If you're looking for sunshine, look away. LOOK AWAY!

I literally cannot stop shaking my head. Left, right, left, right....I shrug. I look around as if something somewhere is going to give me SOME clue on how to get through. Or maybe, if I tilt my head and squint my eyes everything will become clear. Like, what did I do to deserve some catastrophic dose of karma?

I'm being dramatic. At least it will appear that way to anyone reading who isn't me today. And maybe even tomorrow when I'm hopefully not on the brink of snapping like a frayed rubber band I'll say, 'Jeez Carrie, what a drama queen'. But not today. I am allowing myself these 10 minutes of self pity. PURE SELF PITY. Because I fear, if I don't write this out I may eat the tub of leftover Halloween candy that (YES) is still tucked away in the pantry.

I'm here because for the last 5 hours, I've been either shielding myself and my work laptop from flying tinker toys or chasing around a 3 year old pink eye infested bundle of energy trying to get one drop of antibiotic in each eye without him squinting or crying them out in a horrible flailing fit.

Let's go back.

Yesterday was Day 2 of close. For all non-finance or accounting nerds, this is that crucial time of the month. That deadline infested, balancing act of a time where on Day 2 in particular I have to squeeze around 15 hours of work into 8. Or 10 if I'm lucky to have Sean available to pick up the kids. Well, yesterday was one of those unlucky days where I needed to do it in 8. And hahahahahahahahahaha. Didn't happen.

Of course I went in with every intention of rock starring it out, but as the hours ticked by (faster than normal) and by noon I was sweating. I was WAY behind. All those little things that can hold things up happened. And when I panic, I make stupid little mistakes that take extra time. And at 3, when I knew I was in trouble the head shaking started. And then the phone rang.

RING RING

Me: 'This is Carrie'

Daycare Employee: 'Hello, Carrie. This is _____ from Ian's School. He just woke up from nap and we are all pretty confident he has pink eye in both eyes.'

Me: 'Well, that's interesting. I imagine you need me to pick him up asap and he probably can't return to school until Friday' (thinking internally that OMG I have to leave early on day 2 and stay home on day 3) HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

Daycare Employee: 'Yes, that's right. I'm sorry but pink eye is highly contagious. I'll keep him here with me at my desk until you arrive.'

I gather my belongings, grab my computer and against better judgement refrain from hitting the restroom before I leave and head out. Fast forward to 1 hour and 45 minutes later to me, STILL ON MY WAY TO GET IAN as I sit on I-5 and crawl towards a looming over-turned semi with a painful reminder that not using the restroom was by far the worst possible mistake I've ever made, ever.

It's now 5 o'clock. I'm across town and late to pick up Alex and I still have to stop at the pharmacy and I'm still SHAKING. MY. HEAD.

With Sean tied up at work until 10 there was no hope for me starting any work until the kids were in bed. Well, until the kids were in bed and they got out of bed and back into bed and out of bed and back into bed because, why wouldn't they? This was the PUNISH CARRIE FOR SOMETHING SHE HAS NO IDEA WHAT SHE DID DAY.

Fast forward to today.

Despite staying up until midnight to complete work, and getting an early start this morning I am floundering. How does one complete work with a child bouncing from couch to chair screaming, 'Mom-let's play', 'Mom-I need a snack', 'Mom-I just poo'd, can you wipe me?' HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

I sit here with a pile of work to do, in a FILTHY house lacking enough of anything to make dinner tonight, and a load of laundry rotting in the washer since Tuesday. It becomes apparent to me that 5 years later, I'm still trying to figure out this 'working mom' thing. What I've learned is, it's possible as long as I give in to the entire core of my being. That tiny disappearing core that thrives on order, and cleanliness and productivity. That core of me that likes to give things 110% is sort of flat lined at maybe 50%. I've learned that you really only can spread yourself so thin and today, like that last little scraping from the peanut butter jar you hit a point where it's just gone.

So now, if you will excuse me I will put closure on this pity party and head off to find the antibiotic drops Ian has hidden from me because my eyes are now red and burning. But not before I leave you with a photo. You got to love him right?

Sidenote: the black front tooth is not a symptom of 'pink eye'. It is indeed a black tooth from a nasty face bump on a tunnel slide. Root canal to follow next week. HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

Love.

You're in the 5th grade and you repeatedly trace the name of the boy to your left into your peechie folder. And you think you know what love is.

You dance with your highschool sweetheart at Prom, and you think you know what love is.

You meet the person you're going to marry and you're well on your way to knowing what love is.

You watch the person you marry, hold their first child. And now you can see what love is.

And then one day, you sit down with your two kids at a dirty table in red robin and you glance over to find them snuggled up to that person you married and love does not begin to explain it.

Two Months in a Nutshell, a REALLY BIG NUTSHELL.

Well.

I'm not sure where to begin, and part of me, the 'always wanting to be on top of things' part of me wants to go back and thoroughly document all the amazing moments since my last post. Yet, the same part of me knows it's just not going to happen so we are going to abbreviate. HIGHLIGHTS:

**In October, we had an amazing visit from Sean's brother, sister, and brother's super awesome girlfriend that we got to meet for the first time. We had a lot of fun hanging out, playing a rousing game of Cranium, heading out for dinner, and showing them a bit of our beloved P-Town.

**Beginning December 5th, I celebrated my 10 year anniversary with Nike. What do you get for working a consecutive 10 years at Nike you ask? A 5 week sabbatical people. Five freaking fantastic weeks with NO ALARM CLOCK. I can't quite describe in words what this time off meant to me. It was a gift that I'm still (after two weeks back to work) trying not to squash because the transition back has been nothing short of hard. It's like waking up from an hour long facial by way of a swift slap to the face if I'm being honest. And I'm still holding my cheek going, WTF?

**As a gift to myself and my poor enduring husband who puts up with my foulness 9 months of the rainy, cold and dreary year we kicked off my sabbatical with a trip to Hawaii. We traveled bravely with our good friends and their two kids for an 8 person week of fun in sunny Maui. It was fantastic, it would have been more fantastic had 4 of the 8 not acquired the stomach flu during our stay but we made the best of it. Better to be sick in Hawaii, right? I'd love to post an entire book on our fun there and maybe someday I will but my emotional state is too fragile to go to that happy place for fear of drowning in a sea of self pity that it's over, and the next time I feel warmth is still 5 months away. Side note: Last week I was upset with Sean for calling me 'dramatic'. I intend to apologize for that this evening.

**The next 4 weeks are a blur. What I do know, is I spent them doing what I wanted. I made no commitments to people. I planned no more than 24 hours in advance and I did what I usually DON'T get to do and that is be the mom I've always wanted. I played with my kids, I baked Christmas cookies (they were terrible, but so), I had play dates and got on the floor to build airplanes with tinker toys and dress barbies. I did laundry and grocery shopped on weekdays which left time on the weekends for good quality family time. I allowed people into my home without the intense embarrassment and shame I feel over the tornado path that is usually our abode. We attended some Blazer games, and had dinner with friends. And for the first time in years, I did not end each day with a headache and neck pain.

**We had a very memorable and relaxed Christmas. There is nothing like some good quality family time to bring perspective to what is important in life.

**A final highlight for me was hammering out some unfinished projects around the house. I started the massive project of remodeling our master bathroom. I organized and re-painted the kid's playroom and did artsy fartsy crafty sorts of things that my mind and body crave on a daily basis.

**Last but not least, I died my hair red. Drastic, yes. Platinum blonde to Auburn'y brown Red. Jury is still out on whether it will stick around. I still shock myself when I look in the mirror and wonder where the heck I am, but something deep inside was begging for change. So I changed.

And now? It's all over. Reality is here and I miss my kids something FIERCE. It's like the first weeks you leave your kids at daycare when returning to work after maternity leave. I know this feeling. And I know it will subside with time, but I'm not gonna lie. IT SUCKS.

The good news is, in 5 years time I'll have another 5 weeks off that I'll kick off with a public burning of my jerk of an alarm clock and maybe at that time I'll finish the war zone that is our bathroom. Here's hoping I make it...

All I want for Christmas is...

I thought it would be fun, to sit down with the kids and write out their Christmas lists together. Thanks to Target, who sent out their gift catalog a few weeks back, I've been hearing these things for days and days and days. SO. I thought it could be fun to take turns asking them back and forth items they want to write on their list this year to see if they fed off each others wants. Turns out, they did.

Dear Santa,

A: American Girl Doll (Lanie) and her clothes. Let me add that she wants this a)from Santa and b)it's astronomically priced and c)when I told her that Santa could only give each child one gift she said she promises the rest will be 'cheap'. I'm currently in negotiations with Santa to splurge for the American Girl Doll, or buy her the knockoff from Costco for $80 less.

I: Woody (Toy Story)

A: Jesse (Toy Story) and Bullseye (no idea who that is)

I: "I waaaaaaannnt Golf Clubs. Big golf clubs and I can swing dem weary hawrd!" It's already in the bag, pun intended.

A: Art Supplies, painting, and coloring book

I: A Buzz Bike with the backpack

A: A two wheel scooter. Apparently, her 3 wheeled scooter is so last year.

I: Pet Giraffe. I did not tell him how unlikely that was. But tomorrow he will have surely forgotten.

A: "I want a Barbie a house, but don't write it down! Nanna is going to get it"

I: Ian stammers, asks what Santa can make. Alex tells him ANYTHING HE WANTS. He can think of nothing. Except Santa Clause has a big mustache.

A: Toy purse (?)

I: " I like Yeggos (Lego's) but not the BIG KIND", he screams. Because those are for babies?

A: Zoobs. I tell Alex I have NO idea what that is and she tells me to google it. TIMES ARE CRAZY. My 5 year old is telling me to google it. So I do and learn it's some 21st century Lego contraption, or something.

I: Ian has lost interest and left the room.

A: New Jammie's

Now I ask the big time question, 'What do you have to do for Santa to bring you something from your list'.

A: Stay in your bed

I: Say Please

I then proceeded to intitated the 'It's close enough to Christmas to start using Santa as collateral' window and after they started a pillow fight across my lap threatened to end the typing with a 'JUST KIDDING SANTA, we've been bad girls and boys.'

The fighting stopped.

For that and other reasons, like it's now socially acceptable to watch National Lampoons Christmas vacation and eat candy canes, I love this time of year. If only the sun was shining and and the days were not just 6 hours long. Which leads me to my list for Santa: DAYLIGHT. Or, a sun lamp and a lifetime supply of Vitamin D.

Final Score: 1-0 PARENTS. Good one Carrie, good one.

Do you ever have one of those days (or in my case, one of those weeks) where you find yourself literally throwing your hands up in the air like, 'C'MON WORLD', or shaking your head incessantly at the level of stupidity you encounter? Even if it's your own?

If not, good for you. If so, you may appreciate the following moments of near insanity I encountered this week.

1. I witnessed a nose-picking woman almost rear-end the car in front of her because surely the back of her hand was blocking her view. When she did what everyone does and quickly spun her head in 360 degrees to see who saw her, I made glaring eye contact with her and held it for as long as I possibly could before I put myself at risk for rear ending someone as well. Pick your nose at home, just because you're within your car does not mean people can't see you. And why is cell phone usage prohibited but nose picking is not?

2. I burned a hole in my new black patent leather work shoes on the space heater I rely on for warmth and the will to live for 8 hours a day. Also, I may have burned my foot a little too.

3. I participated in an impromptu scrimmage with Alex's soccer team at their last practice IN my burnt patent leather work shoes where I (way too competitive I'm learning) scored the only goal and had to HOLD MYSELF BACK to score 10 more. Nice, parents win 1-0. Why did I never get the memo that you should always let the kids win? Raised eyebrows and looks of disappointment from other parents, DULY NOTED.

4. Alex's soccer pictures came back with MY name all over the trading cards and team photo. Maybe it was a fluke? Or maybe the universe is playing a dirty trick on me for single handedly beating six 5 year olds in 3 on 3, no goalie soccer. I'm relying on the hope that it was an error on THEIR behalf and that I did not fill the form out incorrectly. HEAD SHAKE HEAD SHAKE.

In other news, for those of you concerned, I have an Alex update to follow up my last post where I described her as a crazy, exorcist needing lunatic. She is none of those things, and is actually doing much better. She's turned a corner mostly I believe in desperation for the pillow pet of her choice if she can keep up the positive attitude. It's working, for now.

Her and I had a series of funny exchanges yesterday on the way home from soccer practice that had me repeating the conversation into my iPhone voice memo recorder. Thank goodness for that, or I'd never remember a thing. They went a little something like this:

Alex: Mom, why do we salute the flag each morning?

I went into a long drawn out speech about America, the land of the free, the home of the brave. And how despite what she hears on whatever news show we may be listening to we do live in a wonderful country where we can do (within reason) whatever we please (as long as it is within the law and not violating any traffic signs). I told her that it is not the case for all countries. So we salute our flag and give honor to all those that keep us free.

Alex: So, in like...India. Can they drive when they want? Or do they have to ask the Police?

Me: Uhhhhhh

Alex: And, do they have cars? Or do they ride camels? Wait, they must walk and drive sand bikes because there is a lot of sand over there.

Sand bikes?

Before I had a chance to answer she jumps into...

Alex: Mom, is Nanna gonna love the play-doh thing I made her?

Me: Yes, she loves everything that you make her.

Alex: Yes, Nanna's love everything and everybody. Even grandsons.

And this time I throw my hands up and thank god for her, because she is just cooler than Bee's Knee's, or whatever the saying is.

Me: Alex, I love you. (I glance in my rearview mirror to find her picking her nose) And in America, picking your nose is not allowed. Especially in cars.

I know that she won't be driving for 11 more years, but who knows. Maybe I just saved a life.

Heebie Jeebies: A feeling of minor fright, anxiety, nervousness, apprehension, 'the willies'.

I think we all have something, maybe multiple somethings that send shivers up our spine. The sight of something invokes a physical reaction to our bodies and the feeling can stick with us for hours.



For my mom, it's things with crevices. Anything bulbous (like insect egg sacks), or with holes (like a beehive) will send her in a panic, she'll look away, she'll shudder. My sister is the same. A good friend of mine has an overwhelming fear of spiders, and Alex hates the dark. Sean has a fear of heights. One of my best girlfriends from high school will gag at the sight of soggy bread in the sink.



I have several things that give me the heebie jeebies:

1. Toothbrushes touching in a toothbrush holder
2. The sound of Dogs licking themselves
3. Giant spiders, the ones that crunch when you smash them
4. I'm ashamed to admit this, and I'm not proud...but Midgets.
5. Sitting down on a warm seat, that wasn't warmed by me
6. Hearing the words 'slacks' or 'moist'.

*There are more, but I'll spare you my weirdness.


And last night, my list grew.





Alex insisted her babies sleep ALL TOGETHER, in my room, 1.5 feet from my bed in this over-crowded formation. Their eyes are all open people. God bless Gabriella (lower right) who turned her head away. She was my best doll as a child, after 28 years she still treats me right.

So what are YOU afraid of?

I love her so much, even though...

Yesterday, my mom said to me, 'I wish all of your kids had the temperment of Ian'. And I laughed, because 1)I only have two kids so 'all' means Alex & Ian and excluding Ian leaves Alex. ha. 2)I think this a few times each day and 3)I'm sure having two kids with Ian's temperment would go against the universal rule that parents should somehow pay for the torture they inflicted on their parents as a kid.

My reponse to my mom? 'I owe you a huge apology'. And she knew exactly what for.


I apologized for years and years of the verbal abuse I inflicted upon my parents as a kid, albeit much older (like ten) but still. Payback is a bitch.


These days, Alex is giving us a run for our money. In the spirit of 'keeping it real' (a post I've not been brave enough to publish yet), I'm going to document some not so glamorous events that frequently occur in the Kolmer house.

Our princess, a mere five years old is showing signs of what could be a very challenging period ahead commonly known as the tween and teen years.

At the drop of a hat, or at the word 'no', or really for no reason inparticular Alex spouts fits of rage. These are her most common sayings when things don't go 'just so'.

I ALWAYS HAVE BAD DAYS

NO!

I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE

YOU'RE BAD!

I AM NOT PART OF THIS FAMILY


Or, my favorite: a loud and husky grunt followed by arms crossed, lips turned out and eyes that could burn your soul.

Drama much?

If she's NOT yelling, she's stomping her feet, pounding the stairs or in the case of yesterday knocking over a living room chair because I said she could not have her 4th snack of the afternoon. If only our problems were so menial, and if only we could react this way when we are frustrated.

I attribute this to a nasty combination of my emotional-ness, and from what I hear, Sean's anger spouts as a child. Mix this with a dose of Taurus, a small case of over-tired from long school days and soccer practice and you get lil Miss Maniac.

I've said it for years, parenting is EASY when all you are doing is caring for physical needs. Feeding, diapering, clothing, and bathing is EASY compared to the emotional drain of molding one's child into a nice little human.

I'm on the verge of calling a therapist, or an exorcist?

Luckily, Sean is much better at dealing with her fits of rage. In some strange father/daughter Taurus bond they understand each other. And rather than standing there, shocked, mouth agape, he's able to respond in a much more productive and consistent manner than this here 'my feelings are hurt, my daughter hates me' kind of way.

I'm hoping it's just a stage, or that it's the result of a lot of recent changes in her life. I'm hoping that the next 10-15 years are not as challenging as the last month has been. Because if they are, I'll be writing these posts from a barred looney bin.

Here's hoping insane asylums have internet access.

In all seriousness, I've shed many tears over this as of late and questioned my parental skills. I've been seeking validation from Sean and my Mom that I'm doing things right and this is just a stage. It's just a stage, it's just a stage, it's just a stage. Saying things three times makes it true right?


On the bright side, Alex is thriving in school and kicking butt on the soccer field. She's much stronger, confident and assertive that I thought she'd be in the 'competitive kind of way' and I'm so proud of her. She has grown emotionally so much over the past year and we have mostly good moments where she is loving, and sweet, and non-psychotic. That, or I've already gone nuts.