I have my first real complaint with our day care, the first that I have to bring to the attention of the directors. It’s not a big deal, and I have no problem with the care that they give, but the idea that I have to raise a complaint makes me feel awful.

Since Freebird moved up to the preschool level, they’ve been watching movies. I have absolutely no problem with TV. Really, I couldn’t care less that they watch movies while they have snack. They turn down the lights, they sit in chairs and have cups of crackers, and they mellow out before the end of the day.

But a few nights this weekend, particularly two nights ago, Freebird has been waking up with massive, screaming, awful nightmares. They’re not night terrors; I read about them online (because the internet is for your own home psychiatry needs!) and Freebird can interact with us and have conversations, so it’s not night terrors. It’s straight up nightmares - but they’re awful. He dozes off, has another one, wakes up crying, and wants us to sit with him. At 2, 3, and 4 am? I want to sleep.

We couldn’t figure out what was scaring him so bad. We left the light on, we used a room air freshener spray as “anti-witch spray” because he’s been scared of witches for awhile. We added a nightlight, we used the dimmer on his room light, we gave him books to read so he could be quiet until he fell back asleep. None of it would work. He was scared shitless and wanted us in the room with him.

Yesterday afternoon, I asked him in the car if he remembered that he had bad dreams the night before.

“Yes.”

“Did you have dreams that scared you?”

“Yes.”

“What were you scared of?”

“The witch and the shark.”

Uh oh. I had a bad feeling about that one, because I bet I could guess the source.

“The witch and the shark?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you see a witch and a shark?”

I’m still not caught up on sleep, but I’m getting better about doing things for myself by rearranging my attitude toward tasks that seem large but really aren’t. It’s so much work to do all the chores… but it takes me about 20 minutes. And 20 minutes of something awesome for myself (like reading, watching tv, or omgplspls sleeeeeeping) can make a huge difference in my attitude and my mood.

Of course, the things that are long and unpleasant take more than 20 minutes, but I need to get over my “Oh, it’s too much I can’t fit in one more thing” self-deception, because if it’s really, truly important, I can make 20 minutes of room for it.

The trick is, putting myself ahead of everyone else in line. I always line up behind everything and everyone. I think it’s time I cut my own line and put myself ahead of my own attitude. 

Dear Mórag:

You’re doing awesome. Don’t forget that.

You’re probably, well, no, actually pretty down and when you’re disappointed it’s your immediate habit to start beating yourself up. One thing becomes a bigger thing and then that bigger thing is all your fault, and usually the blame circles around to the size of your ass or your relative awesomeness. Stop it. You’re fine. You’re better than fine. You rock.

Here’s a list of statements should you need self-reinforcement:

You’re kickass.
You belong.
You are loved.
You are honorable.
You make people laugh really freaking hard.
You are genuinely interested in people, and you genuinely care.
You are home.
You make a home for other people whom you love.
You are amazing.

And if you’re really, really feeling crappy one day, think about this afternoon when you and Freebird and Baba were on the beach, and the wind was warm and tasted like the ocean, your hair was full of saltwater and staying out of your face, you didn’t care what you looked like, and your t shirt dress was soft and dry and your feet were wiggly and wet. Freebird was digging in the sand, and Baba was holding onto you and smiling. Just remember the beach.

Love,

Mórag

I’m scattered so here’s a list:

1. Morag: “Ok, dude. Time for you to rest.”
Freebird: “I don’t wanna rest!”
Morag: “Well, I’m tired. I’m going to rest. First I’m going to have a shower, then I’m going to rest.”
Freebird: “You’re going to take a shower?”
Morag: “Yup. I’m dirty.”
Freebird: “What are you covered in?”
Morag: *blinks*

I had no idea he equated showering with being covered in something. I mean, I was covered in grass from running around the yard in a sprinkler, but still. Whoa.

2. Yesterday, Baba O’Riley stood up on his big baby feet, let go of the table in front of him, clapped his hands, and sat down on his tush. He stood unassisted. Walking will not be far behind. He’s 10 months old. Oh, boy oh boy.

3. We have our house back. Hubby and I were blessed by the coveted double nap on Saturday and Sunday and we cleaned and moved and schlepped and reorganized, and now we have a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a big ass playroom for the boys. Used to be we had a construction site (kitchen), a temporary kitchen/holding pen of appliances (dining room) and an all-purpose mess room (living room). I have my home back. My house is a home for us again. I cannot possibly say how happy this makes me.

4. We were also blessed by a double-sleep-in on Saturday morning where both boys lovingly and adorably slept to mother-effing 8:30 am (Oh thankyou thankyou thankyou). But of course on Sunday, which is Hubby’s day to sleep in, Freebird was ready to rock at 6am. So I got up, and while Hubby and Baba slept in, and Freebird watched Super Why, his new favorite show (all about reading, letters, and phonics), I cleaned and moved furniture around and generally made myself and our house very happy.

5. Freebird helped me make pancakes ("I stirred the milk and the egg!") and helped Hubby install a new baby gate at the top of the stairs ("I did the screws!"). He’s on the cups of being a big boy and being the baby at home, now that he’s moved up to preschool, but seeing how capable and eager he is just kicks ass.

6. Baba O’Riley is at that also-annoying (for him, not us) cusp of wanting to interact with us and wanting to communicate with us, but not having the language or motor skills to do so. But funny enough, Freebird helps us out. This weekend, Freebird tore his cheese ravioli up into little pieces and shared them with Baba at dinner last night. I never would have thought to try that, but Freebird announced, “He likes yolis too!” (Ravioli are “yolis” in Casa Morag) and sure enough, there was nom-nom-nomming going on with both dudes. Baba was happy to sit next to his big brother and Freebird was very carefully and thoughtfully tearing up pasta and sharing with his brother. So awesome. Makes me happy just thinking about it. 

From outgoing Israeli UN Ambassador and Purveyor Of the Awesome Dan Gillerman in the NY Times:

Q: Is it likely that the Iranians would ever do anything reckless with nuclear weapons?

Gillerman: “The real fear is not that the Iranians will be crazy enough or stupid enough to launch a missile at Israel, but that they will have no compunction about providing rogue regimes and terror organizations like Hamas and Hizbullah with weapons of mass destruction.”

“The Palestinians’ real tragedy is that they have not been able to produce a Nelson Mandela. Every single day, Muslims are killed by Muslims. You do not see a single Muslim leader get up and say, ‘Enough is enough.’”

“It’s nearly as if we live in a world where if Christians kill Muslims, it’s a crusade. If Jews kill Muslims, it’s a massacre. And when Muslims kill Muslims, it’s the Weather Channel. Nobody cares.”

I love how when I’m asking a database or a CMS to do something tricky, I turn down the music, like the sound will distract the computer.

Is there going to be a time when I am not swamped and busy? Because oy. I finish one giant thing and move on to the next.

So, here, a short list for your enjoyment.

1. Tantrums suck and I don’t like them. I really really don’t like it when they make me want to have one of my own.

2. I do love when Hubby picks up a really fruity, yummy cold wine and we drink it to relax and celebrate.

3. I love it when everyone, including the dog, gets a good night’s sleep.

4. This is the best sticker ever and I think I’m going to order a monster load.

If you don’t read the Hebe, that’s “Barack Obama” in Hebrew. Mavrik!