I’m not really one for planning vacations. For me all travel plans are soft until everyone is packed and in the car. For example, my mom is coming to visit this weekend. While she watches Jacob, Nate and I are supposed to go somewhere Saturday afternoon until Sunday morning. I have no idea where we’re going, and apparently it’s my job to plan it. I guess I’ll have to decide Saturday morning before Nate gets back from chores.
I like to claim I’m spontaneous. Really, it’s probably more a combination of procrastination and indecisiveness when it comes to travel. But I did something really radical earlier this week. I booked my summer vacation. Now before you all think I’m a changed person, this vacation is not really our brainchild. Two friends are getting married in Las Vegas July 6. It’s an excuse to take a vacation that requires flight so I’ll take it.
Planning a summer vacation is just the thing to beat the sub-zero blues. I love flying, and I haven’t done it for about two years so it will be a treat. I’ve never been to Vegas, and Nate was there as a kid, so we just went along with the crowd when picking the hotel. We picked a little more upscale one on the strip, the same where our friends are getting married. It’s slightly more expensive, but two considerations come into play. First, that’s where the wedding is so it will be less walking. And second, I doubt we’ll get back there anytime soon, if at all, so we want to enjoy ourselves while we can.
Since we’ll be there for the Fourth of July, we’re hoping we’ll find some fireworks and celebrations. The biggest drawback is we’re visiting in July. However, I’ve been assured practically the whole city is air conditioned. Meanwhile, Jacob will be spending his first Independence Day with Grandma Debbie and the rest of the circus act. That’s the only part that makes this trip bittersweet. Jacob and I haven’t spent a night more than 20 feet apart since he was born. I’ll miss my little boy. Just like I missed Nate when we spent the weekend visiting people five hours apart a few weeks ago.
That’s a main purpose of my mom coming this weekend, to wean me and Jacob of each other. I figured we’d start slow: one night this weekend and two or three in the spring. Maybe by July I’ll be ready to let him go for a week. Maybe not.
Instead of worrying about it, I’ll have to comfort myself with researching the different attractions and entertainment in Vegas for now. And once we get there maybe I’ll be so busy with enjoying the wedding and having fun, I won’t even think about him that much. Maybe not. I even feel guilty about leaving him at daycare while I run errands if I get out of work early.
Now I know why parents bring their kids presents when they go on trips without them. It’s not to make the kid feel better. It’s to make the parents feel better.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Valentine's Day blues
Tuesday is Valentine’s Day. Whoopie. I used to really dread this holiday spawned from the evil minds of greeting card companies. (I think the flower wholesalers are in on it, too. Who else would schedule a flower-based holiday in the dead of winter when prices are at their peak?)
According to the card mafia, you’re never too young to celebrate the day of love. We started exchanging those little paper cards with cartoons on them in kindergarten. The good moms put lollipops with their kids’ Valentines. At that age, the teacher handed out a list, and you gave one to everybody in the class. Those were the days because you knew you weren’t going to be left out. You could always tell which were from girls and which were from boys. The writing was all just scribbles, but the girls always bought cute cards with flowers and puppies. The boys featured trucks and professional wrestlers. But it really didn’t matter what was on the card anyway. They were all destined for the garbage cans in a few weeks. Unless you had a scrapbooking mom, who also tended to be a candy mom.
In middle school, the Valentine tradition dramatically changed for the worse. The little cartoon Valentines become for friends only, and members of the opposite sex come into play. Valentine’s Day suddenly goes from a game everyone can play to something exclusive.
It only got worse in high school. On Valentine’s Day our cafeteria would become flower central as each girl secretly hoped her bouquet was the biggest. In order to cushion the blow to us single people, some moms (usually the ones that put suckers in the Valentines then scrapbooked them in elementary school) would send their kids flowers. Some got both: a single flower from the parents, then some arrangement too elaborate for high school love from a sweetheart.
Then there’s college, and the holiday begins to ease a bit. The first (and only) time I ever got flowers on Valentine’s Day was my freshman year of college. That was because my roommate and I worked on each other’s boyfriends to guilt them into buying us flowers. Otherwise, they would have been too cheap to spend a few bucks on the holiday. Slightly pathetic, but it worked.
As I got older, everything sort of evened out. Now, I know very few people who get flowers on Valentine’s Day, even the ones who are married or have boyfriends. Especially the married ones. Nate is not the most romantic type, so I expect the same from him this year as the last: nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. I got a prime rib dinner Sunday night at a very nice place last year. For a pregnant woman, that was just as good as flowers and chocolate. Maybe better.
But this year, with Valentine’s Day on a Tuesday, we won’t have time to go out. Therefore, something with petals and stems would be nice instead. But I’m not holding my breath.
According to the card mafia, you’re never too young to celebrate the day of love. We started exchanging those little paper cards with cartoons on them in kindergarten. The good moms put lollipops with their kids’ Valentines. At that age, the teacher handed out a list, and you gave one to everybody in the class. Those were the days because you knew you weren’t going to be left out. You could always tell which were from girls and which were from boys. The writing was all just scribbles, but the girls always bought cute cards with flowers and puppies. The boys featured trucks and professional wrestlers. But it really didn’t matter what was on the card anyway. They were all destined for the garbage cans in a few weeks. Unless you had a scrapbooking mom, who also tended to be a candy mom.
In middle school, the Valentine tradition dramatically changed for the worse. The little cartoon Valentines become for friends only, and members of the opposite sex come into play. Valentine’s Day suddenly goes from a game everyone can play to something exclusive.
It only got worse in high school. On Valentine’s Day our cafeteria would become flower central as each girl secretly hoped her bouquet was the biggest. In order to cushion the blow to us single people, some moms (usually the ones that put suckers in the Valentines then scrapbooked them in elementary school) would send their kids flowers. Some got both: a single flower from the parents, then some arrangement too elaborate for high school love from a sweetheart.
Then there’s college, and the holiday begins to ease a bit. The first (and only) time I ever got flowers on Valentine’s Day was my freshman year of college. That was because my roommate and I worked on each other’s boyfriends to guilt them into buying us flowers. Otherwise, they would have been too cheap to spend a few bucks on the holiday. Slightly pathetic, but it worked.
As I got older, everything sort of evened out. Now, I know very few people who get flowers on Valentine’s Day, even the ones who are married or have boyfriends. Especially the married ones. Nate is not the most romantic type, so I expect the same from him this year as the last: nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. I got a prime rib dinner Sunday night at a very nice place last year. For a pregnant woman, that was just as good as flowers and chocolate. Maybe better.
But this year, with Valentine’s Day on a Tuesday, we won’t have time to go out. Therefore, something with petals and stems would be nice instead. But I’m not holding my breath.
Friday, February 03, 2006
I miss college, or not
Some days I miss college an awful lot. Although I was poorer and had more drama, it sure was a lot of fun. Here’s a typical college day for me. I’d get up about an hour before class so I had time for a shower and checking e-mail. Unless class started before 10 a.m., then I would stay in bed until I absolutely had to get up. I’d throw on whatever comfortable clothes I had clean, usually a sweatshirt and jeans. A hat was added to the wardrobe on days with early morning class. Then I’d tie on my tennis shoes, throw on my backpack and walk to class.
After sitting through Professor Dull's 55 minute lecture, I’d head to the Student Center for a little breakfast or lunch, which ever meal it was closest to. After some socializing, it was back to a few more classes. Late afternoons were times for studying, usually in front of the television. Then it was supper, sorority meetings and more studying. If it was a Thursday night, maybe a trip to the local tavern for a study break. I’d also work a few hours of a part-time job in there as well.
I call that a typical day, but the great part of college is it’s completely flexible. I was only accountable to myself. So if I wanted to skip class, whether to finish a paper, study for a test, or take an impromptu shopping trip, that was up to me. The key to a fulfilling college career is the class schedule. The combination of classes is important as to not overload oneself. Also, avoid professors that have an attendance policy. The actual schedule can make or break a semester. I usually tried to work in a day off, preferably Thursday or Friday, to catch up on homework. Classes that are too early are detrimental to your social life if you’re not a morning person like me. I preferred not to start before 10 a.m. But I would compromise on that rule if I could get all my classes in by noon so I could take an afternoon nap.
But now, I guess I’ve moved up in the world. I have a job, husband and child. That means no more afternoon naps, shopping trips or staying up late on weeknights. Although many of my friends have graduated, a few are still in college. Many are still living the college lifestyle on weekends. A very few, but not many, have grown up. I’m the first to have a kid though, so that makes it hard for them to understand why I can’t drop everything and come visit for the weekend.
Even if I did go, Jacob would have to come with me, which eliminates any chance of a late night at the bar. But my college friends are also missing out on a lot they don’t realize yet. Yes, Jacob sometimes wakes me up for the day at 6 a.m., but it’s usually with a squeal and a big grin. He has the morning person gene, but I haven’t figured out where he got that from. I’m also looking forward to family trips, like to a cartoon movie, the zoo, circus or anywhere else two adults would seem strange without a kid in tow.
I still miss college some days. But most days I’m content to just spend it with my boys. Who needs another research paper anyway?
After sitting through Professor Dull's 55 minute lecture, I’d head to the Student Center for a little breakfast or lunch, which ever meal it was closest to. After some socializing, it was back to a few more classes. Late afternoons were times for studying, usually in front of the television. Then it was supper, sorority meetings and more studying. If it was a Thursday night, maybe a trip to the local tavern for a study break. I’d also work a few hours of a part-time job in there as well.
I call that a typical day, but the great part of college is it’s completely flexible. I was only accountable to myself. So if I wanted to skip class, whether to finish a paper, study for a test, or take an impromptu shopping trip, that was up to me. The key to a fulfilling college career is the class schedule. The combination of classes is important as to not overload oneself. Also, avoid professors that have an attendance policy. The actual schedule can make or break a semester. I usually tried to work in a day off, preferably Thursday or Friday, to catch up on homework. Classes that are too early are detrimental to your social life if you’re not a morning person like me. I preferred not to start before 10 a.m. But I would compromise on that rule if I could get all my classes in by noon so I could take an afternoon nap.
But now, I guess I’ve moved up in the world. I have a job, husband and child. That means no more afternoon naps, shopping trips or staying up late on weeknights. Although many of my friends have graduated, a few are still in college. Many are still living the college lifestyle on weekends. A very few, but not many, have grown up. I’m the first to have a kid though, so that makes it hard for them to understand why I can’t drop everything and come visit for the weekend.
Even if I did go, Jacob would have to come with me, which eliminates any chance of a late night at the bar. But my college friends are also missing out on a lot they don’t realize yet. Yes, Jacob sometimes wakes me up for the day at 6 a.m., but it’s usually with a squeal and a big grin. He has the morning person gene, but I haven’t figured out where he got that from. I’m also looking forward to family trips, like to a cartoon movie, the zoo, circus or anywhere else two adults would seem strange without a kid in tow.
I still miss college some days. But most days I’m content to just spend it with my boys. Who needs another research paper anyway?
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
My dream house...sorta
It looks as though Nate and I will be taking the big financial plunge sometime this year: buying a house. However, there will be no combing listings and touring house after house only to find our favorite is out of our price range. We already have one in mind. The location is perfect. It sits right across the driveway from the barn where the cows are milked. Nate’s already dreaming about the day he can walk out the door and right into the barn instead of to a cold truck.
Sizewise, it could be a little bigger. It’s two bedrooms, but has an unfinished basement and room to add on. But the location is so convenient, we really couldn’t ask for more. Well, except walls. And floors. And plumbing. For the past few years, the house has sat empty, except for whatever birds or mice may have invaded. I better go a little farther back. It was built sometime in the 50s or 60s, but separated from the farm building when Nate’s dad bought them in the 80s. When the owner died, a relative bought it with the intention of renovating it. It was gutted and re-roofed, but until this winter, that’s about as far as it got.
A little birdie must have told the owner Nate and I want to move closer to the farm because he’s suddenly stepped the remodeling into high gear. It doesn’t look much different on the outside, but the interior is undergoing quite a renovation. Basically, when it’s done, everything will be new except the poured concrete basement. New walls and insulation are going up on the inside and a pile of sheet rock sits in the kitchen where the island will eventually stand. After the interior is completed this winter, the exterior will get a facelift. New siding is all ready to be put up as soon as spring hits.
The good part about knowing we will buy it is we get to offer a lot of input on what goes into the house. I’ve been paging through home improvement magazines looking for ideas. The bad news is there’s so many decisions to make. For example, we need to decide soon on what kind of flooring we’d like in the kitchen, hall and bathroom. Linoleum, vinyl, laminate, tile? It’s a tough choice, and I’ll be stuck with whatever I choose until it wears out. And depending on what kind I get, that may be a long time.
The cabinet builder would like to get started on the cabinets soon, so we need to decide on those as well. The kitchen plan looks good, so now we’ll need to pick a wood and style. Then it will be trim, carpet and many more tedious choices. There’s also a small room, larger than a closet but too small for a bed, that we’re not quite sure what to do with. Maybe a laundry room or office, but who knows. When its sold to us, the walls will be primed, but we’ll pick the paint colors. Since I’ve lived in rentals for all my adult life, colored paint is a foreign concept from basic white.
But all the work should be worth it when we can wake up to the twitter of song birds instead of the neighbor guy peeling out of our shared driveway in the middle of the night. Not to mention Nate and I may finally be able to eat meals together.
Sizewise, it could be a little bigger. It’s two bedrooms, but has an unfinished basement and room to add on. But the location is so convenient, we really couldn’t ask for more. Well, except walls. And floors. And plumbing. For the past few years, the house has sat empty, except for whatever birds or mice may have invaded. I better go a little farther back. It was built sometime in the 50s or 60s, but separated from the farm building when Nate’s dad bought them in the 80s. When the owner died, a relative bought it with the intention of renovating it. It was gutted and re-roofed, but until this winter, that’s about as far as it got.
A little birdie must have told the owner Nate and I want to move closer to the farm because he’s suddenly stepped the remodeling into high gear. It doesn’t look much different on the outside, but the interior is undergoing quite a renovation. Basically, when it’s done, everything will be new except the poured concrete basement. New walls and insulation are going up on the inside and a pile of sheet rock sits in the kitchen where the island will eventually stand. After the interior is completed this winter, the exterior will get a facelift. New siding is all ready to be put up as soon as spring hits.
The good part about knowing we will buy it is we get to offer a lot of input on what goes into the house. I’ve been paging through home improvement magazines looking for ideas. The bad news is there’s so many decisions to make. For example, we need to decide soon on what kind of flooring we’d like in the kitchen, hall and bathroom. Linoleum, vinyl, laminate, tile? It’s a tough choice, and I’ll be stuck with whatever I choose until it wears out. And depending on what kind I get, that may be a long time.
The cabinet builder would like to get started on the cabinets soon, so we need to decide on those as well. The kitchen plan looks good, so now we’ll need to pick a wood and style. Then it will be trim, carpet and many more tedious choices. There’s also a small room, larger than a closet but too small for a bed, that we’re not quite sure what to do with. Maybe a laundry room or office, but who knows. When its sold to us, the walls will be primed, but we’ll pick the paint colors. Since I’ve lived in rentals for all my adult life, colored paint is a foreign concept from basic white.
But all the work should be worth it when we can wake up to the twitter of song birds instead of the neighbor guy peeling out of our shared driveway in the middle of the night. Not to mention Nate and I may finally be able to eat meals together.
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