Seriously Sensitive to the Ick Factor

Today, we here at the Dowd household participated in that fun-filled and kinda disgusting tradition of carving pumpkins.

I was very excited...I imagined Evie digging in to the pumpkin and getting icky. In fact, I made her strip down, fearing the potential stain factor of pumpkin guts. Lemme just say that was a waste of time.

Yeah...last year, 14 month old Evie was really creeped out by the icky, sticky, stringy gunk. After sticking her hand quite briefly into her pumpkin she refused any further contact. But a year has come and gone since then. Evie has acquired all sorts of new skills and experienced a lot of things. The kid can totally get into making a mess! I really envisioned her loving gutting a pumpkin.

Apparently she just has too much of a personal attachment to the veggie.

Fortunately though, my lil punkin' headed youngin', my lil Elly-Belle got totally into the pumpkin gutting experience. She ripped goop from the insides. She chewed on the pumpkin lid. She sampled a pumpkin seed. She stretched strings of pumpkin viscera between her chubby little fingers and cackled manically. She got orange goop in her hair, on the cabinets, the trash can, Evie's hair and even MY hair.

It was a lot of fun.

Evie threw a couple of fits though. Of course. She didn't want to touch the guts. She didn't want to touch the seeds. She was mad that Sissy threw guts on her. Lots of drama, as usual.

Evie was pretty tickled by the end result.

Her face was just in complete awe when she got to see the jack-o-lanterns all lit up on the front porch after it got dark. She just loved it! On and on about her pumpkin and her sister's pumpkin.

Sissy cried when we picked all the seeds up. Cried again when I took the giant spoon we used to help scrape out the innards away from her. Chased the pan full of seeds. Then couldn't care less about the silly pumpkins once I gave her a sippy cup and a toy.

I'm still kinda bummed that Evie didn't particularly care for gutting the pumpkins. But hey, there's always next year.

When Brilliance Backfires

Okay, so maybe my obsessive need to make lists doesn't necessarily qualify as brilliance. But apparently neither does my decision to try and be more laid back and less OCD.

I resisted the temptation all week to make any lists regarding our vacation next week. No "To Dos." No "Don't Forgets." And I did really well. I didn't have any sort of psychological or emotional break down. I wasn't freaking out. I didn't even really feel unprepared. I mean, how hard can it be to pack for 6 days away with two very young children?

Ohmygoodnessgracious.

Last night I started really thinking about it.

And now I'm just going to make a few lists.

But I tried! I really did! A pretty good effort if you ask me.

But last night I started sort of ticking off in my head..."Gotta remember Sissy's sleep sheep, and some spare sheets for the pack n plays, and to take several movies for Evie to watch, and to load up the iPad for Evie, and to set the thermostat back, and to take Mushu's bed with him to the B&B he's staying at while we're gone..."

And as I thought of all these things I kind of started freaking out.

I thought that not making a list would make me less OCD. Turns out it just makes me disorganized. So I'm giving into my inner neat freak, opening up Wunderlist (a phenomenal to-do list app) and typing away!

Also we are planning on doing pumpkins today (hopefully) for the girls. If so I will totally take some pictures for posterity and post those tomorrow. I haven't decided how much I will be posting while we are at the beach. But I know there will be so much to record! I can't wait to see what Evie thinks of the ocean. And Sissy is going to LOVE the sand.

Happy Saturday!

The Tide of War is Receeding

So the war in Iraq is...over?

According to Obama, it's supposed to be. Or will be soon. Or will? But wait, hasn't it, sorta like, already been over?

I remember sitting in band class my senior year and watching the footage as we bombed Iraq. Here we are 8 years later. The better part of a decade has been spent "fighting" in/against/for Iraq. And other than one less sadistic maniacal dictator, what exactly does the United States have to show for it?

We have lost 4,479 American soldiers in Iraq.

That's nearly 4,500 empty seats this Thanksgiving.

It would take 9 Boeing 747's to fly that many people.

Or 82 Greyhound buses.

It's a tremendous chunk just gone from this generation of Americans.

It's a tragedy.

I hope it doesn't just go all to hell in a hand basket after American troops withdraw. Because God knows we'll just end up right back over there.

I had this tremendously long rant mapped out in my head. It was terribly liberal and irrate and heated. And in the process of preparing to write my blog, I googled to find the total number of U.S. Troops lost and on seeing the number, I just lost all my heat and hot air over the issue.

I know a lot of people were really for going to Iraq. There were a lot of horrible things going on over there. Bad people, doing bad things. And typical Americans, we feel the need to play the cowboys. Ride in and right the wrongs. Free the oppressed. Bring justice to those who deserve it.

But I just can't quit thinking about the moms and dads whose babies didn't come home.

So whereas you may have one opinion or another about the war, you may be for or against withdrawing. I want to take a moment to thank those who have gone. Thank God for those who came home. And ask God to please ease the hurt and heartache left for those who won't come back again.

No it's not Veterans Day or Memorial Day or anything else. But we should be thankful for them every day.

Okay, off my soap box. Y'all have a great week end!

Is Baby Bunching Best?

No.

It's not. I will save you the 5 minutes you might spend reading the rest of my blog right now and just say it. No. Baby bunching sucks. It's a pain in the ass. It's a 6 month-long nightmare of crying babies and diapers and spit up and sleepless nights. It's sitting with your head in your hands and crying in the corner wondering how in the hell this has ever happened.

Would I change anything? Rewrite our paths?

Absolutely not.

Already my children don't remember that horrible time period. A year from now, it will be a blur to me as well. Lost amidst the hectic day to day drama of a preschooler and a toddler. Forgotten in the laughter of two beautiful little girls who don't remember any time that they weren't together. Two sisters who will share a room and probably fight until I'm ready to pull my hair out.

In a decade, the only parts I will remember of the first 6 months of parenting two under two will be what I can read here and in the girls' baby books.

We survived. But I'm sure there will be more struggles ahead. Evie is having some serious issues adjusting to a mobile sister. And I get the impression that Sissy is going to be a BIG tattle tell. Having two girls in the terrible twos at once is going to be a bit of a handful. Sending them off to school a year apart is going to break my heart and give me some serious empty nest issues I'm afraid. Then they'll be driving at the same time, college at the same time.I don't think life is easy-peasy from here on by any means.

Would I recommend baby bunching?

It depends. I think it's something that is right for some people but not everyone. Not everyone is meant to have two kids. It's a challenge. And working full-time with two kids is a whole 'nother kind of job. Certainly having two kids in less than two years is not for everyone. But for some, it will work.

Looks like it is working okay for us.

The Good Sort of Problems

Some weeks, you really gotta focus on the positives to get through.

This has totally been one of those weeks. Not because it's been a bad week. Though it has had some pretty bad highlights to it. Which I'm not even going to get into because they are water under the bridge and a recap, however well intentioned, will just drag all those negative feelings and bad vibes back to the forefront of my brain and I really want to keep the good vibes flowing if you know what I mean. My gosh that what as a long sentence.

But this week has absolutely been dragging. Mostly because if I can just make it through Friday I won't be back here for 10 days. TEN WHOLE DAYS. Oh-my-gosh. The only vacation I've had in the last year was my maternity leave. And I don't need to tell you how non-vacation, non-restful and non-relaxing that was. In addition, the Dowd family has never gone on a beach vacation. I haven't been to the beach since I graduated from high school. The only family sort of vacations we have taken are a trip to the zoo, trip to Tweetsie, and last year we flew out to California to see family and attend my sister-in-law's baby shower before everyone moved to NC.

So I'm just trying to take everything a day at a time and focus on the good stuff. Like the fact that I'm down yet another pound. Putting me one pound under my goal weight of 118, though I am no longer TRYING to lose weight. I guess it's a good sort of problem. And probably not one I will have after a week on vacation. Though I do plan on continuing my daily walk while we're at the beach and don't intend to suck down greasy burgers and milkshakes three meals a day or anything.

I've also seen Elly crawling. Like, really crawling. I don't know if she has temporarily given up on walking or if she has finally realized that walking is a little out of her physiological reach right now and that ANY mobility is better than none. It's going to be really hard on Evie. REALLY hard on Evie. Until she adjusts, there will probably be lots of yelling and knocked noggins. That's Evie's response whenever Elly does something terribly unacceptable or will simply not yield to Evie's incessant screaming of "SISSY!" or "NO!"--she knocks Elly on the head. Mobility is a good sort of problem for us to have though.

Evie simply won't stop talking. About helicopters and the moon and Duck and our trip and Ma's and the new porch (at Ma's) and Daddy and herself and Dora and Mickey and...well, you get the idea. It's non-stop. I just take a DEEP breath and remind myself that not too long ago I fretted and worried because she wasn't talking. Well, I am eating those words.

The best news is that it's finally Thursday. I've got so much to do this weekend that it'll be Monday before I know it. I just have to make it through another day or so at work and I'll be home free. Then I'll be trying to pack and make sure everything is done and oh wow, there is so much to remember to TAKE when you are traveling with two very little people.

So, its been a week chocked full of the good sorts of problems. I'm feeling quite blessed and fortunate. Looking forward to a weekend of packing and making lists (which I will check more than twice!). I am going to make a pot of chicken and dumplins. Maybe go pick some pumpkins. Yep, life is good.

My Favorite Decade

Some people loved the 60s. Some long for the 90s. Some people are pretty tickled right here in the 00s...10s...whatever we're calling this one. I personally miss the 80s.

Now I know I was non-existent for half of the 80s. And I don't remember the other half. But many of my favorite things came from the 80s.

My favorite movies...The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, Risky Business, Top Gun, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Dead Poets Society, Dirty Dancing, and When Harry Met Sally.

My favorite music...Jessie's Girl, Bette Davis Eyes, Take It On the Run, Elvira, Tusk, Every Breath You Take, Sweet Child O' Mine, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Like A Virgin, The Boys of Summer, Careless Whisper...etc.

And of course, phenomenal bands/singers: Michael Jackson, Poison, Bon Jovi, Whitesnake, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Tina Turner, U2, The Police, Billy Idol, Duran Duran, Prince, Heart, Journey, Hall & Oates, Air Supply, Blondie.

It was the decade when MTV came into existence and actually played music. The days of big hair bands and leg warmers with tights and shoulder pads with elastic headbands and Aviator shades. The advent of Heavy Metal and the Valley Girl. The mini-skirt came into fashion and Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein became household names. Jane Fonda released her first aerobics video. They were the days of Dallas and Dynasty and Miami Vice. The days of Princess Diana and Ronald Reagan. The Challenger exploded, Mount St Helen erupted, the Exxon Valdez spilled, Chernobyl melted down, the Cold War ended and the Berlin Wall fell. Cocaine and crack became mainstream while the First Lady started the "Just Say No" campaign. John Lennon was assassinated. Reagan was shot. The original Nintendo was released and the IBM PC became mainstream.

Everybody bought a Boombox, a Walkman and a VCR. Watched Thundercats and Transformers, The Cosby Show, Full House, Saved by the Bell and the Golden Girls.

It was a phenomenal era. I don't remember much of it, but I have fond memories from the 5 years that I was alive. I remember dancing around the living room with my mom on Saturday mornings listening to Fleetwood Mac and Heart albums. I remember my mom's Chevy Camaro and listening to Christmas music from tapes.

I definitely have a greater appreciation for the 80s looking back at them. I certainly wasn't old enough to care about the fashion and the music then. I didn't realize I had been born during such a spectacular decade. But hey, maybe that's one of the things that makes it so spectacular to look back on!

 

Fear of becoming what you hate

I'm sure everyone grows up with some sort of trait of their parents' that they fear to inherit. Maybe you grew up with a mom with a bad temper or a lazy dad and you swore to yourself you would never, EVER become that. Maybe you fear getting fat, not being successful, or developing a drug problem.

As for me, I fear alcoholism.

Just to clarify, I do not have a problem with alcohol. I occasionally imbibe a couple of glasses of wine or a beer. Sometimes socially, sometimes just to wind down in the evening. Most people consume alcohol in this way.

I was a pretty typical college student, participating in "Thirsty Thursdays" and Frat parties. I have had my share of hangovers and honestly I don't think I will ever be able to even look at a bottle of Tequila again. But I would never have classified my behavior as an alcohol problem. Just typical stupid college kid stuff.

While most people will go through their whole lives without developing any sort of drinking problem, there are those who aren't so lucky. The occasional social drink becomes a series of regular social drinks which develops into lots of drinking by yourself. Next thing you know, you've lost your job, your family and have drank the last of your money. And as much as you might hate the booze for what it's done to you, you can't stop.

For some people the alcohol itself loses the appeal and the effectiveness while the addiction for that disembodied, carefree feeling grows. Those people turn to harder chemicals to lose themselves. They find cocaine, heroine and meth.

Alcoholism is a seriously misunderstood disease. And it is a disease. I have experienced the devastation and destruction that the disease can wreak. The loss and the heartbreak. The anger and resentment. All still very familiar.

My stepdad when I was little was an alcoholic. He didn't start off that way. When Richard and my mom married, I was young. Honestly, he's the only "dad" figure that I remember. The only person I remember ever calling "Dad." I remember him being very John Wayne back then. Tall and skinny. Always in a hat and Levis. We built a barn and he taught me everything I know about riding horses. As time went by the drinking got worse. From social drinker to functional drunk to completely dysfunctional drunk.

When I was in middle school, I remember him becoming physically violent and psychologically abusive. He went from a jovial, easy-going guy to a mean drunk real quick. For whatever reason I remembered my brother getting on his bad side more often than me. My mom and Richard separated when I was in high school and my final contact with Richard was the day I found out he had sold my horse without my permission. Probably so he could have some beer and drug money.

Alcoholism has been found to have both genetic factors and environmental. Whereas I don't have to worry about the genetic factors from a stepfather, I have a healthy dose of alcohol in my genes already. In fact I have moonshiner blood running in my veins.

Maybe in my case at least the environmental influence has been to steer me away from any addictive tendencies. I feel like I'm always hyper aware of my reasons for wanting a glass of wine or a beer. I'm overly sensitive about people being three sheets to the wind around me. And of course I don't want my kids exposed to that sort of behavior. Social drinkers, even those who drink a lot on a regular basis, are not the same as alcoholics. I have seen plenty of both and most definitely know the difference.

What I wonder about the most is what is it that turns someone from a social drinker into a drunk? From a martini at happy hour to a fifth for breakfast? What finally flips that switch? While I watched someone go through that downward spiral personally, I was just a kid. So I certainly wasn't privy to any of the personal reasons. It seems like an awfully personal sort of question to ask someone anyways.

Some alcoholics recover. They get their proverbial shit together and they move on. Move forwards. I know some. You'd never guess that they had at one time suffered from a drinking problem. Many don't. While I never spoke to Richard again, I guess he never fully got his ducks in a line. He committed suicide this year. It bothered me a lot more than I would have ever thought. Especially having spent a fair amount of teenage angst wishing he was dead.

My worry is certainly not all consuming. Beer has too many calories for me and makes me burpy. Too much wine gives me a headache. And liquor in much quantity makes me puke. So I don't really see myself become a total lush anytime soon. In the meantime, I will continue to savor my glass of Riesling after the girls are in bed.