All or Nothing

We (finally) got a Wii. I was actually against it from the start but Joe was really pushing for it. I saw the whole thing as a giant money pit – extra controller, more games, bonus controllers, paddles, guns, DJ tables… but Joe swore that we could “keep it simple” and “just get the basics”. The reason that I doubted him on this was because of the “Christmas Village Incident” of 2006.

It went a little something like this. We decided to take a family trip up to Frankenmuth in November of that year. While we were in Frankenmuth we had a really nice time together and we bought a ceramic light up house that could be displayed for Christmas. We decided, as a family, that it would be nice if we made this trip every year and bought a house to remind us of the fun we’d had.

When we arrived home Joe went on, what can only be described, as a Christmas village bender. He got on Ebay and bought nearly every house, store and accessory that he could find. He bought the creamery, the music studio (complete with monogram), the store, the town square – everything. As the packages began to arrive I said, “What is all this?” He sheepishly looked at me and confessed. Do you want to know the really crazy part? We have so many houses that we don’t have anywhere to display them!

So you can understand my concern with the purchase of the Wii. He actually went to the game store yesterday to “pick up a few things” and I was nervous all day long. At one point he called and asked me for my money that his parents gave me so he could buy me my own Wii controller. No sir. That money has “pedicure” written all over it.

Joe tends to be an “all or nothing” kind of guy and he is not easily reined in, which is why we’ve never gone to Vegas. I’d have to pat him down to make sure he didn’t bring the deed to the house!

Alright, back to the Wii. We got it and it’s a lot of fun. Here’s the weird part – I’m really good at it. Really, really good. Which is strange because, as you’ll recall, I’m not the least bit sporty. Still, I was beating everyone at tennis, bowling and fencing. Joe and I almost came to blows over the fencing game because he COULD NOT beat me and it was driving him crazy. We must have played that game 30 times and he didn’t beat me once! Finally I had to beg him to stop because I was tired.

We tried to do the boxing game but that was a little out of control. I had (really clear and vivid) visions of actually beating him with the Wii controller. When the game paused and the message said, “Wouldn’t you like to take a break now?” I figured it was a sign from God.

Snowmobile Fun

You’re probably expecting a Christmas blog out of me today, but it’s not gonna happen. I think I’m suffering from some sort of Christmas shock or something or maybe I’m just done with it all, but nothing Christmasy is coming to mind right now so I’ve chosen another topic.

Snowmobiling. We went last night with some friends who have snowmobiles. I wasn’t going to go at first because I wasn’t properly dressed – slacks, satin shirt, cute pumps. But then I realized that I didn’t care how I was dressed and that I wanted to ride a snowmobile! So I put on my MIL's boots (she's a good six inches shorter than me so you can only imagine the discrepancy in boot size), a crazy hat and some fuzzy gloves and went on out. It should also be noted that in the frenzy to find appropriate outdoor gear Joe ended up wearing a ski glove on his right hand and a garden glove on his left.

Growing up, we had snowmobiles that we spent a lot of time on. We would run them all through the horse field and even down the road. We pulled sleds with them, jumped hills and even crashed them sometimes (Susan). It was fantastic! I’m really not sure how my Dad kept those crazy old machines running. They were NOT top of the line machines and were probably pretty old. Still, he maintained them and they ran like crazy for us.

One of them was all orange and the brand name was Johnson. This thing was a BEAST. It could carry three of us on the seat while pulling at least two more on saucers behind it. We’d play a game where we would have equal lengths of rope going to each saucer so that you were side by side. Then we would try to knock each other off. Now that I say it, it sounds like a bad YouTube video, but it was actually a lot of fun at the time…

It all came back to me last night. The feel of the wind, the sound of the engines, the smell of the gasoline. But it’s not all the same as it was back in the day. For one thing, the snowmobiles go a LOT faster than they ever did back then. Plus, I was riding with my brother-in-law and, while he’s a very safe driver, I was still pretty scared to be riding one of those things going that fast.

The other part that is not at all the same is my body. Every part of me hurts today. Muscles I didn’t even know I had are screaming out in agony with every move. My back is completely wrecked too. I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to act my age.

I was thinking a lot yesterday about childlike trust. I remember riding snowmobiles with my Dad and it never occurred to me that anything could go wrong – that we could flip it or crash. That could never happen with my Dad at the wheel. I had complete faith and trust in him. Of course now, being a wife and a mother, there’s a lot more at stake if something goes wrong. If I get hurt or killed things won’t go well. Joe couldn’t tell you Max’s underwear size if you put a gun to his head.

I kind of wish that I could return to that state of childlike innocence, just for a little while. It would be nice to feel the magic again if only briefly before going back to being an adult again, wouldn’t it?

Open Mouth - Insert Foot

To understand this post you're going to need some context so here it is. My maiden name is Arnold. My sisters and I have a phrase that we use to describe a bad social encounter and it is this, "Oh my gosh, I totally pulled an Arnold". If you "Pull an Arnold" it means that you have gone into a complete and total social nosedive during a chance encounter with an acquaintance.

It looks a little something like this. You see someone that you haven't seen for quite some time - let's say, an old boyfriend. He says "hello" and you promptly open your mouth and the words just roll on out and they don't stop. For a long time. You find yourself rambling on about the most bizarre things you can imagine - I once gave my full address, with zip code - to an old boyfriend who had simply asked, "So where are you living these days?"

You kind of leave your body and float above, unable to look away from the train wreck taking place below and unable to stop it. A voice in your head is shouting, "STOP TALKING! PLEASE!" and yet you cannot seem to will your mouth to close. And then you start to sweat.

By the time the ex-boyfriend is able to get away from you he's looking at you like you're a complete maniac and he's SO relieved that he broke up with you when he did. It's horrible.

The reason I mention this is that I "Pulled an Arnold" last night at a local restaurant. I ran into a very important work related colleague. The trouble was, he didn't really know me by just looking at me but I knew him so I felt that I had to introduce myself. I had it all planned out. I would walk up to him and say, "Excuse me, Dr. ???. I'm so sorry to interrupt (turn and apologize to his date) but I thought that was you and I just wanted to say Hello. I'm Julie Nowak, Risk Management." And that was it. That was all I needed to say and then I could just turn and walk away. But that is not at all how it went.

One of the problems with the situation was that I had my winter coat on so the sweating started earlier in the process than it usually does. And Joe was with me so I had a witness. Once I said "hello" my brain kind of shut down and I forgot all the other stuff I had planned to say. I ended up misunderstanding what he was talking about and getting confused and flustered. Joe, helpful as he is, told me later than I was rambling and the Dr. was just trying to get away from me. Which I can understand because I wanted to get away from me too.

Once I regained control of my mouth I was able to get away but I feared the damage was already done. I wonder if there's a class for this or a pill I can take to make it stop?

Ice Skating

Lest you think, from the title, that I broke my vow of last year to “never skate again”, let me reiterate that the vow still stands. My family, however, didn’t get the memo. We went to an ice skating party with our 4-H club last night and the kids LOVED it. I stood on the sidelines, feet firmly planted on solid shoes, and held all the purses.

The whole thing is just so dangerous – skating. I mean, people get seriously hurt doing this crazy business but everyone treats it as if they’re just going to the movies. I had a prime vantage point and was able to witness all of the falls that took place on the ice. It would be mean if I laughed at the people who fell, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I did try to make sure that they weren’t seriously injured before I openly mocked them though so that should count for something.

Watching an ice skater, especially a novice skater, fall is like watching a cartoon character slip on a banana peel. The first thing that happens is their arms shoot straight into the air, then the feet start to flail back and forth like they’re running in place, then the arms start to flail, then they’re down. Unless they happen to be near a wall which looks even worse. They start to fall, grab for the wall, bang into it, have a moment of hope, then fall completely to the ice.

Then there are the falls that involve more than one skater. Those are really awful. I witnessed my niece take down about 5 people when she fell. There’s just no warning. One minute you’re kind of stumbling along thinking that you may have finally gotten the hang of this crazy sport and the next minute you can feel the ice seeping through your pants while you stare at the ceiling.

At least with roller skating you’ve got a fighting chance. To begin with, you’ve got FOUR WHEELS underneath your foot instead of one skinny, sharp blade. Seems safer right off the bat, don’t you think? I don’t really roller skate either because that is also harder than it looks. Plus, I just don’t have enough vacation time saved up to be in traction.

This is not all to say that I’m not sporty, except I guess I’m kind of not. But I am well-read so that needs to be taken into consideration. I probably wouldn’t hurt myself too badly if I did cross country skiing or maybe snow-shoeing. Then again…

Agony (Warning: Female Content)

My body has decided to rebel. Apparently I haven't been paying enough attention to it or I've been running it too hard or whatever, but the jig is up. My "systems" have decided to, inexplicably and without warning, turn against me. Things that had always been a certain way (27 days days apart - 5 days long) just weren't anymore. And so I find myself on the threshold of a hysterectomy. At 41. Kind of weird. Not really the way I saw things going for me but, to be fair, my parts have done their job admirably and I don't really need them anymore. Especially if they're going to start making trouble. Today, for instance, was one of those troubling days. I went to the OB this morning and he informed me, rather unceremoniously, that the cyst on my ovary had doubled since I last saw him (three weeks ago). Ah, so THAT explains the excruciating pain in my side... But, I had a lot to do today so laying around wasn't really an option. I did all I had to do (and then some) and was finally on my way home when it really hit. Hard. I'm talking about doubled over, shouting profanities, weeping loudly and wondering-if-I-should-pull-over-and-call-an-ambulance-on-the-freeway hard. But here's the crazy part. My thought process was not at all in line with what my body was trying to tell me. I actually thought, and I kid you not, "I should stop really quick at Learning Express to get that gift I need - I'm right here after all and I don't want to have to drive all the way back to Ann Arbor. Anyway, if I do need to call an ambulance they could probably get better parking in front of the store." What kind of insanity is that?? Luckily, there was some small shred of common sense within me and I drove home. Though I will confess to making a quick stop at Dad's house to drop off the gifts I had already purchased. Poor Dad. As I limped, crying and grabbing my side, into the house with my gifts he asked what was wrong. I told him that my "business" was giving me grief. I'm a grown woman and I still can't say the word "ovary" to my Dad. WTF? Anyway, I have an entirely new found respect for those that deal with chronic pain. I simply cannot imagine. It is exhausting, physically and emotionally. The pain was so bad that I could not get away from it. Nothing felt comfortable, nothing made it better. I was absolutely beside myself. Thank the Lord for Vicodin. Here's the even crazier part. As I was moaning, crying and rolling around in agony on my bed, Joe said "Why didn't you schedule this for the beginning of December? The Doctor told you it was bad so why didn't you just get it done?" "Because I had a lot to do. If I don't take care of all the Christmas stuff, who will?" WHAT? Honestly, is that that most ludicrous thing you've ever heard? I think I will take the time off after my surgery to reflect on the airline policy on oxygen masks. If I don't put mine on first, I'm sure as hell not going to be able to help anyone around me.

It's like "Where's Waldo" but with a pig....

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Seriously. It is REALLY cold outside – wind chills below zero. I went out last night to tuck in the animals and I felt really bad for them. I was bundled from head to toe and was still cold. I even put on one of those over the face ski mask looking things - fashion be damned. As I was putting it on though, I said to my son, “Honey, why does this face mask thing feel wet?” My husband chimed in by saying “Didn’t we see the cat over by that just a little while ago….?” Story of my life.

Anyway, we walked out to check on the animals and I just started thinking to myself about all of the ways that I’m a bad pet owner. Maybe if I didn’t own these animals they could have found a home in Florida where it’s warm. Maybe if I didn’t have them fenced in the goats could live in the wild, off the land, in a cave. Maybe there’s someone out there who actually wouldn’t mind have a pig in the house. (They’d have to be stark raving mad of course which might present further problems for Phineas but at least he’d be indoors!) And my poor sweet llama. Maybe he could’ve found a less neurotic herd to be in charge of. You know, without a pig that chews on his leg and goats that actually appreciate his tender loving care. Sigh. So I apologized profusely to the group, added extra straw to the stall and bid them goodnight.

I usually don’t mind winter at all. I love the snow and the ice and even the tricky driving (mostly). But this cold, well, this is something else entirely. The teachers must hate it too because the kids probably won't go out for recess which seems like a big nightmare. It makes the evenings worse too because, while I'd like to sit by the fire reading and sipping (spiked) hot cocoa, the kids don't seem to be all that hip to it. They are full of energy and have no way to expend it other than to pick on each other, complain to me about it and torment the dog.

If I've told them once I've told them a thousand times, "Sugar doesn't like to wear the Santa costume. We only make her wear it on Christmas and even then only long enough for a picture. Leave her alone. Go put the costume on your sister. Wait. Forget I said anything."

It's probably highly illegal to spike their hot cocoa with Melatonin, right? Yeah, Yeah, I thought so.

Pushy Pig

You would not believe what Mr. Phineas T. Pig has been up to lately. I went out the other day to cozy up the stall for all of the animals. I spread straw all over and made it nice and thick to help keep them warm.

The very next day I went out and what did I see? Phineas had moved ALL of the straw into the warmest corner of the stall and made a HUGE pile of it. He perched himself right in the middle of it and he must’ve been just as toasty as could be. Meanwhile, the goats and llama looked angrily on, clearly wondering why we had to adopt this dumb pig. I’ll have to keep a close eye to make sure that we don’t have some sort of uprising...

Bad Back

My back is officially OUT. This always happens to me when I get stressed (Is it December already?). I was carrying water buckets to the animals the other day and I felt my back just go. It was like a little “hitch” and I knew it was all over for me.

The trouble is that I simply don’t have time to deal with this. I have tons of shopping still to do and I haven’t even ordered Christmas cards yet. (I’m actually considering New Year’s cards at this point. There is NOTHING wrong with that.)

For now, all I want to do is lay on the couch and moan in agony. But that’s not really an option for me. There is still dinner to be cooked (and cleaned up), children to be cared for, bathrooms to be cleaned, groceries to be gotten, and so on. I just haven’t scheduled a back injury into my day.

Isn’t this always the way for us women though? We could be on death’s door and we’d still feel obligated to do all of the stuff that we normally do. Now men, on the other hand, don’t seem to have this problem. When Joe’s back goes out, the world (apparently) stops revolving. He will make the announcement that his back is hurt and he’ll go straight to the couch where he will faithfully remain for about a week.

I, on the other hand, will not slow down my schedule one bit. I can’t afford to. I will press on, getting up earlier to account for my lack of mobility, and get the jobs done. Of course, this means that my injury will hold on for about three weeks instead of one because I won’t give it a chance to heal.

In my mind, I get it. I understand that I should do what needs to be done to heal myself. Putting on my oxygen mask first and all that. Still, I just don’t really know how to put it into practice. If I let everything go then, 1) nobody else will do it and 2) it’s just a bigger mess for me to clean up in the end.

So here I sit (which is my most uncomfortable position, by the way) at work, showing up and doing my job. I’m trying to keep my moaning and whining to a low level so I don’t disturb others…

Snow!

The snow is absolutely beautiful today. Huge, fluffy flakes twirling and swirling by. Just makes me want to snuggle up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate and call it a day. If only I was independently wealthy. Sigh.

I’m thrilled that the snow has FINALLY arrived though others, I admit, are not so thrilled. I am definitely a person of winter and I live in a house made for winter too so that kind of works out in my favor. I love to get the wood stove fired up and just get totally warm. And I love that I can put the kids’ wet snow clothes on a drying rack in front of the stove and be assured that they’ll be totally dry by morning. It works well for boots too which is a good thing because you would not believe what Max did to my boots the other day. I don’t even want to talk about it.

Of course, all this being said, I’m quite sure that Joe sent the kids to school without hats and mittens today. Not that it would be entirely his fault – finding matching mittens for the first snow from last years’ mittens supply is unlikely – but the fact remains. Zoe, though, is currently refusing to wear hats. My little “fashionista” has concerns about the detrimental effect it would have on her hair-do I guess. In second grade.

I need to try and dig up all the boots, winter coats and snow pants from last year to see if 1) we still have them 2) they still fit and 3) they’re in decent condition. Of course it stands to reason that I would wait until the first snowfall to do this. No sense planning ahead, I always say.

Rotating the kids’ clothes for the seasons isn’t one of my best skills so I’m inclined to put it off until the last possible moment. Not saying it’s right, I’m just saying. I tend to assume that the things that fit last year won’t fit this year so I should just get rid of them. Plus, there’s nowhere to store it all anyway. Those moms out there who are more organized than me (you know who you are) probably have everything labeled and put away in clear plastic bins. They could probably produce a pair of pajamas, from the bins, in any size and style you requested. Whatever. Like that’s important.

So if you see Zoe without a hat today, please remember that I'm not a bad parent - I just have a stubborn kid. Have a happy snowfall!