Peeing in a Concrete Jungle

It is Ottenberg family vacation time and the itinerary has me quaking in my boots.  Right now, Maia and I are holed up in a hotel in Downtown Atlanta while Geoff attends a conference during the day. Yesterday, she and I went to the Children's Museum and the Georgia Aquarium and a day of fun and excitement. Phew, I am paying for it today!  

Museum's Fairytale Exhibit

Penguins!!!!

Getting away from home has been so nice, but I wish we didn't have the pups with us.  Being in the middle of a concrete jungle means that there is no place nearby to walk Pepper and Chupí.  As per our agreement, dog walking duty falls on Geoff's shoulders.  Yet, my dumb-ass decided to help out last night, and walked Chups on my own after dinner.  It was my first attempt at dog walking since I've become dependent on crutches.  And yes, Maia came with me.

The three of us set out for our adventure in a light drizzle during the early evening, but late enough that there were few others on the street.  Chupí refused to pee on fire hydrants or the side of the building, so we walked on.  Maia was in charge of the poop bags.  Little did I know, we were in a modern day adaptation of Hansel & Gretel.  As we walked, she unrolled bags to make sure we didn't get lost.  We made it to the corner of the block when I hear an, "Uh oh, Mommy." Oh those fateful words send shivers down my spine.  She ran out of her path medium.  Luckily the rain made the bags stick to the sidewalk.  In my mind's eye, I imagine I looked like that guy from "There's Something about Mary."  It took me FOR-EV-ER to balance and bend down, pick up, and roll/fold up those damn bags!

Occupy Atlanta has taken up residence in the nearest park, so there were too many barricades for me to attempt a trip to the park with the kid, dog, and crutch in the rain and dark.  So, however illegal it may be, I tempted Chupí up into a building's landscaping to do his business. Take that Big Business....

Bah...Humbug...

Even my stars are crooked

I love the holiday season. I know, that seems counter intuitive considering my crusty exterior and all.  For Christ's sake (Yes, you too may marvel at my unintended pun), Thanksgiving has just been put in the refrigerator.   I tried to psych myself up by playing Christmas carols, living vicariously through my joyous daughter, but alas I am just too tired.  I can't count on the Hubby to help me get into any sort of spirit.  He begrudgingly assembled the tree, brought in the Christmas boxes and ran Flo Jo style (sorry Honey, but you do run like a girl) back into our bedroom to P90X it or whatever it is boys do behind closed doors.
Gone are the days of Norman Rockwell and June Cleaver.  From an outsider's point of view I am sure that I more closely resemble Peg Bundy.  My cleavage hanging out, derriere firmly planted to the couch.  Little do they know all of the crazy stuff that one can do from my little corner of the couch.

For instance:

Reindeer Noses

• I removed the noses from juvenile reindeer and bagged them to the delight of Maia's classmates.

• Note that each bag includes 8 brown noses and a single red schnoz. With 13 classmates, that means I had to snare, clean, & slaughter 117 reindeer. All from my couch. That takes quite a bit of planning. (Note the polar bear I managed to stuff in there as well).

Color Pencil Vase

 

 

 

 

•  As if that wasn't enough brown noses, I whittled this gorgeous vase for my daughter's teacher.

See, so I do just fine in my little corner.....

How We Got to this Point

Look Mom! I spelled that word I am not allowed to say... As Geoff giggles and waits for me to correct her spelling.

Above is a note left for me by my darling four year old as she proudly exclaimed, "Look Mom, I spelled that word I'm not allowed to say!"  Recoil with shame you say?!? Not me. No, no, no. I proudly posted it to Facebook for all to see.  But, as with everything, there is a back-story and it is said story that warms the cockles of my heart.  Maia did not set out to write "Fuk."  She was pulling letter stickers out three at a time and trying to make words from said letters.  It just so happened that with this draw she got a u, f, and k.  

So where does pride factor into the equation you ask? For one thing, my kid knew that vowels "are the glue that stick the words together." Secondly, she knows her vowels at 4. Crap, when I alphabetize things, I sing the ABC Song in my head.  Well, okay... sometimes out loud.  Lastly, she was able to sound out the letters to create a word.

If you are like me, you are rolling your eyes and saying, "Some genius, she didn't even spell the work correctly."  True, true.  Alas, we will not be sending her off to med school at 10.   As a diligent mother I felt it was duty to correct her spell.  Gasp! Relax we did not focus on the word at hand, but rather some clever rhyming words. So, from this moment of parenting horror, my child has a handle on the -ck blend.  Fuck yea!

Back Off Bitch!

Am I the only person that is seething with the desire to tell all helpers (be it human, webpage, or book) to go fly a kite?  I feel like such a twerp for having these feelings, but dear lord!  A nice lady decided to assist me today, despite my protests, and I think my toe is broken.  Not to mention the fact that I noticed she gave herself a hernia lifting the shopping bags I could have placed into the trunk myself.  I appreciate that she was kind enough to help out... really I do... but dammit when I smile and say, "No thanks, I got it." That should be ENOUGH!  Yesterday I was pretty sure my brain was liquifying in my skull and that little bugs were gnawing at my sinus cavity, I would have eaten her alive.  I cannot be held responsible for my actions under such conditions.
That being said, it is great that we live in a place where people seem to genuinely care about others. It really is. While in Philly, my trials were sometimes comic fodder for my neighbors.  I am still pissed off about hearing chuckles as I crawled into the house because I couldn't navigate the ice and being mugged while pregnant. But, I need a happy medium.
I am also frustrated with the webpages and books intending to help those of us with disabilities adapt to parenthood and the world at large.  It all seems so irrelevant.  Admittedly it is hard to appeal to the masses because our needs are so individualistic. But why suck so bad. Yes, I am just complaining, I have no real solution. I just needed a forum to rant. That is all....