The Lesson

I woke up Friday morning. I knew I had a big day-long meeting, so the night before I had washed a load of nice work clothes (all black) and hung them up. I had my choice of items to wear that were (somewhat) flattering, made me feel (somewhat) attractive and comfortable at the same time, and would be professional enough for said day-long meeting.


Upon arising, however, something dawned on me. All of the colleges in my statewide system would be represented at said day-long meeting. All of them. Including the one I where I used to be employed.

Immediately I was excited and panicked at the same time. I might be seeing people that I used to work with! I could catch up with some old frenemies! But … I weigh 50 pounds more (at least) than I did the last time they saw me (and I was 8 months pregnant then). And you know that thing about when someone leaves everything that is wrong gets blamed on them? I totally know that has happened.

So … I start getting ready. I shave my legs, I get dressed, I put straightening solution in my hair and start drying it. I straighten my hair, I pick out jewelry and shoes, all the time thinking about my old job. The job I loved, until I didn’t. I job I wasn’t planning to leave, until I did. The job that I very abruptly made a transition from, that included 3 weeks in the hospital and a newborn. “Mixed emotions” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I was paying zero attention to my kid. She was watching “Jane and the Dragon” and playing with the cat. I could hear her, I knew she was fine. So I could be absorbed in my “will they think I’m fat” obsession, and my “what if they don’t even talk to me” anxiety.


Until I heard a plaintive voice from the other room: “momma, I need help”.


I walked into the hallway with makeup half applied and my mascara in my hand. Her door was closed all the way, which is unusual because that usually makes her cry. I don’t see the cat.


I try the doorknob. It is locked. I block my first instinct to panic, and head to the linen closet. I pull out the un-bent metal coat hanger, and insert it into the hole in the knob. I’ve done this before. In my old apartment, the door would bang against the wall in the wind and then slam shut, and I was constantly opening it this way.

Only … nothing. It’s not working.

Panic rises another notch, but I’m clear headed. This is not a big deal. I check my bedroom door and sure enough, the lock is a thumbscrew lock, not a push-button lock. So I try talking to my kid.

Honey, do you see the line in the middle of the knob?” “Yes”. “Can you try to turn it so it points sideways?”. (She turns the whole knob.) “Just the middle part” (More turning of the whole knob.) She starts to cry, so I abandon that plan.

I run to the garage to retrieve a small screwdriver, and begin removing the doorknob. I take out both screws and take off the knob. I have her pull off the knob on the other side (since she had the one attached to the shaft thing.) Then I try sliding the thing in the middle.

Doesn’t budge.

Try again. Nothing.

Great. I have now disassembled the doorknob, half of which is inside the room, and I still can’t get the damn door open.

Thankfully, my kid is playing and doesn’t seem terribly concerned about it. But the cat is starting to reach out under the door with his paw as if to say “HelLOOOO, we are STUCK IN HERE, get us OOOUUUT”.

So, I grab my phone. Which has been erratically losing signal, and this seems to be one of those times, so I have to turn it off and back on again. Awesome.

Meanwhile I go back out to the garage and get the largest screwdriver I can find. I try all kinds of little tricks on the “middle thing” while I turn my phone back on and finally get my dad on the phone.

His suggestion? Find the biggest screwdriver you can find. Sorry Dad, that’s not working.

His next suggestion? Butter knife.

Fucking genius. I managed to turn the “middle thing” and pop the door open like it was nothing with the butter knife.

I pushed the door open and my kid looked up and smiled. “Hi Mommie!”.

I went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. And then I realized the lesson in the event. (OTHER than “remember to not have a thumbscrew lock on the door to your two-year-old’s room”.)

I had been so preoccupied with the thought of the people where I used to work. What they would think of me now, how they would act toward me, what I would say. When in reality, my life has changed. My priorities have shifted. “This is my life now” floated through my head, and I was grateful for the reminder of what in my life is important NOW. My kid, and my cat, both of whom were safely rescued from the kid’s bedroom.

I went to the meeting, merely a few minutes late.  There was only one person from my previous college, and they were probably a new hire because it was someone I completely didn't recognize.  I hung out with some people I've met at my new college and I had as much fun as I could have at this day-long meeting.

And this morning I bought a new doorknob. One that doesn’t have a lock on it.

For Rachel

I have had a very long day (second day of classes).  But you know who is about to have an even longer day?

Rachel Maddow.

She lives for this stuff.  The New Hampshire primary.

In honor of, I have made one of my favorite cocktails, renamed.

The original source of this recipe is the Montgomery Inn restaurant in northern Kentucky.  When I lived in that area, during a visit by my parents, we went for dinner.  I ordered this drink and simply adored it - and I am not really a martini person.  They called it the Mandarin Martini, and I asked how it was made.

I continued to make it long after, and I make different variations as well.  This is an awesome drink to keep you cool on a warm summer night.  It is definitely one of my fave cocktails.  So in honor of my favorite pundit, I bring you ...


The Maddow Martini

Equal parts orange vodka and triple sec (can substitute peach schnapps if you don't have triple sec)
Add a splash of pineapple juice, then enough cranberry juice to turn it a little orange
Shake over ice, strain into a martini glass.

Enjoy! 

Read for the Record

Last Thursday was Read for the Record.  Our daycare participated by having a teddy bear and pajama drive, having a 'wear your pajamas' day, and reading the book for the Record: Llama Llama Red Pajama.

We were totally into wearing our pajamas to school:

Those pajamas say "It's Pasture Bedtime"  Hahahahahahahaha.  That totally cracks me up every time.

And no, she didn't let go of that stupid plastic phone all morning.

Light The Night

Since moving home, I've joined up with a women's group that includes some ladies I haven't hung out with since high school.  One project the group supports is the Light The Night Walk to support Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  So, off the Wee One and I go to support the group and hang with old (meaning, "long time" not that we're all that old) friends.

Wearing my Nu Zeta hat

Never mind, didn't want to wear my hat after all!

But I'll cheese for the camera!

Let's go!

Babywearing rocks!

Fountains!

Our banner.  Obviously the children had quite a bit of input into its creation.

Admiring his handiwork.

More friends came to support.

In the sling.

The river is so pretty.

Once the sun started going down, we had to bundle up.

How many shades of pink can I put on a single kid?  Let me try ...

So my kid?  Can charm anything off of anyone.  She walked up to a woman that didn't speak English and got  part of a cereal bar.  She then moved on to another group and got a cupcake and a chocolate bar for her smiles and charm.  I am SO in trouble with this one.

Yay, cupcake.

So then we walked a couple of miles, went home and had cookies at Jenny's house.

Her and Me

So how can a kid this pretty ...

Come from ... me?

Also ... this is what happens when your kid gets ahold of your camera and randomly shoots photos.

Mexican Pizzas

Continuing Blog 4 Family Dinners ...

Mini Mexican Pizzas

Heat up some tortillas.

Put some vegetarian refried beans in a pan with 1/4 c water, heat.

Chop lettuce, tomatoes, onions.

 Put it all on the table, and let everyone build their own mini pizzas.

Mine:

My kid's:

Mmmm ....

I ate all mine ..



So, my kid didn't really seem to like this as much as she likes the Italian dishes.  She even asked for pasta in the middle of this dinner.  I ended up pulling out some leftovers and heating them up for her, since she wasn't eating this much at all.

Meanwhile I ate the rest of hers .... maybe it will require multiple tries before she likes mini mexican pizzas. ..

The Legend of Lily

I learned a lesson about a year back.  I learned that it is not a good idea to celebrate your successes with sleep training by bragging about it on the internet.  In the comments of a post (which I apparently cannot find I freaking found it, yo!), a dear, adorable friend of mine birthed the Lily Legend (see Serifm's comment).  She mentioned that every time I talked about "The Universe" overhearing my bragging about how well my kid was doing, she imagined Lily Tomlin in her big chair.

"Lily" was born.

Lily has become a legend when we mothers whisper about our sleep successes.  When the sleeping falls apart, we are quick to pay due homage to Lily in the hopes that she will once again help our children to sleep blissfully through the night.

So imagine how stoked I am that Serifm and I are going to see Lily in the flesh tomorrow evening to celebrate a birthday.  Yaaaaaaaaay!!!!!  (and I hope my kid still sleeps when I get home!)