Cutting the cord

I'm talking about phones, not babies. It's been about a month since L and I decided to drop our landline in favor of cell only. I always said I would never do it, but never say never.

Our cordless phone was dying a slow death, so we knew we'd need to replace it. At the same time, I needed a new cell phone because I hated my other one. It pained me to spend extra money just to have more phones that ring in the house, so we decided to go for it on the exclusive cell thing.

I thought it would be a big transition. Turns out, not at all. It's actually nice to have my "main" phone with me wherever I go. Then I don't have to worry that preschool might be trying to track me down or that I could be missing some other such hypothetical emergency.

The best result out of the switch is that L and I have discovered texting (I know, welcome to freakin' 2009). It was awesome during the holidays at family gatherings, L and I and L's brother doing running commentary under the radar amidst everyone. But it has been convenient in many other situations when talking out loud wasn't an option yet we needed to communicate.

I have had a couple etiquette struggles, though, so I need to make some rules for myself. I was at the library one day chatting with a woman I think is so cool, and my best friend was calling on my cell. That was a toughie -- I don't get to talk to either of them as much as I'd like, and there I was caught. I was able to find a way to transition each conversation and talk to both of them, and last I checked, they're both still speaking with me, so I guess it was all right.

The reason I thought I'd never drop the landline was safety. I wanted to have a phone available at all times to grab and dial 911 -- also that my kids could do the same. We do have phones, they're just not connected to the wall. We have set locations for the phones, and I'm teaching my kids our address since 911 doesn't auto-locate on cell phones (can you tell I used to work at the phone company?).

So now we're free of all phone constraints! And we pay less every month. Text me, and I'll tell you all about it!

Only child, mother of two

So far in my parenting life, with two little girls, I have amassed quite a lot of skills. The newborn stuff is down pat, babies crawling and walking I'm pretty good at, and I'm honing my toddler skills each hour. However, my life experience has a gigantic gaping hole in it that I could really stand to draw from right now: sibling life.

I am an only child. I like it this way because I really don't know any different. My life has been wonderful and quite blessed. But what I haven't learned enough of is what it's like to live with a sibling -- kind of critical information being a mother of two.

L's brother is six years younger, so he has a few insights, but definitely not insights that involve siblings close in age. Most of my friends are siblings, so I've gleaned a fair amount of info just from observing over the years.

Here's where you come in: I'm looking for your tips. You can post them here, e-mail them to me, tell me, whatever's easiest. If you grew up with a sibling close to your age, tell me what your parents did that you liked. Tell me what they did that you didn't like. Did you get the same presents? Do the same activities? Share a room?

Help a sister (get it?) out here. I'd love to hear from you.

The great Desitin caper

Everyone has that story from when they were a little kid that relatives and friends retell into adulthood. It involves an ornery three-, four- or five-year-old smearing [insert your favorite sticky substance here] all over the floor/walls/couch and creating a disaster zone of permanent stains.

My particular story from my childhood involved ketchup and Italian dressing, but I was mostly an accomplice. I had always wondered when one of my children would have their epic moment, and I think it happened last night.

We had a babysitter so L and I could go hear Greg Mortenson (as in, Three Cups of Tea) give a talk and then solve the problems of the world over dinner with friends. This particular sitter has been here before, she's a college student, and we were very confident. We were at dinner at about 8:15 when the cell phone rang, and it was the dreaded call from the babysitter. I braced for having to ditch the restaurant for the emergency room as I answered the phone. Luckily, what she had to say ended up making for great dinner fodder, and very little harm was done.

She had put Jellybean to bed after Peanut was asleep. Things seemed to be going well, but the sitter heard Jellybean talking animatedly on the monitor. She opened the door to Jellybean's room, and Jellybean announced to her, "My hands are dirty." What Jellybean failed to mention, and luckily the sitter turned on the light to discover, was that it wasn't just her hands that were dirty. It was her face, her hair, her pajamas, her bear, her sheet, her comforter and her wall that were dirty. All covered with Desitin.

In case you're not familiar with Desitin, it is used to prevent diaper rash on kids. Put it this way: When you were at that pool party and you wore your wet swim suit/trunks all day and got all chafed, that wouldn't have happened if you had Desitin on.

So, the sitter was calling us at dinner to see if I thought Jellybean might have eaten the Desitin, since it was on her face. Jellybean wasn't sayin'. The sitter had read the label, and you're supposed to call Poison Control if you ingest Desitin. I felt pretty confident that eating Desitin wasn't something Jellybean would do, so I just told the sitter to keep an eye and ear out for the next hour until we got home, and to call me if anything strange happened.

We came home to a quiet house without further incident. The babysitter had cleaned Jellybean's face and hands, changed her pajamas and gave her new covers. She couldn't have handled it better -- and she even said she's willing to babysit again. Phew!

For the work we avoided on the front end of this, we made up for on the back end, this morning. I Googled stain removal with Desitin (wow, are there many a Desitin-ruined garment and couch out there) and proceeded into stain-removal mode. Because it is a water repellent, you have to treat the stains like you would grease or oil. I spent about 45 minutes doctoring the various surfaces and laundering things. The stains didn't come out completely, but now they're a lot less obvious. L got most of the Desitin off the wall, but you can still see a bit of residue.

The story from my childhood -- now known as the Great Ketchup Caper -- ended much worse, with my parents' neighbors having to replace their brand-new (as in, installed the day before) carpet. My parents offered to help pay for it, but the neighbors knew it was their own son who had inflicted the damage while I mostly served as witness.

I am hoping, though, that once word spreads about the Great Desitin Caper, maybe we can shelve the Ketchup Caper story once and for all. I'm tired of hearing it.

One for the ages

Plenty has been said about the significance of yesterday's presidential inauguration. It was one for the ages. But was it one for the ages of... 3 1/2 and 1 1/2? In our house, the answer was "yes."

I broke my cardinal rule of no TV during the day, and during lunch the girls sat front and center of the TV to watch the oaths and speeches. They know who the president and the first family are by name and sight, and they seemed to glean at least a little comprehension of what was happening.

I love that when they witnessed those events, they saw a president and his family, not a black president and his black family. Obama stands for hope and change, and if yesterday was any indication, those things are coming.

I knew the inauguration made an impression when I was getting Peanut ready for her nap shortly afterward. She said, "Barack O-mama goin' night-night." She went to sleep with the president on her mind.

Analyze this

My kids definitely have brought out the best in me most of the time. But over the years, I have discovered I had been harboring some pet peeves that I had no idea I possessed -- until I had kids.

I have overcome some of these pet peeves in just a short time. It didn't take me long to get over my aversion to clutter, for example, when our tiny house (at the time) was packed to the gills with a baby play gym, swing, bouncy seat, and on and on. And that was just in the living room. Now that there are two kids flinging their toys about the (albeit bigger) house, it's a darn good thing clutter doesn't get to me anymore.

I also have grown to enjoy naked babies running around the house instead of wincing in anticipation of any leaks they may spring without a diaper on. We've had leaks of all varieties, believe me, and it turns out that although a bit gross, they're pretty easy to clean up. Having hardwood floors doesn't hurt in that regard, either.

So, which pet peeves have I clung to? Two of them come to mind.

1. Damage to books. Tearing pages, bending covers, dog-earing, all make me crazy. If I even have an inkling that a book is about to suffer, I swoop in immediately and take it away. The only way I can explain this is that my grade school librarian must have scared the bejesus out of us for doing anything to the school library books. Board books have saved me many a time.

2. Toys missing pieces. I was an only child and fairly orderly. I always knew where all parts to all of my toys were. I would be appalled at other kids' houses when their puzzles were missing pieces or toy sets were lacking a vital component. How could they let that happen? Well, now as a mother of two, I know that it can (and does) happen all the time, even when we're being careful. However, I just can't seem to get over hating it. I'm hoping time and desensitization will foster a cure.

Do I lack resolve?

New Year's resolutions have been flying at me everywhere I've turned so far this year: the newspaper, TV (is anyone else tired of Oprah and her "wagon?") and especially on the internet. People are resolving that 2009 is the year they will morph into everything they've always wanted to be -- or so it seems. To their credit, many of my blogger friends and Facebook friends have written quality missives about their personal goals.

So, why haven't I? I don't have any resolutions. Is that wrong? Is that bad? Ironically, all the hype has made me question myself in that regard. I've thought about it, and really I'm the only person who can decide if it's bad not to be spouting my goals for the world to know. And I think it's just fine. It's all right to think that I'm good enough and smart enough. And there are even a few people who like me, gosh darn it.

After the ongoing discussions through the past few decades about equal rights and feminism and women's liberation, I feel like I'm in the minority by being a woman who is happy with myself and my life without any major changes. Don't get me wrong -- I know I'm not the perfect person, and I can always improve on managing my friendships, taking time for my husband, writing more for myself, cleaning my house, learning to use my sewing machine, and a few other things. And I'm struggling lately to motivate myself to even step outside to get the mail because it's been so frigidly cold. But I don't feel like I've ever needed (and hope I never will) the kinds of transformations I've been bombarded with in this year's press about resolutions.

I always have goals, some small and some longer-term. My caffeinated beverage experiment was one of the longer-term plans, and we're still in the midst of the Kleenex project. I guess I just don't need a calendar to tell me to connect with myself and check in with how my life is going so far.

On a semi-related note, I can't help but wonder how much of the New Year's resolution hype this year has been brought on by the financial crisis. Are we covering up our collective financial pain with focusing more inwardly? Could be, and time will tell.

First post of 2009

Before you go thinking I'm a slacker for taking until the 13th to post in the new year, let me make my excuses. 1. We were staying with family in the Midwest until Sunday. 2. Said family has unacceptably slow internet access on an ancient computer. 3. A few days, L and I were in San Diego and we had to be outside too much to blog (tragic, I know). 4. When we did finally get back home -- more on the length of our trip in a minute -- we were up to our waists in laundry, mail and grocery shopping. Until now.

So, now that I'm done with excuses, let me do the unthinkable at this time of year and reflect backwards (as opposed to resolving and such for the new year) on our holidays.

We had a good time. We saw our families and were festive and merry and all that. For about three days. Then, we were just there Way. Too. Long. Kids went from sleeping all right to sleeping terribly (and hence so did we). Our parents' quirks went from amusing to tolerable to un-freakin-believably annoying.

But most of that, aside from the sleeping, just affected L and me. The girls LOVED their grandparents and vice versa. They laughed and played and took it all in. That made it worth the above mentioned struggles.

Probably my favorite moment from the whole trip happened at Christmas dinner. My mother-in-law played host to 12 people (which meant that most of the hosting duties fell to L and his brother). She insisted that we have a sit-down dinner with this amalgamation of about four families. We were all enjoying our meal tamely, and Peanut breaks into her 1-year-old rendition of "Jingle Bells." By the time she got to "hey!" the whole table was singing. Now THAT'S the Christmas spirit.

So now back to 2009. Because of our impending travels and all the other things we were doing, I didn't quite do a holiday card. Well, truthfully, I haven't done one since... ever. So, do you think it's too late to do a card with a letter and stuff? Will that just seem strange? Or can I spin it into a Happy New Year thing and not seem like a freak?