just another manic Sunday

SUNDAY – a day of rest, a day of worship, a day for football lovers, and an important day for women who take the beloved birth control pill.

Today was my special Sunday, when my next cycle was set to begin, as the empty spinning wheel dispenser told me. And what a surprise…as of 1:30pm, I hadn’t even called in my re-fill. Procrastination at its finest.

After finally placing the order at 2:00pm, I took a mental note of the pharmacy’s closing time, 6:00pm, and made the conscious decision to wait til after the girls’ naps to pick it up. They never sleep past 5:00pm, so we would have plenty of time to get there before closing.

Due to hyperactivity and a couple blow-outs, the standard 2:00pm naptime became more like 2:45pm and finally, by 3:00pm, ALL three of the Godwin Girls were sound asleep. On this particular Sunday, Steve was gone at a commercial casting session, and I was nursing a slight hangover from last night’s celebration for my friend’s 40th birthday, so I took the opportunity to catch some zzzz’s myself.

Periodically, throughout my nap, I groggily awoke, took a moment to figure out where I was, determined all was well with the world since I wasn’t hearing any unseemly noises on the monitor, briefly questioned the time but didn’t bother to actually check the clock, and fell back into my deep, deep glorious slumber.

Ultimately I awoke to Lexi’s cries and as I went to pick her up, my eyes glanced at the clock: 5:35pm.

CRAP!

I swiftly picked Lexi up, ran downstairs to call the pharmacy, all the while trying to coax my brain out of the dense fog it was wading in, and trying to figure out my most efficient plan of action. Do I try to get all three of us in the car and to the pharmacy within 25 minutes?  Do I try to get a hold of my doctor and have her call it in to a different pharmacy with BETTER hours? What should I do?

Ring Ring…Hi, I have a prescription I need picked up TODAY, but I have two kids and don’t know if I can make it there by 6:00pm. Is there any way you can leave it at the Albertson’s customer service desk?

No, we’re not allowed to do that.

Ok, well then is there anyway you can just stay a few minutes late? It would just be a few minutes.

No, they make us leave right at 6:00pm.

Ok, well then can you call it in to a different Sav-On?

No, all our locations close at 6:00pm. But we open at 9:00am tomorrow morning, why don’t you pick it up then.

Inner Monologue: Ok, Little Miss Unhelpful, Uncooperative, Unfriendly Thang…

You clearly:

#1 – Are not on the pill so you don’t know the RAGING hormonal rollercoaster that ensues after one skipped pill

and

#2 – Do not understand the imperative nature of preventing an oopsies.

I looked at the clock – 4:43pm.

Ok, we’ll be right there.

I dashed upstairs, woke Lily out of her deep sleep, threw sweatshirts on all three of us, told Lil to grab her flip flops as I grabbed mine, buckled the kids in their car seats and we were off.

It was 5:51pm.

After 8 minutes of praying to the Green Light Gods, driving like a cautious bat out of hell, and cursing the m-f’ers who were taking their leisurely Sunday late afternoon drives, we barreled into the parking lot, parked the car and RAN into the store. There I was, no make-up, hair disheveled, a kid under each arm, with my tank top being pulled down in the front by both girls who were hanging on for dear life. It was a SIGHT to be SEEN, I am quite sure.

As I reached the pharmacy counter it was 5:59:30. The rolldown doors were all shut except for one little area where the cash register sits. I saw the pharmacist standing, arm crossed, scowling, as he mouthed the words here she comes.

Huffing and puffing I reached the counter, Phew, I made it.

What’s your name? Said the same unfriendly gal, in the same unfriendly tone.

Godwin, Burt-Godwin. B-u-r-t. (This is where the whole hyphenating thing gets a little tricky).

As she fetched my prescription from the fancy hanging rack, I said, kinda under my breath, my stanky dragon wine hangover breath, yet still kinda loud enough for them to hear…

I’m gonna need to switch pharmacy’s ’cause this just isn’t working out for me.

No reply, from either the grumpy pharmacist or the unfriendly, unmarried, apparently celibate clerk.

I swiped the card, snatched up my prescription and proceeded to do a happy dance with Lil and Lexi in the aisle.

We made it! Woo Hoo. High-fives, fist bumps and hugs all around.

From there we walked around Albertson’s to pick up a few essentials, and my mind raced with all the things I could have said to clerk. I should have asked her if she has ever been on the pill, or if she has ever heard of BENDING the rules a little for a mom who needs to catch a much needed break.

Right then I saw her at the end of the aisle.  We caught eyes and I thought, oh, here is my chance.  We were walking towards each other.

Inner Monologue: I’m gonna say something…here I go…she’s gonna get a piece of my mind…

I stopped right in front of her and before I could say a word, she held up her right hand and dangled a set of keys.

Are these yours?

Oh…yeah, thanks.

I told you, I always misplace my damn keys!


where you bin?

It would be a gross understatement to say I am an untidy person. I am an absentminded, scatterbrained, disorganized mess, most of the time. That’s not to say that I WANT to be that way, or that I don’t TRY my darndest to be neat and organized. Oh I try.  By God, I try. Throughout my home I have baskets and bins for every occasion, for every item imaginable. The problem is that I either a) put too much stuff in the bins and or b) I don’t put the assigned item in the appropriate bin.

For Example:

I have a basket for keys/cell phones/wallets/etc. sitting squarely on the ledge, just by the entrance to the main room. If each and every time I walked in the house I placed my keys and cell phone in the bin, then I wouldn’t have an issue.  But do I? Unequivocally, no, I do, not. I put them pretty much everywhere else but the the bin. My pocket, the diaper bag, the kitchen sink, the coffee table.

But what I do put in the bin is everything else, like receipts, hair clips, and Rubios’ kids meal toys. So even if my keys are in the bin, it takes me a year to find them.

Hence the NY Resolution to be clean. Clean encompasses a lot: clean as in tidy, organized and sanitary. I’m fairly good at the last one since I’ve become somewhat of a germaphobe since the birth of my girls. But the addition of two kids to my life means a TON more sh*t that I have to organize and put away.

Toys are a major accomplice to my clutter problem. They are EVERYWHERE. And even though I have bins for them, they still seem to invade every square inch of my house.

So here’s my game plan:

1) I’m going to cut back on the toys – no more buying toys! There’s a recession and we just don’t NEED them. My kids like the tupperware better than the manufactured toys anyway.

2) I’m going to get rid of the ones we don’t use or are too similar to others we like better. (Laura Lee, want one of our stand up toys?)

3) I’m going to try a new company called rentAtoy. It’s like Netflix for toys. A high school friend of mine, whom I just reconnected with, is their Chief Marketing Officer, and I think it sounds like a great idea.  It would certainly help with my lean, green, cleaning machine goals of 2009 since they are eco-friendly, economically friendly and organizationally (is this a word? why is it not coming up as unrecognizable by the freaky compoter brain?) friendly. I’ll get new toys every month and when the kids are bored with them, I’l send them back and get new ones.  I might even get a Wii. Bring on Wii Fit and RockBand, for all my spare time.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

humble pie in a blanket

Although in my previous post I claim to be close to comatose and unable to blog, I feel compelled to join in on another PROMPTuesday from San Diego Momma.

Write a story about when you last were humbled, felt humbled by the presence of something/someone in your life, or lay prostrate at the feet of the universe and said “I don’t know what the hell I am doing. I will now relinquish control and let you take over.”

Luckily I had this post saved in my drafts from months ago.  I just dusted it off and finessed it a little. Here goes…

My children teach me lessons in humility every day.  It’s what I love and hate the most about motherhood…the way I am forced to see myself for who I really am.  It makes me strive to be a better person and for that I am so thankful.

I can remember one instance in particular in which I felt humbled beyond recognition.  It was a quintessential A-Ha moment…My 2nd daughter, Lexi, was 6 weeks old. I was in the height of my sleep deprivation and at my wits’ end. And I mean WITS’ END.  Like, call the looney bin, end.  On this particular night, Lexi was inconsolable, as she had been for a few weeks straight, and I was rocking her to no avail, in my Dutalier rocker which I HIGHLY recommend, btw. As she wailed on like a banshee in my arms, my mind raced with all the things I had to do: fold the laundry, wash the dishes, workout, check emails, remove the chipped crusty polish from my nails, plan my toddlers b-day party, shower, brush my teeth, eat, sleep, and call the plumber. As the list raced through my mind I became more anxious, more upset, and more frustrated. Why is she crying?…Why won’t she stop?…I really have a lot to do…UGH! I just wanted it to stop.

Finally, in a rare moment of clarity, the following obvious yet profound thoughts ocurred to me:

  1. Babies cry.
  2. Babies are helpless.
  3. I am her mom.
  4. I am the only person (except her dad) that can help her.
  5. That is what moms do.

Ding Dong Mary, THIS IS MOTHERHOOD!  Moms hold, protect and love their babies. They stop everything else to do so.

They Surrender.

Obvious? Simple? Innate?

Maybe for some, but not to me. The reality of what being a mom means hit me like a flash of lightening in my weakest most raw state.  This little wonder, this miraculous gift from God, is my life, my blood, my everything. She is dependent on me for everything.  Nothing I need to do is more important.

The laundry and dishes, the plumber and nappy nails could wait.

At once, a sense of peace and clarity came over me. I could breath. I could see my baby, through and beyond the tears – hers and mine. She would not remember this moment, nor any of the moments to follow for many years to come, but this moment is what our relationship would be built on forever. In 5, 10, 15, 45 years from now, none of the things I had to get done will matter, but she will know that I am the person who loves her the most in this world. Not just because I conceived her, carried her and pushed her out my nether region. But because I raised and cared for her in sacrifice, surrender and pure love.

In that moment, I was humbled. I saw the higher plan for me and my role as mom. It was beautiful and moving, more than the words on this page can accurately describe.

Out of that moment came my 5 S’s of Parenting: Surrender, Survive, Sweat, Sacrife and Shhhhhhhut the f up. Any new or soon-to-be moms may want to check them out.

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never say never – part 2

It occurred to me the other day that my out-of-shape a$$ will be running a half marathon in a few months, up the HILLS OF SAN FRANCISCO…really???  So, this week I dusted off my running shoes, put air in the jogging stroller tires and hit the trails, running.  No, it was jogging.  No, who am I kidding, it was walking swiftly with a few slow sprints mixed in.  I need to start training for my training, that became painfully clear.

While on my first day out, about 5 minutes into the run, only traces of the bribery lollipop were left in the form of a bright blue stain on Lil’s lips which were uttering, Mom I want to go home.

Ugh!

By the time I repeated Just a little bit longer, Lil for the umpteenth time, my desire to work it on out had completely dissipated, so I headed home, after only 15 minutes.

At some point that evening, between the “Oh, I hate this show!” and the “Turn it up!” I exclaimed to my hubbie every 10 minutes of the Bachelor: After the Rose (It really was the most dramatic one ever), I had a flashback to running with Lily in the jogging stroller one night when she was just a baby, before baby #2 was even a consideration. We ran past a dad whose toddler was watching a DVD player in the stroller.

I remember thinking, Oh you’re kidding me! You can’t mix nature and exercise with TV. How dare he? That is the lowest of the low. I will NEVER do that.


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Yesterday my run/walk was 45 minutes. Booya!

We do what we gotta do, right parents? Can I get a what what?

my two girls and the five senses

It’s been awhile since I’ve participated in San Diego Momma’s PROMTuesday, so since I am once again, in bed, in the dark, lying next to my sick baby girl, I will take a few minutes (not more than 10…that is the rule) to write about today’s topic:

Write a character sketch of someone you love (child, partner, pet, mentor, etc.). Detail this person, let us see him or her through your description. Maybe you want to “show” your loved one through action and movement, or perhaps you are viewing him or her in repose. Either way, get down to brass tacks and give us the one you love through your writing.

Lily & Lexi — my dears, my dolls, my doves, my delights , my dy-no-mites —

The color of sunshine

Music to my ears

Soft to the touch, exquisite, finer than china

The smell of rain: pure, clean, fresh, beautiful, joyful

Edible

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A letter to my daughters #2

My dearest Lexi,

As I type this letter, in my room, in the dark, you lay next to me, sleeping, fitfully.  Your writhing and moaning makes me want to reach into your perfect little body and remove whatever demonic aching you feel.  And I wonder, is it the wretched ear infection making another guest appearance?  Or maybe another budding tooth is callously cutting your pink soft gums? Or worse yet, is it something I fed you today, wreaking havoc with your intestines?  Your skin is clammy and I want to text Tia Mariana with your symptoms (bff Mariana, the doctor) but my rational side is stopping me, since it is 1:00am her time and most likely it is nothing major.   Or if it is something major, it is highly doubtful she’d be able to diagnose it through a text.   So instead, I have brought you to bed with me, against ALL advice from EVERY other living human being, including doctors and most parents I know, because 1) I don’t want you to wake your sweet sister Lily, who just finally fell asleep, and to whom I owe an apology, see below, and 2) Because all I want to do is hug the hurt away.   After an hour of tossing, turning and kicking out your cute little soon-to-be soccer legs, I again went against every piece of advice and let you nurse from an almost completely dry well, as it was the only way I could think to give you comfort…Selma Hayek style.  And guess what…it worked.  Now you are sleeping soundly, with angels. And I’ll stand guard, all night, if I have to, to keep the angels in and the icky, mean, owie monsters out.

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And to my sweet, tenacious Lily Grace,
I am so proud of you for working on going pee pee in the potty this week.  I think our chart with the ducky stickers (the only ones I could find) and the lollipop prizes are working.
I must apologize to you, however.  You are getting a raw deal lately, having to share a room with your baby sister.  On one hand, I am quite glad you’re in the same room, as I think it will foster a special closeness between you two later in life.  But on the other hand, on night’s like tonight, it is not an ideal situation.  I was so concerned with keeping Lexi asleep in her crib that I got mad at you for making too much noise, when really all you were doing was being a kid.  You were talking to your dollies, which I think is just precious, and I overreacted.  I told you I loved you before you fell asleep but there was an invisible fog of mommy’s angst still looming above the crib.  Hopefully, your naivete blocked it out.

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I love you both, my little lulus.
XOXO
Mommy

Proud Mama Mary

Today, I’m a Proud Mama. I’m also a Proud Mary, but that’s a totally different post.

Lexi is finally crawling. She’s been commando crawling for a few weeks but this past Friday, on our weekly jaunt to LEGOLAND, she crawled for the very first time. And Mama was able to capture the moment on video.

And Lily, my 2.5 year old, is becoming wise beyond her years. She’s adding more fun phrases to her repertoire by the minute. Some of my favorites:

Oh for sake! Apparently I whisper the myriad word(s) that go between for and sake.  Good for me.

If the fuck is stuck then take me down. This is a line from the Fireman show at LEGOLAND, however the line is “If the TRUCK is stuck…” she has a fhing for substituting F’s for T’s.

I’m gonna freak out.  This time the “f” is in the right place and is in reference to any number of things from getting a lollipop at Frader Joes to seeing Zoe on this morning’s Sesame Street episode.

And my favorite…
Mom, can you beat me? I hope the lady next to me in the parking lot of REI didn’t hear that one. What she means is, can you race me? But she say’s beat because every time we race I say I’m going to beat you. Do you think that will hold up in a court of law?

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And of course I’m proud of my creative, loving, kick a** husband who gave me the best Valentine’s Day gift ever. I’m still on a high from the video. I’m secretly hoping it will become a YouTube sensation so the world can see what a f’ing genius he is. Wanna see it one more time?  I do…

I’m also proud of myself for going to Target last week and exiting the store having spent less than $100.00. Being lean in the pocket book is probably the only place I’ve been lean lately, but hey…I can only handle one resolution at a time.

I’m off to set my dvr for the Academy Awards. This is usually one of my favorite nights of the year — I get dressed up, pop champagne and bust out the wedding china — but this year I’m a little apathetic because 1) Tropic Thunder is the only movie I’ve seen in eons and 2) I really don’t get the Hugh Jackman thing. Maybe tonight will change my mind.