I had an all-boy day today. Two friends with their little boys came over, and we divvied up girltalk with keeping the five boys amused and only mildly destructive. No blood or tears were shed, so I think it was successful.

Of the topics discussed, one thing stayed with me in a major way -- our mutual agreement that it's just really fucking hard to stop being poor. At least two of us have gone through reversals of fortune (such as they are) in the past few years, and my friend was absolutely on target when she observed that it's just so hard to move one step up from poor. And all it takes is one thing to make you spiral downward again.

Everyone probably has things that make them tense up like a spring; my thing is panicking about money. I just get all nuts when DH and I are figuring out our finances, and we discover we only have $XX to last us for a number of days (or even weeks). We have brief periods of time when I can relax... shop at Target without panicking if I buy cookies... but mostly, we live paycheck to paycheck and the thought of anything extra scares me to death.

Currently, we're struggling with the possibility of getting a car. We have a '93 Corolla that's totally paid off, but needs some brake work and doesn't quite fit three car seats in the back. We can do it, but it's really, really tight. I have family in the car business, so my cousin did some research and said he could get us into an '05 Ford Freestar with less than 30k for about $200 per month plus tax on a lease.

We were thrilled at first, mostly. The car looks great. But the payment scares us, and DH discovered that our auto insurance bill would nearly triple. DH and my cousin discussed it and decided to check out older, larger sedans. But for now, we do nothing.

Added to the potential of a car payment, I have dental work that really needs to be done. My maryland bridge is falling out, and while I thought it could just be replaced ($2,100), it appears that the only practical option may have to be a dental implant ($4,000, including two periodontal procedures). I'm actually comparison-shopping dentists. I have dental coverage from work, but it only covers about half of up to $1,000. I have to do something; I don't know what to do.

Now, I have a fussy baby who needs to be changed, so I'm going to go deal with that. But in the meantime, I wish for you and me love, peace, comfort and practical stuff like heat and hot water for 2006.  

["Do you feel sad sometimes, like your heart has a tummyache?" - King of the Hill]

Giant steps for the JT family today! After a really sleepless night filled with DH and me saying "did the other ones do this?" over and over again (Benjamin drank and fussed seemingly all night long), I brought the older boys to my mom's. She then drove us to Northbrook Court, where I signed Jake and Danny up for Snippets.

Now, you all know there was no such thing when we were kids. Nowadays, our kids get treated like mini royalty, with fancy cars instead of barber chairs, hair products that smell like candy, and movies to watch while they're clipped. Why, you ask, did I put my family through this for $17 each plus tip? Because Danny has had owl-like hair horns while cowlicks grow out, and every time we have to cut his hair, he really freaks out. My mom has been begging me to get the boys "real" haircuts instead of having me or DH hack away at them in the bathtub.

I fully expected Danny to throw a class-A tantrum in Snippets, but shockingly, he was amazing. The stylist (Sandy, if you must know) was wonderful. She did Jacob first, and he barely flinched at all. Danny watched him from a red fire truck two stations down. He wasn't much impressed by Jacob's calm, but the fact that a younger boy came in and had his hair cut with no gushes of blood definitely impressed him.

They came out with adorable haircuts, smiling faces, and lollipopped mouths. We hit Baby Gap to buy the only baby socks that actually stay on babies' feet, and then let the boys play in the indoor playground until we couldn't stand the crowds anymore.

After I got the boys home, I wrapped the baby up and took him to the pediatrician for his checkup. His jaundice is much improved, and he has gotten safely bigger -- he's up to 8 lbs, 12 oz (!!) and grew an inch since last week, to 20 1/4 inches. We did get permission to take him to New York, but we're not allowed to let other kids around him, let other people hold him, etc. We practically have to wrap ourselves and him in Purell and Saran Wrap, and then just hope for the best.

Tomorrow, the boys have a playdate -- finally, since I've kind of quarantined us all since the baby was born -- and then we'll have to see what the New Year brings!

G'wan -- read Flea's post on the Magic Kitties and try, just try, not to choke up with (a) sniffles and/or (b) laughter.

I'm still working on recovering from that whole giving birth thing, being slapped emotionally across the face as the other two rugrats try to adjust to all of this, and figure out the least expensive and germy way to transport my entire family to New York next weekend (pediatrician's go-ahead pending) for my grandmother's 95th birthday.

I have very little funny for you, and not much of interest. So far this week, I have:
- mostly mastered the fine art of using the Pump In Style,
- observed a huge family fight from the sidelines (thank G-d, they haven't turned on me yet),
- listened to too much child-coughing,
- watched the same episode of The Colbert Report in three different timeslots,
- attempted to watch the Larry David ep of "Sitdown Comedy with David Steinberg" but still only seen the same 20 minutes several times,
- run the dishwasher probably 15 times,
- went to Target four times,
- changed and/or watched DH change nearly 100 diapers and Pull-Ups.

On that last, don't feel too sorry for me. Feel more for DH, who manfully takes on the vast majority of disgusting jobs around the house. He's much better at dealing with things like stinky diapers without puking than I. I rewarded him with a big bag of York Peppermint Patties yesterday. He totally deserves it.

We're all super tired and Jacob is acting up a bit (between the little bris and his holiday adventures at school, he's wiped out), but on the whole I'm feeling quite blessed right now.

It could be the codeine, but I'm going to say it's the kids.

1. The Ibuprofen that was keeping my pain in control between doses of codeine has begun to make me horribly ill. Tylenol alone just doesn't cut it. Darn.

2. I have a headache. Admittedly, I might have brought it upon myself, since I had a Sharp's after dinner. I have maybe three or four doses of my migraine medicine left, because of some snafu with the doctor's office. I'm going to have to go see the doctor in order to get a new prescription, so I'm guarding these pills like you wouldn't believe. I can't decide whether to use one and feel better now, or save them just in case.

3. I haven't been able to get my e-mail all day. Apparently my company got attacked with some worm, and they must have shut off web mail. I doubt I'm expecting any state secrets, but it feels weird to be shut off this way.

We welcome with love

Benjamin Ryan

Thursday, December 15th, 2005
at 9:11 a.m.

Seven pounds, seven ounces
Nineteen inches long

Half the planet is blogging about him, but why should that stop me? It's much better to revisit some funny shit (again) than to hear me complain about STILL being pregnant and miserable... FYI, it's much funnier to see/hear it than to read it, but this Quicktime link is slow. I'm sure it's being stretched to the limit.

Racist Word Association Interview
Interviewer.....Chevy Chase
Mr. Wilson.....Richard Pryor

Interviewer: Alright, Mr. Wilson, you've done just fine on the Rorshact.. your papers are in good order.. your file's fine.. no difficulties with your motor skills.. And I think you're probably ready for this job. We've got one more psychological test we always do here. It's just a Word Association. I'll throw you out a few words - anything that comes to your mind, just throw back at me, okay? It's kind of an arbitrary thing. Like, if I say "dog", you'd say..?
Mr. Wilson: "Tree".
Interviewer: "Tree". [ nods head, prepares the test papers ] "Dog".
Mr. Wilson: "Tree".
Interviewer: "Fast".
Mr. Wilson: "Slow".
Interviewer: "Rain".
Mr. Wilson: "Snow".
Interviewer: "White".
Mr. Wilson: "Black".
Interviewer: "Bean".
Mr. Wilson: "Pod".
Interviewer: [ casually ] "Negro".
Mr. Wilson: "Whitey".
Interviewer: "Tarbaby".
Mr. Wilson: [ silent, sure he didn't hear what he thinks he heard ] What'd you say?
Interviewer: [ repeating ] "Tarbaby".
Mr. Wilson: "Ofay".
Interviewer: "Colored".
Mr. Wilson: "Redneck".
Interviewer: "Junglebunny".
Mr. Wilson: [ starting to get angry ] "Peckerwood!"
Interviewer: "Burrhead".
Mr. Wilson: [ defensive ] "Cracker!"
Interviewer: [ aggressive ] "Spearchucker".
Mr. Wilson: "White trash!"
Interviewer: "Jungle Bunny!"
Mr. Wilson: [ upset ] "Honky!"
Interviewer: "Spade!
Mr. Wilson: [ really upset ] "Honky Honky!"
Interviewer: [ relentless ] "Nigger!"
Mr. Wilson: [ immediate ] "Dead honky!" [ face starts to flinch ]
Interviewer: [ quickly wraps the interview up ] Okay, Mr. Wilson, I think you're qualified for this job. How about a starting salary of $5,000?
Mr. Wilson: Your momma!
Interviewer: [ fumbling ] Uh.. $7,500 a year?
Mr. Wilson: Your grandmomma!
Interviewer: [ desperate ] $15,000, Mr. Wilson. You'll be the highest paid janitor in America. Just, don't.. don't hurt me, please.
Mr. Wilson: Okay.
Interviewer: [ relieved ] Okay.
Mr. Wilson: You want me to start now?
Interviewer: Oh, no, no.. that's alright. I'll clean all this up. Take a couple of weeks off, you look tired.

So I discussed the P.E.T. book we're reading at home, yes? I haven't finished it (hijacked it from DH while he was distracted on his laptop and did manage to make major headway) but so far, I have to say I see why he's so impressed. These communication skills really seem like they'd apply beautifully to more than just parenting situations. I'm wondering if I'll have the nerve to apply this to the rest of my family, co-workers, etc.

Family Member Who Shall Not Be Named:
"When are you and DH going to get rid of those boxes in your dining room? It's such a mess. I don't know how you're going to have the bris at your apartment."
Me, Listening Actively:
"It sounds like you're really upset about my apartment."
FMWSNBN:
"Well, I don't know how you can live like that. I know you're really pregnant, but can't someone help you?"
Me:
"It really bothers you that my apartment isn't neat and organized."
etc. etc. etc.

I haven't read enough to really predict where that conversation would go, but note my not getting defensive and angry. For now, we're just concentrating on using this on the kids. So far, I've had two marvelous examples.

1. Danny, blowing a fit Tuesday night in his room because the CDs kept skipping in their CD player. The skipping freaks him out. He is wailing. Jacob is (miraculously) sleeping in the top bunk. This is the fifth or sixth time I've been called for since putting the kids to bed.
Me:
Danny, what's wrong?
Danny:
THE CD SKIPPING! IT'S SKIPPING! AHHHH!
At this point, I push the button to advance to the next song, and the CD plays normally. Danny continues to wail.
Me:
Wow, the sound of the CD skipping really scares you, huh?
Danny, immediately ceasing cries:
Yeah.
*pause*, followed by Danny curling up in his blanket peacefully. Shocked and amazed, I kiss him goodnight and leave him to fall back asleep.

2. Jake and Danny, arguing furiously in the living room last night. Since I awoke with major laryngitis yesterday morning, I am completely unable to intervene via my normal lumbering-pregnancy method, which is to call out "what's going on in there?" while I (possibly) force myself upright and stumble into the room. The situation apparently escalates, a scuffle ensues, and Jacob starts scream-crying, a particularly unattractive habit that usually means Danny has bitten or hit him.
Jacob, screaming:
I'M TELLING ON YOU! MOMMMMMY!!! AHHHHHHH!!!! MOMMMMMMY!
Jacob comes into my room, clutching the shoulder of his pajama top.
Me, whispering (laryngitis):
What is it?
Jacob, still crying loudly:
Danny bited me on my back and it hurts! Can you see if he left a bite on my back? I think I'm bleeding! Ahhhhhh!
Me, motioning for him to come closer:
Wow, it sounds like you really feel mad when Danny hurts you.
Jacob, calmer:
Yeah. Can you look at it, please?
Me:
Sure. Let's take your shirt off. (there is a small but undeniable mark on his shoulder blade) Looks like there is a small mark here.
Jacob:
Can we put some cream on it?
Me:
Yes, if it's still there when Daddy gets home, okay?
Jacob:
Okay.

The thing that blew my mind was that usually, an exchange like this would begin with Jake screaming, me getting riled because I felt that (a) he was overreacting, (b) I hate when they hurt each other, (c) I'd have to punish Danny, and (d) Danny usually only acts out this way when Jacob's being bossy and obnoxious. This time (according to what I think P.E.T. would say), Jacob's feelings were validated (he's hurt and angry), and therefore he completely dropped the subject of any injustice done by Danny biting him.

I was still conflicted because it felt like Danny was getting off the hook, and I spoke very seriously to him about not biting while we brushed his teeth a few minutes later, but now that I think about it, not responding to Danny's behavior in any way actually accomplished something, too -- he didn't get ANY validation for his actions. All the attention and empathy went to Jake. Because sometimes, even negative attention is good to a kid. Getting no attention at all? Not good.

I feel like Jane Goodall.