The chef/owner, Pascal Sauton, is a parent at our school.  He was also the reason I wished I was rich — one item up for bid at the live auction was for Pascal to come to your house and give you cooking lessons.  In his words (and French accent), “I’ll come to your house, mess up your keetchen, drain your liquor cabinet and then leave.”  But he was only teasing.  His item brought in around $2800, so he offered a second one and sold it to the back-up bidder for the same amount.  Ce n’est pas mal.  

A shot of the live auction items. Our rug is right of the screen. I have to say, it looked amazing hanging up there.

Speaking of dollars raised, our class project brought in $750!  Not as much as Pascal, but, you can’t eat it, after all.  I was delighted — I’d been hoping for $500.  

The sale of the rug was the final event of the evening for us.  It was around 10:30, which is several hours past our bedtime.  The others partied on long, long into the night.

Thank God I Didn’t Break Anything

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Yesterday, I was a cartoon character. No, anvil didn’t drop on me, but by mid-afternoon I was on the look out for one.

It started with waiting too long to get ready in the morning. I was trying to upload a video of Nora and her snapping and it kept erroring out.

We rushed out to the bus stop only to realize I didn’t have my bus pass. Nora and I ran the block back home, I grabbed some change, scooped up my thirty-four pound daughter and sprinted through mud puddles in my Vera Wang boots. But of course, the bus had come and gone while I was rifling for quarters.

So, we were running about 20 minutes later than usually. 

I dropped Nora off and as I was leaving, my iPhone slipped through a hole in my coat pocket and onto the concrete of the courtyard.  It was fine, but it was a clue of things to come.

I scurried to the next bus stop, only to realize that I’d lost my bus transfer slip. So I walked the mile and a quarter to my office building. Which I often do by choice, so no big deal. But my bag felt heavier than usual. Because I’d neglected to leave Nora’s lunch at school with her.

Once at work, I gave my sob story to my boss, letting her know I’d need to take an extra long lunch, to accomodate an acupuncture appointment and a trip back to Nora’s school. When I mentioned that I was going to go scrounge my desk for more bus fare, a co-worker generously loaned me her pass.

I went to a meeting and then headed for acupuncture. Which I have to admit was wonderful, as always. Then I grabbed a bus to get to Nora’s school before lunchtime.

Nora’s class was on the playground and I passed her lunch to the teacher, gave her a smooch and headed back to the bus stop. I checked the next arrival time. It was a twenty minute wait, so I walked again.  The heel of my feet were starting to get achy.  They’re wonderful, sensible boots, but they’re not walking shoes.

When I got back to my desk I fished around in my pockets for my co-workers bus pass. I couldn’t find it.

I went through my bag piece by piece and all my pockets.  There was a hole in the lining of my coat pocket, and the lining wasn’t tacked down, so it had just slipped through.

I’d been at my desk a total of about twenty minutes so far and it was now 1:15pm.  I told my boss I had to go replace the bus pass.  I also begged her to check on me later, as I was starting to get a bit scared for my own well being.

I re-traced my steps a bit with no luck, then walked to the transit office and bought another bus pass.  It the cost was eighty-eight dollars.  If I’d simply paid for my trip, it would have been $2.05.

It was pouring down rain, and I now had visions of myself slipping on the wet cobblestones and breaking my leg, so I carefully made my way back to the office, dreaming of what eighty-eight dollars could buy  me.

Later, as I recounted my day for Ben, he shook his head.  Then he said, “Well, some days are just going to be like that, I guess.  You can only f*** sh** up if you’re actually doing something with your life and we do a lot of things.”

Those words — and a soak in the tub — made me feel so much better.

What We Do at Work All Day

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Grandma: Nora, what does Mom do all day at work?
Nora: Eats lunch. Goes to meetings. Plays with her friends. If she
needs to go potty, she goes potty. Goes to the water fountain if she
is thirsty.

Grandma: Nora, what does Daddy do all day at work?
Nora: Eats lunch. Digs holes. Dumps dirt and gets more dirt. Goes
in his lunch box and drinks a beer if he is really thirsty.

Grown-Ups are Gross

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Nora is very concerned about my toes.  On the way home yesterday she told me, “Mom, when we get home I need to check your toes because I think there’s something wrong with them.”

She thinks the crusty ridges of dry skin on the underside of my toes are injuries.  She discovered them over the weekend and can’t stop thinking about them.

Also, she likes to point to the dry skin patches on my elbows and say, “What happened?”  I tell her these things happen to your body when you’re a grown-up.  She looks grave.

This puts me in mind of when I was a kid and was horrified by my grandma’s goiter.  And the yellow toes nails of a family friend.  And the woman we met camping who had about a dozen freakishly long, dark hairs on each forearm.  What bugged me the most about these imperfections was how non-chalant these grown-ups seemed about their defects.  These were not things to be taken in stride, in my opinion.   Something should be done.

Now I’m the grown-up who doesn’t know when she ought to get a pedi.

When Nora complains about the long process of growing up, I’ll remind her, the sooner you grow up, the sooner you’ll be gross like me.