What I have to say tonight

Update on me (because you are dying to know.):

• We are moving at the end of the month and I have done....nothing to prepare. Nothing. Zero. And you know what? I just can't bring myself to care. I think I have successfully internalized my new year's resolution-the goal is to simply make it through 2011. Survive. Let the movers come. Let them pack all of the chaos and move it to the new house. Let the new house be chaos too. As long as nobody is emotionally or physically ruined for life. So there.
• I got my hair highlighted last Friday. Not drastic, but lightened. You know what? Not a soul has noticed. You know why? I have become a hermit. Basically aside from early morning preschool drop offs and a few weekend excursions with the family, I haven't left the house. I have been sick, yes, but this has gone too far. I am a social being, and I have become a loner. That is not who I am.
• I am overwhelmed by the preschool enrollment process. Because we are moving to Oakland we need to find a new school for Evan this fall. Of course the process started last month, and we have already missed the deadlines at some of the best places. Now we have to hurry up and do the tours, submit the paperwork and... pray. One of the schools actually indicated on their website that there would be a parent and child "interview"before making an enrollment decision. Interview my 2.5 year old? I can tell you his answers in advance, and they are unlikely to impress- "To infinity and beyond!" "Dinaco's all mine!" or my personal favorite, "I pooped in my diaper!" Maybe I am going to have to consider homeschooling after all.
• I got so desperate for something to watch tonight that I actually watched Jersey Shore. It is that bad. Never, never again.

That's all she wrote...goodnight.

Yes....it's a tragedy.

Okay, this is serious. The husband has claimed the television tonight, for football. Football. We only have one TV-just what am I suppose to do tonight? I can only make nice in blogger world for so long before I start having Real Housewives withdrawal symptoms.

Plus I'm still sick and pathetic, and want nothing more than to lie on the sofa and fill my mind with lovely "reality" mush.

What's that? I should read? Bah. Stop it. I haven't found my next good book. I'm stuck. I have nothing loaded up on the Nook. Suggestions anyone? Anyone? Think lots of drama, tears, tragedy, no vampires, no dragon tattoos or kid wizards-just good old fashion stories of family mayhem.

I need my TV. But my husband isn't budging. He says that it's a "big game." Oh aren't they all? Bigger than catching the 411 with Andy Cohen, Watch What Happens? Not possible.

But I lose. The only glimmer of hope for the rest of this evening is that along with some antibiotics, my doctor prescribed me cough syrup with codeine to knock-me-out. Oh hallelujah! Bring it on. Unconscious sounds pretty good these days.

Date Night

I probably shouldn't even attempt to post, since my heart isn't fully in it, yet I feel as though I am due and maybe it will be better and more enjoyable than anticipated once I start typing.

I am not going to bore you with a list of my current ailments. You all must take me for a total hypochondriac by now, which I never have been. Seriously I am usually healthy as a horse. But as you all know by my endless pathetic posts, these past few months have been a bit of a nightmare for me. Long story short, still under the weather, hitting about a 2 out of 10 on the energy scale and generally feeling sorry for myself.

Yet last night the husband and I managed to squeak out some sort of a date night in honor of his birthday.. It wasn't exactly the evening he had hoped for, he was looking forward to an evening in San Francisco, checking out a few watering holes and having a nice dinner at a trendy restaurant. I just didn't have it in me. So we settled on a movie and dinner in Berkeley. I almost called the whole thing off, but I am glad that we went. It had been over three months since David and I had spent any quality time alone, and in fact our very last date night was the night before The Pregnancy Test. Now that was a fun night. I didn't know that I was knocked up and I was feeling great. We went to an English style pub and drank beer and port wine until we were the perfect amount of tipsy. It was a great date.

So it was time for another date, and if we waited until I was feeling well, it may never have happened. So we went.

We saw 127 Hours, the true story of Aron Ralston, a dare devil rock climber who gets caught in a canyon in Moab when his arm gets stuck under a boulder. You probably remember the story, especially if you enjoy People Magazine as much as I do. It wasn't exactly a light-hearted romantic comedy, but my husband doesn't much go for those types of flicks anyway. It was good. And best of all, as I watched Aron saw off his arm in bloody agony, I thought to myself.... "See self, your coughing fits don't look so bad now do they?"

After the movie we headed to a late dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant. Not the most amazing dining experience ever, but so nice to have some real conversation with my husband. No kid's interrupting, no trying to communicate while running a vacuum cleaner, and no TV distractions. Just us. And it was lovely. I am a lucky lady.

Quick Story

This morning I dropped the boys off at preschool. It is usually a pretty uneventful affair. They both like going to school and have no separation anxiety....what-so-ever.



Today Zack took it to a new level. We arrived to the "Rainbow Room" where before care takes place. It's usually the same few early bird cast of characters including the Dynamic Duo-a mom and four year old daughter who just seem to love each other so much!! The have a routine. After mommy gets her little angle settled in they give each other three kisses, a nose nuzzle and then mommy gets a "push" out the door. Ahhh.... melt your heart.



Well today right in front of this mother-daughter fantasy Zack was at his finest. I leaned over to give Zack a kiss on the head, and he looked me straight in the eye and said: "I hope you have a very bad day mommy." Huh? You want a bad day bud? I'll give you a bad day! How about fish and brussel sprouts for dinner? How about we skip the 15 pages of Where The Sidewalk Ends and read People Magazine before bed? But no, I bit my tongue, finished my kiss, wished the boys a happy day and went on my way, avoiding all eye contact with supermom. I left knowing deep in my heart that Zack didn't really mean it....right? He adores me.....right? Right?

The good, the bad and the ugly

Today was a mixed bag. It started out pretty rotten, got better, worse then better.

Here is why:

This morning: I awoke with my rib pain at a new level. I have been experiencing some pretty serious pain due to a lot of coughing combined with pregnancy related issues for a couple of weeks now. It has progressively gotten worse. Every time I cough it feels as if I am being stabbed. Okay, so I have never been stabbed before (knock on wood, spit three times), but you get the drift. I took useless Tylenol and got ready for work. It was my day to be in the city, so I headed off, quite slowly to the BART. As I waited for the train to pick me up, I unbuttoned my jacket, to show off my growing belly, thinking that surly this would guarantee me a much needed seat. Wrong-O.

I boarded a packed car. I positioned myself in front of the seats that are reserved for the elderly, disabled and pregnant women. In those seats sat a young woman engrossed in her newspaper and a man hunched over typing away on his Blackberry. Neither of them looked up. Nobody offered me a seat. I stood there coughing now and then and clutching my aching ribs. I am sure I had a scowl on my face. The man's head was inches from my belly, but he would not take his eyes off the blackberry. I was contemplating saying something. Something like, "If you are going to sit in the seats reserved for pregnant ladies and old people, you need to look around every now and then to see if someone actually needs them." But I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to cause a scene. Minutes away from the stop, the man looked directly at my stomach and stammered "I'm sorry, do you want my seat?" "No" I told him briskly, "My stop is next." "Sorry" he mumbled, and I am guessing he genuinely was, but I didn't feel like letting him off the hook. "It's fine" was all I responded, in the coldest voice I could muster.

I walked at a snail's pace to the office, stopping now and then for another coughing fit. By the time I arrived at work I was in a pretty foul mood. My nose was red, my coffee was cold and I hurt.

But things got better. I got to my desk and found a lovely bouquet of flowers from my employer in honor of my first official week as a Ketchum employee. Sometimes there is nothing like flowers to brighten the day. I was cheered. My boss also invited me to lunch, and we had a nice meal at a nice restaurant. It occurred to me how lucky I am to have landed this job. I like the work, I am proud of the company and my boss is terrific. All good things. I felt happy.

The afternoon: My ribs continued to throb, and the coughing was relentless and embarrassing. I struggled to have professional phone conversations all day. By 2:00 I was wondering why my doctor had yet to return my phone call. I needed to speak with her. I needed help. This hurt too much. I left another message.

By 4:30 I felt and looked like garbage. I knew that I could not make the walk back to the BART station, it would be too painful. My boss gave me a lift. On the train, I was lucky to find a seat, but that didn't stop the ugly, messy tears from flowing....in public. I was frustrated with my doctor, I was overwhelmed with searing pain, I was fed up with feeling miserable. Crying made it worse. I felt weak and vulnerable, and well....stupid. What grown woman cries on the BART?

The tears didn't stop there. As soon as I walked in the door I dissolved into a sobbing mess in front of Lindsay, our nanny. She was wonderful, giving me a hug and offering to drive me to the ER, which I was contemplating since my lousy doctor had yet to return my call.

The evening: Finally at 6:00 the phone rang. A prescription for Vicotin was sent to the pharmacy and by 7:30 I had swallowed two pills. At 8:00 the pain started to subside. Oh HALLELUJAH. Sometimes there is nothing better than simply the absence of agony.

I am now off for (hopefully) a good, peaceful night sleep, and I am praying that tomorrow, it's all good.

Birthday bust.

Today was my husband's birthday, and between you and me, it kind of sucked. But I swear, it wasn't my fault. I did my part. I had the boys make "Happy Birthday!" posters for their daddy. I wrapped up (good) gifts, I made a cake (from scratch), I offered to get a sitter for the night, which he declined. We got pizza from one of his favorite restaurants and attempted a nice family dinner, but really it was all a bust.

Why? Rose Bowl hangover that's why. On January 1st my husband decided to forgo our usual New Year's tradition of preparing a delicious Greek meal for friends, and hopped on a plane to join two of his best buddies from college in watching their beloved Badgers in the big game. While I was a bit disappointed to miss out on the all the feta cheese and Kapama, I understood that this was an awesome opportunity. But I knew what the consequences would be. I knew that the amazing time (of over indulgence) with his former frat brothers on January 1 would result in a fairly miserable January 2nd. Which it did.

He arrived home at about 10:30 this morning. I could tell by the look on his face...this wasn't going to be a high-energy day. (I told you so, I thought but did not say out loud.) The boys wanted him to open up his birthday gifts right away, he dutifully obliged. After opening up his brand new Ipad he looked about as excited as if I had purchased him a Low-Fat Vegan cook book. I'm sure he liked it, but he was just too tired to show it.

We then decided to take the boys to the Chabot Science Museum. It was okay, except that Evan kept insisting on taking off his shirt and shoes, and Zachary was generally cranky. Daddy actually started to nod off during the Astronaut movie, which for some reason scared the socks of Mr. Z. Go figure.

This evening after spending a fortune on the beloved Zachary's Pizza, the boys refused to eat, or even sit at the table with their father for his birthday dinner. Evan started demanding cake and Zack started throwing things. He ended up in time out and I, nearly in tears. This isn't how it is suppose to go...right? The applesauce-spice cake with cream cheese frosting was okay at best, but rather dry, leaving me to believe that I should have just used a mix.

The boys "went to bed" at 7:45, and the husband is close to passing out.

So there you have it, my husband's birthday. If it were my birthday, I'd want a rain check. But birthday's aren't a big deal to everyone, my husband included. He had a blast with his friends at the game, and I believe that he is comfortable with the consequences, so who am I to question it?

Happy birthday sweetie, now go to bed!

It ain't a party till someone takes their pants off.

Cliche: Wow. A year went by already? Where did 2010 go? Just flew by. Whizzzzzzz.

Cliche, but it sure does hold true, year after year. And here we are embarking on 2011. This will be a big year for our family, a year that will be permanently written into Kargas history with the (knock on wood) healthy birth of our newest member.

We celebrated last night with some friends. We traveled to Pleasanton to go to a New Year's Eve party. There we were served lobster, steak and shrimp. The kid's played video games, watched Toy Story and counted down the New Year at 10pm. Evan of course was the life of the party encouraging everyone to let loose, dropping his pants and pull up and running around the house half naked. Now that's a party. All and all it was a fantastic time, although I could have done with more than a 1/2 glass of champagne, and without the comment from one well meaning guest "Are you sure you're not having twins?" Ha. Ha. Never heard that one before. It won't be the last time.

There was no talk of new year's resolutions, and I was quite glad, for this year I have only one. It isn't to exercise more, to organize my closets or put in more volunteer hour's at the preschool. Nope. My goal for 2011 is to simply...survive. While I have no doubt 2011 will bring a great deal of joy, I am also well aware that a lot of challenge will tag along. We have our work cut out for us this year, and I think that the best we can do is to try and get through it, hopefully with a smile on our faces and a few laughs along the way.

Happy New Year!