Happy Birthday to Me

Today I am 34. What is that in dog years? A few things rumbling through my vacant mind today. For one, where does it say that I can't plan my own birthday party? As kids, we wait to see what mom and dad put together, and then get upset or disappointed when things don't go our way. (It's easy for the 1st and 2nd party, the kids really don't know what is going on.) So where does it say that even as adults, someone else has to plan our party. I decided that I wanted to go to a winery this weekend, for a special event they are having. I put the word out, I bought the tickets, I made the hotel reservations and a group of 12 or 13 of us are going. Rob wanted to do something for me tonight, so we are having people over to watch the Dodger game (although they already clinched their division.) He didn't want me to go pick up my own cake (a DQ ice cream cake- YUM!) because he felt bad. But where is it written that I can't pick up (or even bake) my own cake. Right. It's not. So I have what I want, when I want it, because it's my b-day.

On to the rest of life- "I'm not really this stupid, I promise." Have you ever had one of those moments when someone asks you a question, and you are standing there and you can feel your mind turning, but your mouth doesn't move? You can see the other person looking at you, waiting for a response, but you just can't talk. It's the weirdest thing! I've had alot of those moments lately. I keep thinking someone is going to accuse me of being a moron. I'm not, really. It's just that sometimes my mind gets going so fast, and I catch myself having the entire conversation in my head, that a few seconds go by before I realize I haven't said anything. It's usually at that point that I trip over my tongue too, which makes for great party fun.

"Am I a bad mom?" We were at Disneyland on Saturday and I broke down and bought B a very adorable Tinkerbell costume complete with wings. I had to stop and wonder, if that makes me a bad mom. I made her Dorothy costume for her first Halloween, and then her pirate costume last year. So is it o.k. to take a year off? I'm not slacking, really. I'm making albums for GG's 85th party, and a video for that too (if I can figure out the freakin' program!). So it's not like I'm not doing anything else. I just hope that it's o.k., that she's not traumatized by not having me make her costume this year.

"Hiding gifts." Gone are the days of hiding things in plain sight. This kid is way too smart for me. Up until now, whenever we bought her things, we would just leave them in the boxes, but out in plain sight. Her world was bounded by what she could see and she didn't really care about what was on the counters or table. Gone are those days, just gone. We picked up a doctor kit somewhere for her, and it's been sitting on the kitchen counter. The other day, she looked up and said "mommy, what is that doctor thing up there?" I had to lie and say it was "nothing." I'm not sure how she knew what it was, although there was a small picture of what was inside, so maybe it was that. (Or at 2 and a half, she was reading the word "doctor" on the side of the box, which may have happened.) But we now have to actively hide gifts, which is going to be fun with a birthday and Hanukkah coming up. Fun, indeed.

On that note, I'm going to pack up for the day and head out to get B and then get my cake. Then I'm going to go home, turn on an Ariel movie and watch B play. That's a good way to end a rather random and crazy day.

This time I had the books!

So I have these odd recurring dreams. Every once in awhile I'm either back in high school or college, and I'm either late for class and can't find the room, or it's coming to the end of the semester and I'm realizing that I haven't been to class all semester. I start to freak out and sweat, wondering why I haven't been to class, and how I'm going to tell the teacher. I can't remember if I bought the book for the class and then can't figure out why I didn't buy the book, or why I signed up for a class I never went too. I wonder if I can still drop the class without getting a "W" (or worse, an "F") and my dream becomes fitful, and I toss and turn.

The other night, I had the dream again. I was back at my old high school, wandering the halls trying to find my next class. This time, I knew where the room was, but when I got there, the previous class had not let out yet. Friends were milling around in the halls waiting. I sat down with a friend to wait, and while talking to that friend, realized I didn't have the right book or notebook (another twist on this dream, sometimes I don't have any notes or notebooks to take notes). I got up to go to my locker before class started. It was then that I started wandering the halls again, trying to find my locker. I knew I was in the right general area, and I had a combination running through my head (which, coincidentally, I think is the combination from my high school locker). At one point, I passed my sister and asked her where my locker was, but she wasn't feeling too helpful, and told me that she couldn't help because she had to get to class. I walked around the giant square that was our hallway system (complete with a shopping center in the middle, where the senior court was supposed to be), starting to freak out, both because I thought I was going to be late for class and because I didn't have my books.

My therapist and I talked about this. Because it is a recurring dream, she thought it was interesting. I think she said it had something to do with having unfinished business in many parts of my life, feeling like I have to go back and finish things or do something over. I think she might be right, but then again, who knows. I do know that I constantly have a zillion projects to do all at once and there are never enough hours to get them all done.

In any event, as I was wandering the hall (and tossing and turning in bed), and fretting about class, my arms suddenly got tired and the stack of books I was carrying suddenly got heavier. I flipped up the notebook and the newspaper I was carrying and ... Oh MY GOSH! There were my books! I've never had them before. And yet, there they were. It was right about then that I woke up, just as I was headed back to class, books and notebooks in hand.

So I have no clue what it meant, I have no clue why this time I had the books. But I look at it as progress. This time. Maybe next time, I will have even read for class. Because I'm pretty sure I'll have this dream again. I'm pretty sure that even though I had the books, it won't be the last time I dream of school. oy.

Pre-School Pimps

Yup, I said it. We are turning our preschoolers out onto the streets, asking them to pimp.... Wrapping paper. WHAT??? Yes, wrapping paper.

When I dropped Brooklyn off at school on Monday, there in her folder along with her book of shapes and her latest marker masterpiece was the dreaded envelope with catalog and order form. Wrapping paper.

It doesn't matter that the school gets 50% of the profit (but they neglect to tell you how much "profit" the company makes on each roll of paper). It doesn't matter that they have Hanukkah paper (always important when the children hawking the wares go to school at a Jewish Preschool). What matters is that even at age 2, we are asking our children to go and beg for money. Nice.

And what makes it all the more comical, is that the 2 year olds don't even know they are selling it. Yes, it's cute to put the catalog in their hands and push them up to Grandma and coach them through their sales pitch. But at this point, why bother? Everyone knows who is really selling the wares. Mom and Dad.

I cut out the middle man. I sent an email to friends (most of whom already have children in school and who have likely already been hit up for the very same paper, chocolate and magazines) and family, and just told them what we were selling. I took the catalog to the office and let the ladies pass it around. I didn't pimp out my child. She has no clue she is selling anything, or that the school will see any money. She will likely not see any of the "Prizes" that she will "earn" for selling. Mommy will pass around the order form and mommy will collect the money and mommy will distribute the wares when the orders come in.

Maybe they should change the prizes. Instead of the cheap chotckes for the kids, the prizes should be trips to the day spa for the mommys who are really pushing the stuff. That would certainly motivate some sales, don't you think? Move over Tupperware, we're selling wrapping paper to win the trip to Burke Williams. Now that is certainly something worth selling for. The heck with the MP3 player.

Ah well, so it begins. I'm sure this is only the first of many catalogs and sales pitches that we will endure. Having sold cheese and sausage (for band) and M&Ms and Gummi Bears (for Track) and Magazines (in 5th and 6th grade), I've got experience. At some point, I'm sure I will put the catalog in B's hand and send her door to door. But for now, I'll just write the check myself and buy all of the Hanukkah paper they offer. After all, it's for the kids.