Going Postal

It's been a long time since I've written. I guess time got away from me.

We're going to London in August for a wedding. So, being the prepared little Girl Scout that I am, I began the process of getting passports for the girls a few weeks ago. Good thing I did.

First, I needed passport photos. I took the girls to a photo shop where a nice lady had them smile brilliantly and then snapped the shots. The pictures were adorable and I was thinking of submitting them to the "Cutest Children in the World" contest I heard about on the internet. But her boss took one look at the photos and said "That will never do" with a hint of disgust to his voice. He then proceeded to stand Priya in front of the white backdrop very carefully and tell her not to move.

"No, move your head this way. THIS way. Now look right at me. No, HERE at ME. Put your arm down. DOWN. Don't smile. Now keep very still. STILL!"

What part of "This kid is three years old" did he not understand? It was even better when he got Anjali to stand very still and not smile. I think he scared her into submission. He ended up with shots of two very somber looking children. They look scared to death. He then whipped out his ruler and measured their heads in the pictures and declared "barely satisfactory." Oh, Thank Goodness.

I then looked up all the criteria for obtaining a passport for a minor. Ends up you have to have the child's official birth certificate (with a raised seal). We had never requested Anjali's birth certificate so we had to do that and wait a few weeks for it to come in. I've felt it many times just to make sure the seal is raised. Is it raised ENOUGH? Will they accept it?

I went back to the government website and read that both parents must be present at the government agency (post office) in order to submit the application. The application could only be submitted at CERTAIN post offices too. So we arranged our schedules so that we could both submit the application with the photos and the birth certificates at the RIGHT post office during WORKING HOURS.

That magical day was two days ago on a Saturday morning (squeezed between breakfast and Priya's first swimming lesson). We get into the post office and the unfriendly postal worker tells us passports are accpeted by APPOINTMENT ONLY on Saturdays. No exceptions. Two people are in line behind us. No exceptions. So I ask if there are any apppointments that we can make.

"No. None here and none (across town.)"

"Well, can we make an appointment in three weeks (which was the only time we could all get together again)?"

"No, we don't make appointments that far in advance."

I was getting exasperated, so I said "I wish this had been on the website."

"Oh, it's ON the website. Everyone says that, but we looked yesterday and it's THERE." She looked quite smug when she said it and in that instant I wanted to reach across the desk and choke the very oxygen out of her lungs.

But instead I turned four shades of red, my face pinched into a very tight glare and I stormed out of the office without a backwards glance. A nice elderly asked my "Are your daughter's twins?" as I was leaving and I just barked "No!" and kept going.

That showed HER. See if she ever mistreats ME in the post office again.

We are going tomorrow to try again. At a different post office. On a Tuesday. Cross your fingers. . .

More Great Quotes

We're really having some trouble getting Priya to obey since she turned three. After our upteenth "time out" in the "naughty room" last week she was cradled in my lap crying dramatically. I told her she is a big girl now and is three years old. She sobbed and said "I want to go back to TWO!"

Meanwhile, Anjali is toddling around in the background yelling "TIME OUT! TIME OUT!" at the top of her voice. That's all the poor child knows about.

I don't think brother Mike had this problem with Hillary or Chase. They were perfect, just like him when he was a toddler. And I don't remember any of my other siblings having so much trouble obeying.

Maybe Mom will correct me on this one.

Like a Butter Dream

Priya likes to sing "Row Row Row Your Boat" and finish it off with "Like a Butter Dream." She also had an interesting conversation with her Grandma last week in which she told her she did something just like her.

"You're just like me, Grandma!"

"No, Priya, I'm not like you." Mom teased

Priya smiled coyly and said "You do too like me Grandma."

If she is especially upset about something and crying dramatically she likes to ask for a kleenex to "wipe my big tears" which are "comin' down!"

She is teaching the dramatics to her sister who likes to copy her every move. Anjali, however, has developed a great meltdown technique in which she throws herself face first on the ground in utter dispair. Sometimes she hesitates a second to make sure the landing isn't obstructed by a sharp object. I'm glad she has the forethought to think about that. I'm really proud.

First In Class

Brother is going to love this one.

Two days ago I spent the night in a parking lot. On purpose. Registration began at 8am Saturday morning for a wonderful preschool that had very few openings. It's an old preschool with a great reputation that is also the only nationally accredited school north of the Tennessee River in Chattanooga. Worth the wait, right? I hope so.

I got there at 7pm and there were already 11 cars there. Although I'd like to say it was tough and I was bored or cold or whatever, the truth is I loved it. I had all kinds of time to talk on the phone, chat with other parents, and watch the world's longest movie about the world's craziest man (The Aviator). That was the most peaceful night I've had in months.

And with all that I still got wait-listed for Priya's class. Anjali got the last spot in hers. The director told me to be positive, as I would pobably get Priya a spot. Oh goodness, we will see. . . .

And What Do You Do?

So Husband and I just got back from Vegas. We left the girls at home with the in-laws (yes, it took three adults to take care of two toddlers!). I had planned this trip out to the last detail and couldn't wait to get started.

Of course, the first thing that we did was wait. Literally. We flew to Charlotte and our flight to Vegas was delayed. We were supposed to leave at 11:30, but the sign said 2:00pm. No problem. I'll wait.

Then the sign said 5:00pm. Okay, what's up? The plane is in need of mechanical repair, the nice gentleman tells us. Of course. Mechanical repair. And it won't be repaired at all so we're getting a different plane at 5:00pm. Lucky us.

Two margaritas and four hours later we board the plane.

While in Vegas we played a little black jack and watched a hilarious hypnosis show. Then we went on a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon. Beautiful! But halfway there I got air sick. Ughhhh. I kept taking deep even breaths and willing myself not to throw up. We landed in the Canyon and had a Champagne toast. I drank Sprite. The nice pilot asked if I was sick.

"Yes," I said.

"Does this happen often to you?" He asked.

"All the time. I get sick on boats, planes, back seats of cars and now helicopters. . . "

"Did you take anything before we left?"

"No." I replied as I rubbed my arms to keep warm. I was freezing in the Canyon and only brought a short sleeved shirt.

"Oh, brilliant." He smirked. "And what is it you do?"

"Uhhh. I'm a doctor. . . "

Yeah. My brother is going to go off again on that one. I may as well own a cat and vote republican now. That would complete the Moron of the Year Award in his mind.

I was queezy for the rest of the vacation and didn't feel better until I slept 10 hours in my own bed.

Here are some great quotes I picked up from our trip:

Our Bus Driver: "Next stop, the Flamingo! Slots of Fun!"

Hypnotized woman singing a song about her favorite body part: "Do your t_ts hang low, do they wiggle to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?"

Saleslady in Forum Shops trying to sell me some cream "Ma'sm, are your nails natural?" Anyone who has seen my nails will understand that one.

Temper, Temper

Tonight I was getting the girls ready for bed when Priya asked me why the hair brush was broken. I hesitated because I hated to tell her the truth. That I lost my temper and threw it on the floor two weeks ago after she refused to put on her pants or some such thing (I don't remember what made me so mad, but I can say it was likely something she did).

"I"m not sure why it's broken," I stalled.

"But why is it broken, Mommie?" She has found that she must repeat her question 49 times in order to get an answer.

"I just don't know, Priya. Now put your shirt on. . . "

"But why is is broken, Mommie"

"Well. . . it's because I lost my temper one day and broke the brush."

She thought about this for a minute and then said, "But what happened to your temper? Where is it? Don't worry, Mommie, it will come back. You'll find it one day. . . "

Oh, I hope so. I really really hope so.

LASIK HELL

I haven't blogged in a while because nothing interesting has happened to me. Now, finally something has.

My brother got LASIK surgery on his eyes and declared it a piece of cake. Please understand my brother is a wimp. First class baby. He wimpers at a stubbed toe (claims it is broken) and then cries foul at all doctors' knowledge, saying they're all "dumb."

So if he could do it, so could I.

Off I go for the initial evaluation. The first office told me it would take 2-3 hours. For what? Just the evaluation? "Yes ma'am," the receptionist replied. So I cleared an afternoon (i.e. paid a nanny to watch the girls) and sat in the waiting room for an hour. Fianally I got up to ask the receptionist to reschedule.

"Didn't we tell you it would be 2-3 hours?" she snapped.

"Yes, and you haven't even started. I don't have 3 more hours to spare." I wasn't in the least bit rude.

After rescheduling, I did more research and chose another doctor to do the procedure. Ends up it cost $1100 less to do it there. I don't know why, but I liked that.

The initial consultation revealed I am an excellent candidate for the surgery (my cornea, like my thighs, is nice and thick).

I set up the date for the surgery. I guess they thought I had all the time in the world, because I was sitting in that office being shuffled from one room to another for 4 1/2 hours. FINALLY, the procedure was done. No big deal, just like Brother said. Piece of cake.

Husband drove me home and I was blind all night. My eyes stayed dilated forever. I wore the silly goggles to bed and woke up at four am with them on the floor. Oh well, I thought, and just rolled over to go back to sleep.

The next morning I really couldn't see. And something wasn't right in my left eye. It hurt. But I'm tough. I can handle it. I got the girls up, dressed and fed and put them in the car. I then drove one block and realized I was too blind to drive. No wonder they told me not to drive the day after the surgery. So I called my nanny, and being the saint that she is, she came running. She drove me to the doctor's office and waited with the girls for two hours for me to be seen. The doc looked at my eyes and told me my flaps (of cornea, which they removed to laser the eyes) had shifted and needed to be repositioned. Okay, fine. Let's do it.

Back into the O.R. and back with the numbing drops. He repositioned the flaps and this time placed some tight fitting contact lenses over them to keep them in place.

Thanks, doc. I'll see ya Tuesday.

Twenty minutes I'm moaning in agony and holding my head between my knees in the minivan. The nanny saint gets me home and put me right to bed. I take one of the narcotics that they gave me (and which I laughed about because Brother didn't need pills) and waited for them to take effect. Nothing. Meanwhile, I had all the lights out, the pillows fluffed and the goggles on. Throbbing, weird pain behind both eyes and IN them. OOOUUUCCCHHHH.

I took another narcotic and twenty minutes later went into lah lah lah land. Uuuggghhh. No wonder drug addicts like this stuff. I didn't hear another sound until husband came home four hours later wondering where the kids were.

"I don't know, honey, but I'm feeling better" I slurred.

Actually, I did know, but it just took a minute to figure it out. They were with the nanny next door (she had to babysit the neighbor's kids that night). So husband went and got them and kept them calm and quiet all evening long. I wore those awful contact lenses for 48 hours and then called the doc and asked him to please take them out, which he did (on a Sunday evening). Now, they're out and I'm slowly seeing better. The pain is also just about gone.

That is the last time I do anything just because Brother did it. The last time.