I overthink, therefore I am

This is the day where all my social media feeds are filled with people exclaiming, with varying degrees of vulgarity, "Good riddance, 2013! What a shitty year! Hope 2014 will be better!" Is it poor form at this point to say that I thought 2013 was pretty good?

Well, anyway. Happy New Year!

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I don't think we go too too overboard with the Christmas gifts. At least I hope we don't--there's the tendency to lament the perceived extravagance and overindulgence of the modern secular Christmas celebration, but I think this self-imposed guilt can sometimes be a little much and tend to taint our enjoyment of the holiday as much as anything else. I remember one year in particular the kids were unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning (this was pre-Nina, so just the boys, but I think the stuff they got that year was, like, some puzzles, books, stuffed animals, a kiddie microscope for Cal) and Joe was kind of making a face and saying how disgusting it all was, I guess meaning the display of excess and the consumerism and whatnot.  At which point I said SHUT YOUR MOUTH because there's a difference between appreciating what you have and your ability to give your kids nice (if not entirely extravagant) things; and beating yourself up with bleeding-heart guilt because there there are those among us with much less. My point being that the two things can co-exist. You can choose to not hate yourself for being able to have a nice Christmas, and you also can donate your money and time to a worthwhile cause to help make someone else's holiday better. Anyway, it's Christmas, just let the kids enjoy themselves, it's not like they're getting video game consoles or a sportscar in the driveway or anything like that. A few Legos and some crap from the dollar bin at Target never made anyone a Bond super-villain. (Unless they used the Legos and Target dreck to build an excruciatingly slow crotch-slicing laser, in which case--yes, fewer gifts.)

That said, the reason that it was difficult to choose gifts for Nina in particular is because she's the youngest of three children and we already have a lot of toys. Cal and Mack were easy--some books, a mess of new Legos, some superhero crap, and we were golden. But Nina--what could Nina possibly want for Christmas? She's turning 18 months at the end of the week, and to be honest, she already has all the toys for this and the next three developmental stages. Wooden blocks? Check, Cal's Christmas gift four years ago. Little ride on tricycle? Check, Cal's first birthday present, inherited by Mack until he outgrew it--a little dirty but still in great shape. Plastic animals and people? Check, Mack has amassed a mighty collection. Thomas trains, wooden and plastic train tracks, a hogshead of die cast cars? Checkcheckcheckcheckcheck.

The only thing we didn't have, really, was girly stuff.

And I mean girly stuff as in really girly stuff, like Malibu Barbie's Dream McMansion and the like. In my effort to make sure the boys don't grow us as 'roid-raged meatheads, we had a lot of girl-ish things already, even before Nina was born, and certainly most of our toys are to my mind at least gender-neutral. Mack in particular has a self-avowed fondness for pink stuffed animals so we have our share of those, and while the boys never really got very interested in the baby doll already we've had lying around since time immemorial, they also don't think it's weird to have one around.

Sidebar: a conversation with Mack last week. (We were making bracelets for his friends--have you seen these little rubber band bracelet kits they have now? Apparently they are all the rage, at least if I am to interpret the ceiling-to-floor wall of bagged rubber bands at Target correctly, but what you really need to know is that they look like those rubber bands that people wear on their braces, and if you drop the bag they will fly out EVERYWHERE.) Anyway, the conversation:

MICHELLE

So what colors do you want to chose for your friend Charlie?

MACK

Uh...yellow, pink, blue, purple.

MICHELLE

OK, so we'll do that as the pattern? Yellow-pink-blue-purple. Start picking out the rubber bands.

MACK

Why does some people say I can't like pink?

MICHELLE

What people say that?

MACK

Girls. They say that boys can't have pink.

MICHELLE

Well, that's silly. They're just colors. Everyone can like any color. Like me, I'm a girl, and I like blue. And green. And yellow. They're just colors. They're for everyone.

MACK

Yeah.

MICHELLE

Do you like pink on your bracelet?

MACK

Yeah.

MICHELLE

Well I think it looks good on you! You choose what colors you want! Even Dad wears pink sometimes, and no one's going to tell Dad that he can't wear pink because he's a boy.

MICHELLE'S INNER MONOLOGUE

So anyway, my point is I try to be mindful about such things. To be honest Nina really hasn't expressed any preference at all about liking "boy toys" or "girl toys," (or even knowing the difference between boys and girls) and will happily play with anything, particularly if it's something that Mack has a particular attachment to so as to get the maximum possible reaction. But I'd like to think that if she enters a super-girly phase (the Disney Princesses and such) that I would go with the flow on that too, and not have too much of the opposite reaction, insisting that she only play with dinosaurs and Cal's old Black and Decker toy tool kit to make a big old feminist point about it. Whatever, she'll figure out what she likes, and I'll go with the flow. But either way, I don't want to push anything on her.

Anyway, to sum, for Christmas we got her some puppets, clothes for her baby (boy and girl clothes), some toy foods with a shopping cart, and a water/sand table that we'll hopefully move outside once the weather warms up--though until then we'll play with it here, which makes it easy to fill and clean up but also somewhat defeats the purpose of having a free-standing water table, because why not just take a bath already?

Her favorite gift, by the way, has been the puppets, so I recommend them in particular. I am also glad that I decided to go for the animal puppets instead of the people puppets, because while I love the idea of having the multiethnic people puppets for the kids to play with, the temptation to quote the Franklin scenes from "Arrested Development" would likely have been too great.

Well, onward and upward. Our New Year's Eve plans involve sparkling cider, snacks from Trader Joe's, and a "Simpsons" marathon courtesy of our increasingly outdated DVD collection. (But please note: we only have the box sets for seasons 2 through 7 because why bother with anything else?) Cal in particular has requested the B-Sharps episode, specifically citing the scene where George Harrison points Homer towards the platter of brownies at that party. "Well, what a nice fella." Kid's got good taste.

See you next year! (She said cleverly.)

year in review

Joe and I are what might charitably described as "overcautious," and since we moved to Atlanta (where you have to get in a car in order to go pretty much anywhere), we don't go out on New Year's Eve because we figure there's probably a higher than average density of drunk drivers on the road ready to orphan our children. (The less charitable term for this approach would be "pessimistic misanthropic mole people," yes.) So we're staying at home tonight for a night of home-grilled steaks and MarioKart Wii, is my point.

Speaking of MarioKart Wii, before the start of the game, there's a white screen with the caveat that "Interactions In This Game Are Not Rated by the ESRB."


MICHELLE
What's the ESRB? Probably the Entertainment...Standards...Review Board?

JOE
I think it stands for End Stage Renal...Bisease.


(You know when you start reaching that point in your medical indoctrination that you start seeing acronyms in everything? Like suddenly you start seeing words and phrases in otherwise random jumbles of letters on license plates, and you have some seemingly very playable words in Scrabble that are by strict definition not actually legal? That's why Joe and I started allowing "Medical Scrabble" a couple of years ago, though we revoked this priveledge once we realized that every string of letters, no matter how random, is some acronym in some branch of medicine, and therefore the whole challenge element of Scrabble is ruined.)

We just spent most of last week in Virginia with Joe's family, which (if you aren't following me on Twitter) can largely be summed up in a series of pictures:







(Rough translation of the above: we flew from ATL to Dulles in order to watch "Cars" with our cousins on Aunt Sue's TV, which is nicer than the one we have at home! Also, intergenerational family and love and stuff! CHRISTMAS!)

Don't worry, I'm not going to do an actual "Year in Review" post, because I do think that treads the line between boring and inviting people to kind of roll their eyes at you, because no one wants to hear your blow-by-blow of the year when you already keep a blog, for chrissake. But I will say one thing, and I know it's sappy, but I just can't stop myself.

These are the precious years, the milestone years, and I know it. The years we're going to look back on decades from now. Cal is five and-a-half, and Mack is turning two next week. Joe and I are still young enough in our fields that every day is still challenging and exciting. We're still having new adventures, and we're enjoying them together. I know that things won't always be this way. I mean, not that every year from now until I...stop counting years...won't present new surprises and events, but there is something special about being young(ish) (thirty-two is still kind of young, isn't it? Just nod and say yes) and having small children that frames things in a kind of time-lapse photography that I imagine cannot be replicated once your kids are older or you're older or life is generally more stable. Everything just seems faster and fresher and bigger and more now, and next year, just like this year, I just want to be able to enjoy every single minute of it.

I hope 2010 was as good to you as it was to us, and that 2011 is even better. See you there.

georgia rambler

Sorry for the extended radio silence, it's been a very busy few weeks at work (the period leading up to Christmas always seems to be especially hectic for the OR--particularly for somewhat elective surgeries, what with patients wanting to use up their health insurance deductibles before the year ends); and then, of course, there was Christmas itself. So first, allow myself to indulge...myself...with a few pictures.




Wrestling at least 2/3rds of our kids to hold still for a picture before the whole tableau is destroyed.




Cal, Postmaster General of Gift Dispensery.




Mack with one of his favorite gifts: a headlamp. (Other favorite gift: an 8-pack of chapstick. I don't know.)




A rare all-family photo. We are all making unfortunate auto-timer faces (that is to say alternately caught off-guard or expectant) but at least all our eyes are open and no one is moving. I'll take it.

Yeah, so anyway, Christmas was fun. Both Joe and I took a week of vacation the week between Christmas and New Years, and I would say that the decompression from the work week to the vacation week has been acute and disorienting, transitioning from having too much to do to having...well, nothing to do. But again: I'll take it.

Oh, and unrelated to anything, but since I'm rambling (and apparently teeming with parentheticals) anyway, just a pro tip: the very best day to go into the post office to renew your passports is December 23rd, because it's already past the point where people are actually trying to mail Christmas presents (procrastinators non-withstanding, but likely even they've given up and are just ordering gift-certificates to Outback Steakhouse online) and the postal workers are super-efficiency mode, if somewhat (and understandably) grouchy. Cal needed his passport renewed for a trip we'll be taking later this summer (we got his first passport when he was just a few weeks old--in his picture he is propped up on some kind of swing seat and slumped in a pile of drool) and Mack has never had a passport, because barring a well-stocked cabinet of barbiturates (I'll leave it open-ended who would be the recipient of this pharmacologic intervention) no one in their right mind would want to take that kid on an international flight anywhere. However, might I venture the opinion that these two are the cutest passport photos ever taken of anyone, ever?




You wouldn't even be able to guess that I took them in the bathroom, because it's the only room in this house with an actual white (well, beige) wall. Whoever lived here last painted the living room this South Beach tangerine color which I have gradually become inured to, but in the way that people who live near a pork fat rendering plant gradually stop noticing the smell.

santa even got free two-day shipping

So this is what I got for Mack for his Santa Claus present.

(Oh, sorry, I should have first said: SPOILER ALERT! Santa is actually parents. Sorry, kids. You probably shouldn't be reading this blog anyway.)

OK, so here's what I got him:




It's a Lightning McQueen Power Wheel. Now, I will fully admit that the Power Wheel is not a toy that I'm at all familiar with (kids in New York did not have Power Wheels, because a.) where would you put it? and b.) where would you drive it?), but it occurred to me that things are different here, not only do we have a garage, but a relatively flat yard. True, it is a dog poop landmine field, but theoretically, that could be cleaned up.

(Theoretically.)

So I ordered the Hot Wheels and figured that I'd keep it hidden until Christmas, at which point we would assemble it, charge up the battery, and cram it under the tree. PARENT OF THE YEAR.

What I didn't realize is that the box that the Lightning McQueen Power Wheel would come in is gigantic, easily the size of a small refrigerator. This thing is not hiding anywhere. If the delivery person had maybe wheeled it around to the back instead of by the front door, maybe we could have shoved it into the garage where all the other things are that we don't want to look at (off-season Christmas decorations, boxes for Goodwill, the Kitchen-Aid mixer that someone gave us for the wedding that I have used exactly once), but instead, he very logically delivered it to the front, and the effort it took to shove it through the door and into the dining room basically removed all possibility of further subterfuge from my mind. This thing was staying in the dining room.

I know that having the Santa Present in broad daylight was possibly going to spoil the illusion that SANTA ≠ PARENTS, but I figured, it was just a box, who was going to know? We never even fully unpacked from when we moved in July, this place is crammed full of boxes. Mack wasn't going to figure it out, he can't read. Cal can, but I figured that he would just basically ignore the packaging (it is housed in mostly plain brown cardboard, save some stylized logos and suchlike), since the dining room table is where we have his Lego City set up, a distraction that basically amounts to dazzle camouflage. The original plan would still stand. I pushed the box against the wall, label side facing in, and waited for the accolades that were sure to be forthcoming.

Then the other day, Mack was cruising through the living room during his nightly jogging circuit through the house, pointed at the box, where the RUST-EZE log was sort of halfway visible, and coolly informed me, "Mom. McQueen Car."

So the gig is up. Whatever, we'll just give it to him for his birthday, it's only 12 days after Christmas anyway. Santa's getting him a book instead.

the jinx that stole christmas

(Sunday night, on call)



MICHELLE
Honey, I just got called, I’m going to head into the hospital.
There’s a case that’s going to start in about an hour.

JOE
OK. What’s the case?

MICHELLE
A lap appy.

JOE
Oh, well that’s easy, and it should be quick.

MICHELLE
I’m going to kill you now.

JOE
Oops, right! Sorry!

MICHELLE
You’re going to jinx it, you jinxer. OK, I’m getting out of here.
Let me just grab my coffee travel mug.

JOE
You have decaf in there, or full-caf?

MICHELLE
What? I don’t drink decaf. It’s just regular coffee.

JOE
Oh. I thought you might want decaf.

MICHELLE
Why?

JOE
Well, it’s kind of late for coffee. How are you going to fall asleep tonight?

(Silence)

MICHELLE
OK, I was kidding before, but now I really am going to kill you.


(Fin)

because we need a little lego, right this very minute

So someone figured out a way to combine Cal's two great obsessions, Lego City and Christmas, comma, counting down the days until--and manufactured this:
It's a Lego Advent calendar. I never had an Advent calendar as a kid, but my best friend in elementary school did, and though I liked the idea of counting down the days and popping open the little cardboard windows for each day, I remember being distinctly let down by the so-called "chocolate" contained within, which was chalky and dry and tasted a lot like those shell-shaped hand soaps people keep for show in the guest bathroom.

But therein lies the beauty of the Lego Advent calendar. No shitty candy, just little Lego trinkets. I think each little window contains a small little Lego thing, anywhere between five and ten small pieces, that fit together to make a little minifigure or Christmas tree or toy airplane, what have you.


Let me be the first to say that yes, I am aware that this is a total rip-off, because look, it barely amounts to a handful of Legos in the end, and it's not exactly like there's a lot of building involved. Also, some of the pieces seem to be of unclear Lego/holiday significance, like Dog and Cat Eyeing a Hot Dog:

...or Angry Santa Takes a Shower While Wearing a Thong:

...but whatever, it's still better than waxy pellets of chocolate in the shape of the Baby Jesus.

Cal found the box for the Lego Advent calendar a week and a half ago (I thought I hid it well, up on a high bookcase, but he must have some sort of Lego divining rod, it's the only logical explanation) and I discussed with him how this was all going to work, how he was going to open one little window each day up until Christmas, but we weren't going to start until December 1st, because each little window has a number on it, etcetera etcetera.

He listened very carefully and nodded and then the second I stopped talking promptly poked his finger into the perforated hole for December 1st.

"I just wanted to make sure that it works," he explained sulkily, after I extricated the box from his hands and returned it to its shadowy bookshelf home on high.

So anyway, tomorrow is finally December 1st, and I told Cal that Wednesday evening, after dinner and bath and snacktime, if he was very very good and was nice to his little brother and did everything the way he was supposed to, we would open up the first little window, and then one every day up until Christmas Eve, as the Lord and the good people at Legoland intended.

Not until last night did I realize that I'm actually on call tomorrow evening, so I won't even be here tomorrow night. Oops. I hope Joe remembers.

good enough for me

I have to admit (rather sheepishly) that being on call on Thanksgiving wasn't really that bad. I went in early to do rounds for the pain service, did one case and one new consult, and then was able to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I even got to join the everyone for Thanksgiving dinner (mostly because this year, Thanksgiving dinner was actually at dinnertime, instead of at lunch), with the family of Cal's best friend from school. It was very nice. We even got pity leftovers, which, as we all know, are the best part. I am, of course, still on call for the rest of the weekend, but that is neither here nor there. It's just a regular weekend at this point.

And anyway, now, there's this:




I admit I am feeling particularly smug about having finished the Christmas shopping for the kids about a week and a half ago. I was subject to some particularly vicious price-gouging last year (and not even on anything special, no Tickle-Me anythings or those weird robot hamsters, just regular little kid stuff) and thus decided to try and get the bulk of my toy-shopping done before Thanksgiving. I also took the liberty of helping select toys for various grandparents and great-grandparents in abstentia who usually just say, "I don't know what the hell to get them, just buy them something you know they'll like and tell me how much it cost," hence the respectable gift pile this early. Of course I do have to reconsider the wisdom of getting them, you know, more toys, because the basement already looks like this:




...but, you know. Kids and Christmas, it's just worth it. If you could have seen Cal fussing and rearranging the present pile and trying to diving their contents using both palpation and percussion, like some old school primary care doc, you would have died, believe me.


* * *


Also, completely unrelated to anything, this is quite possibly the best thing I have seen on YouTube in...well, ever.




Unfortunately, Sesame Street is, like, 75% Elmo now. I mean, Elmo is cute and all, but come on.

it's the most wonderful time

Thanks for all the opinions, everyone. So we're all in agreement, picture D, right? Just kidding. The ayes have it, picture C all the way. I already told Stan (the photographer) about the choice, and he's going to polish up the image before we send it off to my publisher for whatever whatever.

Cal's Thanksgiving vacation began this afternoon (I distinctly remember from my childhood that Thanksgiving vacation did not start until Wednesday afternoon, but maybe that's what we get for sending our kid to a private school--paying more money for less schooling) (just kidding, we love our school) (not really kidding though). Since I was on call Monday night I was able to pick Cal up this afternoon, and as a special treat, I took him to one of those places where you get to paint and fire your own pottery. It was pretty fun.




The lady at the place remarked a couple of times at how focused Cal was and how amazed she was that he was able to sit there for almost two hours painting. I don't think it's quite so amazing--he is five years old, after all, I think that's old enough to attend to a task without being distracted by other kids or music or that shiny thing over there--but that's definitely Cal's personality all the way. Inability to focus is certainly not one of his weaknesses.




(Above: the plate that Cal designed to hold our cookies for Santa. Not sure why he thought Santa would particularly enjoy the math problems, but...OK.)




Anyway, we made some Christmas presents.

As I discussed before I am skipping straight ahead to Christmas because I am working Thanksgiving weekend and therefore the prospect of Thanksgiving this year depresses me. Though I guarantee there is likely no better way to put into stark bas relief exactly what to be thankful for than spending Thanksgiving in a hospital (health, family, being not dead, etc.) I've been hearing some version of this conversation for the past week and a half, and it's starting to drive me slowly insane.


NURSE
You have to brine it.

SURGICAL TECH
We went to my brother's house last year and he deep fried his.

NURSE
Oh that's good, though. So juicy.

SURGICAL PA
But the stuffing has to be on the side, not in the bird, or else it doesn't cook through.

NURSE
I like to make mine with chestnuts. First you roast them, then chop them up fine...

SURGICAL TECH
Sometimes we do raisins.

SURGICAL PA
Well, when I make my mashed potatoes, first I...

MICHELLE
Everybody shut it! There will be no more talk of Thanksgiving feasting! I'm working on Thanksgiving and will therefore be eating a frozen dinner in the doctor's lounge while having football inflicted upon me because I can't find the remote control for the TV! So just! Shut it!

(Silence)

PATIENT
I like when my wife does the thing where she puts the layer of marshmallows on top of the sweet potatoes.


(To be clear, I don't really yell at people for getting excited about Thanksgiving, I'm not a total dick. For most people it's four days off work to be with your families, and hats off to you all, you've certainly earned it. But...I am really looking forward to Christmas this year is all.)

Anyway, thanks everyone for your help with choosing the photos. I'll put up the final image as soon as Stan is done with it.

it's beginning to look a lot like

When I'm not at work or busy searching eBay for used bulk lego blocks by the pound (I know, used toys, they could be tubercular, but I got a whole shitload of used Duplo bricks off eBay a few years and it was the best thirty-something bucks plus shipping I ever spent), sometimes I like to interact with my kids. Here are a few pictures from this weekend, in which everyone has recovered from their various maladies and Mack proves that his eyebrows do occasionally point in a direction other than down:






Anyway, not to belabor the point (Kids. Cute. Done.) but I do love that last one wherein Mack is busting a tiny little move. (He's Stirring the Pot of Love, of course.) Also, yes, it has warmed up here since last weekend.


* * *


I am basically trying to forget that Thanksgiving is coming up, because I am on call for Thanksgiving weekend (all four days--but just the day parts of the days, someone else is covering the nights) and if I can forget that it's a holiday instead of a regular call weekend it'll be far less depressing. Now that we don't live near family Thanksgiving has been generally depressing for the last two years anyway--our first year in Atlanta we tried to fend for ourselves (the less said about the cooking of our Thanksgiving dinner, the better) and last year we very kindly got invited to one of my co-worker's homes for Thanksgiving lunch, which was very nice not to mention very tasty--but just served to remind us that we were these sort of pathetically unmoored figures that require taking in, like The Old Lady At Church Whose Husband Is Dead, or That Guy Who Hangs Out In The Periodicals Section Of The Library But Is Basically Harmless. This year, I figure I'll just skip over the Thanksgiving part of things altogether (except for the giving thanks part--very thankful for many things, of course) and go straight to the Christmas preparation, which, to be perfectly honest, is something that I've been desperately waiting for since before last year's Christmas tree came down.

I like Christmas is all.

I'm trying to emphasize to Cal, as I do every year, that the importance of the holiday (at least in the secular way that we celebrate the Christmas) is family and togetherness and blah blah blah Gift of the Magi, but he's reached the age now where the mere smell of pine is enough to trigger a Pavlovian response of OMG SANTA CANDY CANES PRESENTS!!! Still, I don't want to be a total killjoy about the thing and it's not like he's overly materialistic or anything so what the hell, just let him enjoy the freaking presents.

Mack didn't have a very good Christmas last year--he had a cold going into it and got his flu shot two days before Christmas Eve, and while I don't blame the flu shot for his illness, the combination of these two events (something something cytokines?) made him a febrile, snotty, miserable mess who alternately sobbed and slept through the entire holiday. I am determined to make it up to him this year (not like it was my fault or anything, but he was still very little and I felt bad) but the problem with Mack is that all he generally requires to be happy is a fistful of pretzels and a stool to climb up on in order to reach the knife block, and these are difficult to incorporate into our holiday celebration.

Actually, the real problem is that he's the second child, the second boy child, and anything we could possibly think of to get him (trains, little cars, grating Wiggles DVDs) we already accrued for Cal the first time around. So we're kind of at a loss when it comes to what to get him. Again, not that the holidays are about PRESENTS and GETTING STUFF and the most pleasant part of my Christmas is sitting around in my pajamas watching my kids not kill each other--but I do want to be able to get him something special aside from, of course, my undying love, especially since meanwhile Cal is going to be building some kind of Lego Universe with the spoils of his holiday gift bounty.

Anyone else have second child syndrome when it comes to gift giving? I know that gifts aren't important and that kids don't really know the difference and this is all very First World Problems, but...I just like to watch their faces when they open the presents, you know? That's my Christmas present. And I'm not particular, I'll wrap anything to put under the tree. One year I wrapped a pack of Raisinettes.

now where's the part where the clucking bunny poops cadbury creme eggs?

So Cal had a good time with the Easter egg hunt, so much so that he asked if I would re-hide the eggs so that he could find them again. I figured, what the hell. (We ended up doing it three time.)




Good thing we're not playing that "Easter Bunny" ruse, or else Cal may have been tipped off by the fact that said bunny apparently does all his basket shopping at Target and somehow forgot to remove the price tag. That's because he wants you to know how much he spent, Cal! The Easter Bunny loves you $1.99 worth of love units.




Also, if you thought that it was bad enough that our Christmas tree is up, check this out...




Think of it this way: six months early for next Halloween.

because i feel the need to incorporate more candy into my childrens' lives

So I was most of the way through writing another entry, which was about how I went to Cal's class play post-call (the theme of the play was water conservation, and my favorite moment was towards the end, when they turned out the lights and all the kids sang "Purple Rain" while waving violet glow sticks--no, I'm not kidding). In particular, I was discussing how I looked and felt like a college kid after pulling an all-nighter--bed head, yoga pants, difficulty focusing on conversation--and how amongst all the real grown-ups in the audience, I felt like some kind of grown-up impersonator. But then I re-read the entry and decided against posting it, mostly because it sounded kind of pathetic. Hide your shame!

So instead I'm going to talk about Easter. Seasonal!

I didn't grow up celebrating Easter. I have no problem with Easter, it seems nice enough, but unlike Christmas, there just didn't seem to be as much of a societal push for the secular aspects of the celebration, so my experience with the holiday is purely limited to craft: cold, vinegar-y eggs tinted vague shades of pastel, wads of plastic grass glued to posterboard, and whatever else my elementary school art teacher insisted on. I had never been on an egg hunt, never received and Easter basket, and really had only the vaguest notion of what all else the trappings of the holiday entailed. Ham, right? People bake a ham? Oh, and also wear big hats with flowers on them. Wait, am I confusing "Easter" with the Ascot Opening Day number in "My Fair Lady?" Probably.




Anyway, Easter. Seems fun enough, but growing up as a Chinese kid in Manhattan, I never partook. However, now we live in Georgia, and Easter is a much bigger deal. I'm not saying people are ramming it down our throats or anything, like, CELEBRATE EASTER SAYETH THE LORD, but there's definitely a lot more, "What are you doing for Easter?" and "Are the kids looking forward to Easter?" than I had been accustomed to. And after a certain point, I started to feel like I was damn near depriving my kids because I hadn't made any elaborate plans to let them run around the yard looking for candy encased in plastic eggs. I was the enemy of fun!

So, this year: eggs and candy.




It was all kind of a last minute decision--the kids and I just dropped by Target this morning to pick up some of the more classic accoutrement (basket, eggs, "fun sized" Kit Kats), and we still have to figure out what exactly we're going to do with it all, but dammit, we're doing this thing. The only thing is, I'm not quite sure that Cal's going to buy the whole "Easter Bunny" bit (he believes in Santa Claus, but that's because we've always talked about Santa Claus instead of trying to inject him into the narrative midway through his childhood--also, Santa Claus is a human, with opposable thumbs, which makes the act of stealthily dropping off gifts and such more plausible) but Joe and I will just hide the eggs and Cal will find them. And, probably like Halloween, he will probably be initially really excited that there's candy inside, but then soon forget all about the candy and we will have yet another bag of slowly dessicating chocolate bars sitting high up on a shelf somewhere until someone mercifully decides to throw them away.

(Also, blah blah blah Rites of Spring Joyful Childhood Wonder etcetera.)

Easter!

ideal tenents

Well, that was a good discussion. We are a good bunch up in here.

So, I'm doing some studying for the Oral Boards, mostly boning up on areas that I don't really do every day anymore, like Peds, OB, and complex intracranial neurosurgical anesthesia. I am remembering a lot of things that I have blissfully forgotten. Like the many hours I spent holed up in those dark neurosurgical ORs dripping CSF out into a little baggie in an attempt to "loosen" the brain for my neurosurgical colleagues while they were digging around. And the delightful phenomenon of uterine inversion, in which the postpartum uterus actually turns itself inside out and pokes out the vagina. Ah, residency. Those were good times.

Anyway...

So you know that we just moved in October into a house that we are renting from some nice folks (see: Southernism!) who had to move up to Philadelphia before they were able to sell the place. The house is a little old, and probably not the most enviro-friendly of dwellings (windows not weatherproofed, no low-flow toilets or showerheads) which makes it somewhat expensive from a utilities point of view, but it's a great neighborhood and close to Cal's school and easy for Joe to get to work and blah blah blah boring talk. Anyway, we have a one-year lease at this house, which seems kind of like a long time when you're a student, but for me just makes me think that there's barely any point of unpacking because what's the point, we're just going to move again in a few months anyway. Which is mostly fine, since we don't mind living among the boxes and we never have people over anyway (30% due to embarrassment, 70% due to anti-social tendencies). Anyway, the boxes are great for covering up all the outlets that Mack finds inexplicably fascinating and for building various child-proofing barricades, like in Les Miserable. (Primary intent of the barricade in Les Mis: defiant show of uprising! Secondary intent: to keep Gavroche out of the computer room.)

So I was fine with us living like shantytown people and had frankly stopped noticing the boxes, but then our landlords were in town this past weekend and wanted to come by and check out the basement, as there had been some flooding a few months ago and they wanted to survey the damage. They didn't give us very much notice, so I spent the better half of Saturday afternoon cleaning what I could and shoving what else I couldn't clean into a variety of unlikely to be opened closets. But there was nothing that I could do about this:




All our Christmas decorations are still up. Yes, all of them. Tree, stockings. The lights are even still hanging in the windows. And I'm sure I didn't need to point out to you that Saturday was the first day of spring. Awkward!

Anyway, after some uncomfortable silence in which the owners pretended not to notice or were decided whether or not to say anything, I cheerfully told them that since it was almost Easter, we just decided to leave up the decoration from Jesus' first birthday party and celebrate clear through April. I think they bought it.

priorities


CAL
(Lofting new Christmas present, freshly received in the mail, over his head)
Presents! Presents! Christmas! Presents! (Joyous mayhem, etcetera)

MICHELLE
Wow, a new Christmas present! Want to put it under the tree?

CAL
Mom, I love Christmas!

MICHELLE(Somewhat rhetorically)
Why do you love Christmas?

CAL
Presents!

MICHELLE
Yes, presents are fun, aren't they? But the most important thing about Christmas is being together with your family.

CAL
And presents.

MICHELLE
Yes, presents are exciting. But what's most important, presents or people?

CAL
Presents!

MICHELLE
Presents are more important than people?

CAL
Oh, I mean people. People.

MICHELLE
That's right. Presents are fun, but people are the most important thing.

(Pause)

CAL
I thought you said, "What's most important, presents or pickles."

good tidings

I for one believe that you should maximize the mileage out of your Christmas tree, which is why we usually put it up the day after Thanksgiving and keep it up until, oh, March or so. Ah, if only I were kidding. (As I have mentioned several times in the past, I would keep it up even longer than that if I could--call it an MLK tree, a Valentine's tree, a St. Patrick's Day tree by rotating the decorations) but after a certain point, I guess most people feel like having a Christmas tree up past January 1st is a soft sign for mental illness. (Another soft sign--having more than three cats, and having more than five drug "allergies" on your medical record. Oh, you know it's true.) Anyway, we don't have enough lighting in the house as it is, so the Christmas tree serves many purposes.

Thanksgiving was nice, in that it was low-key and my pie wasn't awful. Cal helped. Really, the work involved was minimal, especially given that I used a frozen pie crust--anyone can slice apples and pour a bunch of sugar and cinnamon on them. Yes, and a pinch of nutmeg, shut up about the nutmeg, Rachael Ray. The most nuanced touch Cal and I put into it was the egg wash and the sugar crust, but honestly, even a child could make this pie (and did).

I had to work the day after Thanksgiving (the OR schedule was extremely light, but there were still some cases) but I was relieved by a member of the call team by around noon and being at work was a great excuse to excuse me from of any errands that might entail going near a shopping center on Black Friday. I find the whole concept of a "doorbuster" sale highly unappealing, as it implies camping out the night before and forcibly streaming in the second the store opens, trampling whatever or whoever might get in your way to secure the latest in Tickle Me Elmo technology. Someone actually gave us a Tickle Me Elmo for Christmas a few years ago (it was the model that not only talked and shook, but also would throw itself on the ground flailing its limbs and screaming) and that little buddy ended up disemboweled of its batteries and at the bottom of a storage bin in due time.




We are going to visit my parents in New York for a few days next weekend, which should be fun except for the part where we have to travel with two kids. Cal will be fine--he's old enough that he can be entertained by any number of things, be it drawing or activity books or DVDs or endlessly writing strings of cramped letters and numbers on a page until the entire surface is filled. (At best, I think, great, a facility for math and reading! But sometimes it looks a little serial killer-y, like Kevin Spacey in "Seven.") Mack, however, will probably be tougher to handle, as he has neither the attention nor the inclination towards distractibility and probably spends 80% of his waking time trying to inflict bodily harm to himself. It just makes him feel so alive. You could put him in a room full of colorful toddler-appropriate toys that light up and play music and teach you Latin while giving you a massage, and the first thing he'd gravitate towards would be the single outlet in the room, so he could try to stick the box cutter into it.

(Never fear, o vigilant internet, the ornament is plastic! As well as delicious. He will be shitting glitter for days.)

I haven't been back to New York for about a year and a half, which is far and away the longest I've been away from home (as I will probably always continue to think of it, no matter how long we've been here). The only time I haven't lived in Manhattan was for college, and that was just in Boston. In those carefree, pre-9/11 days, going between Boston and New York was as easy as hopping on the subway--one time, lacking any other form of identification, I even got on the plane with my library card. It would be great to be visit New York regardless of what time of year we went, but there's something great about the city at Christmas, so I'm especially glad that we can be there close to the holidays. I can't wait to take Cal to see the tree at Rockefeller Center. I've said this before but I'll say it again, because I am old and this is what old people do. It's one thing to enjoy the holidays (and I do), but it's a whole other thing to watch your kids enjoy the holidays. Kind of reminds you what it was like to be a kid yourself.

unorthodox, but grateful nonetheless

I got my first driver's license a little more than a month ago. I KNOW. However, since then, I have driven to and from work every single day, and even though I don't really know how to go anywhere else and I get really nervous whenever I have to deviate from that home-work-home route, I'm kind of getting used to driving. This is a big step for me, as every time got behind the wheel even two or three months ago would have me shaking with white-knuckled terror. I can even change lanes on the highway now without activating my fight or flight response. I am becoming a normal person.


MICHELLE
I wouldn't say it's enjoyable, but driving is becoming...satisfying. You know, like any other repetitive, habituated behavior.

JOE
(Brightly)
Like pooping!

(Long pause)

MICHELLE
No...not like pooping.


I used to not even be able to hold a conversation while I was driving (truth be told--I still don't like to talk when I'm driving somewhere that I'm not familiar) but at least with my commute to and from work, I recently progressed to being able to listen to the radio--the soft rock station only at first, until it started to drive my slowly insane--and now I am comfortable enough that I can listen to my podcasts* again. I can actually listen to other people having a conversation, concentrate on the conversation, and not veer off the road. Do you know what a big deal this is? It is. It is a very big deal.

I AM THIRTY-ONE YEARS OLD AND I JUST GOT MY FIRST DRIVER'S LICENSE.

So anyway, I can drive now is all I have to say. And I drove my kids around (twice!) when Joe wasn't around and we had to get somewhere and I had no other choice, and we all lived! Even though I had to tell Cal don't talk to Mommy while she's driving the car


CAL
Why?

MICHELLE
Because I have to concentrate.

CAL
What's "concentrate" mean?

MICHELLE
Concentrate means when you have to think hard about something.

CAL
Why do you have to think hard?

MICHELLE
Because...shh. Shhh. I just do, just...shhh.

CAL
Mom, why did you say "Shh?"

MICHELLE
Cal, don't talk to Mommy while she's driving!

CAL
But Mom, you're not driving.

MICHELLE
Well, I'm in the car, sitting behind the steering wheel.

CAL
(Pityingly)
But it's a red light.

MICHELLE
That's it, no more talking forever.


Um...Happy Thanksgiving!


* I used to only have the "This American Life" podcast to fall back on, but as of late I am in love with "Jordan Jesse Go!" because it is funny and I don't want to be depressed about the war in Afghanistan or teenage runaway heroin addicts first thing in the morning. If you can suggest any other similar funny podcasts, please advise. (I am trying to get the comments section back online but it has been disabled for so long that I kind of don't know how to do it. Bear with me.)

just desserts

Am I supposed to feel like a loser when people ask me what we're doing for Thanksgiving and I have nothing to tell them? Nothing. We are doing nothing for Thanksgiving. We're probably going to pop over to a friend's for lunch (they live about a block down the street), but aside from that, we don't have family in town nor are we planning to cook anything elaborate, and I have to work on Friday anyway, so even the four-day weekend aspect of the holiday has lost its impact. Maybe I will make some mashed potatoes for dinner on Thursday. Maybe. But honestly, aside from the spirit of Thanksgiving--reflection, being grateful, time with family etcetera--I don't care much about the machinations of Thanksgiving, the manic preparation and ensuing frenzied cooking in particular. (Right now, somewhere out in Ohio, my mother-in-law has read that last bit and gone blind. But everyone already knows that my housewiffery is not renown, I never prevaricated otherwise.)

But anyway, as mentioned, we are going to a friend's house for Thanksgiving lunch, and as such, I felt obligated to bring something--I offered dessert. This is called "being a good guest." As opposed to showing up empty-handed, eating everything and leaving, I guess. Like I said, I really don't like to cook. In particular I loathe the cleanup but I don't really enjoy the actual cooking along the way, either, although I do it occasionally as it is a means to an end. (The end being eating.) But I have in the past made apple pie, and though the recipe is nothing special or prized (the secret ingredient is LOVE! No actually, it's extra sugar) it usually turns out pretty good and doesn't look terrible, unlike that time that I decided to make tuna casserole not via the Tuna Helper box and the results looked like something died in the pan, and something ate the carcass and then threw it up again. So, apple pie it is. I'm not going crazy or anything, I bought a frozen pie crust from Trader Joe's, but I have real apples and butter and sugar and whatnot to fill it with.

Ever since I mentioned that I am going to make this apple pie, Joe has been after me to pick up a cake from the local bakery to bring with us to Thanksgiving lunch. As this lunch is a rather small affair (it's just going to be our family and their family, and our family will only account for about 25% of the food consumed, as one member is still mostly in the soft solids phase of mastication and the other refuses to eat anything that doesn't taste like breaded chicken with ketchup) I brought up the point that we were already bringing a pie, why would we bring cake and pie? It's like stripes and polka dots, one or the other, am I right? But Joe was weirdly insistent on the cake point, reminding me again and again that we had to go get a cake, bring a cake, buy a cake. After mentioning it for, oh, the tenth time, I began to suspect that possibly the reason that he kept wanting to pick up a cake in addition is because he thought that my apple pie was going to turn out shitty, and that he wanted to have a backup dessert option so that in the event of a last-minute pie fiasco on Thanksgiving Day when everything was closed, we'd have something to bring to lunch aside from a six pack of beer and a half-empty bag of Cheetos.

Well, it didn't matter anyone since neither of us got out of work early enough to get to the bakery before it closed for the holidays. But! I got a festive box (perhaps this is overstating it's decorative value somewhat--but there is a picture of a reindeer on it at least) from Target and have filled it with cookies. I did not make the cookies, but hey, don't ask, don't tell, right? At first I was making an effort to choose cookies that weren't so obviously out of a package (for example, ix-nay on the int ilanos-may) but then as I was unboxing the cookies and fluffing them in their decorative container I noticed that the more fancy chocolate coated of the selection had the words PEPPERIDGE FARM embossed rather vulgarly all over the back end of them, so I guess the gig is up. Anyway, it's not like anyone cares if the treats are from a box or not. Cookies are cookies, and everyone likes cookies. Especially Squanto.

I'm not really sure what my point was when I started writing this entry, except that it was maybe that I am terrible at the mechanics of a traditional American Thanksgiving. The sentiment, however, I am pretty OK at.

all romantical and shit



So, Valentine's Day! How was yours? Ours was fine, if utilitarian--Joe's mom was in town to visit the kids (still feels weird to say that--I can't believe I have kids, plural) and demanded to babysit for us so that we could have Valentine's Day dinner out, though for a variety of reasons, Joe and I decided to call it an early night and were home by 7:30pm. However, it was a good dinner, and certainly more romantic than my original instinct, which was to take the opportunity for some free babysitting and run to the supermarket, because just think HOW EFFICIENTLY we could do our shopping without all the carseats and wrangling and no-you-cannot-buy-that-cereal-it-is-a-rip-off-and-I-don't-care-what-percentage-of-the-profits-goes-towards-saving-the-rainforests. It's these magical moments that make a marriage special.

The flowers, by the way, were from Joe, and very lovely. Before he showed them to me, he warned, "I just want to prepare you, they're a little...Tim Burton-esque," which made it a lovely surprise that they were actually pretty, just ornate and a little gothic (black tulips, twisty vine accents etcetera) as opposed to what I was thinking when he said "Tim Burton-esque," which was, like, a single dead daisy. I expect the flowers will only continue to become more Tim Burton-esque as the week goes by, anyway, due to my habit of never, ever throwing out flowers until they're basically putrefying. I just get so attached is all.

you're the birthday boy or girl

Fine, endlessly gestating gigantic fetus. Just stay up in there. Just stay up in there FOREVER.

(Reverse psychology, see.)



Today, lacking anything else entertaining to do (the weather outside was sunny, but a bit cold to stay at the playground for anything more than half an hour or so), we decided to take a family trip to Chuck E. Cheese. That's right, Chuck E. Cheese. Remember when we used to live in Manhattan and, like, went to museums and street fairs and crap? THOSE DAYS ARE OVER. Now we go to the equivalent of a kiddie casino and eat pizza while watching animatronic mice sing cover versions of 80's pop standards. Stay classy, Atlanta!



Cal was excited to go initially, but as many of you know, three year-olds are not quite sane, and because we offended him in some way (I believe it had to do with the fact that we insisted that his carseat harness did in fact have to be buckled while the car was moving) he screamed that he WANTED TO GO HOME! WANT TO GO HOME! DON'T DRIVE THE CAR! STOP! DON'T WANT TO GO HAVE FUN! the entire ride there, and once we had finally arrived, refused to get out of the car. Oh, this poor kid, whose cruel, heartless parents wanted to take him to Chuck E. Cheese to play Skee-ball and eat pizza. Clearly abusive, authorities should be alerted immediately.



Luckily (for all) he warmed up once he actually allowed himself to be physically dragged into the place and saw all the rides and video games and balls and (best of all) "money" that he was allowed to put inside the coin slots to participate in each activity. We gave him a little cup of those play tokens to run around with, and I think that may have been the highlight of his day, because he was guarding those slugs like Gollum. (Tip for those interested in going to Chuck E. Cheese with their own thankless children: go register at the Chuck E. Cheese site online and you will be e-mailed some coupons for tokens and food that will actually save you a ton of cash. No, I do not work for Chuck E. Cheese Corporate, but dude, it was like free money!)

(Oh lord, first Chuck E. Cheese, now excitedly discussing the merits of coupons. Next up, high-waisted mom jeans and Sunny Delight. "Sunny D? Hey, your mom's cool!")



Anyway, it was fun is all I'm saying. We even accrued enough tickets by the end of the afternoon to cash in for one of those big, novelty rainbow lollipops at the prize desk, which was listed for the price of 200 tickets--a ridiculous-sounding number of tickets, until you realize that the cash value of each ticket was, like, a penny. And yes, we did play Skee-ball, though Cal had some questionable gamesmanship and insisted on not only standing on the Skee-ball ramp, but winging the ball overhand like a baseball. (Luckily there were not that many people there, so the only head trauma sustained was his own.)



So anyway, Happy New Year! Hope everyone is starting off the year right, and I for one am so glad not to have to be giving birth or taking care of a newborn right now, because the dizzying ease of having only one child to care for is just so freeing.

holly jolly



Like Thanksgiving, I think this is the first Christmas that we haven't spent with family--most of our family, I think, is saving the plane fare for after Cal 2.0 emerges (and this may be wishful thinking, but it could be ANY DAY NOW, right?)--but I think we made an admirable go of it with just the three of us.

(That is to say: the four of us.)



I don't know who "MOW" is, but I hope he doesn't mind that I opened his present.



In a moment of weakness, and perhaps against my better judgement, I got Cal these "Yo Gabba Gabba" figurines. So now he will grow up to do drugs and join a violence gang.

The obligatory cookies, milk, and letter for Santa. Cal wants Santa to know: "DLDHDILLDLLHL."

Which apparently means, "I took the liberty of pre-sampling the Nilla for you, and don't worry, they're NOT POISONED. So enjoy!"

We had nothing else to do today (see above: no family in town) so we ended up going to the Georgia Aquarium, which was actually open early on Christmas Day. Those godless fish have no respect for the baby Jesus. We all had a good time, and Cal managed to hold out for almost two hours, which is pretty much the longest we've managed to stay at the aquarium before starting to get bored and cranky--probably due in no small part to his NEW CHRISTMAS CAMERA, which we got him (under advisement from another classmate's parents, who also recently had a new baby) as a bribe "gift" from his little brother. They have online shopping in the womb now, apparently. Also, maybe it will encourage him to keep his mitts off my camera, which is evidently not made of indestructible rubberized parts.

Hoping you had a happy holiday with people you love too. And also hoping that my next update will herald some sort of news of imminent new-baby-ness, at least, because I am getting pretty sick of this pregnancy thing. Come on out, Biggie Smalls, and join us out here, where things are merry and bright.

(Full Christmas photo set here.)