We spent the majority of the weekend at Grammy and Grampy’s house. I think my parents must still be recovering from the wildness that is my two children. Mike and Lois left early Saturday morning for Pinehurst and his mother’s memorial mass. I headed to Southside (yes, folks - you CAN cross the river in Richmond and live to tell the tale) with the stinky dog, Lily and Arden and 4 bags full of stuff.

We spent Saturday morning buying Play-Doh at Target for Lily and went home to read some books and make a mess on the floor with the stuff. Arden just wanted to eat the Play-Doh but she was eventually distracted by the box full of beads and necklaces my mom has. That was the best $.50 she ever spent and I highly recommend it as a toy all parents should have. She got the box at a garage sale and it’s full of costume jewelry. The girls drape themselves in it and generally have a blast playing with it. The only time I had to intervene is when Lily tried to use one necklace as “reins” for Arden - she looked like she was about to attempt riding her little sister.

We put Arden down for a much-needed nap after lunch and Mom and I headed out with Lily to see Doogle. There were a total of 5 people in the theatre. This theatre has a few “love seats” so Lily and I curled up in one while she attacked Grammy’s popcorn. I think it was more hers than Grammy’s, but mom has learned and now orders larger sizes than she normally would. Doogle was fine for a kid’s movie. The rabbit kind of reminded me of Sara’s hubbie, Tim . . . or what Tim would have been like in college. Seeing William H. Macy as a snail freaked me out a little bit.

We headed back home and then attempted dinner out at Applebee’s. My poor dad - those places are so loud, my kids are so loud, and it’s always one accident after another. Dad was trying to help Lily color something when he knocked over his soda. It went everywhere, including on Lily, who immediately started whimpering. We got that mess cleaned up in time for Arden to start throwing her food around and generally making a lot of angry noises (apparently she was done and ready to go). The kitchen messed up my order so it took forever to get it, and this Applebee’s is now on my list of restaurants that pretend to have a non-smoking section but really don’t.

Warning . . . rant coming . . . I realize that I am digressing, but please, explain to me how the bar, which is in the middle of the restaurant, can be surrounded by “non-smoking” tables. The bar is literally 2-3 feet away from these tables, so while we are in non-smoking, the people at the bar are not. Jennifer and I had a bitch session at the waiter of Ruby Tuesday’s on Broad Street a few weeks ago. Same set up there. The waiter made the mistake of telling Jennifer and I that the waitstaff in the smoking section (i.e., the original section near the bar) didn’t get any business at lunch because no one wanted to sit in the smoking section. So instead of just making the restaurant non-smoking, they made the tables near the bar “non-smoking” in the hopes they’d fake us all out into not noticing there’s no wall or separation between the bar and the tables. If this public smoking ban passes in Virginia it will be a freakin’ miracle but I will be very, very happy. Why, oh why, did I end up in the smoking capital of the universe?!?! . . . end rant.

After dinner, we headed home for ice cream and baths. Lily and Arden were nice and sticky by the time they made it into the bath. Lily insisted on sleeping in the Aerobed (instead of with me), so we blew it up and made a nice little nest for her. Arden went right to sleep in her crib, exhausted from her day. Lily did not. She called me up there a number of times because she wanted to know when I was coming to bed. The wind was really blowing hard and making all sorts of strange noises, which didn’t help. Eventually I got her to fall asleep. By the time I fell asleep, it was quarter to twelve. At midnight, Lily woke up again and started talking to me about how she needed me. She ended up crawling into bed with me, draping herself and her 16 stuffed animals over my body, and breathing heavily in my face all night. While it was cute, and kind of nice to be loved on like that, I didn’t get much sleep. At 6 AM she was awake and wanting to go play with her grandparents. I managed to contain her until quarter to 7, then sicked her on my parents. Arden stayed in her room until about 7.30.

After breakfast we decided to go look around the Southside at potential neighborhoods for the next house we buy. The girls were patient and we took them to play at Chesterfield Mall where Grampy taught Arden how to use her feet to get up the play bridge they have there. Unfortunately once she learned how to do it, she didn’t want to stop doing it, and a huge temper tantrum was his reward when he tried to pick her up to leave. Arden also dropped what could possibly be the stinkiest poop ever into her diaper and I, being the fabulous mother than I am, didn’t have any diapers with me. She kept crawling into this tunnel and I swear that there were literally green vapors emanating from it. We made a pit stop at Target to pick up diapers and wipes, headed to Arby’s, wasted $17 on lunch that the girls wouldn’t eat, and headed back for naptime.

I decided that Lily and I both needed a nap, so I tried to lie down with her. After about 15 minutes of telling her to be quiet/stop poking my eyes/pulling my hair/rolling around on me, she announced, “Mommy, I need space. Please go away.” Alrighty then. I flounced out of the room and crashed on the couch for a blissful hour before Mike arrived and rescued my parents (and me). He bought me some candles from my favorite shop in Southern Pines, Gap Creek. And he got to spend some time with his dad and sister - which is always a good thing. Hopefully mom’s back isn’t re-broken from carrying Arden all over and dad’s hearing is intact after Arden and Lily screeched at each other all weekend.

Arden is officially walking. She does it more than crawling, so I figure it’s safe to say that she is walking now. She looks a lot like Hayden did when he first started - a big frankenstein with stiff arms that are bent upward for protection. It’s very funny looking but I think we’re all relieved that she has passed this particular milestone. Or at least I am.

Both girls had a good day. Arden walked all over Judi’s and Lily got to do a lot of Arts and Crafts, her all time favorite past-time.

I, on the other hand, in the words of the inimitable Bill Pilc - NOT SO MUCH. I don’t have days very often where I really and honestly consider quitting. Back in the days when I worked for others, I had those thoughts at least once a month. Being in my position means that 98% of the time I’m really happy with my career choice, the work is very fulfilling, and even sometimes I think we might be impacting people’s lives in a positive way.

By signing a lease, and dumping money, time and effort into our space, we are committed. I can’t just up and quit. Neither can Jennifer. When we have bad days, we have to stick it out.

I think I’m just sad tonight about a lot of things. I’m in a difficult situation with a client and I don’t like it. Things were said today that made me feel really, really badly at a very deep level. It’s not about hurt feelings. I just really felt alone today and I asked myself why I needed to care at the level I apparently do.

I am jealous of people who work and at the end of the day, leave their feelings and problems behind like an empty and unnecessary briefcase. I have never been able to do that. There is very little division between “work” and “not work”. I don’t compartmentalize. In some ways, that’s why I’m good at what I do. I’m passionate and dedicated and I have a lot of energy and drive for my work. It’s also truly my Achilles Heel. I don’t want to be this invested in anything other than my family. That’s the truth. However, if I go that route, my work quality will suffer.

When Jennifer went through her horrible pregnancy scare, and then the Sophia scare once she was born, it was the first time since my own pregnancy problems that I really didn’t get two flips about work or everyone else’s problems. I remember someone calling me on my cell phone after finding out Jennifer’s labor was going to be induced and thinking, “I am supposed to feel like I need to respond to this. I am supposed to do something with the information I’m being given. And you know what? I really could care less.” Clients could have cussed me out, told me I had no integrity or ethics (the two things that really upset me), fired me, or refused to pay me. During those few weeks, I really would not have cared. When I had Lily and had all the issues with nursing, I remember telling a client who had the audacity (and daring, I might add) to call me at home 2 weeks after giving birth (and yes, they wanted me to do some work and by the way, when are you coming BACK to work???) that I really couldn’t take work phone calls and had nothing to offer. I ended with, “I will be back at the end of January. Please don’t call me until then.”

It was a liberating moment. The client didn’t implode. The world didn’t end because a direct mail campaign wasn’t done RIGHT THAT SECOND. Jennifer tells me that I am a slave to responsiveness. She’s right. I can’t stand people wanting things from me and me not delivering - immediately. I’ve always been that way. My insistence on communicating and being responsive to a ridiculous degree are now problems for me, because clients think that’s how it’s always going to be. I think I need to adjust my work mentality at this point.

And frankly - and brutally honest as well - we get paid to give advice to our clients. In the past, if we’ve had clients who didn’t respect our advice, or only wanted us to give advice if it stroked their “I knew it already” ego, we got rid of them. We used Laura’s phrase and told them it wasn’t a “good fit” for us. I think now my big quest is to remove a bit of myself from the business without losing my passion for it. Otherwise, I’m going to keep having days like today. And I really could do without them.

Kids and small enclosed spaces, like cars, are god’s way of punishing us for all of our sins. I’m convinced of it.

Since Lily began talking around the age of 2, she hasn’t stopped. Literally. In bed, at night, she talks (or sings) until she passes out, usually with her mouth still open, mid-word. From the moment she wakes up, she’s talking. “Reading” to Lily means that we read one sentence of the book, she asks 4 million questions, and maybe we get to the second page at some point. Most of the time it’s very endearing. However, the constant chatter and bullet-speed questions when combined with the car make me somewhat crazy.

Add to this that Arden doesn’t care for the car. She’s in a phase where if everything isn’t just *so* - the moon and stars in alignment, her diaper freshly changed, her belly full of food, the sun out of her eyes, whatever - she tenses and screeches. She doesn’t like the car seat (though who can blame her on that one - being strapped into a tight space with a huge winter coat on sucks), so generally everytime we put her in the car she lets us know exactly how she feels about it.

Last night Lily played her favorite game - making up some bizarre word and then screaming, “Mommy, say “Aucksandrea!!!” Say it! Say it!” So I repeat the word and she laughs hysterically, and it all starts over again. Last night I was being commanded to repeat more made up weird words while Arden screamed and kicked her car seat, obviously wanting out, and Lily screamed (happily) and kicked, wanting me to repeat more and more of her words. This morning she put my bra over her eyes and called it a “goggle suit”. She thought it was hilarious, especially when she tried to make daddy wear the goggle suit. At least she didn’t ask me to repeat THAT phrase.

So I kept slinking lower and lower into the front seat of the car, thinking, “Help me, O Patron Saint of Parents - Help Me Survive This Small Extremely Loud Moving Object Called A Car Full of Children.” Mike was doing his deep breathing techniques to stay sane. We had already tried, and failed, to have a conversation (our conversations generally start and end around, “Did I tell you what happened to me yester. . . what, Lily???”). I tried to be zen-like and let go. We made it home and I prayed for silence. When 8 PM hit and there was silence throughout the house, it was the greatest gift ever. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Today isn’t any different. Arden is really crabby and every 42 seconds or so she lets out an angry, “AIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” and starts kicking whatever is near her. Breathe in, breathe out . . .

Today in between a trip to the Children’s Museum and a lot of temper tantrums at home from both girls, Lily announced, “Arden smells like poo. Daddy, change her!” She’s reached the stage where she knows immediately when someone has pooped and what to do about it. Now if I could just teach her how to change a diaper, I’d be set for life.

In an effort to be educational and proactive parents we took both girls to the Children’s Museum. This included interrupting Arden’s usual nap schedule. Like her father, she doesn’t do well with change - she was pretty cranky this afternoon. However, both girls love going there and Arden expended thousands of calories as she motored all over the museum and Lily ran from one exhibit to the next. I tried not to obsess about how often each of them put their fingers in their mouths (especially Arden, who had been crawling across the floor for an hour) and focus on the fun we were having.

When we got home, I was tired. The girls were tired, too. Arden took a short nap and Lily should have, but didn’t. When Arden woke up, both of them were acting terribly. Lily is in a phase now where temper tantrums come with a lot of leg kicking and arm flailing - and sometimes she’s fast enough to make contact with some part of my body, which just further infuriates me and saps any remnant of patience I may have at that point. Mike had told Lily we were going out for dinner, but she was so wired, and Arden was so crabby (for example, any time we tried to put her down, she threw herself face-first on the floor and screamed while kicking her feet) he decided that going out would not be wise. This brought on another temper tantrum from Lily. At this point, it was around 5 pm. I wondered how we were ever going to get to bedtime and I also felt an intense emotion - a combination of boredom and yes, I can say it - despair.

I know all parents go through this occasionally. How can you not? It seems like there is never a night where sleep isn’t interrupted by something (yes, Mike, I know that sometimes my snoring is what keeps us up!). Lily went from the terrible twos to the physical threes. Arden is coming into her own personality. That has good and bad points. Someone in the family is always sick from whatever the virus of the week at daycare is. It just gets old after a while. It’s tiring and sometimes it feels entirely unrewarding. When you are younger, or without children, you never think that you’d be selfish enough to say, “At times, I feel completely unfulfilled by parenting.” But it’s true. Today was one of those days. I get tired of arguing about going “peepee on the potty” with Lily. I feel like there is always 42 pounds of laundry waiting for me. I am sick of smelling the diaper genie in Arden’s room. Even the dog was bumming me out today . . .after Lily announced, “I smell Delilah’s breath - it’s YUCKY!” No kidding.

These days are always offset by intense moments of loving my children beyond human belief and the pure, unadulterated joy of watching them grow, learn, and stretch their boundaries. Those days are the ones I try to focus on, while erasing the long days of drudgery. Let’s face it. Nothing worthwhile is ever entirely scintillating.

My name will be at the top of list. Remember all that bitching I did about the nurse’s area at preschool??? I actually recoiled in disgust and horror when I went through the initial interview and I realized that some horrible mothers leave their sick, sad children at some health care room within the day care! The abomination! The sheer WRONGNESS of it all! When I was sick, my mom made me tomato soup with elbow macaroni, let me watch “The Price is Right” and generally made numerous trips to the kitchen to fetch me whatever I wanted. And when I was young enough, I could sometimes coerce her into rubbing my feet or just playing with my hair. So you can imagine my reaction when the director of the preschool told me proudly how they were one of the first centers in the US to offer a place for sick children to stay, so their parents could keep on working. “It has its own ventilation system so the germs can’t pass back into the regular center, and it has four separate rooms!” she exclaimed. There are some bizarre names for the rooms - basically, a “Pink/Crusty/Runny Eye” Room, a “Poopy Diarrhea and Vomit Room”, a “Flu, Aching Bones, Bubonic Plague Room” and a “I’ve got a virus but I don’t know what it is” Room (legal disclaimer: names are not REAL names for the rooms - they are extrapolated from initial data provided to above mother during long orientation meeting).

So, to set the stage. I have no daycare for Arden this week. As yet another illustration of my lacking mothering skills, I misplaced Judi’s daycare vacation schedule. She doesn’t do so hot on the reminding, either. Apparently the other mothers are much better about remembering. I found out on a fluke that she was off this week last Thursday. I begged mom and dad for help. They took care of Arden yesterday and today. Monday afternoon I started running my own fever and should have been sent to the Poop Room. Instead I went to bed for 14 hours and felt much better this morning. I got halfway to Northern Virginia for yet another Ikea trip and got the phone call from preschool. Lily had vomited and was running a low-grade fever. Would I like to come pick her up in the next 30 minutes or admit her to the hermetically-sealed, Lysol-laden nurse’s station?

Ummm, I’m in freakin’ Fredericksburg, Virginia. So my child spent the rest of her afternoon burning a slow fever on a cot, watching television and being doted on by Nurse Kathy.

Seriously, folks, I know she probably got better care there today than I could give - at least in terms of medically. The women who run that place are retired pediatric ER nurses. They know their shit (literally!). However, it just about killed me to do what I said I’d never do. I used to work with a woman who would drag her sick kids with her to the office. Nothing would keep her from her stupid job. Today that was me. Mike told me that the nurse’s place is happy to have Lily back tomorrow. I think I might have a heart attack if I do that again. So, no more of that. I know that it’s a “healthy, beneficial alternative” to “those parents that do not have back-up care for their children when their children are sick” or to “those parents that do not have flexible work schedules or work out of town”. I just can’t believe that I joined those ranks today. Who the hell needs to be Catholic when you have this much guilt?

The end result: Lily survived, intact, and seemingly unscarred for life. She told me that she loved Nurse Kathy and she told me that Mike and I are (still) her best friends. Apparently she didn’t know that I was shopping for office furniture in Ikea while she was confined to her cot with strangers. So, send in your nominations now!