Tag Archive | OP

The End is Nigh

Classes are over for the semester and finals are all that is left. Yay! I will be so excited to be done with classes. At least done for a week. Then I have 6 weeks of microbiology, but THEN I have the rest of the summer off. I’ve been looking for a nutrition-related job to fill the hours, but I may end up just doing volunteer work, cleaning, knitting, spinning, reading… Okay, just knitting, spinning, and reading. Cleaning can suck it.

OP has had her first grounding of a sort. She is very…particular about food. Picky? Stubborn? She likes to go to her restaurants and eat her food at home. Every night is a meltdown because how dare I put ziti on her plate, because she doesn’t like it because it’s not spaghetti and the 80 million other times I served ziti she had a meltdown before eating until she finally broke down and ate it and realized it was good and she did like it, but really she just wants hot dogs like she wanted hot dogs last night. Why can’t we giver her hot dogs for dinner every night? Life is horrible!!! You don’t understand me!!! I’m running away!!!! You’re the worst parents ever!!!!

We’ve tried having her pick out dinner or make it, like all the experts and my nutrition experts suggest, and she’s really into the process, but refuses to eat it. Unless it’s pancakes or hot dogs.

On Sunday, we had to pick a restaurant for dinner and she wanted “Old McDonalds” (that’s what she calls it) because some toy is there (thanks, marketing). We didn’t go to Old McDonalds. Instead we went to a restaurant where there were rocks outside perfect for kicking at Daddy in her angst. Needless to say, she’s been punished and can’t go to any of her restaurants for two weeks.

She’s taking it pretty well, and we’re using it as a teaching (torture?) tool. We went to a Thai restaurant one night and an Indian restaurant the other night. We’ve gone before, usually with a meltdown in tow (especially with Indian), but this time she was much more open and even happily tried new foods. Without a meltdown! And liked them! We made a big deal about how proud we were of her trying new things and all that crap, and I’m hoping this is a new trend that continues after the punishment is over, because I would love to not have a meltdown with every meal that doesn’t meet her specifications.

And the winner is…

OP* ran her very first 1 mile race. At 4 years old, she was one of the youngest, but there were a couple other 4 year olds there. Originally, we signed her up for the 200m version, but she refused. She wanted to do the long one. She’s her daddy.

I’m doomed….

I ran the race with her. One, because we weren’t sure if she’d make it back in time for Daddy’s race and he didn’t want to miss it. Two, because she asked and I’m a sucker.

We started at the word go and she quickly sped to last place. Sort of shambled, really. Shambled with effort. Then we started to lose the pack. By about 1/4 mile in she became upset because she was going to be last. Fortunately, at that point, we passed a boy about her age who had decided he was done with the race. As we ran and walked, I told her that it didn’t matter if she was last, because being last meant that she still did it and didn’t give up. I pointed out that she was beating that little boy because he gave up.

She stayed last. Apparently, she has my running DNA. According to results, she was over 2 minutes behind the person in front of her (although she crossed just behind a little girl who was either a ninja and sneaked over the timer line or cheated). Fortunately it didn’t matter to her. She had done it by herself, step after step without anyone carrying her. And that is what is important. Sometimes, we need to be reminded of that.

*For those new to the blog, OP stands for Optimus Prime which is what we called our daughter in the womb.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Who’s bright idea was it to take an anatomy 1 class in 6 weeks? Oh right, me.

It’s actually not too bad, just a lot of information and memorization in a REALLY short amount of time. Plus I now know what it feels like to sprain one’s brain, because I’m pretty sure I did it. Literally. On the upside, I’m crushing it. 3 tests and each a 94 (oddly enough) AND I got a 110 out of 110 on a lab practical. Only 1 practical, 1 test, and the final to go. Now, before you start thinking that I know every bone, muscle, or nerve in the body (I don’t) or that I’m an anatomy super-genius (ha!), we’re really only focusing on the basics and a bit more in class. I just hope I don’t need much more than the basics for my nutrition classes.

So, yes. These past few weeks have been mostly studying, but also a lot of cleaning. It’s weird. I feel like a “housewife” and I don’t like it. Warning: If me using the word housewife and being annoyed by the label offends you, there’s a close button on all browsers. Click it. Or better yet, go here and think happy thoughts.

See, before I became a student I was an earner. I made a decent salary and contributed financially to our household. If something happened I could support myself and family for an extended period of time. Now, I can’t. I make almost no money and it bothers me, and I never expected it to actually bother me. I’m dependent on my husband and feel obligated to run every little thing past him because I don’t see it as my money when before it was ours. I suddenly feel not quite as equal as I once was.

Of course he thinks I’m crazy and I think I’m crazy, but I guess I don’t see people who voluntarily stay at home as equal to someone who works. It’s a starling discovery. When I had a job, I thought men and women could work or stay at home and  contribute to the family equally. Or at least, that’s what I thought I thought. Now that I’m not working? I feel lesser.

Yes, I’m a student, but that’s really just semantics to me.  I wouldn’t change what I’m doing–I would still quit my job and go back to school. I am in LOVE with what I am learning and really enjoying it. I wish I had taken a bio class in college, but then again, I probably would have hated it then. Will I love anatomy 2? I hope so. Will I love my nutrition courses? Again, I hope so, but if I don’t I now know that biology is something I actually enjoy. Will the crazies become so overwhelming that I find it necessary to burn a bra to prove my equality? Very possibly, but knowing me, I’d burn the house down with it. In any case, I’m enjoying myself and studying with OP who thinks pictures of actual brains and muscles are really cool and will sometimes call her fingers phalanges. I think that’s a win if nothing else.

Bird Master Eggplant Xylephone

After reading Monday’s post, I realized that I was crazed and scattered. I think that’s the state of my brain right now between nerves, finishing up with work, figuring out classes, and general craziness. I need to start making some lists to help sort everything in my head.

In knitting news, I’m just about done with the shall, Maluka. She’s off the needles and I just need to wind in ends. Next up hand warmers and socks for the Husband. Otherwise, knitting has been slow, but good. I have knitting this weekend so I really need to remember to print out the sock pattern and maybe finally figure out the pattern for my hand warmers. Some day I’ll even get my latest FO up. Someday.

I feel like I have a very deep and philosophical post percolating in my head, but I can’t remember it for the life of me. Of all the things to forget, that one’s fine. I’d hate to forget to finish a project for work or feeding the kid, who by the way is now potty trained! Mostly. 9 times out of 10 she successfully asks to use the potty. The other 1 out of 10…KABOOM! Pee or poop everywhere. She’s like a tiny bomb spraying pee over everything she walks on. Or sits on. The poop sort of stays contained until it isn’t and then ew. No, super ew. Fortunately, she is still willing to do pull ups for gymnastics or going out when we aren’t sure of a potty.

Aren’t you so happy you came to read today?

Deal with the Devil

We loathe cutting our daughter’s toenails. Although, maybe loathe doesn’t quite cut it (ha!). Hate? Dread? Would rather pull our eyeballs out with tweezers? When OP knows that it’s time to trim those talons she tries to pass as toenails, she turns into a crazed banshee soccer player. One of us needs to hold her down while the other grasps her foot in a vice and tries desperately to trim her nails without cutting off a toe.

I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t called social services yet.

Anyway, it is such an awful experience that we put it off as much as we can, leading to sharp, nasty nails that look like she’s been on a deserted island for years. With all things we need to do that OP objects to (baths, diaper, medicine, etc), once we find a distraction or way around the issue, we’re good to go. We just haven’t found the way around this one, yet. Or have we.

Who knew these cute little toes would cause so much drama!

Who knew these cute little toes would cause so much drama!

Let me back up. I was what you might consider a tomboy from about 7th grade until well into college. I never wore dresses, heels, make-up, etc. I still don’t do the make-up, really. Okay, sometimes I do and only look like a clown half the time. The other half, I pay someone to do it for me. However, to this day, I will not, nor do I ever plan to, wear nail polish. I think it’s disgusting and just looks wrong. Except on you, it looks lovely on you. Okay, no. No it doesn’t. I just don’t like the stuff. At. All.

The other night, at gymnastics, my daughter pointed out another girl’s blue toenails and it made me start thinking. Ever since they did the letter N at school, OP has begun to mention nail polish. Not often, but enough to make me think it could be our way around the utter gall we have for cutting off her nails. So, we told her that if she is very brave and lets us cut her nails without all the hoopla, we would put on nail polish that she picks out.  (I’ve included her fingernails because while she let’s me do it with the TV on, I figured including it could help her get the idea with her toes.) She is utterly excited, and we’re going to look for a non-toxic, kid-friendly (Piggy Paint or something similar) this weekend with her help. She wants pink, blue, and green if you are curious.

I’m dying inside because I HATE nail polish, and I suspect it will get all over everything. But if that’s the deal I must make with the devil to get this to work, it’s one I’m willing to make. It could be worse. I could cut off her feet.

Wait until I ask you to get my legs waxed!

Wait until I ask you to get my legs waxed!