Chipmunk Cheeks!

It's been three days since the wisdom teeth were pulled and the swelling in my cheeks is still pretty bad.

The photo to the right accurately shows what I look like today. Yeah. NOT pretty...

I'm home now. I'm still living on chocolate pudding, soups, and pain meds (not by choice), but at least I get to recover in the comfort of my very own tree trunk.... er, bed...

Unfortunately, Hubby isn't doing very well either. He's been sniffily, sneezy, runny, and coughy-- the same way I was a few weeks ago...

It's basically the same allergic reaction that's ushered in by the slightest of seasonal change in Texas. It seems like we go through this every few weeks, except, unlike me, my husband refuses to take anything for it...

It's not as if my doctor mom doesn't keep our cabinets stocked with a fine selection of antihistamine and decongestant samples. They're always on hand, but he'd rather keep both of us up all night with his wheezing and coughing than just take one stinkin' Claritin...

When I lamented this to my mother-in-law while we were staying at her house this week, I chalked it up to his "maleness" and asking if his brothers are the same way. She tartly replied, "Oh, WE never take medication..."

Okay, so maybe it's not a "guy thing" after all. Just another "in-law thing"...

Grass Greener?

Yesterday, my sister-in-law called to "check up on us". She had heard the news about Hubby losing his job, but I'm not sure if she was calling to commiserate or rub in it...

I filled her in on the basics, but after the hundredth time of repeating them, I just didn't have the heart to go over the details. I also left out most of the big parts like...

... finding out the unemployment benefits that we were naively counting on to see us through because everyone we knew said would be so freakin' awesome (like "70% of Hubby's previous salary" awesome) will barely cover groceries for a week. That's NOT 70%... Boo! Hiss! Texas.

On top of that, they get still get taxed... federally. Um, Insult, meet Injury.

... finding out that the toothache that I thought was merely stress-related is actually my wisdom teeth coming in about 10 years too late and a week before we lose all of our health insurance.

No, we can't even afford COBRA (see above). At least, the dentist prescribed some beautiful painkillers until they can be removed.

Of course, once I took one of the beautiful painkillers and was lying in bed happily stress-free, my husband comes in to tell me that our son spiked a fever. Again, no health insurance in a week, but at least for this one, I can call my mom.

Basically, all of the parts that I don't really care to discuss with anyone right now, so I casually changed the subject and asked how they were doing... big mistake.

My brother-in-law (Hubby's youngest brother) has just accepted a wonderful new job. It's a great opportunity that pays double the salary and apparently offers endless growth. She'll get to stay home with the kids like she claims to have always wanted. However, it also means that they will have to move.

Yeah, moving sucks, but you would think that this would still be really, really exciting for her...

Nope. Not her.

After throwing a big hairy hiss about having to move... wait for it, wait for it... a messily hour away for this fabulous, lucrative job, she told me that she only conceded after he PROMISED that they never... ever...move... again.

She also gloated informed me that his salary was only "going to get better year after year" (i.e. they never have to worry about money again) and they fully expect to get three times what they paid for their house in selling it.

In light of our current circumstances, it's difficult NOT to be jealous hearing all this... even if that last part was just plain petty and hurtful.

I didn't feel the need to disclose to her our highly tentative plans of moving wherever Hubby's next career move lands us, whether it be across the country and across the globe....

Knowing how she reacted to moving across their home state of Oklahoma, I didn't really think she would be very supportive anyhow.

That, and quite frankly, I had had enough of talking to her.

My sister-in-law isn't entirely short-sighted, self-centered, and insensitive. She did offer me some words of comfort... I think.

"At least I only have the ONE kid... ", she told me, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean...

Yesterday

When I heard my cell phone ring, I figured it was just my husband checking on us. It was around one in the afternoon, so he must have just finished his lunch, just as we were finishing up ours. So, my hands were full at that moment.

When he called again two minutes later, I thought he was just being a pain. Nothing could have prepared me for what he has to say when I picked up...

"I've just been fired."

Those words lingered in the digital eather as my world spun out of control. Just a little.

Just that morning I razzed him for running late to work... again. We talked about being home for dinner and buying some more memory for our computers. Two days before, we were talking to our best friends about their upcoming wedding in Santorini and what we were planning to wear to it. We also had that same worn-out debate about buying a new house- should we, shouldn't we.

I had to mail one last thank you card for a belated birthday gift to our son. I planned to take him to pick out his very own potty chair after his nap. I just took him to get yet another over-priced haircut at that kiddie salon in anticipation of doing his two-year-old portraits this week. Hubby and I have reservations at a swanky new restaurant this coming weekend. My parents are baby-sitting.

These were just a few of the things that became a blur right then and there, as I held my breath and patiently waited for Huddy to tell me their reasoning. Not that they are legally required to provide one, and they didn't.

None of this made any sense. It seems that spite of killing himself (figuratively) to make their ridiculous deadlines, all sorts of glowing praise from immediate co-workers, and a generally cheerful attitude, they let him go with little more explanation than, "Eh, we just felt like it." (paraphrased)

Once my son had gone down for his nap, I was stunned by the horrible sinking feeling. I wanted to cry, but didn't, knowing it just wouldn't do any good. Come to think if it, I really didn't know what I was supposed to do.

Call our financial planner. Don't call our financial planner. Call my parents. No, don't call my parents. They'll just ask if we want to move in with them. Definitely, don't call the 'rents right now.... I settled on eating an entire bag of cookies leftover from my son's huge birthday bash. Oh God! the bill for his huge birthday bash?! I need more cookies...

Birthday v2.0: Part-ies

If you missed the first installment, you can find it here. The second installment is here. For those of you rolling your eyes, I promise to find something other than my son's birthday to blog about soon...

So yesterday when I said that our ride on Thomas the Tank Engine with his six friends from playgroup was supposed to be my son's only big birthday celebration, I wasn't lying... exactly. In an effort to keep things simple, it was supposed to be the only thing...

Before I heard about "Day Out With Thomas", Hubby and I considered taking a family trip to SeaWorld in San Antonio over his birthday weekend. While it probably would have been just as expensive as throwing a party (or two parties in this case), it would have been LESS insane to plan for...

You see, I actually abhor the "bigger is better for birthdays" philosophy. We have just as much fun at parties held in a backyard or at the park as we do at Chuck E Cheese or the Wiggly Play Center. With so many parents turning their noses at big-budget kid's parties, it’s more of a statement if you don't have one too.

I feel absolutely no need to compete with any of the other parents we know. If anything, they would have to compete with us, because no matter how much we say that we want keep things low-key and small, we can't help ourselves. The word "simple" just isn't in our vocabulary.

We look at it this way... We have been blessed with so many wonderful friends and an awesome family, we LOVE throwing parties, and we adore our son. So what better excuse to invite all of our friends to a party for our son than his BIRTHDAY?! And that's where things start to unravel...

Next thing you know I'm stressing over the societal implications of our party favors, staying up late to mix party CDs, and antagonizing my local bakery...

Amidst the frenzy of planning and preparing, I kept asking myself, "who am I really do this for?" I mean, here I am dragging my son along to pick out birthday hats and balloon, instead of taking him to the park... "Is this really worth it?"

All it takes is this happy little face to know that it was!

"Thank you, Mommy. You throw a great party and have such shiny hair!"

But still... Next time when I promise to keep things smallish, simple, and low-key, do me a BIG favor and please hold me too it.

By the way, Gymboree did a FANTASIC job with the 12 two-year-olds, 3 baby sisters, 2 big brothers, and 1 five-year-old cousin that ended up making it to the party, as you can probably tell from the photos.

They were so imaginative, warm, and engaging. The best part? They took care of everything once we got there, which means no messy colored frosting on my walls and kitchen floor.

Springtime in Texas

Yesterday, my son and I were running around the park and feeding the ducks. I wore a short sleeved shirt and my son was sweating beneath the jacket I made him wear.

Today however...

The view from my desk