Author: Tim

Hello. My name is Beth and I have a blogging problem.

Hi, Beth.

It’s been nearly two months since my last post.

Gasp!

I know, I know. It’s just gotten completely out of control. Sure, posts were sparse early in the summer, but the last 60 days have just been a blur. I’ve been binging on Dooce, Mimi Smartypants, and, my God! Jason Pettus is posting every day at his new blog! Next thing I know, I wake up in a pool of ‘Why aren’t you posting anymore?’ emails in the middle of August. OK, it was really just my mother-in-law asking.

… and scene!

Um, so, sorry about my prolonged silence. Guess I was on a bit of a break from ye olde blogge here. Seeing as how it’s been four years of inane blathering, I guess that I was due.

Lessee, what’s been happening… Oh! Elliott turned one in July. That was pretty big. Then, two days later, he had a Thomas train in each hand, rendering crawling too much of an inconvenience, so he walked across the room. And he hasn’t looked back! Hooray! My son is walking erect like the excellent homo sapiens that he is!

He’s also saying a couple of words, which always completely blows me away, because I don’t remember Auggie saying much more than “mama” and “dada” at this age. So when he pipes up with “thank you” (more like “chee-choo”) or “bye-bye” (“ba ba”) and even Auggie (“ghee”), I’m surprised anew every time.

And now August is four. Wow. Four. That is a number that sucker punched me when I first let it sink in. So what is four like? Um, let’s see if I can sum up Auggie at four:
Backpacks
Underwear
Mostly wiping his own bottom
Able to select things from the fridge on his own and consume said things without my knowledge
Middle of the night trips to the potty
Still little enough to say, ‘Mommy, I love you,’ without a hint of self-consciousness
Big enough to say in exasperation, ‘Mommy! I know everything!’ also without a hint of self-consciousness
Able to undo his own seatbelt and open the car door
Diesel trains!
So close to reading, but not at all interested in writing
Repeats himself over and over and over until he receives some sort of acknowledgement that yes, you hear that his doggies are going to bed.

So that’s that. More soon. Probably.

Happy birthday, Elliott!

Happy first birthday, little shoe-wearing boy!

Happy number one, Mr. No Nappy!

Go, Little E, it’s your birthday!

Up until this time last week, we were preparing to move back to Louisville. I was going to go back to work and Tim was going to stay home with the boys. I can’t really go into any details, but suffice to say that all the pieces did not fall into place.

It’s a shame, because it was a golden opportunity, but on the other hand, it’s such a relief to be staying here.

I mean, I love the work that I do. And right now, to be perfectly honest, I’m doing a craptacular job at being both a mom and a writer. Work is busy and, at times, intense. Being a mom is even busier and, most times, intensely intense.

Auggie is at an age where he can be a huge help, or a huge pain in the butt. Most of the time, he is content to play on his own while I’m trying to get something done. But it’s those times when I need to make a phone call or am working on a deadline when he seems to have a sixth-sense that mommy is especially vulnerable. And he can be completely ruthless at those times.

The good thing is that the majority of my work can be done at night after the boys are in bed. This isn’t such a good arrangement for Tim, but it’s only for the next, oh, four years, right?

The thing that really appealed to me about the opportunity in Louisville was the chance to go to an office and focus on my work for eight hours straight. And then, to come home and just be home. Not checking my email constantly, fretting during story time about the projects waiting to be done once the boys are asleep, dropping into bed mentally exhausted every night. And the crippling procrastination!

Plus, I must say that Tim and I were more than a little happy to be leaving our myriad obligations/responsibilities here. Don’t get me wrong, now that we’re staying, we’ve both felt a renewed commitment to these same obligations. But, for a little while, it was fun to think about just being ourselves for a little while. Us, virtually on our own, in a “strange” city with no church/volunteer groups/family to be accountable to… It was exhilarating!

So I guess this has led us to really examine where we spend our time. Are we doing the things we love? I know that I’m asking myself the question that ultimately led us to move here from Louisville five years ago: Am I as happy as I could be?

Now that sufficient time has passed and the story can be told without that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel like I might vomit, here’s the story:
Since we’ve been working so hard on getting out of debt lo these past eight months, we decided that Tim would go it alone at the Derby this year. This way, he could sleep on Bob’s couch, saving the approx. $1,000 in hotel accommodations and the additional expenses of us eating at all of our favorite Louisville restaurants, shopping at our favorite Louisville bookstores and record stores and the few dollars in mint juleps that I would probably drink over the course of the weekend.

This was a bad idea.

First of all, it was Tim’s 13th straight Kentucky Derby. Who knew that I was his good luck charm?

Anyway, things were going swimmingly until Saturday. Our surplus Oaks and Derby tickets had been sold to friends and Tim was flush with cash. Tim was having a great time with his old friends and even tied one on pretty good his first night in town. He got to hang out with the owners of one of the Oaks fillies in their sweet clubhouse box on Oaks Day, even going into the paddock for the saddling of the horses before the big race. Unfortunately, the horse didn’t win, but she ran a great race and gave the group quite an exciting ride. I was so jealous when I heard about how much fun he was having, but I was really happy that he was enjoying himself.

The boys and I decided to head down to my mom’s on Saturday morning, and Tim and I talked a couple of times that morning. It was a beautiful day in Louisville, so finding even a single Derby ticket was presenting more of a problem than Tim had expected. I assured him that he would find a good one and to just have a great time.

Now, I’m sure that I had only forgotten how expensive Derby tickets can be, especially good ones. Even singles. But when Tim called me up and told me that he spent $400 on a ticket for the Kentucky Derby, I nearly fainted dead away. That particular phone call ended badly.

Auggie was in need of a nap, and so was I, so we headed to mom’s guest room for a rest while Mom played with Elliott. I woke up before Auggie and as I was coming down the stairs, Mom was coming up with the phone. It was Tim.

I thought he was calling to give me an update on the Derby goings-on, since the race was less than 30 minutes away, but he was not. I don’t remember his exact words, but the gist was this: After our last phone call, Tim was a little deflated and decided to go back to Bob’s house to socialize a bit before the big race. While he was there, his friends with the Oaks horse invited him to join them on the backside of Churchill (the stable area across the track from the main plant) to watch the Derby. He was feeling guilty since he had spent so much on a ticket, but since he had never watched the race from there, he agreed. To get the friends’ car out for the ride over, however, Tim had to move his car first. (Can you hear the ominous music starting here?)

As he was walking up to the rail on the backside, Bob called with the unfortunate news that somehow, Tim’s car had caught fire, the fire department (located less than a mile away) had come to put out the fire, and the car was a total loss. From what they could tell, someone had dumped out their hot charcoal in the alley and when Tim re-parked his car, he parked right over the coals.

Oh. Crap.

After us both freaking out on the phone for a while (did I mention he was roaming the entire trip? Our first cell phone bill is approaching $400. double crap!), he decided to stay for the race and call the insurance claims department to see what the hell to do next. And he was good as his word, even holding up the cell phone for the claims agent to hear the roar of the Derby crowd during the race.

OK, this is long enough already. The rest is interesting to us, so I might continue this later, but the gist is this: The car was towed to the impound lot, totaled, of course. Tim was able to recover the several hundred dollars in cash residing in the glove compartment (for safe keeping, natch) that night. He caught a ride home with a friend that was passing through St. Louis (thanks, Aaron!). By Thursday of the next week, he had found an awesome used car, priced below market-value, settled with the insurance company on the car (blessed, blessed comprehensive insurance!), and paid for the car with cash. Awesome.

Some time ago, I ‘fessed up about my $4 a day Starbucks habit. Ha ha, very funny. We all moved on.

However. I only seemed to encourage myself. Instead of going to Starbucks a couple of days a week, yesterday, I went into Starbucks and I couldn’t remember the last day that I had not been there.

And, since we’re doing Financial Peace University, I can’t not do the math. $4 a day times 7 days a week equals $28 a week. $28 a week times 4 weeks a month equals $112 a month. yada yada yada $1,456 a year. Oof. That’s more than I’ve saved for retirement in the last FIVE YEARS.

Ergo, line in the sand. We don’t need no stinking Starbucks. My husband makes a completely wonderful cup of coffee right here.

OK, maybe one a week.

I mean, when does something become an addiction (yes, I’m sure that there are any number of websites devoted to this very subject, if only I would take a moment to Google for them, but stick with me here)? When you do something mean to one of your children in order to get your fix? Steal? Sell your body? Kick the dog because you didn’t get it?

I’m totally writing the “Afterschool Special” about the evils of venti iced nonfat sugar-free vanilla lattes. They still have “Afterschool Specials,” right?

It’s been almost FIVE YEARS since I’ve taken Nyquil. My god, I miss it.

Wow, hey, sorry for the long silence. It’s been quite a slog since the last entry, what with the month-long colds for everyone (Tim is still getting over his), the endless stream of work projects (this is good for our debt-elimination program, bad for mommy’s sanity sometimes), run-ins with termites and fencing companies and veterinarians, etc., etc.

So we’ll try to go about this in an organized fashion.

Me: Working hard, occasionally venturing out into the world with friends (complete with margarita last Sunday — ole!), mostly feeling like a juggler when it comes to work, kids, volunteer stuff, and, oh yeah, Tim. I’m down to one day a week for laundry, which is just crazy. But twice a week just ain’t happening anymore…

Tim: Also crazy with work. Tuning up and tricking out his Jetta with new tires and struts — that he installs himself. Oh yes, ladies, he’s handy, all right! Currently “my best daddy in the whole wide woild (sic)” according to Auggie. Awww!

Auggie: Mr. Motor mouth. I swear that I could easily take over the job of press secretary for the POTUS with the sheer number of questions that are thrown at me at any given moment by this guy. Is it sad that sometimes when I’m driving, I just turn up the music and stop answering for a little while? There’s only so many times that you can answer, “What street is this, Mommy? What street is this one, Mommy?” right?

Elliott: This guy is trouble. Into ev-er-y-thing. Pulling up on anything, no matter how rickety. His ear infection was gone in a flash, but the cold still lingers. I think today was the first time in weeks — weeks! — that I didn’t have to wipe his nose once. And, let me tell you, this baby really HATES having his nose wiped. Tim is convinced that he said, ‘bye-bye’ last night as we were leaving for FPU (Elliott is the class mascot.), but I think he’s just vocalizing his one and only consonant sound. Auggie talks enough for him, so not to worry.

Booker: Slim and trim, baby! He breaks our heart with the way he licks all the dog bowls clean after every meal. You would think that we were starving him! But the diet has really made a big difference for Booker. He was getting quite tubby there last fall.

Jake: Jake has a detached retina. And, despite our initial assumptions that he had gotten clocked by a certain three-year-old, it’s not a torn retina due to trauma. He’s had lots of (expensive) testing over the past month to find out that we don’t know why his retina detached. We know what didn’t cause this dachshund’s retinal detachment, however, so that’s good for some reason. He’s now taking a topical and an oral steroid, which will hopefully coax his retina back to where it’s supposed to be. Whether or not his vision will ever be restored in that eye remains to be seen. (Holy cow, I swear I did not intend to make that horrible pun. Yet I’m not taking it out because I have the teeniest soft spot for horrible puns. Interesting.)

Dogs are expensive!

Kirby: Thankfully, Kirby is still just Kirby. Still barking at inappropriate times. Still a complete wuss. Still a great dog to nap with.

Blue the Fish: Sadly, Blue is now swimming in that Big Fishbowl in the Sky. After two weeks of looking like he was going to go belly-up at any moment, not eating and generally creeping us out with the constant “Blue Death-Watch 2005″, Tim decided it was time to send Blue on his Final Journey and flushed him.

One funny moment in all of this with the fish: About a week ago, I was looking to see if Blue was still alive, and I saw him laying on his side, mouth not moving, gills not moving, nothing. I solemnly go to Tim and tell him that Blue is finally gone. As Tim is maneuvering to scoop the lifeless body of Blue out of the tank, Blue suddenly swims away, scaring the bejesus out of us both. Tim, without missing a beat, says, ‘I’m not dead yet!’ in his best Monty Python imitation. ‘I’m getting better!’ I added. ‘I might pull through!’ And then we laughed. Because we are heartless jerks.

I just got home from the pediatrician’s, where Elliott was diagnosed with his first ear infection. Poor little guy! He was so out of sorts this morning that I knew that something was not right. I gave him some Tylenol and he finally fell asleep. Now we’ve got some antibiotics and I hope that they work quickly! He’s normally such a chill baby… When he screams and cries and nothing makes him happy, now that is totally weird.

Auggie is down for his nap, I hope. I never really know when he falls asleep. Some days he just plays in his room for 2 hours. Which is fine with me for the most part, I guess. He’s “resting” and so I also get to rest. He’s such a little motor-mouth these days! And he’s taken to making up words, so in the middle of telling you something (which is already challenging enough to understand), he’s occasionally throwing in some gibberish word. Plus, it’s not enough that you simply listen to what he’s saying — you have to acknowledge that you understand him too. It’s like living with the freaking Verbal section of the SAT! The three year old demands that you prove your comprehension! Sigh.

He read his first word today, though, which is pretty amazing. “Dog” a classic. It still counts, even though it was on TV, right?

Speaking of dogs, we have

doggie frustrations too. Jake, our black and tan guy, has had some weirdness with his right eye. It’s been really red and weepy, so I took him to the vet. He looked at it and said, not only is it red and weepy, but the pupil isn’t reacting to light. After a week of antibiotic ointment with no improvement, we’re scheduled to see the doggie ophthalmologist next week. Yesterday, our vet said that he couldn’t even see his retina, which sounds bad, but I have no real idea what it means. It sounds like the possibilities are glaucoma or a tumor, which I can’t even deal with thinking about right now. Tim and I have made several jokes about medical marijuana for the Jake…

You know, I want to visit this Penzey’s store so badly, I can’t stand it. But “Vanillabration”? I don’t know if I can set foot in a store that promotes such a thing…

And a big ole happy birthday to Mr. Pettus, who has up and started a respectable, business-type blog. What a long, long way from The Chez.

Did I mention that Elliott is officially mobile now? He started crawling in a forward direction last Saturday, at Auggie’s friend Stephen’s house. Which is carpeted, of course. Damn these hardwood floors and their hindering of my children’s development! I mean, thank you, hardwood floors, for keeping my kids in roughly one place so I can go to the bathroom by myself occasionally.

Oh, hey, I’m one of those jerks that never updates their blog! Sorry!

Here’s a picture to make up for it.