February 14, 2005

antibiotics for everyone!

For our first married Valentine’s day, ten years ago, Wade bought me the one piece of our stemware that we had not recieved as a wedding gift (how do you register for an even number and get an odd number?). He filled the glass with Hershy Kisses and propped a card against the stem, and left it on our incredibly ugly glass-topped dining table for me to find. It was an unbelievably romantic gesture from a man not really known for his sense of romance (which, by the way, is one of the reasons I fell in love with him–I’ll take goofy over romantic any old day).

This year, for our tenth married Valentine’s day, Wade is buying me cookware. Calphalon, to be specific. Eight pieces (although I think it should really be FIVE pieces–why do they count the lids as individual pieces? You might use the saucepan without the lid, but vice versa? I don’t think so–). In a wierd way, this is a sort of continuation of the first Valentine gift: the cookware is also something that we registered for and didn’t get (although we did get two–yes, TWO–silver serving dishes shaped like clamshells. I’m not kidding–I still have one of them, in a closet somewhere. Not surprisingly, I don’t use it much). The cookware is really a sort of self-defense gift; Wade is convinced that the skillet I am using to make grilled cheeses is slowly poisoning our children–the non-stick coating tends to stick to the sandwhiches, which means the kids are eating it on a fairly regular basis. My mother agrees with him. So cookware it is!

The really funny thing is that I don’t cook. It’s not so much that I don’t cook; it’s more that I cook only under duress, and only things that I’m sure I can do well (which is a very very short list). Unlike every other woman in Wade’s family, I don’t enjoy the whole cooking thing. There is nothing relaxing to me about chopping and peeling and braising and roasting (or whatever the hell it is those women are doing in the kitchen). I’m a little worried that Wade is hoping that new fabulous pots and pans will turn me into Julia Child (or at least his mother, who is a TERRIFIC cook). Oh well–at least the grilled cheese won’t be Teflon-coated any more!

But what, you are wondering, does any of this have to do with antibiotics? Nothing–except that Charlie woke up this morning (and, according to him, several times during the night) with an ear infection (he hasn’t yet realized that the big-boy bed has no sides, and that he can get out and roam at will–apparently, he just laid there and thought about how much his ear was hurting all night long, while I was snoozing away, dreaming about my new Calphalon). I heard him crying at 5:30, when I was lying in bed trying to decide if I should get up and do my “AM Yoga” tape (the one I never get to do because no matter how early I get up, someone else in this house is up, too, and needs me to do four hundred things for him). Ironically, Wade, who was sleeping in the guest room (because he’s been sick and not sleeping well, not because of the Calphalon), which is RIGHT ACROSS THE HALL from Charlie’s room, did NOT hear C crying, nor did he hear me crash into the Little People Dollhouse when I went in to check on C. Sigh.

Anyway, Charlie was whimpering and pulling his ear, and probably had a fever, but I wasn’t going to check since he was already so upset. I gave him Tylenol and put him in bed with me, which was the end of any fantasy I had about doing yoga today. And then I realized that if today is Monday, Charlie was going to miss school AGAIN, and I wasn’t going to get to do ANYTHING today, since I would have a sick child with me all day, and then I really started to get depressed about the whole cookware thing (which, really, isn’t related at all, it’s just the idea of having to be home all day and then cook dinner on top of it all).

But Wade got up early, for no good reason, and took Charlie while I showered, and of course by the time I was dressed, Charlie was announcing that Daddy had made his ear all better (ha ha ha don’t you love it when they do that?) and that he could go to school. And then I made him cry because I said no, we were going to the doctor. And then Henry got up, and our day really started.

So I spent my Monday morning–one of my two precious kid-free mornings–at the pediatrician’s office with Charlie who kept insisting that I kiss the infected ear and then crying because it still hurt. But we got him some drugs, which means that Henry is the only one at Chez Williams not currently on antibiotics, so I’m gearing up for another visit to the doctor, since I’m sure he’ll be next. Happy Valentine’s Day!

February 13, 2005

welcome to my shrine

In a recent NY Times article, the parenting blog was referred to as “an online shrine to self absorption.” Wow, I thought, I gotta get me one of those. I’m a lot of things these days–stressed, tired, cranky, drunk–but self-absorbed just sounded so . . . decadent.

So let’s get right to the self-absorbed part of this. I have a few questions for me, which I’m sure you will find as fascinating as I do.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE KITCHEN APPLIANCE?
The microwave–without it, we at Chez Williams would starve. When he hears the ding, Charlie announces “Dinner’s ready!” Pretty savy for two and a half. (He had a great phase where he liked to yell “Clothes are dry!” every time the dryer buzzed, but I do so much laundry that the dryer is ALWAYS buzzing, and I think he just got worn out.)

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?
Fall–the boys are in school, and actually GO every day, because they haven’t been felled by a winter’s worth of cold and flu germs, and I’m happy to see them when they are home, because we haven’t all been trapped in the house together for FIVE CONSECUTIVE WEEKS, dear god please save me from this hell . . .

IF YOU HAVE A TATTOO, WHAT IS IT?
Oh for heaven’s sake, who makes up these questions? At least ask somthing interesting, like “If you were to get a tattoo, what would it be?” (I’ll leave you to figure that out on your own.)

CAN YOU JUGGLE?
Car pool, play dates, doctors appointments, naps, meals, yes. Balls and bowling pins, no.

WHO IS THE ONE PERSON FROM YOUR PAST YOU WISH YOU COULD GO BACK AND TALK TO?
The idiot who convinced me that staying home with my children would be fun fun FUN! (Actually, I don’t so much want to talk to her as smack her in the head.)

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE DAY?
Friday–I’ve survived another week, halleluja!

WHAT’S IN THE TRUNK OF YOUR CAR?
A portable ironing board, five pairs of scissors, and a bag of little cut out pirate clothes (the remains of a project for Henry’s pre-school class); a jacket I need to return in the next two days or I will own it forever; the over-priced seat cushion Wade bought because he thinks the heated leather seats in our BRAND NEW Honda Accord aren’t comfortable (I don’t need any extra cushioning, believe me, and I think the seats are JUST FINE, THANKS).

WHICH DO YOU PREFER, SUSHI OR HAMBURGER?
Hamburger–medium rare, with cheese and ketchup (Heinz, of course). And a beer. Or maybe three. At a restaurant, so I don’t have to shop for it, prepare it, or clean up after it.

WHAT ARE YOU HAVING FOR DINNER TONIGHT?
Leftover takeout. Heated in the microwave, of course!

February 10, 2005

About Susan

June 2006. Photo by Charlie, age nearly four.

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I taught literature in a fabulous liberal studies program near Seattle. I spent my days pondering the origins of the novel, the relationship between gender and genre, and the impact of colonialism on the post-modern narrative. I drank lots of terrific coffee and the occasional mid-afternoon martini. Now I live in Oklahoma City with my husband and our two small sons (Henry, 7, and Charlie, 5); I pass the time contemplating which superhero is the strongest, what park has the most shade, and how many ways vegetarian chicken nuggets can be garnished. In my spare time, I shop for shoes, preferably pointy-toed flats that will make me look less like a mom and more like someone you might want to have drinks with.

All things considered, I love nearly every minute of this life, especially the minutes right after that first cup of coffee and right before the cocktail hour.

In between the coffee and the cocktails, I also write for a few other places.

Friday Style Here, wear this.

BlogHer Fashion advice for real (smart) women.

The Working Closet What to wear to the office (and beyond).

Mamazine.com Because Mamas care about media, too.

ParentDish I’m not a parenting expert, but I play one on the Internet.