And in the "Holy Hell, That Hurts!" Category ...

... Burns.

Burns are, by nature, painful. That is why reasonable people take steps to avoid them. I am, ordinarily, such a reasonable person. But not today.

This evening, while my husband sulked in the playroom (which was my fault for speaking meanly to him, BTW, and had nothing to do with him being a thin-skinned lazy ass) watching the kids cavort;while mother naively twiddled her thumbs and came to share the miniscule news of the day; while Big and Busy reached Olympic heights of auditory assault; while I was holding it all together and making a kick-ass Non-Cream-of-X-Soup-Casserole using leftover pork chops, frozen peas, and the wondrous Tastefully Simple Monterey Cheese Sauce ...

... I picked up the saute pan, fresh out of the 425degF oven, with my non-gloved hand. Do you think it bears mentioning that it was FUCKING HOT?!!

After the immediate shock wore off we did the usual hemming and hawing over whether it warranted a trip to the ER. Let me tell you how glad I am that the Ask-a-Nurse didn't think it was. Our home lab recently changed to Aetna's new "cost saver" plan offered through GIH's compnay. Yeah, we see a little more in each paycheck, but after both girls' annual ped visits with beaucoup vaccinations AND last month's ER trip for Big AND me being a damfool and going for three months of the Nuvaring ... our FSA is nearly wiped out. And it's not even March.

Back to the point. No hospital trip for CMG. (That's supposed to be me; did I get those initials right?) Just an evening of my hand wrapped in a damp towel and the GIH cursing me for keeping that saute pan around, b/c you know everyone has burned themselves on it but himself. That's almost a direct quote. It was almost endearing, the way he went out of his way to be angry at Calphalon rather than at me. We've decided to sue them for millions of dollars for inadequate labeling.

Onthe plus side, I'm told that Big said a nice prayer for Mommy's hand at bedtime. And all these years of motherhood have enabled me to attempt, even accomplish, far more with my left hand than I ever would have dreamed of as a nulliparous woman. I should get a gold medal just for tonight's stellarly sinister teeth-brushing. But Holy Hell ... my right hand hurts!

Sleeping is hard work!

That must be why it so rarely happens for me. It's now 2am. My husband and I turned in around 11pm. During the first hour, I think I dozed a bit before I got up twice to shush the barking dog. Then I dozed a bit more before Busy woke up and fussed. I've become a horrible Ferber parent, preferring to step in early for a brief comforting intervention ... this means I commit the cardinal parenting sin of PICKING MY CHILD UP. (GIH: But I thought we weren't supposed to pick her up?! CMG: Shut it! -- This is the quickest way for me to get back to sleep.) Except that tonight it's not. Fingers are crossed that the latest rocking and cuddling worked -- but NO! I hear the cries again. Why why why why why? (ooh, that word is pretty easy to type repeatedly. Let's try it again: why why why why why?)

With my luck, if and when I ever DO get back to sleep, that will be when Big has a nightmare and cries out for Mommy. (Ah, now Busy cries in earnest. Teething again? Still suffering from the latest cold?) I used to stick to the Ferber plan, except when child was known to be in physical distress. Now I can't tell anymore. What to do, what to do. Putting her down at naptime and bedtime is never a problem. And she doesn't wake up every night. Sometimes she's only fine from 8pm-5am, but most nights (when healthy) she sleeps until nearly 7am.

Dammit, I've been online now for over an hour, and I've exhausted all my interests at this hour. There's nothing going on on the Internet and I just want to go to sleep! Here's what will happen if I go try to wait this out in bed: I'll toss and turn, trying to get comfortable while not allowing GIH to breathe on my face. I have never been able to tolerate anybody breathing on my face, even if I'm not trying to fall asleep. Also, last time I was in there he had an ELBOW on my side of the bed. Yeouch. My feet are cold inside my socks right now and I really want my slippers but I'm not sure where I left them.

This time when I went in to Busy's room, I was "strong" and didn't pick her up. She tried to climb out of the crib into my arms, though. I hugged her, patted her, talked to her gently, made two attempts to lay her down, covered her with a blanket, and left. Now I think she cried for a few minutes (fewer than 5) and has now been mostly quiet again. The baby monitor is lighting up, but that's in response to the music that's playing in the crib (remnants of the mobile.) The real test will come when the 15 minutes of music are up. Meanwhile, I'm so awake right now that I'm going to need another 10 minutes of shut-down time. My crossword puzzles are now all downstairs, and if I go down at this time of night, I will set the dog to barking again.

See what I mean? Sleeping is hard!

Life is complicated. Example:

Last night I got one piece of news that upset me on three different levels. How is that possible? Guess it's all part of being a grown-up.

The news: Friends of mine from church (our youth minister JP and his wife MP, the director of children's music) just accepted positions as counselors at a church camp elsewhere in the state. They'll be leaving by the end of the month.

Level 1: We're losing our friends! I took my one and only Bible class with this couple. They are sweet, kind and giving people, and they bring so much life and energy to our church! MP leads all the children's choirs and Big just adores her. Also she teaches the Kindermusik class that Busy and I are in. Busy just learned to say the name of their 2yo son. We will all miss them a bunch. (Not to mention, MP was going to help me with VBS this summer.)

Level 2: I am chair of our church's staff-parish relations committee. I should have heard this news from official channels, specifically from our senior pastor. Not sure why I didn't. Need to call him today.

Level 3: It's MY committee's responsibility to fill these positions! Ack! So much for having a nice quiet year.

***************************
Further discussion and thought reveals:

Level 4: My GIH reacted to the news by trying to be "helpful" regarding our church's employment policies. You know, because he's such a STELLAR businessman.

Tagged: Meme-o-the-Day

Kelley tagged me in retaliation for the Kelliloo crack. Here goes:

Four jobs I've had in my life:
1. Stay-at-home Mom
2. Assistant Professor of Chemistry
3. Grad-school lab grunt
4. Ice cream shop clerk (best job ever!)

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Pretty Woman
2. The Hunt for Red October
3. Parenthood
4. The Wizard of Oz

Four places I have lived:
1. Bloomington, IN (my spiritual home)
2. Fort Riley/Manhattan, KS
3. Stuttgart, Germany
4. West Point, NY

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Lost
2. The West Wing
3. Desperate Housewives
4. Survivor

Four places I have been on vacation:
1. Liechtenstein
2. Seattle, WA
3. St. Petersburg, FL
4. Cape Cod, MA

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. Lasagne
2. BBQ ribs with Shiner
3. almost anything from Ben & Jerry's
4. menu item #9 from the Snow Lion in Bloomington, IN

Four websites I visit daily:
1. Delphi
2. Tastefully Simple
3. The Blog of Death
4. Hicktown Diva

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. in my own bed in a far-off dark tower (asleep)
2. dog park in Bloomington, IN (maybe I should check the weather first)
3. Washington, DC (as a tourist)
4. in my own bed with my husband (not asleep)

Four bloggers I'm tagging:
1. AK (always been good to me)
2. Lisa (maybe she'll play along this time)
3. Gretchen (bringing her into the fold)
4. Donovan el Curioso

Well, that was no fun.

Does anybody else remember that old old episode of ER, back in the young Mark Green days, when the ER was super backed-up, and there was a kid with a severerly cut finger(?) whose mom kept asking "when are they going to see my son?!" and of course everyone in the ER was cranky and out of sorts, and by the time the kid finally did see the doctor, it was about 6 hours after the injury had occurred, so protocol wouldn't even allow Mark to suture it, so that entire wait had been a waste of time, and MG was so upset by this that he gathered his team and they triaged the waiting room armed with nothing but their stethoscopes and ballpoint pens?

I was so afraid this was going to be us Friday night.

Yes, my Big Girl suffered a fall in the bathroom and cut the back of her head, probably on the archaic door handles on the cabinets. This happened while mi esposo and I were at a church leaders' banquet in the basement of our church -- read, no cell phone reception! By the time I got the message(s) from my mother what had happened, it was nearly an hour after her fall, and we were on our way home anyway. She was doing fine by then, but Mom still had concerns that the cut needed to be looked at.

(So many things to kick ourselves over in the meantime: Why didn't I make Big put the stool back into the bathroom, or do it myself? Why did we think it was OK to take the car with the carseats and leave my mom with no safe way to get the kids to the hospital herself, should it be necessary? Why didn't I leave Mom with more emergency numbers? Why didn't I know that the church phone would ring downstairs if somebody called?)

At home, both parents looked at the cut, consulted the guidebook from the ped's office, and determined that it really did need professional attention. Decided that mom should come with me to answer questions. By the time we got in the car it was probably 9pm. (Hooray, that new road to the hospital sure came in handy!)

ER pretty busy. We waited a couple of hours to see the triage nurse. During this time, Big kept herself pretty entertained with the books I had on hand, the crayons and worksheets from the ER liaison, etc. But she dropped a crayon under the table and then BUMPED her head again coming up, which reopened the wound and got a bit more blood everywhere. Yeah, won't be telling the husband that little fact! After triage, we sat in a different waiting room, where there were a few other kids. They all had fun being goofy with each other, which helped pass the time. (A little baby next to us, same age as Busy but several pounds lighter, was sick with a nasty unbreathable cold; Big kept getting concerned and asking why the baby was crying. Kinda sweet.) Oh, and during this time, Big told the "real" story about her fall. Something about dancing around on the counter pretending an episode of Blue's Clues. Totally believable about her. I think I'll start sewing bubble wrap into her clothes and hats tomorrow.

Finally around 1am we got to an exam room, saw a doc, etc. I asked her if we were too late for treatment since it had now been almost 6 hours since the injury occurred, but she assured me we were OK. Verdict = needs 2-3 staples. Yeah, we could numb that, but (a) we'd have to shave the area, keep us there longer, and (b) would hurt just as much as the staples themselves. Knowing how much Big HATES having shots (she just suffered 4 booster shots earlier this month), decided to skip that step. The choice of a bad mom? Geese, I hope not. Had my doubts when Staple#2 wouldn't stay in and it took the doc 3 attempts; Big's face was a horrifying mix of pain and shock. The process leads me to realize that staples as a medical tool really skeeve me. Especially when applied to the skull of my precious girl. It just turns my stomach to look at them.

The anticlimax: Home by 1:30am. Put sleeping Big to bed, cursed when the inevitable commotion woke up Busy, sat with her a few minutes, then turned in myself. I was starving by this point, since I hadn't eaten my usual 2-3 desserts during the hospital time. And HEY, only six more hours until we had to be back at the church for a f*ucking "coaching conference" for church leaders. My buddies at the table only had to enforce my long-standing "don't wake me unless I'm actually snoring" rule once; thank God nobody turned out the lights!

Not much to report from Saturday morning. Got a small earful from GIH over whether we LIED to the hospital staff by stating that Big had no LOC, rather than the probably-more-truthful I-dunno. Fretted a while, wondering whether she would wake up OK. But she did, and that's about it. We go back in 7 days to have the stitches out.

ADDENDUM: Cursing myself again over the latest discovery, after I finally got Big into the bathtub and rinsed her hair. (The ER nurse told us to put her in the shower right away when we got home, but since it was so late and she was already sleeping, we bagged it. Another eyebrow raised by the GIH, but I don't really care. He'd been asleep since 9:30pm on this particular night, and has no right to criticize the choices of the sleep-deprived women who had been dealing with the matter for 6 hours.) Oh, but the discovery is that Big has a MASSIVE bump on the back of her head, a few inches away from the wound that was treated. So she slipped off the counter, cut her head on the cabinet handles, then landed on the tile floor. I'm nervous now. Keeping my eye on the bump and will probably call her doctor about it Monday. So far, nobody else in my family has noticed, and Big's not complaining about it herself, so maybe it's just nothing. A bump could be nothing, right? Right?

Top Ten: Things I do that piss my husband off

1. I buy milk at Braum’s rather than the grocery store. The milk from Braum’s is cheaper (currently $2.49/gallon) than milk from the other stores, tastes better, and is better for you (concentrated, to give more protein and fat per fluid ounce.) However, this is WRONG because (a) it requires extra errands to buy milk (Braum's quit selling groceries at the drive-through window about a year ago) and (b) Braum's milk jugs have an extra seal on them that requires disposal in the trash -- sometimes I don't throw it in the trash right away, thereby creating extra work for my husband.

2. I subscribe to the local newspaper. Yes, I pay good money for yesterday's news and for the privilege of leaving newspaper sections all over the house for GIH to discard.

3. I play with my children. A LOT. During the day I sit and read with them, play pretend games, and supervise various craft projects. After dinner I play chase with them and let them crawl all over me. I DO let them watch TV and videos, but sometimes instead of "getting stuff done" during that time, I use it for internet time. And then the kids pester other adults (read, GIH) to play with them. too.

4. I pick my toenails rather than clip them. Maybe this is gross. Apparently it is. But farting is not. Go figure!

5. I burn myself on the oven rack or toaster occasionally. Especially the latter, lately, because my little bamboo tongs that are supposed to help me remove things from the toaster have been misplaced. More specifically, they have been misplaced by the person in our house whose job it is to put away the dishes. Hint ... that's not the ChemMom!

6. I have established places for kitchen items to go. Like the spreaders, cookie scoops, and various small gadgets, which all reside in the drawer next to the refrigerator. And the ice cream scoop ... but NOT the corkscrew or the chip clips. These live in the second drawer down, next to the dishwasher. And in the main dinner utensil drawer, I have TWO separate compartments for spoons and two for forks (sorted by size.) And the knife block has a specific slot for each knife, and they're all supposed to go in with the blade facing to the right. (Actually, I'm not sure he even knows that last part, but he'd be pissed if he did.)

7. I buy and read parenting books. This is a triple sin because (a) it is throwing money away, (b) it's indulging what I want without asking for approval, and (c) it's taking the word of some "expert" and forcing it into our household routine.

8. I come from a dysfunctional family. Yes, the precious daughters of the GIH share the curse of my mother's genes. They are destined to repeat Item#5 over and over again! They might even grow up and ask their husbands to attend couples' therapy. The genes from IL are, of course, perfect.

9. Because of the childhood influences of #8, I tend to throw, hit, or kick things when I am angry. In the past few years, that has meant doors and walls rather than children. Yes, I did kick a hole in a door in 2003. I'm not proud of it. See #10.

10. I apply my photographic memory to almost anything rather than financial planning. I remember enough about who said/did what to not be blamed for all holes in all doors. Our current house has a broken door to the master bedroom. It's been that way since before we moved in; I remember noticing it when the realtor first showed us the house. A few months ago I committed the heresy of not admitting that I broke the door in a fit of rage.

God, I'm an evil bitch.

Caution! Thoughts in progress

Blech, my mind is a mess right now. My heart is really hurting over how much I've yelled at my kids in the past few days. And sworn and given time-outs and then been enraged when said time-outs were met with cheerful resistance. Maybe the hormones really are messing me up. But why did it have to be THIS WEEK, of all weeks, that my friend Slacker would post about her IUD experience? I think I'm destined to rely on abstinence for the rest of my fertile years.

Along with friends, I'm in a parenting class right now. Approaching life from a paradigm of Love and Logic shouldn't be so hard, right? But I am drowning in ineptitude here. Nothing is working. Nobody is taking me seriously. I am antsy and irritated all the time from having my husband and mother watching me curiously to see what I'll do, trying to take cues from me. Plus feeling monstrously guilty for all the shouting and huffing and puffing I did when they weren't home. All I've managed to do is scare Big and take half her toys away. I understand the concepts, but putting them into practice is all Greek to me. JenH, if you're reading this, please send me pointers! Having to deal with two kids at once, at these particular ages (that's 4 and 1.5, for those not keeping track) is just killing me. And our relationship.

Blech. Just a suck-mom kind of week. KDK, please skip over this post in favor of the next one. I really DO love my kids.

Ack! Another tag?!

Sorry to the Nuclear Mom, who tagged me four days ago and it took me this long to find out.

For those who don't know WTF I'm talking about, read this: "The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits I have" and people who get tagged then write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says you have been tagged? (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours."

So this is about "Five Weird Habits I Have." I'm starting to believe that the word "meme" must really be pronounced "ME! ME!" I keep intending to post about something more interesting/insightful than my own life, which is my belated excuse for the lack of a recent update, but it just ain't happenin'. So here we go. But I should admit up front that I'm having a hard time identifying anything in my perfect little world as actually WEIRD. Y'all who do things differently than I do are the freaks, you know.

1. I still get a kick out of using symbols and abbreviations that I learned in high school calculus. My particular favorites are IFF (if and only if) and wrt (with respect to - yes, as in take the derivative with respect to x.)

2. I absolutely must have the last word. This is a fact that I am slow to realize about myself. I'm not sure which statement makes me weirder. But it finally dawned on me as I was tucking Big into bed one night, and found myself responding to every single comment she made, trying to prolong the bedtime.

3. I notice patterns in numbers, constantly. Some are easy to spot, like my MIL's birthday (4/11/44). Others are more obscure, like the similarity between my ZIP code back in Indiana (47401) and my first ZIP code in Oklahoma (74017). See? They're both made from the same digits!!

4. I would rather spend 20 minutes making my hair look "just perfect" in the morning than spend 15 minutes on the hair and 5 minutes to put on makeup, even though the latter routine would probably give me a better look, overall.

5. Just to prove that my brain doesn't have two left halves: I helped Big create her first riddle: Where does Po come from? From Po-land! And we giggle about this wildly. Hey, what can I say? She's 4!

OK, that was pretty lame. But I'll tag some other people and make that their problem:
Gretchen, Lisa R, Nance, Coleen (got a blog out there?) and Kelley (whom I still think of as Kelli-Loo, even though she'll kill me for that!)

Feel the Zappos love!

As hard as it is, I love shoe shopping. There are just so many cute shoes out there! Although, to put this in perspective, I should point out that I have never paid over $100 for any pair of shoes in my life. So no Manolo Blahniks for me! But I have radically boxy feet (7W with a high instep) that are tough to fit. In a regular shoe I usually have to go up to an 8. I love shopping at Nordstrom's because they offer a lot of styles in wide sizes, but the nearest store is over 100 miles away. No way I can make that trip with Big and Busy in tow.

Why all of this is relevant: As many of you know, I've been agonizing over what to wear to my sister's wedding. I bought the approved bridesmaid's dress: (can't show you the pic yet, but picture sleeveless teal silk, below the knee length.) It really is a gorgeous dress that I CAN wear again. Assuming I ever get invited out to anything fancier than KFC in the rest of my life. And that this happens while I am still reasonably young and passably hot. Sister's wedding, FYI, is in Philadelphia next month. It will be COLD and miserable there, but I am assured that we should not have any snow, at least. Ceremony is at 4:30pm, and reception is at 6pm at a swanky boat club. (You can read all about it here, so long as you promise not to stalk my sister on her wedding day or any day. And if you tell her fiance's recently ex-wife about this, I will personally kill you.) Sister's flowers are likely to be pretty fall tones (various shades of orange/red/brown, probably tied up with chocolate brown satin ribbons.) The brown is important to keep in mind as you read on.

Next stop, shoes. The shoes that are pictured with the dress (in the picture you can't see) are not available, thank you for playing. So I shopped around at Nordstroms.com and at Zappos. Hit a goldmine at the latter. Realized that it would be cheaper overall to buy 10 pairs of shoes I was thinking about from Zappos, then send back the 9 pairs that didn't work, rather than pay for the gas to drive to OKC and back for a real-life expedition to Nordstrom's. What makes this an even more brilliant idea is the fact that Zappos offers *free return shipping*! No way to lose at this point!

Now is when you, the reader, get to share in the Zappos love with me. Help me decide which shoes to keep! I actually ordered 8 candidate pairs, and have selected 4 to send back. Here are the ones that are still in the running, as well as the pros/cons of each pair (note that each is available in Wide!):

Shoe A (see it in Green Eel). Pros: The green is actually a pretty good match for the shade of the dress. The eelskin is shiny and seamed, which provides visual interest that complements the dress. Cons: Color match could be better (need to look at this in daylight again.). Ankle strap may kill me by the end of the night.

Shoe B (in Black Peau). Pros: A very cute shoe! Not constricting to the foot at all. A pretty but low heel. Likely that the 3 other bridesmaids will also wear black shoes. Cons: Open-toe means no pantyhose. No pantyhose in Philly in November means a freezing CG with ugly goosebumps. Not likely to be supportive for a night of dancing.

Shoe C (in Bronze Satin). Pros: Looks much better in person than in the picture. A comfortable shoe with nice arch support. Would look nice with a bouquet tied with brown satin ribbon. Shiny fabric complements shiny silk of dress. Cons: If other bridesmaids wear black shoes, this might look garish when standing next to them (and in the pictures.) I guess I could also try this one in black.

Shoe D (in Pewter). Pros: Looks good with dress. This would still look OK next to other bridesmaids in black shoes. Pleated silk in shoe complements pleated waist in dress. Cons: The least comfortable of all these options (the instep on left foot is the teensiest bit pinchy). I think I like the green ones better.

Gah! So many choices! At this point, any of these shoes would look "good enough" by itself. Ranking them is what's hard; there's a lot of apples and oranges and coconuts (with lime!) going on. My friend Gretchen and my mother have given me input so far. But I need more! Help me, please!

FTR: I have super powers!!

The ChemMom has returned. Had a fabulous time in San Antonio with my girlfriends. Didn't kiss anybody whose first name begins with the letter C (including Cowboy). Will blog about it later, if memory and children permit.

But meanwhile, here's what I learned after I came home. I always suspected that I was special and truly extraordinary. Yet now I know that I am AMAZING. I am strong and wise beyond my years, and oozing capability from every pore. OK, that oozing bit sounds kinda gross, but the point is, ChemMom is really a ChemGoddess. (Which I did already know, but the chemgoddess blogspot was already taken.)

What is my super power, you ask? How do I demonstrate my vast superiority over ye mortal folk? Is it X-ray vision? Can I spontaneously burst into flames? Can I control the weather, bringing in storms that evocatively wrap my scanty clothing around my supersized post-nursing breasts?

Don't you wish. Dream on, Cupcake.

Here is what I can do. I am the only one ... in this ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD ... who can set up and operate this.

Ah, welcome home, ChemMom. This is your life.

Things I've been too busy to blog about

But you should feel free to ask if you're wondering what I've been up to:

backing out of my driveway into someone's minivan parked across the street
my husband's upcoming 2-week trip to Singapore (flanked by lesser trips to Denver and Dallas)
my sister's wedding plans
how awesome my hair stylist is
the number of gifts I've wrapped for my girls for them to open while I am away
how I've decided to forego full-time employment, for at least another year

Getting ready to kill some brain cells

San Antonio, here I come!

It's early Thursday morning. In 32 hours I will be on a plane to Texas for a much-anticipated girls' weekend. These are the ladies I refer to casually as "my internet friends" - and then I change the subject, hoping that the listener won't find the whole concept as bizarre as people did 5 years ago. (Aside - man, has it been so long since the last big Delphi "convention" I attended? But that was a different age, mostly different people, and most of the rest of us were different people too. Growing out of our newlyweds phase and into motherhood sure has changed us; at least it has me.)

Back to the point. San Antonio weekend. Internet girlfriends. Every precious one of us armed with our children's photos, but none toting the actual children themselves. Woo-hoo! I'm hiding it pretty well, but the closer the hour gets, the more nervous I get about leaving my girls. Just tonight, while I was up with my crying Busy girl, it occurred to me that I'll have to post the pediatrician's phone number on the fridge because the GIH/SDG probably doesn't even remember his name. Or the fact that we have a pediatrician. Or that babies in general sometimes get sick. Oh crap, what if she has an ear infection? And BTW our ped isn't in the office on Thursdays. Oh double crap.

Back to the point again. And BTW again, it's a Good Thing I won't be the only one blogging about this. Look for other updates and recaps from one of these ladies: Kelley, Ang, Sara (hasn't actually updated her blog since friggin' MARCH, but she did go on to have a gorgeous second girlchild, so let's be forgiving), Lori, 007, Susanne, Pammy (who has an even lamer blogging record than Sara, without even any children to blame, but she's an Indiana chick that I'm just dying to meet), and the inimitable Diva (who belonged to this organization with me ... and then six years later we found each other on the Internet! Just like that!)

Oh yes, the point. San Antonio weekend. On the agenda: Shop. Drink margaritas. Eat. Drink Texas beer. Minor sight-seeing for those on a first visit to SA (Alamo, Riverwalk). Laugh like crazy. Drink whatever's being served.

This compulsion to drink is a relatively new thing in my life, and I can't say I'm especially proud of it. Even though I went to college in SA, I know almost nothing about the hip bars, nor do I have many especially fond memories of cool hangouts. At that phase in my life, I was all about my schoolwork and my (thankfully ex-)boyfriend. Drew and I did a bunch of goofy stuff as a couple of young kids in love, but I am too embarrassed by the dorkiness to recall most of it. This trip is like a chance to relive those wild college days that I never had. Kind of sad and stupid when you put it that way.

So maybe the agenda should read: Shop. Eat. Drink margaritas. Laugh like crazy. And learn, as I did from the first convention in 2000, how much I appreciate my sane and boring grown-up life back home.

But that won't stop me from putting those Southwest Airlines drink tickets to use the minute we have wheels-up.

Calling all chemists

Especially April (can't locate your e-mail addy) and JenH (in your spare time, ha ha!) can you peruse my resume? Can't attach it, but I can e-mail you a copy. I'm applying for job(s) here (not those other ones I posted about, though). I've asked others online as well. I have two main areas of concern:
1) leave it as-is, or add a section at the beginning highlighting specific skills (kinda BS, IMO, but maybe helpful for programs that search keywords)
2) what can I do to simplify format? I'm planning to apply online and the buzz is that the software involved will distort my Word document.

PS ... re #1 ... deciding on appropriate BS keywords, ack!
analytical thinker
details-oriented
effective communicator
strong technical skills

Renaming my children for the blogosphere

A few weeks ago, I called them the Handful and the Midget. From now on, they shall be known as BIG and BUSY. And while I'm on the subject, let me tell you about my girls.

BIG:
(formerly known as Handful)
She's 3.5 and cannot wait to turn 4. Sports a mop of curly blond hair, which we hope she'll keep (the blond as well as the curls), and very pale blue eyes. Last weighed in at 38 lb and 39" tall. Chatters constantly. Her latest pet phrase is "sooner or later". Likes to read -- and I don't just mean that she likes books, although she certainly does. She actually keeps mostly quiet during Busy's naptimeShe surprised the hell out me the other day while I was visiting this friend's blog; out of nowhere I hear her say "my life right now." I don't know how she got the word "right", except to assume that she got it from the context. (Any teachers reading this? Is that typical of her age? I kind of think not.)

But I was getting around to explaining the source of the nickname Big. This child is obsessed with being bigger. It seems that every other sentence begins with "When I'm big! big! big! bigger!, I will ..." And all kinds of ideas, from the sensible to the crazy-she-just-said-what!?, will follow. "When I'm bigger ... I will climb that big tree." or "... I will go in the street by myself." or "... I will learn how to jump rope." or "... I will like mashed potatoes." We also hear the Big theme in variations like "When I was a baby, X, ... but now that I am a big girl, Y"; or "When Busy is a big girl like me, she can Z, but now she's just a little baby so she can't do that!" When Big gets really excited and tries to delineate exactly when she'll be "this big", she starts to count "1, 2, 3, 4, ... 100!! When I am 100 old, then I can eat my ice cream for breakfast!" (For the record, she doesn't actually count to 100; she gets to 20, mumbles her way to 29, and then proclaims, 100!)

BUSY:
(formerly known as Midget)
I was about to call her Bitty because 1) it made a nice contrast with Big, and 2) she loves to play with Big's Bitty Baby doll. However, having just spent ~20 minutes carrying her around like deadweight on my arm, I can attest to the fact that there is very little "bitty" about her. So Busy it is. She's 13 months old; a delightful blond child with sparkling eyes (for this I've got a pic here). When Busy first learned to sit by herself, back when she was Bitty ( approx 6 months old), I was happy and relieved. Finally, we'd reached a stage where she could sit and happily play with a few toys, without me having to worry about her. Ha ha, wishful thinking! Two weeks later, Busy learned to crawl. Three months later (yes, at 9 months old) she started to walk. "Just trying to keep up with her Big Sister," everyone said. Thankfully I didn't know then the extent to which that was true, or else I'd have duct-taped her to the floor right then.

As befits a 1-yr-old, Busy spends the majority of her time getting into things. You know the drill: open every kitchen cabinet, take out all the food container lids and drool all over them, whine about the drawers/cabinets that mommy put the latches on, pull all the books out of the bookshelf, pick up every cheerio and cricket that she finds on the floor (the ChemMom's a bad housekeeper, btw), restack all the videos, etc etc etc. In the modern parenting paradigm, I suppose that is called "exploring her environment" and "learning about cause and effect."

Also, Busy climbs. She's a little monkey, that one is. (Big is a good teacher that way.) Started climbing up the slide on the Kangaroo Climber in our playroom about 3 months ago. Finally we got smart and put an old comforter down the inside as padding. Now Busy's latest trick is to stand on the little window and jump off. At least, that's what she's trying to do (just like Big Sister!), but Mommy is anxious and keeps whisking her off. Which Busy finds fun, so she climbs up the slide so we can do it again. I foresee a broken clavicle within a year.

I could go on, but I've stayed up too late as it is. Should probably quit referring to myself as ChemMom and just go with how I really feel, which is BEAT!

OK, so here's an update

I've been pretty lucky in the past couple of months, in that I haven't often been up between the hours of 12-5 am, so I guess an occasional episode like tonight's shouldn't get my goat too much. The Midget has actually subjected me to untimely wakings for the past three nights. Normally these experiences are so infrequent that I'm not sure which flavor of Ferber I ought to practice. Also, I don't go back to sleep nearly as easily as I did in former years.

A summary of recent events seems appropriate. I hope I'll have time to elaborate on one or more of these points as the week goes on ... only if other life doesn't get in the way.

1. We're home from a recent trip to Philadelphia, a visit to my sister which was marked by only a FEW feelings of unspeakable envy. Schwester's got a nice house, an AWESOME fiance, two sweet soon-to-be-stepdaughters (though only the younger child was home, the elder having gone to church camp). She's getting married in November, and we picked out a dress for her (go to s 2 of the Fall 2005 section; it's the 6th one, #25287). Is it wrong that I was a tad gleeful that despite the pads inserted into the bodice, on top of Schwester's padded bra, she was still nowhere close to filling it out? Being stacked ... that's like the ONLY category in which I stack up well against my sister. Trip highlights included: driving the Lexus with the psychotic GPS, going to Philly's Please Touch Museum, enjoying a grown-up coffee hour with this woman, and having a real date with my husband, that SDG I mentioned once upon a time! AND on the date I got to wear a new dress, which Schwester had ordered for herself but (too bad for her) got sent the wrong size -- my size!

2. School started in our little town this week. For my girls, it means preschool for the Handful 3 mornings a week (9:15-11:45). Both Handful and Midget will go for the extended day on Wednesdays (9:15-2:45), and Midget might go Friday mornings as well. It seems a bizarre and uncomfortable switch in my schedule, going from PDO ("full" days) to preschool (just half days). Not sure how I'll accomplish anything while Handful's in school, which makes me feel horrible WRT how that speaks to my attitude toward the Midget. She's such a sweet, sensitive, easy-going child, and utterly devoted to Mommy. How dare I treat her like an obstacle? When I delay responding to her cries from the crib, reasoning that a few minutes of fussing is worth it, since I'm indulging myself in personal Internet time -- what kind of monster does that?

3. Wow ... I didn't know I was going to go *there*! It's 5am and I've been up for over an hour. And I really despise myself for being so cavalier about my baby's cries.

4. New job prospect on the horizon. Two PhD positions at the local oil company. Even as I've gotten excited about the idea of pulling in a FT income, I'm hesitant to apply. The situation presents a three-fold difficulty for me: 1) I haven't been in a real lab in almost 8 years; 2) my sole work experience after grad school was in academia, not industry; 3) I'm an organic chemist, but the potential job is mainly analytical, heavy on IR and Ramen spectroscopy. I can count on one hand the number of organic chemists I know who can identify anything more than a simple carbonyl band. ONTH, despite SDG's protestations to the contrary, I feel that he will be disappointed if I don't go for it. Funny thing is, I'd have to put in so much work/preparation to GET the job, that the job itself could seem easy by comparison.

5. Went to the movies and saw "Wedding Crashers". Was f*ucking hysterical. Highly recommend.

Tough situation

This is the story about a woman, her church, and her mother. And I (the woman) think I need to do some serious praying to learn whether I've done the right thing!

Trying to keep this succinct, for those who care about such things. And boy, wouldn't it be nice if my posts gave some indication of insight and critical thinking? Maybe that liberal arts education was wasted on me, after all.

My mom is looking for a job. She's been living with us since February and wants to get her own place, but really needs to be in a better financial position to make that happen. And since she's had 3 jobs in the past six months, with a not-so-great track record in previous years either, I have counseled her to wait until she's been in a position for 3+ months before she seriously thinks about moving out. (So who's the parent, exactly?) Mom's got a job now, but is desperate to get out of it. And part of me agrees that it's really not a healthy working environment, all kinds of boss-is-a-psycho/ass issues. But OTOH, she's still getting paid, so why leave unless something better comes up? But mainly what I wonder is, don't I deserve combat pay for having to listen to her daily recap?

Meanwhile, my church needs to hire a new pastors' secretary. And I'm on the SPRC (staff-parish relations cmte), the one that does the hiring. Tonight we interviewed 4 candidates, and she was one. I got to recuse myself during her time with the committee. Then discussion turned to comparing candidates, and it turned out to be that Mom was leading the pack. She was confident, out-going, friendly, highly qualified, blah blah blah.

Then the traitorous daughter spoke up. Indicated (truthfully) that my mom is not as even-tempered and confident as she appeared; if other candidates were being disqualified on account of "having serious mood swings" then they should know that Mom does too. (Really, don't we all? But I know that she's really not functioning well lately.) And that, frankly, I think she gets "sick" a lot. And I know sometimes it's migraines or something semi-serious, but other times I think it's just her way of retreating from the world. So I had a few things to say about that. I wouldn't say that anybody's jaw dropped at my revelations, but it struck me as a mixed blessing when our pastor thanked me for my candor.

Fortunately, we have a candidate who is a member of our church, meets all the tangible and intangible criteria, and whose only concern is whether the position (part-time) will provide her with appropriate benefits. I really hope that this other woman can work it out to accept the job. But if she doesn't, it looks like Mom might be next in line.

And if she does get it, I'll have to resign from SPRC because family of staff members are not allowed. So there's some small comfort in that.

Meet me in St. Louis, Louis!

Chem Family just returned from a whirlwind weekend in the Gateway City with GIH's extended family. But while I'm still early in the blogging process, should probably introduce the players:

CMG: Me, the ChemMomGoddess, mid-30s and slightly blonde
GIH: My Goddam Idiot Husband. Also a chemist.
SDG: Sweet Decent Guy, GIH's rarely-seen alter-ego. So rarely, in fact, that I don't think I've mentioned him to anybody in the past year. But that's a story for another time.
HH: Daughter #1, age 3-1/2, nickname "The Handful"
LB: Daughter #2, age 11-months (where does the time go?!), nickname "Midget"

So, like I said, we went to St Louis. Two days in the car, two days of family fun. Thank God for the video player. But I am a little tired of They Might Be Giants "Here Come the ABC's" at this point. Only things on the schedule were the zoo, the arch, and swimming in the pool. Of course, the Handful's favorite part was the swimming. Plenty of time to enjoy cultural experiences later in her life, right?

Highlights:
1) Our room had the most AMAZING view of the Arch! We stayed at the Radisson downtown, which I chose from my guide book because it offered suites. Turns out the suites were in the corner rooms. Ours faced the arch and was on the 27th floor. I'd attach my own picture, but it's easier just to grab this one from the Internet. That's legal, right?
2) Entire tab picked up by my MIL and FIL. Yes, that's three rooms for three nights apiece. Plus all meals and ticket costs. Must have cost at least $2K. Which sounds like a lot to me for just a weekend, but it made MIL happy.
3) A fabulous meal at Jake's Steaks on Laclede's Landing. We had our own private room, free appetizers (thanks to my BIL getting coupons from the hotel). I even had a glass of wine!

Lowlights:
1) Cardinals might not have been in town, but that didn't mean nothing was going on. The Race for the Cure took place in downtown StL on Saturday. We thought we were oh-so-smart for taking the Metro from downtown to the Zoo that morning. Realized our mistake when we arrived at the station amidst the mob of pink; took us an hour to get from downtown to Forest Park. Arrived at zoo at 11:30; so much for making it just a morning excursion.
2) Tried to swim Sunday before lunch but was too cold (outside on the 30th floor, go figure.) Came back to the room, tried to nurse Midget but she wouldn't have anything to do with me. So I sulked a bit and then decided to have some Chardonnay with my lunch. Almost got into it with waitress who brought me a glass of something red, Cabernet, I guess. Now really, how stupid do you have to be to make this mistake? And what she said to me was "well, we didn't have the Chardonnay so I brought you this." Honestly, if she'd brought me anything else white, I wouldn't have known the difference.
3) Having to deal with my own petty jealousy over the fact that I was in St Louis for 2 days while my sis was jet-setting off to Hong Kong for two weeks! First class, too; that really gets my goat.

Lessons learned:
1) Swanky hotels are really not designed for families with babies. Better off at a Residence Inn. Also, supposed to remember to pack basic safety supplies, like outlet plugs.
2) When taking public transportation to the zoo as a group (here group means 6 adults, 4 children under 5) ... don't bother with your own strollers. Just rent the ones at the zoo.
3) When left on his own, GIH/SDG really CAN pack the car by himself. I usually take over this task because I am super-picky about how it gets done. But I guess you don't have to be related to my father to do a good job at this!
4) FIL the Cubs fan will get *really pissed off* if you buy the kids something with a Cardinals logo on it.

Taking "pretend" to a whole new level

Lately I've noted what a wild imagination my 3-yr-old daughter has. In recent weeks she's been Nemo; Tad from Leapfrog; a kittycat; various letters, including A, H, and X; a turtle; and a mommy. Mini-script after Thursday's quiet time:

H: I was Jesus today!
Me: Oh really? And what did Jesus do?
H (dancing around naked): blah blah blah Lots of silly things!
Me: OK then Jesus, at least put on your panties.
H: OK, Mary!

I was on the verge of criticizing her for trashing her room, and saying that Jesus always followed the rules, but then had to think better of that. So I told her that Jesus always followed God's rules.

Meet the Mad Scientist - Take One!

This is a test. It is only a test. You are witnessing a test of the Emergency Get-it-out-of-my-System. Any similarity between this post and something funny you might have read from one of my girls (Kelley .. .insert links to other blogs, please!) is purely coincidental.

Yes, I used to be a scientist. Was SOOOO proud of myself back in the days when I was a chemistry major in college. Even more full of myself once I went to graduate school. That experience was the beginning of the end of my life as a real scientist. Yeah, I went on to get the full Ph.D. but my heart just wasn't in it. So over the years, especially after a short time in a real college teaching job, the chemist in me has become more of a joke than anything else. Still, I'm SOOOOOO Type-A, I'm thinking I should have become an engineer. Especially when I think about all the money I'm missing out on.

Gee whiz, it's hard for me to focus on introducing ME right now. Probably because my current occupation is as a SAHM, and so much of my identity is wrapped in my kids, my home, and my marriage. This week I'm having a tough time with it all. Would really love to take a part-time job that puts all that education to use, but there ain't no such animal.

OK, cutting the crap for now. Will reintroduce at a better time. You know, when I can actually think and write in sentences.