Barking Mad

Am I Patriotic or Just Really Proud of My Kid?

I've never really considered myself overly patriotic until I bristled at the comment my British husband made when I was watching the video you're about to see.   

Gareth said, "Oh that's the the music to our British national anthem that you Yankees hijacked." 

I suppose he has a point, but for some reason, despite the fact that he was merely making a comment with no animosity intended, I was a wee bit offended.  I'm not quite sure why though.

I might not be the most patriotic American out there, but I do burst with a sense of pride  that Gaby is learning this song and I might add, doing a beautiful job, for a five year old!

I imagine at some point, being that Gaby is a dual citizen - both American and British, that Gareth will want to make sure Gaby knows "God Save the Queen."    There's nothing wrong with that at all.  Perhaps I might have a little fun with her and go ahead and teach it to her and have her sing it at school the next time they sing "America." 

Remind me to get that on video!

 

That Kid of Mine? She Has a Memory Like an Elephant!

And she never lets me forget it!

Gaby is well aware of my struggle to turn my life around and adopt a healthier attitude toward food and exercise.   Occasionally she tries to be helpful in my pursuit of health. 

"Mommy, if you join Jenny Craig right now, it's free and you only have to pay for meals!"  (That taste like ass, I say to myself, in my head!) 

"Oh hey Mommy!  Guess what?  Alli can help you lose the weight and keep it off!   Right now you can get a really big bottle for only $49.95 for a month!" (Oh joy, I pop an Alli and 20 minutes later I'm suffering from anal leakage!  One of those wonderful little side effects of Alli!) 

"Mom, I've been thinking.  Now that I'm in school, I'd be OK if you wanted to go do the Biggest Loser again.   They're accepting applications!" (While I adore the friends I made through the casting process of TBL, no thank you!  I gained a lot from that experience but I think I'm going to stay home and do this on my own!  Besides, no one really wants to see the left-over stretch marks from carrying twins!)

Sometimes she's just concerned, in general,  with my health...

Gaby:  Mommy do you have gout?  You know it's caused by high urine acid in your blood.  

Me: Um, no, I don't have gout.  What on earth made you ask me that? 

Gaby: They told me all about it on TV.  They have medicine for that and I just wanted you to know.  That way you won't have to carry around a big huge bottle with you of yucky green stuff.  You take the pill and that bottle will get really little. 

Me:  Well, thanks for that.  But I don't have gout.  Oh and it's high URIC acid that causes gout. 

Gaby:  No, I'm pretty sure it's high URINE acid.  I know, I listened to it. 

Me:  Yeah, it's pretty obvious you did. 

Gaby: Oh and if you have meeso amelia there's a man on TV who wants you to call him. 

Me:  I don't have Mesothelioma either.   I wonder how much I can get for the TV if I list it on Craigslist?

You see where I'm going with this?    In the one hour a day that she's allowed to watch TV, she not only sees these dumb ads, she hangs onto them in a place up there in her brain and then just tosses them back out at me, at the most random times.

It's a damned good thing she's in school during the hours the Massengill and Tampax commercials are on!

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

...then post a cute picture of your husband reading one of his favorite childhood novels to your daughter. 

On the morning I told Gareth I was pregnant (Ironically, it was Father's Day 2005!) he shared with me a long-held dream to read one of his favorite childhood novels to his own child; "Watership Down."  

He's finally making that dream a reality.    Gareth was telling a co-worker about wanting to find the book at one of the local book stores, and today he brought home a first edition copy of the book on loan from that co-worker.  

It reminds me of some of Gaby's very scary and unsure first days of her life when Gareth would sit outside her NICU incubator and either read to her, or let her wrap her tiny hand around his finger and tell her about all the wonderful things that they were going to do together which included reading "Watership Down."

Ever since I had to force-wean Gaby back in the summer of '08, Gareth has taken over rocking her at night, where they spend the moments before bed, telling one another about their day, or reading a book.  Sometimes they just sit in the still, soft silence of the night and listen to the music that quietly plays in the background on Gaby's stereo.  Yes, at nearly 6 years old, Gaby still rocks with her daddy in that very same glider I used to sit and await her arrival in.  I enjoy sitting in the front room and listening to the rhythm of their voices, the rise and fall of laughter, and even the occasional grumble when it comes time to actually climb into bed.   Once she's tucked in, then it's my turn to go in and give her a final "Night-Night-Goodnight" and a little snuggle as I climb into bed with her and cuddle with her for a few moments.

I can't imagine the time when she won't want a cuddle with her daddy before bedtime.    I know it's coming though.  There will be a time when she looks at her daddy and me and lets us know that she's too big to be held and rocked before bed.   I just hope it's not anytime soon.

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I've been in a less than stellar mood over the past few days compounded by hormones and the annoyance of having a situation that I'm powerless to do anything about.   My first inclination is to always "write my way through" this kind of thing...out here.  I appreciate the feedback I get from others who are outside the situation and not as emotionally involved as I am.

I have grown weary of seeing a couple of close friends of mine thrown under the bus by someone who feels the need to create drama in order to receive the attention she feels she needs.    No one knows what to do about this person because when she's called out on her antics she always plays the victim despite the fact that we all see through her facade of wanting to be the hero she thinks she is.   She's neither a victim or a hero.    It's gotten to the point where I don't want to be around this person at all yet I, much like all the others involved, have no choice.

So, instead of writing about this situation (and just writing it out and deleting it isn't going to help.  I tried that earlier and I still feel helpless and hopeless when it comes to how to deal with all of this) I posted a photo that brought to mind happier things and peaceful images.   That does work.   I could spend each and every day writing about Gaby and/or Gareth and all the beauty and happiness they bring to my life.   I'm blessed, so richly blessed by these two wonderful souls.   Sort of puts everything else into perspective.

Well, except the hormones.  And right about now I'm pretty sure Gareth is wishing he could put them into perspective.  Sorry honey.