Ode to the Polar Vortex

January 27, 2014

Oh Polar Vortex, with your nippy temperatures and pretty snow deliveries. You’re finally bringing us a winter that’s really, well, winter. A perfect season for sledding and comfort food and nights by the fire. It has been so long since we’ve seen a January like this!

I want to thank you, Polar Vortex, for so many things.

  • First, thank you for the critical budgeting skills you’ve taught me! Without you, I wouldn’t know to set aside an unimaginably insane amount of money for my heating bill next month. That’s one less trip to Target for me {OK, maybe three}.
  • And thank you for the newfound appreciation you’ve given me for every single person who lives through the winters in the midwestern part of our country. Those are some hardy people. Or possibly insane. I’m not sure which. I would tip my hat to them but I’m not willing to risk momentary flesh exposure to the elements.
  • Our time management skills have also come a long way, oh Polar Vortex. With the need to put 4-6 layers on my children every day before every departure from our home, including a seven month-old baby, I now have to start getting ready to leave the house before I’ve even returned from my last trip outside. Your endless visit has made my life a constant repeat loop of donning and removing winter gear. I think it would be more time efficient to live with one snow boot, a glove and scarf on at all times, while cursing near my front door.
  • And now, oh joy of joys, I finally have the answer to just how many gloves my children can lose in one winter. I don’t have a final figure yet, but using simple extrapolation skills, I can tell you that it is a multiple of 1,700. If I could feel my damn fingers, I would take up knitting to keep up with the demand.
  • All hail the resourcefulness of winter! Now that I absolutely hate leaving my home, I have managed to create meals out of the most improbable combinations of “ingredients.” Hell no, I’m not dragging three kids to the grocery store — but did you know that cream of mushroom soup + anyfuckingthing at all in a crock pot is actually quite good? Bonus points for making it sound like comfort food. Pinterest that, people.
  • Polar Vortex, I’m forever grateful for how you’ve taken the guesswork out of what the weather will be like day to day. No more pesky climate surprises! Thanks to you, I can just bank on day in and day out of dangerous, bone-chilling frozen tundra. I can easily rely on the steadfast forecast of snow and ice with a chance of more damn drifting snow covered in black ice and some additional snow. You reliable motherfucker.
  • Those sleds I bought for my kids three years ago that have barely been used until now? Since you came to visit, you frosty bitch, they are practically our primary vehicles this winter. Thank you for making them worth their purchase price. Now we look like some hybrid of the Amish and the fucking Ingalls family.

 

It seems my little ode went slightly off track. I’m sorry. I’m just cranky because my 110 year-old house is drafty and my aging, indoorsy dog keeps begging us for a catheter to last him until spring arrives.

I know that by comparison, many parts of the country have it worse. But here’s the thing: Living in New Jersey, I didn’t sign up for this bullshit. What I signed up for was a winter with a few fleeting cold spells and maybe a snow storm or two. I did not check the box that transported my family to Siberia.

And few things could make me wish and pay for a flight with three small kids. But you’ve broken me, Polar Vortex. I’m done. The baby bunting and the mitten bullshit and the frozen minivan door — it has all pushed me over the edge.

I’m fucking going to Disney World. Well, in about two months, anyway. When we get undoubtedly get some global warming, freakishly high  winter temperatures in the mid-70s or something.

 

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Filed Under: Family, That Which Drives Me Crazy 9 Comments

This is Your Brain on Noise

January 17, 2014

Parents: How tired are you?

Exhausted, right?

I thought so. But why?

Is she really asking me why? 

I am. But only because I just figured something out that I should have understood years ago. Yeah, my body is tired, but if I’m being honest, it’s my mind that could really use a 12-year nap.

Some of our exhaustion as parents is indeed physical. In terms of small children, it’s things like the endless clean-up and assistance factor. With babies, it’s sleep deprivation. Lugging an infant car seat around. Schlepping a stroller in and out of the trunk. The gear. The nursing. It’s tiring, for sure. But I feel like my body, most days, can handle the running around, the lack of sleep, the 1,363 lunges to pick up the dropped food and the toy that keeps hitting the floor, the wrestling of the baby into a jacket.

But what I’ve only recently put my finger on is the mental exhaustion of raising kids. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure this out.  Probably because cause-and-effect equations have never been  my strong suit. Or because I haven’t been able to hear myself think since 2007.

I’ve come to realize that my brain is completely dulled by noise. It sounds obvious, right? The constant hum, or roar, of noise in a house with kids. Sometimes, it’s in the background — a zillion consecutive bing bing bing bings of my son battling Stormtroopers in the family room. Or my daughter singing the first and only line she knows from the Frozen songs, over and over and over. Don’t get me wrong: It’s charming at first, when not drowned out by the baby crying or, on our best days, everyone competing with each other in one dysfunctional crescendo.

Other times, the noise is distinctly in the forefront, of course. The crying. The bickering. And, of course, the questions. You know, childhood.

When the day is done, I often sit on my couch in the stark silence for a few minutes so my brain remembers what that’s like. Did you hear that? It was the sound of wine hitting the bottom of my glass. It was the sound of my mindless magazine opening. It was the sound of me hitting Like on a few Facebook posts I read on an uninterrupted basis.

Yeah, of course I expect noise. It comes with the territory. But at some point, it began eating my brain and swallowing things like complete thoughts or witty remarks.

 

But it’s not just the noise that drives us to the brink of exhaustion. It’s problem-solving, mediation and debate. Why didn’t I pay closer attention to these subjects in college?

Solving complex equations, for starters. I read somewhere that a woman’s brain is like having a million browser windows open at the same time, and it’s true. Behold:

  • If I have to leave for school drop-off in seven minutes, do I have time to feed the baby, sign the school permission slip, set up the crock pot for dinner, move the laundry and make sure everyone is wearing jackets and shoes? But where are my keys?
  • If we’re going from school right to gymnastics this afternoon and I have nothing for dinner, can I get to the grocery store in a 12-minute window previously reserved for my shower? Seriously, where are my keys?
  • Do we like Juan Pablo as The Bachelor? Why can’t he properly secure his daughter in a car seat? Don’t the ABC producers see this?
  • How am I already an hour late for something that’s not happening for a week?
  • Milk money is due tomorrow. Why can’t I pay this online? Oh crap, I only have three more days left for my 365-day Zappos return. Pre-school Show & Tell is the letter I this week — WTF starts with an I? Can I put ice in her back pack? How about an infant? Yes, an infant! Then I could use that time to get my flu shot and stop by the cub scout store for that badge I have to sew on. Wait, do we have thread? Oh good, there’s my cell phone — in the fridge. How many Weight Watchers points are in a stick of butter? We’re out of chicken nuggets? Holy shit. AND WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KEYS?

I know I am far from alone in saying that I go to sleep and wake up with my brain firing like this. It is the anti-calm. Especially when it is repeatedly interrupted mid-thought by shoe tying and bathroom assistance requests.

I remember from my corporate days the feeling of my brain overloading with fluid information and critical facts to make a quick (and often expensive) decision. And, honestly, most days, the shit running through my head now is somehow just as stressful. I know that’s hard to believe. And I say this not to pit working moms against stay-at-home-moms, because I have been both, but to map out a frame of reference. {Unless you work for the woman who was my boss from 1999-2003, in which case, you win the stressful gold medal. Please step forward to retrieve it, along with your express ticket to heaven.}

 

If complex equations are not wearing you out, let’s visit the lost art of sibling mediation.

Today, for instance, I negotiated the following:

  • The safe release of a certain princess hostage from the grip of ninja warriors.
  • The share time of a singular and untouched-for-the-last-three-years toy car that is missing a wheel.
  • The distribution of vegetables between the pro-broccoli and the pro-corn set.
  • Possession of the remote control.
  • The replacement of an uncomfortable sock due to poor seam placement.
  • Selection of a bedtime book.
  • The order of entrance into the minivan.
  • Who gets the red cup today.
  • Bath or shower? Bath or shower? Bath or shower? OMG, PICK ONE.

I keep looking for my Diplomat license plates to arrive in the mail, obviously, but the UN seems to have lost my address. I need to follow up with them because those plates could probably get me some preferential placement in the school car line.

 

And, finally, debate. Why, oh why, did I not doggedly pursue a spot on the varsity debate team? I would be so much more eloquent and prepped in my rebuttals to the following broken record:

  • Wait…
  • Just one more minutes…
  • Can I just…
  • But…
  • But, but, but…
  • I just want…
  • Why can’t I have…?
  • I don’t want to…
  • It’s not fair…

It’s the phenomenon of most requests being met with some caveat, protest or level of resistance. On my best days, my responses are calm and textbookish and parental. On other days, they are emotional and tired and, well, parental.

 

I know it’s not just the sounds within my house that are exhausting. They echo off the walls in every family. And I’m sure these sounds and debates morph as kids grow. They change into real problems and issues beyond requesting a snack every 76 seconds or choosing exactly which cup should be for milk and not for water because who the hell knows why. I anticipate that weariness comes from very deep worries and debates escalate over truly legitimate concerns down the road.

And do I dismiss the noise of laughter, bad knock-knock jokes, a baby cooing and family room dance parties? No, I don’t. That noise reboots my brain when its levels hit that of the blinking red light on my phone battery {has anyone seen my charger?}

I appreciate that feeling like my ears are bleeding from the sound of my name being called is something I will miss when they no longer need me for every little thing. And that day will be here sooner than I can imagine.

But, in the meantime, I think it’s OK to feel exhausted and grateful for the tiny pockets of quiet between the madness.

 

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Babyland, Family 4 Comments

Evening News: Winter Break Edition

January 6, 2014

Thank you for joining this special edition of the evening news. Tonight we take a look back at Winter Break 2013/14 through the eyes of one family.

  • “I loved the break! It lasted so, so, soooo long! My favorite part was the extra screen time my mom gave us, especially when everyone was throwing up.” — Child, age 4
  • “Can I go back to work now? Maybe taking seven vacation days was really going overboard. And what is that crusty substance on the floor of the minivan?” — Husband/Father
  • “WE GOT A WII! AND I HAVE PLAYED MORE IN THE LAST WEEK THAN MY RETINAS CAN PHYSICALLY HANDLE. JUST TRY PUTTING ME BACK ON A SCHEDULE WHEN SCHOOL STARTS UP. I’M GOING TO GET ANOTHER COOKIE NOW.” — Child, age 6
  • “***(^&&^%&^%$$^%&” — Infant, age 6 months {Translation: “They tried to sleep train me but I prevailed. I own these people, especially overnight. And what’s with all the vomiting?”}
  • “What? Who? Where? Did someone puke again? Is the break over yet?” — Wife/Mother

But first, we start our coverage with some breaking news.

After an extensive search & rescue effort, there are now reports that a patch of carpet has finally been spotted under the pile of wreckage known as Hurricane Christmas.

Yes, folks. A mere ten-ish days after Santa left the building, unnamed sources close to the family claim there is hope to restore this area to its pre-December status as a functioning living room.

These accounts remain unconfirmed at this hour. We do know for sure that wrapping paper remnants, boxes and toys have overtaken what has been called “a shockingly unacceptable perimeter.” More on this as recycling bags and European vacuums are delivered to the sight.

 

In other news:

  • Moving on to the weather: Last Friday’s snow storm {sponsored by karma} produced about 8-10 inches outside. But the real story here is the shit storm that was happening in the house. Laundry accumulations outperformed even the most outrageous estimates, especially after the stomach bug took out all five family members over the holiday break. At last calculation, it appeared that the residence has accrued approximately 749 metric tons of dirty clothes, but experts warn that these figures are considered preliminary and could continue to climb.
  • In today’s health news: Christmas cookies for breakfast — just how much is too much? If you answered, “even one serving after January 1,” you might be surprised. Household members taken down by the Gastroenteritis Christmas Plague beg to differ. Says one unnamed mom, “But I had no source of calories or blood sugar regulation for 48 hours. Surely this is the fastest path to resetting my system to its normal levels. And is it wrong to alternate between yoga pants and pajamas for two and a half weeks? It is? Shut up — when does school start?”
  • Taking a look at consumer spending trends in the area, it sure has been a windfall for local liquor sales. In fact, one nearby wine store in particular reported unprecedented sales coinciding with the announcement of public schools being closed on Friday after students had reported back just one day earlier.
  • Let’s talk sports! This household is producing some major contenders who have been training 24/7 since school was released on December 20. While previously unranked beyond the domestic level, look for members of this family on the Sochi medal podium in events such as Whining & Bickering Doubles, Synchronized Distance Vomiting, Parental Speed Drinking and Decathalon Sleep Deprivation. Put your support behind Team USA!

We’re just about out of time for tonight’s special report. We hope you enjoyed this look at Winter Break.

Please join us next week for “Dear God, Is it Still January?”

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Family, Holidays 5 Comments