tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144520672024-03-19T04:59:32.718-05:00Fruit SaladIn the end, we are all fruit. -- Gus Portokalos, My Big Fat Greek WeddingJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.comBlogger152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-633568768616399122008-03-19T12:54:00.000-05:002008-03-19T12:55:28.873-05:00This Blog Has MovedPlease visit me at <a href="http://fruitsaladfamily.wordpress.com/">fruitsaladfamily.wordpress.com</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-66890785657789622972008-01-10T18:49:00.000-06:002008-01-10T19:12:25.622-06:00Hey, Guess What!?I am ashamed to say that I ended 2007 on a very pessimistic note. While I enjoyed Christmas with my family, I was stressed and tired from long hours at my job and from the schlepping of kids and presents. It felt too much like work, and not enough like a holiday. I was annoyed by news of the presidential race, and annoyed by my own cynicism. I felt trapped in my own life, but I had enough logic left to know that I had plenty of choices, I just needed to choose something.<br /><br />Somehow, this New Year really does feel like a clean slate. I've always thought January 1 was as good a day as any to start something new, but that it really was pretty arbitrary. This year I'm not so sure.<br /><br />I am tired, but I'm coming to terms with this job, and I'm making plans for the future. I'm enjoying my kids again. I'm sticking to the diet. I'm hopeful about what voters can accomplish in November, no matter which candidates get the nomination. I have done a 180 in attitude. I'm not sure why, but I am so grateful, because I was tired of being that woman.<br /><br />I have long intended to write a post explaining the panic that started the whole "let's put ads on this site" thing, but it doesn't seem as important now. Suffice it to say, I freaked out and made several rash decisions, when a few well-thought-out ones would've served us all better. (Sample thought process: "What else could I do to make money? I'm pretty good at ovulating, maybe I could sell my eggs." You'll all be relieved to know that even then I realized that was taking things too far.)<br /><br /><strong>So, as part of reclaiming my life, making choices instead of pretending to be forced into them, I am returning to Wordpress: the blog will be back </strong><a href="http://fruitsaladfamily.wordpress.com/"><strong>here</strong></a><strong> starting immediately.</strong><br /><br />Thank you all for your patience. I cannot promise a freak-out free future, but I do tend to panic about NEW things each time, so it's pretty likely that this particular freak-out will not recur.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-40410693866684524542008-01-08T14:06:00.000-06:002008-01-08T14:25:50.691-06:00I Don't Know How You Do ItPeople often ask me "how I do it." How do I manage with toddler twins and a preschooler (or, at first, infant twins and a toddler)? (Go ahead and laugh, moms with triplets -- or those of you with 4 + kids. It's OK. You have earned it.)<br /><br />I don't know.<br /><br />At home, it's not too hard. We follow the Routine, and it serves us pretty well. Some days Raisin doesn't brush her teeth until after lunch, and some days the grit underfoot in the kitchen feels like a million daggers in my soul, but it all gets taken care of eventually.<br /><br />But I don't want to be the mom who says "no" all the time, so we venture to the library, or bowling with Raisin's friends from school, or out to play in the snow. At the library, Orange tries to rip pages out of every book. At the bowling alley, Apple wanted a closer look at the pins, and I had to chase him down the lane. It took me 1/2 hour to get everyone dressed for outside today. Apple and Orange both had their boots off within 2 minutes of being out (a good chunk of the 1/2 hour was me putting one twin back in their boots while the other struggled out of theirs). I made them stay out another 15 minutes anyway.<br /><br />They deserve to have all these childhood experiences, and the fact that it's hard for me is no excuse for them to miss out. So, I keep trying. But I don't think I'll ever feel like I'm "managing."<br /><br />The real trick is being OK with that.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-67894839415598427642007-12-30T22:02:00.000-06:002007-12-30T22:35:27.207-06:00With The Thoughts I'd Be Thinkin'*1. Garrison Keillor: literary luminary, or Humongous Bighead? It's hard to tell sometimes -- maybe he's both?<br /><br />2. In the 2008 presidential election, I would like to cast my vote for someone who opts out of the political game. Tell me the truth. Tell me what you really think, and not what you think I want to hear. So far, the only candidates willing to do this are friends of Shirley MacLaine or they believe that "illegal alien" means the same thing as "American dream killer." Please tell me these are not my only choices.**<br /><br />3. When Raisin chooses names for dolls or imaginary friends, they are always things like "Kaweeza" or "Halla." When I was a child, I had an imaginary friend named "Seeley Galeely." Um, my child and I are normal, right?<br /><br />4. Orange walks on her knees. Why does she do that? (She will walk on her feet if she's holding someone's hand, so I'm not worried about her development. I'm just wondering...)<br /><br />5. Why didn't anyone tell me about "Wait, Wait ... Don't Tell Me?"*** I had no idea public radio could be so funny.<br /><br />6. Making your own hummus is easy. I assumed there'd be some trick to it. I've been missing out, apparently.<br /><br />7. New Year's Resolution: go back on Weight Watchers. Good thing hummus is low fat.<br /><br />8. Pre-New Year's Resolution: eat all the junk that will tempt me after New Year's. That way, it won't be here to make things harder later. Logical, right?<br /><br />*...I could be another Lincoln, if I only had a brain. Phew. That was like leaving "two bits" out of "Shave and a Haircut."<br /><br />**Except maybe John McCain. So add one more caveat: candidate must be willing to think outside the box on health care, the mortgage crisis, education, and most importantly, Iraq.<br /><br />***Get it?Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-69187623167135691162007-12-24T15:54:00.000-06:002007-12-24T16:05:51.933-06:00I Knew There Was A Reason I Married This GuyThis wasn't my best Christmas Eve. The kids were tired from celebrating yesterday with my mom and dad. I tried all day, with extremely limited success, to unpack their loot from that party so they could play with it and leave me some time to clean up for our company tomorrow. I have to work tonight, and so will miss the family gathering at my Grandma's house. We haven't made it to church at all this week, what with tired and/or sick babies and bad weather. By the time the Jellyman got home from work, the house was a disaster and his entire family was crabby. Merry Christmas.<br /><br />He just called me from upstairs. "Take a break from checking email, and see the mess I've made in your kitchen," he said. So, I went.<br /><br />He's making beef stroganoff and popovers, which is what my grandmother always serves Christmas Eve.<br /><br />He's mine, and you can't have him. *Sniff*Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-34383573628965407742007-12-20T10:40:00.000-06:002007-12-20T10:54:25.060-06:00SuperstarRaisin starred* in her preschool's Christmas program this week. If it was unclear before, it is now quite obvious to me that I am raising a march-to-your-own-drum kid.<br /><br />She sang along with the first song, but as an echo. This actually makes sense; that's how the teachers help the kids learn the songs, so it's logical that she thinks that's how the song really goes. But since the rest of the class was singing in unison, and she took seriously my suggestion that she should sing loudly -- well.<br /><br />During the recitation, she was so enthralled by the Oscar-worthy performance of her peers that she forgot to say it with them.<br /><br />While the rest of the class sang "Jingle Bells," she was trying to push her way to the front to tell the teacher something, and missed the whole song.<br /><br />And while the whole school sang some other bell-related song (this is my favorite part), Raisin sang "Jingle Bells," which actually made for a nice sort of medley. (Like that Sting/Bing Crosby carol where Sting sings "Peace On Earth" and Bing sings "The Little Drummer Boy.")<br /><br />She looked so beautiful and confident up there, waving to us before her part began. She listened politely to the other classes, and she even managed to enjoy the twirliness of her skirt without hiking it up around her waist for a better look.<br /><br />It sounds like I'm kidding, but I honestly have never been so proud.<br /><br />*The other families probably thought that their kids were the stars. We'll just have to agree to disagree.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-32900402176643837202007-12-14T14:07:00.000-06:002007-12-14T14:23:37.382-06:00ProdigalIn your family, do people stay no matter what? Do they show up for the big family functions even when they're mad at somebody, just because they believe it's important for family to be together? Or do they stay away, maybe for years, maybe forever, because something has hurt them, and they can't or won't get over it?<br /><br />My mom's family, with whom my brother and I spent most of our holidays and special occasions growing up, is the first way. We may not have a good time, but darn it, we are THERE. Through divorces and remarriages and awkward moments and bad memories, everyone just keeps showing up. The difficult things sometimes get talked about, sometimes not, but eventually things even out again and we are glad that no bridges got burned in the process.<br /><br />My dad's youngest brother has been estranged from us for years. Not a complete break, but enough of one that he was not present at my wedding or my brother's (he was invited). There is a lot of stuff there, dirty laundry that I won't air on a blog, even one as anonymous as this. The point is this: I contacted him again, got rebuffed again, and got angry, and maybe a little reckless. I asked him why -- what could I have possibly done to create this distance? <br /><br />He answered me. I think we can make things better between us. Not perfect, but better.<br /><br />Merry Christmas.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-55936644959581184242007-12-07T13:01:00.000-06:002007-12-07T13:06:57.644-06:00'E's Not Dead, 'E's Sleeping!Um, Hi. The new job is not perfect. It is better than the old job, but I'm not sure it's enough better, and I am trying to figure out how to make it livable, and the posts I keep thinking of are not that joyful, and while that may be cathartic for me it is probably not that fun to read, and that's why I am not here.<br /><br />Here is something joyful, though: after helping me stuff our Christmas letters into envelopes, Raisin decided to make out her own, and she spent about 1/2 hour "writing" letters and folding them carefully. "And this one is for Uncle D and Auntie K, and <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> one is for Auntie J, and <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> one is for E and A..." And she gave me the biggest stack because she wanted me to have something to read at work.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-39917925546248960102007-11-28T20:56:00.000-06:002007-11-28T21:17:53.732-06:00Missing YouHow old will my children be, when the simple fact of my presence will no longer be enough to bring them comfort in the middle of the night?<br /><br />When will they grow self-conscious about their bodies? When will we lose that blessed innocence that lets me bathe them, change them, "keep them company" while they go potty (Raisin loves that -- I can't say it's my favorite hobby, but I appreciate the trust)?<br /><br />When will they stop thinking that I am funny? My humor repertoire consists mainly of zerberts on bellies and knock-knock jokes, but my kids laugh like I'm their pick on Last Comic Standing.<br /><br />How many more years before my stock of wisdom is insufficient? Already Raisin is unsatisfied with the answers we provide -- needing backup from a teacher or a grandparent. How long before she doesn't even ask us anymore?<br /><br />How long before my babies aren't babies anymore? How long do I have?Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-55052954724046038332007-11-27T10:09:00.001-06:002007-11-27T10:21:58.779-06:00On JoyAt the end of my last post, I said I was rejoicing over my new job, which I was. The sad truth is, I don't do enough of that. I am, by nature, a worrier. I fret over things I could be doing better (eating healthier, making more time to play with my kids, keeping a cleaner house), over hypothetical situations I couldn't prevent anyway (Raisin getting hurt at school, Jellyman losing his job, a family member getting sick), over anything really. Give me a subject and a couple of minutes to think, and I can probably work up a pretty good case of panic over it.<br /><br />Thanksgiving is as good a time as any -- better, perhaps -- to take a break from that. We have a warm, safe house in a good neighborhood. We have plenty to eat, and we are both able to work. Our kids are healthy, happy, bright, loving, beautiful. Our extended family takes extraordinary care to make sure we don't sink under. We have luxuries like Tivo and the ability to eat in a restaurant from time to time.<br /><br />It's true that the more you have, the more you worry about losing it. It's also true, but harder to believe, that the Fruit family could live without most of the stuff with which we're surrounded. We are rich in all the essential things.<br /><br />I am making an early New Year's resolution, which undoubtedly will need to be re-resolved by the time we get to New Year's Day (hey, let's be realistic here, eh?). Starting now, every worrisome thought is going to serve as a reminder to me: whatever MIGHT happen is less important than what IS HAPPENING.<br /><br />I am going to spend Advent rejoicing in God's gifts. All of them.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-14083788853660722632007-11-24T21:22:00.000-06:002007-11-24T21:33:51.642-06:00What's New?Since the last post, I have:<br /><br />Eaten two Thanksgiving dinners<br /><br />Broken my little toe (I think -- it was bent funny naturally, but now it's bent funny and also black and blue and painful)<br /><br />Slept a lot, but still felt tired<br /><br />Watched the first snowfall of the season<br /><br />Found a new job<br /><br />Quit my old one<br /><br />RejoicedJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-87147372036701008892007-11-19T11:32:00.000-06:002007-11-19T11:40:58.538-06:00I'm SorryI keep writing down post ideas, but then I never actually post them. In lieu of actual interesting content, will you accept a list of excuses? I thought not, but here they are anyway.<br /><br />-I worked 35 hours last week. The next 2 weeks are much better, but they keep scheduling me until 11:30 or midnight. I said less than 30 hours, and no later than 11, but I guess they're asking everyone to put in more time for the holidays. They appreciate my flexibility. I am looking for something else.<br /><br />-Apple keeps throwing up in his crib at night. None of our theories thus far has panned out, so I am starting a journal to look for patterns. And living in fear that he will choke on his own vomit, because he doesn't cry after he throws up, and sometimes we don't know about it until morning.<br /><br />-Apple and Raisin have coughs at night too. (Yes, I have considered the possibility that the coughing is related to the throwing-up, but he does not seem to cough to excess right before he throws up, so that is not the whole story.)<br /><br />-I am not getting much sleep.<br /><br />-I have developed a caffeine habit, and right now my hands are shaking a teeny bit as I type. That is probably not a good sign.<br /><br />-My house is a mess, I have masses of vomit-y laundry to do, and I haven't showered yet today.<br /><br />Please send tequila. Thank you.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-9668505972081962742007-11-08T11:01:00.000-06:002007-11-08T11:06:01.363-06:00Two More Things... about my job, and then I'll shut up about it unless I have something interesting to say.<br /><br />1) Forgot to mention the discount. The discount is very, very important, since we spend ridiculous amounts of money at Target anyway.<br /><br />2) If you buy your groceries at a store where an employee bags them for you, please do not assume that the employee will know how you want them bagged. If you need to have all your cold stuff in one bag, for example, SAY THAT. Because I promise you, 5 minutes ago that same employee was chastised by a customer because they weren't cramming enough stuff into the bags. And before that, there was a customer who didn't even trust her enough to bag the stuff but wanted to do their own. And before that, there was a guy who actually said, "Oh, my God, you can't put those two things together!"*<br /><br />*NB -- You can have your groceries bagged however you want. It's your call. Just please tell me, because I cannot possibly guess. And also, "oh, my God?" Possibly, you are taking the whole bagging thing a little too seriously.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-56412569524793515152007-11-06T09:56:00.000-06:002007-11-06T10:07:55.740-06:00I Don't HATE My JobThere are definitely things to like: a relatively flexible schedule, which allows us to keep Raisin in the preschool she loves and to keep all three kids out of an expensive daycare situation. Managers, coworkers, and customers who are mostly pretty friendly. The fact that they pay me -- that's good.<br /><br />But...<br /><br />In my pre-twin job, I had the opportunity to build relationships with clients and with coworkers. I miss that.<br /><br />I am so bone-tired. I hope this will get better as I get used to the new normal. Or, I will spend large portions of my new salary on coffee. Either way.<br /><br />I think I might be a little bit of a job snob. There is nothing wrong with this work, but I feel like I have to explain to people why I, with my college degree and years of experience, am working as a cashier. I don't like that feeling.<br /><br />I need to figure out how to avoid coworker R, who evidently thinks he is funny and helpful, but is actually the most insulting, patronizing person I have ever met. Insulting example: I went through his check-out lane to buy some dinner during a break. I dropped a couple of coins while I was digging out my cash, and he called me a slob. Patronizing example: the computers keep track of the speed of each transaction a cashier does, and then spit back a percentage of "good" sales versus sales that are too slow. R said to me, "I can work the system so that I get more "Gs" than "Rs" -- you'll figure it out <em>eventually</em>." Since the percentages are prominently displayed on each monitor, I could see his. It was the same as mine.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-13169955394255324902007-11-01T14:12:00.000-05:002007-11-01T14:32:01.329-05:00Because, because, because, because, because... Because of the Wonderful Things He DoesRemember when I said I'd be posting here more often? Wasn't that funny? Yeah, I thought so too.<br /><br />I do, actually, have several post ideas saved up. Of course, by the time I actually write them, they'll be old news. Kind of like how I realized the World Series was going on right about the time it ended. How about 'em Red Sox, huh? Wow.<br /><br />Why am I so distracted? IF YOU ASK ME "WHY" ONE MORE TIME YOU ARE GOING TO YOUR ROOM.<br /><br />Did you know 3-year-olds ask a lot of questions? Because when I read about this in child development books, I didn't really understand what they meant by "a lot." Like, babies cry "a lot," but mine rarely cried until I was ready to set fire to my own eyebrows just for a distraction. Or, toddlers say "no" a lot, but I always thought that was sort of cute.<br /><br />Now I get it. If it were just your average scientific inquiry I could probably still deal. "The moon looks like that because the sun is shining on it." "The trees lose their leaves when it gets cold outside." I could spout answers like that all day and only be mildly annoyed.<br /><br />Unfortunately, Raisin is also going through a phase (please, please, let it just be a phase) of questioning ME. And perhaps I have some kind of self-esteem issue, because it is making me absolutely bonkers. As in, the 3-year-old doesn't think I'm quite cut out for this job, and I think she might be right!<br /><br />We have a lot of talks that go something like this:<br /><br />Me: Are you getting dressed like I asked you to?<br />Raisin: Yes. Do I need clean underwear?<br />Me: Yes.<br />Raisin: Why!? Why do I need clean underwear?<br /><br />(Please note that a) SHE ASKED ME, b) she DID need clean underwear, and c) if I had answered "no," the next thing out of her mouth would've been "Why DON'T I need clean underwear?")<br /><br />It probably goes without saying, at least among parents, that I now fully understand the beauty and simplicity of "Because I said so, and I AM YOUR MOTHER!!!!"Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-62565391788863930602007-10-24T19:20:00.000-05:002007-10-24T19:26:39.663-05:00Blanyet!!!!!!<em>To really appreciate the following conversation, you must understand that it took place while I was cooking dinner. The Jellyman had just finished a bunch of yard work, and was in the bathroom trying to get cleaned up. Apple and Orange were both screeching in their high chairs, which was actually an improvement, since their previous activity had been screeching and holding on to my legs.</em> <em>Ok, carry on:</em><br /><br />Raisin: Mommy, what does blanyet mean?<br /><br />Me: "Blanyet?" I'm sorry, honey, I don't understand what you're saying.<br /><br />Raisin: Blanyet, Mommy, blanyet. What does it mean?!<br /><br />Me: Are you saying "blanyet?" Because I have no idea what that means.<br /><br />Raisin: Yes! Blanyet! Blanyet!<br /><br />Me: Maybe it would help if you told me where you learned this word. Then maybe I would be able to figure it out.<br /><br />Raisin: I just made it up.<br /><br />And that is how my day went. The end.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-59582680023981080452007-10-21T10:49:00.000-05:002007-10-21T11:07:26.206-05:00Stick a Fork In Me, I'm DoneAKA, The Week That Kicked My Ass<br /><br />AAKA, How You Can Do Everything Right and Still Be Very Wrong<br /><br />On the good news side, I am now gainfully employed, pending the results of a drug test and criminal background check. As there is nothing to find in either category, I'm feeling pretty good about that.<br /><br />Also, my friend is legally married and happy. The last time I was in a wedding (my brother's), Raisin was 4 months old, and I spent the whole day worrying about her, and then fainted during the ceremony. This time I was actually helpful to the bride, and I remembered to eat and drink. Probably also helps that I'm no longer lactating.<br /><br />Not-so-good-news: This one nap/two nap thing sucks with twins. I mean, it just sucks in general, but evidently it sucks more with twins. On Wednesday, I tried leaving out the morning nap for both Apple and Orange, and it was an unmitigated disaster. By lunch, they were too tired to eat, and both slept fitfully in the afternoon and the next night. Orange MIGHT have been OK if Apple hadn't woken her up so many times.<br /><br />Since then, they are both back to two naps, and that's working for now, but I realize that I'm going to have to deal with the reality that Orange may be ready before Apple, and I won't have the nice neat option of having them sleep at the same time anymore.<br /><br />And, finally, Raisin got hurt goofing around with the Jellyman at the wedding reception, so we are now the family with the screaming, bleeding kid. Everyone was very nice about it, and she's going to be fine. Still, not exactly the way the evening was meant to end.<br /><br />I should be proud of us for making it through this week, for everything we managed to do. Instead, all I am is tired. Too tired to deal yet with the next big problem, which is this blog and whether I made a big mistake by moving back here and putting up the ads.<br /><br />Stay tuned, I guess.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-85633208928605561832007-10-16T19:38:00.000-05:002007-10-16T19:44:15.816-05:00This WeekWhy, darling daughter Orange, have you chosen this week to be maybe sort of unsure if you really need two naps? This week, with its job interviews, my best friend's wedding on Saturday, and the visit from your Grandpa (who is, to be fair, the World's Easiest Houseguest, but he is still your Grandpa and I like to leave him with the impression that his beloved grandchildren live in an environment that is at least occasionally clean).<br /><br />GO TO SLEEP. Or, if you're going to be awake, be happy about it. Thank you. Love, Mommy.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-41026510951967411192007-10-15T07:39:00.000-05:002007-10-15T07:57:25.061-05:00We've Come a Long WayIt's a cute story, but it also struck me how different life is for a child born in 2004 (in the US) than for one born in 1950 or even in 1978.<br /><br />On Friday, the Jellyman took Raisin to urgent care. She had complained of a sore throat that was getting worse instead of better, but it's impossible to get an appointment at our clinic the same day unless you call first thing in the morning.<br /><br />I attempted to prepare her for the experience by explaining that she was going to see a doctor, but it would be a new one instead of Dr. F. "OK," she said, "when I see the new doctor, I'll tell her my throat hurts."<br /><br />Sensing trouble coming, I pointed out that the new doctor might even be a man. She seemed puzzled, but she didn't say anything else until she and the Jellyman were in the waiting room.<br /><br />When she brought it up again, the Jellyman said she was worried about having a boy doctor. Would he do a good job? Would he be nice? Finally the Jellyman said, "You know, Raisin, D (the husband of a college friend) is a doctor."<br /><br />"NO! D's a DOCTOR!? I didn't know that!!!!"<br /><br />That eased Raisin's mind, and we all got a good chuckle, especially D's wife when I told her about it. But it struck me later -- Raisin had absolutely no concept that a man could be a doctor. Her perspective is the complete reverse of the assumptions that existed for our mothers, and really even for us.<br /><br />When progress sometimes seems so slow, it's comforting to see how far behind us the starting line lies.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-2497080987914903092007-10-12T10:02:00.000-05:002007-10-12T10:22:20.489-05:00Superpowers<div>It's funny that the <a href="http://www.cafemom.com/group/16643?t=wid_g">Secret Awesome etc. etc.</a> had the Superpower challenge, because last night I had the idea for a post on the same topic. It's not about me, though, it's about the super things my kids can do.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Obviously, my children are incredible in many, many ways, but they do each have one unique ability that goes beyond everyday brilliance.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Apple's is the funniest: Nuk radar. If there is a pacifier anywhere in the house within his reach, he will find it. Under the couch? Not a problem. Behind the crib? He'll get there. Two rooms away in Orange's mouth? By the time Mommy figures out where he's going, he'll have two Nuks and Orange will be crying. It's astounding to watch.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Raisin's is a more subtle gift, probably because she has honed it with 2 extra years of experience. Since she was a baby, she has charmed everyone in her life. She can negotiate her way into or out of anything she puts her mind to, except with her mean mom and dad.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And Orange? Orange has these:</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGf4YAlHJyeeoFHbZayj3rP_jHPGe-Jzvxr8JE3MI7kMSz7xH_-IYrWrhM_CDSkBqtb6_Ymn7HlV_WrLhBUY4rFmJiRQQT3GkugNLZmiBmdOVUrRU_VqnYuqRvWx1RK0LW2dv4A/s1600-h/Karina+eyes.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120470586846787586" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGf4YAlHJyeeoFHbZayj3rP_jHPGe-Jzvxr8JE3MI7kMSz7xH_-IYrWrhM_CDSkBqtb6_Ymn7HlV_WrLhBUY4rFmJiRQQT3GkugNLZmiBmdOVUrRU_VqnYuqRvWx1RK0LW2dv4A/s320/Karina+eyes.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-40844141006855579942007-10-10T21:53:00.000-05:002007-10-10T22:04:32.638-05:00Job-Hunting SucksEspecially when it's limited to part-time, preferably with hours that don't conflict with your husband's day job. There is a very good chance I'll end up in red and khaki (which admittedly is preferable to a royal blue vest*).<br /><br />Another potential problem: after a full day explaining to Raisin why Saturday comes after Friday and how I am getting older and won't ever be a baby again, my brain is very, very tired. Does anybody know someone who will pay me to watch Survivor and House?<br /><br />*The Jellyman has just informed me that they don't wear vests anymore. Not that I would know that, since I haven't darkened Wal-Mart's door in years.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-48462811022497781562007-10-09T21:25:00.000-05:002007-10-09T21:26:53.328-05:00AmenToday I saw a bumper sticker that said, "January 20, 2009: End of an Error."<br /><br />I want the person driving that car to be my best friend.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-1157132160331666572006-09-01T12:31:00.000-05:002006-09-01T12:36:00.356-05:00Moving Day<span style="font-size:85%;">Whereas there are some things Blogger won't let me do and I waaaant to, and</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Whereas I am too cheap to pay for my own domain, and</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Whereas the Jellyman hasn't posted on his blog since February but is <em>totally</em> going to contribute to this new one,</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Be it therefore resolved that we are starting a new blog </span><a href="http://fruitsaladfamily.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">here</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">. (Jane! I get to use the Fruit Salad thing! How freaking cool is that!?)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top, join us there?</span>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-1156972611771511052006-08-30T16:06:00.000-05:002006-08-30T16:16:51.843-05:00You Have to Ask Me Nicely<span style="font-size:85%;">Last night in the library's children's room, a librarian somewhat discourteously asked me to have Raisin refrain from spinning a rotating book rack.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Her request was completely reasonable, and I imagine spending 8 hours a day in that room can sometimes be Just Too Much.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Still. I am 8 months pregnant with twins. Pretty much every day you see me is the worst day of my life (movie reference, not meant to be literal). I would really have liked for her to stand there ... and with her Harvard mouth extend me some effing courtesy (movie reference #2, because it amuses me even if no one else gets it).</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In unrelated news, </span><a href="http://www.cookiecart.org/"><span style="font-size:85%;">The Cookie Cart</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> today sold cookies with TWO causes. Not only did they help at-risk youth develop workplace skills, but they made a grumpy pregnant woman very, very happy.</span>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14452067.post-1156790682763336072006-08-28T11:17:00.000-05:002006-08-29T09:50:25.820-05:00How Much Pregnancy Whining Can The Internet Handle?<span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Raisin's birth story isn't where I thought it was. I was present at the birth, so reasonably I could reconstruct it out of my own head. But why do that, when I KNOW I saved it somewhere and I just need to find it again? Also, I clearly cannot post the "Where Raisin is Now" story without the "How It All Began" story, and that is why instead of those posts, which are only interesting to me, you are all getting more pregnancy blather which is, um, only interesting to me. Gosh, this is an awesome blog. (The other choices for blog topics today were a debate about whether capris can be formal and Why I Hate My Bra. Really, I think you should consider yourselves lucky.)</em> </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I thought I had learned about upheaval when I was pregnant with Raisin. Well, that was the river, this is the ocean, baby. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">What surprised me most about pregnancy, version 1 was the way my primal self took over. I shook my head over emotional outbursts that could not be tied, even tenuously, to a Reason. I marveled, especially during the birth itself, at how my body just knew what to do. I have always tended much more toward the cerebral than the physical (read: I sucked at four-square), so it was bizarre for me to dwell so thoroughly in the world of the physical. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In version 2, this immersion is even more complete. I can vaguely recall a time when I could write a to-do list or pack a suitcase all by myself. I would even have gone so far to say that organization was one of my strengths. Now, not so much. I make attempts, I grasp at the straws of logical thought. But then somebody kicks my ribcage, or I have another contraction, or I am just so bloody tired that my shopping list peters out because I have started to sing something I heard on Sesame Street. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My brain has bowed so completely to the needs of my uterus that I actually find it hard to overdo. (That sound you just heard was the Jellyman snorting in disbelief, since virtually every evening I collapse, groaning, as soon as Raisin goes to bed. "How is that not overdoing?" he asks.) But I know better; if my brain were still in command, those piles of baby clothes would all be washed and folded and put away. I also know this is for the best. It is the Triumph of the Uterus that has kept my babies safely inside me this long. Oh, the loss of independence, it chafes, though. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And that, too, is vastly different from my first pregnancy. During the last trimester with Raisin, I certainly wasn't climbing ladders to clean cobwebs from the ceiling, but for the most part my activities weren't all that limited. I cooked, I cleaned, I worked, I managed my life the way I was used to doing. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm a Christian, and the church we attend focuses a lot of attention on ministry. There's a whole class, which I've taken, on finding one's personal ministry. What are you good at? What are you passionate about? How is God calling you to use those gifts in service? They don't teach you how to be the recipient. They don't tell you what to say when friends and acquaintances say, "be sure to call me if there's anything I can do to help." (I'm guessing they're not really interested in cleaning our gutters, for example.) </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It seems simple on the surface. Fact #1: my friend has offered to help. Fact #2: I am drowning in laundry. Unfortunately, the simple equation fails to account for fact #3: I seem to be incapable of allowing someone outside my family to help me unless I am also gainfully employed. I cannot let her help with the baby clothes unless I spend that time on another project, like Operation Assemble Baby Swing. And then I apologize for the state my house is in, and explain that I'm dressed like a slob because I have to save the maternity outfits that fit for work days, and generally wear myself out faster than if no help had been offered in the first place. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Now, some single parent out there is reading this and wishing they could deliver a swift kick to my ample booty. And they are right. I'm swimming in blessings and complaining that the water is just too <em>wet</em>. My only defense is that the Uterus is in control, and she's temperamental.</span>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02887928096510492352noreply@blogger.com2