A conversation with Pressley

Here's what transpired in the car this morning:
[Out of the blue]Pressley: What's work, mommy?
Me: What's work? Is that what you said?
P: Yes.
Me: [thinking] Well, it is something people do that adds value to society, and most of the time, they get paid to do it.
P: Oohhh. [pause] Sounds fun.

In case you are wondering... yes, I know she is two, but do you know how hard it is to come up with a definition for some random thing off the top of your head 4 times a day and then have to figure out how to dumb it down for a 2 year old (or 4 year old - whatever the case may be)?? Corin talks to them like they are adults, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Another to do list

Get a new picture of the kids (read: not in their bathing suits) to go with Halloween background...

Stupidity Fee

So, I finally figured out what it going to take to correct the mistake of ordering regular box springs instead of low-profile box springs for Evan's bed. $100 bucks. A $50 re-stocking fee plus another $50 delivery charge. Outrageous! I find this whole thing frustrating and insulting, but here's what I choose to take from the situation: I should just be grateful there is not such an egregious (monetary) penalty every time I make an error in judgment. We'd be in poor house.

But, we couldn't leave it like this, could we?!?

The good news is that the swap is supposed to take place between 9 and noon tomorrow, and then, knock on wood, the whole ordeal should be over. Well, the mattress part of the whole ordeal anyway... The other good news is that his bedding arrived today. I love it and he loves it, which is definitely a win/win since he makes a point of disagreeing with me on most everything. Stay tuned. I'll eventually change the subject back to something more interesting than our "remodel."

Will it never end?!?

It is starting to come together around here, but the house is still a bit chaotic. The crib is in our bedroom, half disassembled. The changing table is in the office, and there is a wardrobe in the hall. Evan's mattress was delivered this morning and the box springs are all wrong. The mattress sits up at least 4 inches above the footboard. I have called the store to see what my options are for exchanging for a low profile box spring, but they haven't called me back yet - despite the fact they told me an hour ago it would be 10-15 minutes. There is only so much a girl can take in one week. I know it was my crazy idea to do all this in the first place, but holy cow!! Will it never end??

Meanwhile, Pressley is refusing to nap in her big girl bed unless mommy is laying with her. I cannot seem to convey to her that mommy needs both the time it takes her to fall asleep and the time she is actually sleeping to get her work hours in. She is unimpressed with my plight. At night, she doesn't crawl out of the bed every 5 seconds like she does at nap time. Instead, she just cries pitifully until she wears herself out and falls asleep. It kills me to let her cry, but I do know that if I don't, she will just keep manipulating us at bedtime until she is 14 (which I realize she is liable to do anyway).

Here's hoping for a more sane week next week. I can at least see the light at the end of the tunnel -- however faint.

Quick aside: Sometimes it pays not to screen your calls. I just got an out of state call and I was tempted not to answer. Something made me answer anyway, and I'm so glad I did. It was my mail-in pharmacy company. Get this: there is an automated voice asking if I am Amy McCarthy and telling me to say yes or no. After a number of other steps to verify that I was indeed Amy McCarthy, the automated voice tells me that one of my prescriptions is ready to be refilled and asks if I'd like for her to go ahead and take care of that for me. Umm, yes! It would have taken me days to get around to noticing I was low and calling in the refill. That is customer service. It is the little things in life that make me happy... My house may be completely chaotic, but some computerized woman somewhere in Massachusetts cared enough to refill my prescription for me. Ahhhhhhh. I never got that kind of service from the Rite-Aid.

Call me crazy

You would think that after the busy day we had on Saturday that we would have just taken it easy on Sunday. You would think wrong. I have had it in my head for a few weeks now that when Pressley gets her big girl bed, we should rearrange "some" other furniture upstairs and convert the office/ guest room into an office/ play room in an attempt to re-claim the order in our downstairs living spaces. We ordered Pressley's big girl mattress yesterday and I talked Corin into my crazy scheme of moving most of the furniture in both kids' rooms and the guest room in a giant and heavy game of musical chairs. I knew it would be difficult, but I had no idea how difficult. Here was my original plan: Pressley would get the antique headboard and dresser from the guest room, a queen mattress and some cute new bedding. Evan would get the antique headboard that has been in our garage since we moved in, a queen mattress, and some cute new bedding. The queen bed in the guest room (and other furniture) would be replaced with Evan's twin trundle bed, leaving the whole middle of the room open for toys and play. Little did we know when we started this process - that we planned to finish up between dinner and the kids' bed times - that Evan's bed would have to come apart to fit through the door and Pressley's crib would have to come apart to fit through her door. Oh, and the antique bed (full-sized) in the garage that we had just purchased converter rails and a new mattress for would not accept converter rails. So, this morning I had to call and cancel the mattress order and order a full-sized mattress instead that will fit on the existing bed rails. Needless to say, we did not finish the project. There are stray mattresses everywhere. Last night, Evan slept on a twin mattress on the floor in the middle of his new full-sized bed frame. Pressley slept in her still-assembled crib in the middle of the floor with a head board and foot board behind it against the wall. Corin and I slept... soundly. We were exhausted. (And, I had to take two benadryl to combat the allergy attack brought on by all the dust we kicked up.) More to do tonight and probably tomorrow night as well. It's gonna be a long week. But the promise of not having to look at the doll house, the mini-kitchen and the tool bench every time I walk in the back door is spurring me on. And, I am convinced that the end result will be fabulous. I'm even thinking of doing some chair rails and decorative painting in the kids' rooms when we get everything else in place. Just don't tell Corin that part yet. He's liable to either have heart failure or divorce me -- not sure which.

To our future overnight guests: Not to worry, the kids will be sleeping in the playroom when we have company, and company will be sleeping in the kids' queen and full beds. I have it all figured out.

The busy, busy (Mountain) Day

Pressley and I had a big day yesterday. We left the house at 9 a.m. and drove to Rome, GA: home of my alma mater. We met some of my very best college girlfriends (and thier kids) at the Dwarf House in Rome for brunch and then headed over to the campus for Mountain Day. Mountain Day is hard to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It is a homecoming of sorts. To celebrate Martha Berry's birthday. (Yesterday, the Berry choir even sang happy birthday to Martha, which is a new tradition and kinda cheesy.) The big event of Mountain Day is the Mt.Day march. This is when all of the students stand at the top of this big hill and start to proceed down two by two. Boys on one side, girls on the other, for as long as the boys last -- which is not long. You were much more likely to get paired up with another girl for the march since boys are outnumbered at Berry something like 10 to 1. Anyhow, the procession starts out two by two, then you climb back up the hill and meet up with another pair. Then your foursome, tromps back up the hill and joins another foursome, and so on, until everyone is coming down the hill in these huge lines. I think it is supposed to symbolize unity or some such thing. I always called it Berry College Fitness 101 because climbing up and down that hill over and over is hard work. Oh, yeah - and the underclass girls wear pink (used to be dresses - apparently now it is just any old pink thing you have in your closet) and the seniors wear blue. I think underclass boys wear blue and seniors wear white. I know - you are thinking "And you think singing happy birthday to Martha is cheesy??" It is a fun and unique tradition and you know you are jealous that you didn't do it at your college!!

The Berry girls and their daughters. (The husbands and sons had already left when we broke out the camera.) [Back row: Me, April, Pressley, Amy F.; Front row: Addie Lee and Catherine (Amy F.'s daughters), Jolynn and Ajae (April's daughter); Not pictured: Jan, Kelly and Allison]

So after making Pressley sit through a 2 hour brunch and dragging her to the Mountain Day march in the October sun, I then dragged her to a friends house to see her new twins. My best friend, April, has a little sister named Nicki who became almost like a little sister to me during college and beyond. I love that girl. Anyway, she is now married and has three beautiful daughters. The youngest, her 6 month old twins, have had me praying without ceasing since last March. Nicki had to go on hospitalized bedrest at 20 weeks and spent the next month of her life in a bed, inverted at a 30 degree angle, trying to keep from delivering the twins. The twins were ultimately born at 25 weeks and the family embarked on the roller coaster that follows when babies are born that prematurely. I was able to keep up with the girls' progress through Nicki and Steve's precious CaringBridge site and I have felt like I've known the twins since their early April birthday. But yesterday, I got to meet them for the first time. They are home and doing pretty well, but both have severe reflux and some other issues that keep Nicki and Steve, and the whole extended family, on their toes. They are a strong, Christ-centered family, and I admire them so much for the grace with which they have handled the struggles they've faced, and I count it such a privilege that I got to visit with the twins yesterday.

Callie would not take her hand out of her mouth for me.

Sarah Kate and her Aunt April.

Finally, after we left Nicki's house, it was time to head back to Atlanta for Marie's first birthday party. Marie is the daughter of my dear friend Shay, who has been one of my closest friends since we met as summer associates at Powell Goldstein. Marie was a perfect hostess, and her mommy threw a great party. She even had a baby pool full of blue balloons that the kids got to jump in to to dive for treasure. They had a ball, and once Pressley finally got her oft-demanded cupcake, she was happy and exhausted and ready to go home.

Pressley enjoys diving for treasure.

It was a busy day, but we had a good time and Pressley was about as good as a two year old could be expected to be on a day like that. I did have to relax my expectations a bit by the time we got to Marie's party, but I figured the kid deserved to be cut some slack. There are more stories to tell about some funny things Pressley said and did during the day, but you are tired of reading and I am tired of typing. I'll try to tell those stories another day.

BTW - Evan also had a good day. He stayed home with Daddy to play in his soccer game and go to his friend Jake's birthday party. I don't know nearly as many details about his day, but didn't want to neglect reporting on him altogether....

Smacked that monkey right in the tree

I have mostly been a cranky, nagging, yelling mommy recently. I don't like to be that way. I want to be loving and nurturing and have just the right reaction to each situation that presents itself. But, I have a 2 year old. And she is STRONG willed. And she is wearing me down. I remember with Evan, even when I was frustrated, I always had some idea of how to handle a situation --whether it turned out to be right or wrong. With Pressley, I often find myself trying all the tried-and-true responses (read: threats and punishments), and when none of those work (which is often the case), I just sort of stand there with my head in my hands wondering..."what now??" But then the little stinker looks up at me and grins and I remember why it is all worth it.

Yesterday in the car on the way home from the gym, Pressley was in stand-up comedian mode. She had me absolutely cracking up. She talked non-stop. There are a couple of background pieces of information you should know before I go on: Beth and David are my sister and brother-in-law; Will and Abby are my niece and nephew; Corin is a graduate of the University of Tennessee whose idea of a lullaby is singing Rocky Top (I promise that is relevant. You'll see.) OK. So, the talking started out with asking questions about where everyone is. We do this every day that Pressley is home with me. "Where's daddy?" "At work." "Where's Evan?" "At school." "Where's GranNan and Poppy?" and on it goes... Yesterday, we got to Will and Abby, who she calls AbbyWools, and said they were at school. "I want to go a restaurant with AbbyWools" she says. I tell her that maybe we could work that out over the weekend. "I don't think so" she says. When I ask why not, she tells me that Bath and Davin are climbing Rocky Top, which will apparently prevent any eating out together. Turns out AbbyWools are also climbing Rocky Top. (I don't know if they are looking for a moonshine still or climbing for some other purpose.) At this point, she completely switches gears and holds her hand in a fist and says, "This a spider." Oh, really? Yes. "The spider smacked that monkey right in the tree" she says with a purposeful clap. REALLY?? Oh, yes. She repeated it over and over and over, each time with more enthusiasm. Each time, I became more and more tickled. I'm guessing there is some song they sing at school about a monkey in a tree, but I seriously doubt that the spider is the one who smacked that monkey right in the tree. It was all very amusing though. I know it probably loses something in being written instead of told, but I hope if you know Pressley you can envision how it went down.

As a side note, my spellchecker just went bonkers. Apparently AbbyWools is not in the dictionary. Go figure.