Another "Parent of the Year" Moment

Have you ever thought to yourself:

1) This is not how I want my child to act in public, and

2) Maybe he's getting mixed messages when I tell him to stop from behind the camera?

For me, this was one of those moments.

Lies, Lies, Lies

If you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that I have been stalking you for the past 6 months. In January, I began shaping my thoughts: what to say and how to say it. In February, I sent you the first email. The first of many, many, many emails. I begged and pleaded with you to send me something, anything, about my husband's younger days. I compiled all of these entries and created a 100 page book and an hour long video; my goal: sum up Marc's 30 years on this planet. And, if you know my husband fairly well, then you are well aware that this is no light task.

I believe I emailed about 500 people. I never officially counted, however the list of email addresses filled 6 pages in Word... so I estimated. To compile these memories, I emailed everyone in Marc's inbox - it was the ultimate in Bohnspam (I did learn from the master, after all). It was quite an adventure: the secret email account, the phone calls, and having to obsessively cover my tracks. After quite a bit of nagging, I received a tremendous response and found myself swimming in memories. Actually, drowning is more like it. I was in over my head.

For the past 5 weeks, I have devoted every spare (and not so spare) second to this project. To say the least, my domestic, wifely, and motherly responsibilities have suffered greatly. My dog has gained weight, my husband has been forced to wear dirty underwear more than once, and I fear my son's attention span has been shortened from all the cartoons I let him watch (even if they were in German). And on top of all this: a thick, woolly blanket of Lies, Lies, Lies. ("Oh, we didn't do much today, hun.. we just went to playgroup and hung out for a couple hours." or "I had to babysit the neighbor's kid all day - it was crazy!" or "I had the worst cramps, I couldn't do anything but sit on my butt.")

I actually have one of those uncommon husbands that asks how my day went, so my defense is that he pressured me into it. However, I knew that if I just picked one or two events to discuss in the evening, I wouldn't be asked to detail the entire day. I soon started making quick jaunts to CVS seem like they took hours. Little did Marc know that I never kicked my rear in gear until I saw him sign out of Google Talk - then I knew I had half an hour to clean, start dinner and move things around (laundry/papers) as though I had actually been productive. Oh, and then make up stories about my daily activities.

I was a bit of a basket case, people. My insides (psychologically and physically) were knotted up for weeks, but the hardest part was concealing all of my stress from Marc. I was smiling my way through hypertension and hair loss. It was worth it, though, and as I wrote in the forward to his book:

"Now that my mission is accomplished, I'm entirely resolved on two things:

1) I could never be a double agent. Leading a double life is absolutely miserable, and
2) I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world. . ."

The project turned out amazing, and each story and picture I surfed through gave me a deeper understanding of Marc and the experiences that shaped him. And when I finally presented the masterpiece, he was blown away. He loved it, and I was even able to throw him a little surprise party/movie screening (even though I got lazy in the end and he sensed something was up). He was also pretty surprised that I was able to find the doll he had as a boy that his parents threw away, "Penny" - a 40-year old antique that I've already had to give stitches to twice. (She's still wet in the picture from her 10 hour Oxy Clean bath.)




SUCCESS! All my hard work paid off, as well as the mountains of help from countless others. (Especially of note are Marc's parents and my wonderful friend, Maryanne, who sacrificed two weeks of her life to work on my video!) Thank you everyone, and I promise not to stalk you again for at least another 30 years!

Happy Birthday, Marc, you old man! Ich liebe dich!!

And that's the story of why my blog has sucked lately. As a special treat, here are some pictures of Erich at his Papa's party. We stripped off his chocolate cake smeared shirt and he decided to wear this ribbon all day instead (of his own volition). This makes me think I shouldn't watch so much Bravo around him (you know, the channel that women love because it's focus group is gay men)...

VOTE!!

... for my new diaper bag!

I really like these Reese Li bags, but my husband is NO help. (He hates them both.) Help me!

Bloody Sippy Cups!

And I don't mean bloody in the I-scraped-my-knee way, I mean bloody in the I'm-censoring-my-blog-slightly-from-what-I-really-want-to-title-it way.

I actually made it to Erich's music class this morning! Unfortunately, we didn't make through in the door. For the record, I've decided that this class was a total waste of money. We only made it to half the classes and when we did, all Erich wanted to do was play with the weights while I sang The Wheels on the Bus to whatever other kid was next to me. The only entertaining (and equally annoying) part was this mom that kept talking in a loud baby voice to her son - and following each comment with a guttural "Nanny" laugh. And I've never seen so many "stay at home moms" wear business attire on a regular basis. It was just weird I tell ya.

Anyway, when I pulled Erich out of the car I felt that his butt was soaking wet. I saw the sippy cup next to him, realized what happened, and decided to go in anyway. By the time we got to the building my arm was also drenched, so I put him down and evaluated the damage. The kid looked like I hadn't changed his diaper in days (or a cloth diaper in 6 hours, but that's another post). The entire butt and sides of his light blue jeans were deep blue, so I decided to go back home - fuming at those cursed sippy cups.

I'm curious to hear what others would have done. Would you go home or stick it out? I feel totally comfortable stripping Erich to his diaper or just telling everyone "don't worry, it's only juice!" in playgroup (and indeed I have), but these weren't pals of mine. And no, the Rec Center doesn't sell clothes; I checked before throwing in the towel.

And another question: does anyone know of a sippy cup that does NOT leak? I probably have about 10, and of those, Erich will only drink out of 5. They are all straw cups and they ALL leak. It drives us crazy. Marc even threw one away in a fit of rage last weekend after it soaked his pants. He felt guilty after I told him it was Erich's favorite cup, so he fished it out of the trash and we gave it a good washing when we got home. But how pathetic are we that we keep these cups that bring us so much misery just because Erich refuses to drink from anything else? I keep thinking I'd like to all of the cups with some that don't leak, and make Erich deal with it, but... do they exist? I'm doubtful.

Best Mother's Day EVER

Okay, so I know it's only my second one, but this Mothers Day weekend was pretty freakin' great. It almost made up for my husband ditching me the last several months. Well, okay, I suppose it did.

Thank you Hubs for the night at the Ritz, the fabulous restaurant, the couples massages, the 11-hour slumber, the crepe breakfast, and the amazing ("Mothers Day, birthday & a little bit of Christmas") gift!! I was so spoiled and it was sooo awesome! In return I believe I didn't complain once about our bratwurst dinner and having to spend the entire afternoon watching the Jazz game. Shoot, I didn't even think about it!

You've set the bar high, babe. I don't know how I'm going to top this next month...

English Nursery Rhymes in German

I'm not sure if any of my readers will be interested in this besides me, but after an exhaustive search I was finally able to find German translations of some of my favorite English nursery rhymes. Up until now I've been singing my own rough and pathetic versions to Erich. (Reason #27 that I may have already screwed up my kid before his second year.) Boy am I excited to actually be saying them correctly! You may notice though, that most of these aren't literal translations. This isn't uncommon. I suppose the charm of lines like "the old man is snoring" must get lost in translation. How unfortunate.

For anyone interested, I found the translations here. The site also translates nursery rhymes into a bounty of other languages, so it's a definite keeper for any multi-lingual families. And while we're on the topic, this is also a fabulous site. Pick your language, and pull up pictures. As you scroll over the picture, you see and hear the word. Erich loves this and we do it almost every day!

Bruder Jakob (Are you sleeping?)

Bruder Jakob, Bruder Jakob,
schläfts du noch, schläftst du noch?
Hörst du nicht die Glocken, hörst du nicht die Glocken,
Ding Ding Dong, Ding Ding Dong

Funkle, funkle kleiner Stern (Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)

Funkle, funkle kleiner Stern,
was du bist, das wüßt ich gern.
Stehst hoch über aller Welt,
ein Diamand am Himmelszelt.
Funkle, funkle kleiner Stern,
was du bist das wüßt ich gern.

Tickedi tickedi tack (Hickory Dickory Dock)

Tickedi tickedi tack,
die Maus läuft die Uhr auf und ab.
Die Uhr schlät eins,
die Maus rennt heim!
Tickedi tickedi tack

Es regent, es regnet (It’s Raining, It’s Pouring)

Es regnet, es regnet,
es regnet seinen Lauf.
Und wenn's genug geregnet hat,
dann hört's auch wieder auf.

Ringel, ringel, Rosen (Ring-around the Rosie)

Ringel, ringel, Rosen
Schöne Aprikosen
Weiß und blau
Vergiß mein nicht,
Alle Kinder setzen sich.

Das ist der Daumen (This Little Piggy Went To Market)

Das ist der Daumen,
der schüttelt die Pflaumen,
der hebt sie auf,
der trägt sie nach Haus,
und dieser kleine Lümmel ißt sie alle auf!

Die kribbel-krabbel Spinne (The Itsy Bitsy Spider)

Die kribbel-krabbel Spinne kriecht in Wasserrohr,
dann kommt der Regen und spült sie wieder vor,
dann kommt die Sonne und trocknet das Wasser ein
und die kribbel-krabbel Spinne kriecht wieder ins Rohr hinein.

A,B,C,

A, B.... Y, Z, oh weh, jetzt kann ich das ganze ABC!

Flashback

It took us two years to finally realize we could (and should) store stuff in our attic. Now, whenever I can get my rear in gear, I'll pack up a couple tubs of junk and leave them on the landing for Marc to throw up there. (I've never actually been up there myself-small, dark, musty spaces weird me out.)

My latest project has been organizing the closets in Erich's room, better referred to as the old attic. After packing numerous tubs of baby clothes, I reached two forgotten boxes on the top shelf with my name on them. My theory is that they got there when my mom drove down from Wisconsin after Erich was born. I don't remember seeing them or putting them up there, but then again I was on a lot of Percoset back then...

I realized these were memorabilia boxes encompassing my middle through high school years. Sweet!! Naturally, I took a break from organizing and indulged in this unexpected treat. Right away though, I found something a little, um, "sweeter" than I'd expected. Tucked under the lid of the first box was a bottle of Royale Deluxe Chambord Liqueur! The bottle was pretty dusty and sure, I had some wild times in my youth, but I certainly didn't remember this keepsake! You had better believe I have my suspicions, though. (Um, did you forget about something, little brother?? We'll chat later!)

This was truly a blast from the past, complete with diaries, pictures, cards, yearbooks, awards, trophies, art projects and bulging bag of notes folded into every geometrical shape possible. I got quite the kick out of it all. I had love notes in there from a guy I refused to date until I was 16, and journal entries about how much I "loved" the guy I secretly dated when I was 15. I know, I was quite the heartbreaker. I even got emotional when I found a printed copy of a virtual "Happy Hanukkah" bouquet my best friend Dave sent me saying "Did I make you smile? If so you should put this on your list of things that make you smile." Apparently I was making a list.. I wonder what happened to that?

I made a crazy chair in art class my senior year that was symbolic of the dueling good/bad angel on each shoulder. My good/bad angels were represented by Oscar the Grouch in a black can and Elmo in a flower pot (I had something of an obsession with Elmo for about a year); they were attached to each "shoulder" of the chair and each half of the chair was painted and "decorated" to match (interpretation: glued on flowers and garbage). A lot of people didn't "get" my art, but I was really proud of it so I saved the Oscar and Elmo. Erich had a blast playing with them.

Then there was the journal entry I wrote about how my friend and I stole our teacher's AOL password (because my parents wouldn't give me theirs) and chatted with a bunch of guys, and one kept emailing us. I was convinced that we'd get busted because the emails took a few days to delete; now was that true or was I on crack?

There was so much more, but I decided to pack things up and postpone the rest of the flashback a little longer. At least it was nice to reconnect with the old me and see how I've grown. I'm proud of myself. I did a great job of documenting the shy, skinny, four-eyed, headgear wearing brace-face I was and the myriad of emotions that came with finding myself, making choices, and puberty in general. And although I still cringe when I remember it all, there are a ton of valuable resources in that box to help me deal with my own daughters' (because we'll have at least one if not more, Marc!) awkward adolescent stages. I'm hoping that by then I'll be able to completely shake off any embarrassment about who I was and just laugh about it. Because I think I turned out pretty good.

Erich Nesting

Apparently E was very dissatisfied with the way I organized the pantry. I'm not complaining, though. This kept him busy for about half an hour.

And after all that work, this is how he finally decided it should look:

Chocolate Love

My friend Nancy let me review some of her yummy chocolate. Mmm-mm! I could get used to this.

Andrea Bocelli Sings Elmo to Sleep

Erich has had a thing for Andrea Bocelli ever since we stayed at the Ritz-Carlton in Las Vegas this past Christmas. Andrea had performed a rare concert on Lake Las Vegas last summer, and the footage played constantly on one of the hotel's cable channels. And by nothing short of genius hospitality, the maids left it playing upon leaving the room. It was a delicious treat to walk into our clean room every evening, be greated by that flawless tenor, and see the breathtaking views of the desert sun setting behind him. I'm telling you, this thing was enchanting. Erich was completely entranced from the moment we walked in the room. By the time we checked out, we probably sat through that entire concert 10 times and I still wanted more. Even now when I play Bocelli on my iPod, Erich becomes completely still and stares blissfully off into the distance.

Now imagine our delight as I'm channel surfing today (yes, we watch TV on sick days, so sue me) and suddenly Elmo appears on the screen. Erich adores Elmo. He hasn't had much exposure to the little fur ball, but I can confidently say that it was love at first sight. So I pause a moment, and wait! Who is that with him? Andrea Bocelli!! There he was singing our little buddy a bedtime version of Con Te Partiro. We both thought this song was so fabulous that I found the video on YouTube and E & I watched it several times over.