Jenmommy's blog

My ten-month-old came to class with me today, because my babysitter wasn't "feeling well." I'm glad she (my sister-in-law, by the way) called my husband's cell and not our home phone, because if I had answered, I may have said something that you shouldn't SAY to family! I love my sister-in-law, but man was I pissed at the situation!

I've been searching for child care since I moved to this town, but the waiting lists even have waiting lists. Thank God for my sister-in-law, even though she charges to babysit her niece, which I wouldn't do. I've done babysitting for family for free before, and if I was in the position to help out, I would do so again. That's just me, though.

I just read a long blog and a handful of the responses about why gay people shouldn't be allowed to have kids. One responder floated the oft-stated idea that people should all be licensed before being allowed to raise children, and poverty would be one of the discriminating factors against.

Why?

Granted, poor people have a harder time finding adequate medical care, keeping enough food in the house, keeping fuel in the gas tank, hell, even keeping a car to keep fuel in. And yes, socioeconomic status is statistically the greatest factor in a child's life in regards to completion of school and financial success in the future.

I need a kick in the butt. I'm tired from getting up in the middle of the night with the baby. She was sleeping through the night, but her schedule changes week to week, and lateley she's getting up to eat at 2 am. I'm depressed because my house is a mess and there are some jobs my kids can't do and that I just can't do one-handed (baby attached to hip 24/7). I don't have enough get-up-and-go to get out the door and do my jogging when Miss Priss finally goes down for her morning nap.

Coffee
c. jennifer k. hilsinger 2001

Oh, Lovely little coffee bean,

When you are crushed and percolated,
You have such an marvelous scent

When you are stirred with cream, so sweet,
I savor your rich taste

You waken desire to drink so fast,
But you must not wish haste

For when you arrive at my tender lips,
Freshly from your pot,

Your caress could burn my tongue,

Someone on another website I frequent (babyfit.com) wanted some ideas of what to do if it is too hot to take a toddler outside to play. Here are my favorite top-ten that I used to do with my kids when we didn't have the option of heading outdoors.

1) Cut out oversize footprints from aluminum foil and tape these in a track that loops and twirls all over the apartment while DH is napping. When she wakes up, she has to follow the footprints, step by painstaking step, to her "treasure" at the end of the trail ('nilla wafers.)

In between calling the medical insurance people to find out who my daughter's doctor is (and it happens to be in the second town over, about 20 miles away because nobody in a 10 mile radius is accepting new patients), calling that doctor's office to discover that there are no openings for appointments for the next six weeks, calling a clinic that will take her in four weeks, calling the first doctor back to be put on a waiting list in case an opening comes up sooner, accepting a call from my dad who is bringing his piano to come live at my house this Saturday, and calling my husband to let him know who all I'd called and been called by *big whoooshing intake of air*...

I still haven't made it out the back door. I have, however, made it up and down the staircase quite a few times. I've also started mopping the floors on a daily basis - I have linoleum tiles in the kitchen and the livingroom and the hallway, and I have an obsessive urge to finish every job I start, so I am guaranteed at least a twenty minute workout if I start sweeping and mopping. At least my baby girl will have a very clean floor to learn to crawl on.

Liberty’s Gown
c. 2002 jennifer k. hilsinger

Her purity and innocence
Are signified by white
Vigilance and justice
Are the blue of shadowed night
Fearlessness and valor
Painted red her vivid gown
And for this She’ll never fade,
Or run, or be worn down
For everyone, she proudly wears
Pure white and midnight blue
But defenders of her home
She wears the red for you

Even when I went back to college I had it together. I worked out. I lived on a ranch and just getting by required a certain level of physical labor.

I don't know what happened the last semester, though. 2005 was a hard year. It started when we didn't get our income-tax return. Apparently, when my husband left the military, we still owed $60 on his AAFES account. Over the last five years, we had not received one bill, and the late fees, handling fees, interest on late fees and handling fees, had blossomed into a $3,000 bill, which the government happily took all at once. Then my husband lost his job. He got another one right away, but we got behind.

It's all my fault, Texas. It is raining because I decided that Today is "The Day" for me to start jogging. It is flooding in parts of the state and raining here because Somebody apparently doesn't ever want me to get any exercise. I apologize. If you washed your car yesterday, I apologize. If you wanted to go on a picnic or go swimming or fishing today, I apologize.

I started this blog yesterday as a means of making myself accountable to myself. I was going to start running again after a very long period of slothfulness, and I wanted to be held publicly accountable for my activity or lack thereof. And today, my first day, I get a challenge: "I dare you to run in this."

AAAWWWWWLLLLLRIGHTY THEN!!!

Miss Priss (A.K.A. "The Baby") is sipping her breastmilk from a cup and eating three solid meals a day. That means I no longer have the "I'm exclusively breastfeeding" excuse not to exercise. And it was such a nice excuse, too. I'm sad to see it go, but I won't be sad to see those lovehandles disappear!

I have absolutely no idea how much I weigh right now. I threw out the scale when I got pregnant, and I could barely stand to look when they weighed me at the doctor's office. I DO know that I'm having trouble zipping the size 14's and that is bad news.