Author Archives: Heather

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About Heather

I adore my family, writing, books, cats, lazy mornings in bed, and chocolate. I'll never say no to breakfast for dinner, long talks with friends and lazy summer days at the pool with family. My life is often crazy, always awesome and one I'm so happy to be living! My side hustle is editing and proofing work. Find out more at https://heathercaryn.com/
Feb16

When To Speak Up?

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I had a long day at work, so I decided to boycott cooking.  We met the Hubs at a local family-friendly chain for dinner and ice cream.  We go to this particular place at least twice a month if not more- it’s relatively cheap, kids are welcome and the food is good.  And up until now we’ve always had a great experience.

We got to the resturaunt at 6:05 and I finally had to ask one of the 4 servers walking by if they could send our server over at 6:25.  No one had greeted us after we were sat- no one took our drink order or told us they’d be right with us. I asked the lady very nicely and wasn’t at all rude.  The lady I flagged down went to get our server and I hear our server say (quite loudly)- “she’s lying! They’ve been here less then 5 minutes.”

Umm..yeah.

The Hubs was not happy with me. He doesn’t complain about anything when we go out to eat. His food could be cold and raw and he’d grin and say it was great because the Hubs does not like making waves. I think he’s worried someone will spit in his food back in the kitchen.

The kid’s food came out within 15 minutes of ordering. Which was great if the macaroni wasn’t cold and the hot dog burned. 10 minutes later the Hub’s food came out.  5 minutes later, mine came out.  The kids and I left 1 hour and 10 minutes after getting there, leaving the Hubs to order and pick up our ice cream because our server never came back to check on us.

Now I don’t know if the place was short staffed or if our server just had a bad day.  I didn’t say anything before we left simply because the Hubs would have died right then and there of mortification.  And honestly, I don’t like to complain. I know servers work damn hard and I hate getting people in trouble, but our experience was just plain bad today.

So I ask you- when do you speak up? How do you go about doing it- at the time? Sending a letter after the fact?

Feb15

Sick Bed

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Last night at dinner, the Bean didn’t eat her bread.  This alarmed me greatly as this child would live on bread and butter if you let her.  Then she turned down her Valentine’s Day cupcake.  I knew right then and there she was sick.  When she asked to go to bed and wanted me to put her down instead of the Hubs, I figured the world was ending.

I kept the baby monitor right by me all evening and night waiting for the blow I knew was coming.  But all I heard was silence. So I got up and out of the house by 5:15 to head to the gym and didn’t give the Bean’s health a second thought.

When I got home, the Hubs was rinsing out the bath tub- the Bean had gotten sick.  I asked where she was and he told me she was laying in my bed.  I have to admit- I had conflicting thoughts about this.  My first thought was naturally hoping she feels better. But my second was fervently praying she didn’t get sick in my bed or worse yet on me.

After draping myself with a towel or four, I climbed into my bed with the Beaner for some cuddling. I noticed there was a towel already laid down under her and I mentally gave the Hubs props for thinking ahead.  While Beaner clearly didn’t feel well, it seems like getting sick was a one and done deal so I slowly peeled off my layers of protective towels as the morning went on (the puke bucket, however, stayed within arms reach all day long).

The Hubs called to check in shortly after I put Beaner down for her nap. After I gave him the status update, I thanked him for putting the towel down on our bed just in case.

The Hubs: “Just in case what?”

Me: “Just in case the Bean got sick in our bed after you cleaned her up.”

The Hubs: “Heather- how do you think I knew she was sick? She threw up in our bed.”

Me: “Let me get this straight. She puked, you cleaned her up, changed her- then you put a towel over the mess on our bed and laid her back down in it?!”

The Hubs: “It was only a little bit of puke- what’s the big deal?”

*sigh*

***********

Thankfully the Bean is feeling better as of this evening. Not nearly as clingy- which is a blessing for us all. Scorch, on the other hand, left the house for an hour this evening looking completely normal and came back home with a raging case of pink eye.  So I’ve traded in the fun of wrestling my daughter to get medicine in her last week to wrestling my son to get eye drops in him.   The fun never stops ’round these parts!

Feb14

My Favorite Valentine

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I don’t talk about the Hubs here very often.  He’s pretty private and I try to respect that as much as possible.  So I’ll keep this short and simple.

Marriage can be hard- anyone who tells you differently lives a much more charmed life than I do.  Moves, demanding jobs, infertility, miscarriages, raising two kids, owning two businesses on top of our normal 9-5 jobs- all those things take a toll on a relationship. It’s easy to start taking each other for granted, to put everything else first except each other.  And the Hubs and I have been guilty of that.

But at the end of the day, we love each other deeply.  We fight for each other and stand by each other.  We know that our marriage and our family is our top priority.  Neither one of us is given to sweeping gestures and declarations of love. Instead, we show each other our love through cars warmed up and scraped off on a cold winter’s morning. By remembering each others favorite food when we surprise the other one with takeout.  By DVRing random movies we think the other person may like. By asking each other every day how the others day was and ending every phone conversation with an “I love you.”

I’m very lucky to be married to the man that I am.  Our good days vastly outweigh our bad ones and when things do get crazy, the Hubs is the one I want to face every day with.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Feb13

Epic

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When Scorch was 2 years old I begged my mother-in-law to reassure me that kids got easier after the terrible two’s.

She laughed and I got scared.   Sadly, she was was right- the 2’s have nothing on the 4’s.

The testing and the daily battle of wills that happened when Scorch was 2 isn’t an issue with him any more.  Now the tantrums only happen once or twice a month at the most but when they do, they are epic.

Tonight Scorch wanted to play basketball in the house- something we allow.  But he wanted to play with a very specific basketball and the Hubs told him no. The ball was too big, too hard and not appropriate for inside play.  9 times out of 10, Scorch deals with this info and moves on without an issue.  But not tonight- for whatever reason, Scorch decided that that ball was the only one he could play with and he let us know it.

There was yelling. There were threats. There was foot stomping and tears and finger pointing.  There was absolutely no reasoning with the kid.  He was too far gone thanks to a combo of too much fun earlier in the day and too little sleep last night.

These tantrums are mortifying when we’re out in public, but when we’re home they are funny as hell.  But because we can’t let Scorch see how amused we are (like when he stomped his foot and yelled “Give me that ball right now, Mister!” with all the fury and indignation a 4 year old can muster), the Hubs and I have to take turns dealing with him while the other one leaves the room with their shoulders shaking (hopefully Scorch thinks it’s out of anger).

Scorch ran out of steam pretty quickly and apologies were made and feelings were soothed.  Then we put him to bed a full 45 minutes early so we could mock our son and laugh out loud freely.

 

 

Feb10

Love Thursday: Grateful

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My pregnancy with the Bean wasn’t at all expected.  We fought long and hard to get pregnant with Scorch, so I never thought we’d be the couple to have a whoops baby.  I still remember the nagging feeling in the back of my head before I confirmed my pregnancy- the suspicion and nerves that I never shared with the Hubs.  The day I tested and got that bright pink second line, I came as close as I ever have to having  a panic attack.

You see- I didn’t know if I wanted a second child at that point. Scorch was- is– perfect in just about every way. He was sweet and gorgeous and good natured and funny and bright.  How in the world were we going to be able to do better than that?

While I was pregnant with the Bean, I more or less ignored the fact that there was (God willing) going to be real live baby coming at the end of the 9 months.  I had more then enough going on to keep me busy- Scorch, my full time job and our new small business- so it wasn’t too hard until the very end.  But once my due date got really close, I freaked. What were we thinking?! What if Baby #2 cried all the? What is s/he was the complete opposite of Scorch? What if we couldn’t love her/him as much as we loved Scorch? What if Scorch thought we didn’t love him anymore since we were having a new baby?  These worries, along with the Bean using my bladder as her personal trampoline, kept me up many, many nights.

Then the Bean arrive. She came quickly and furiously and she cried for 3  hours straight after she was born. That was our first clue that we did in fact have a baby who was the opposite of Scorch.  Beaner is feisty and head strong.  She’s hysterically funny and never stays where you put her. She views all orders from us as mere suggestions and she really couldn’t give a hoot if you’re not pleased with her.  In short, she’s absolutely, 100% perfect.

*****
For the first time in a long time, I had the Bean all to myself today for bedtime.  She’s been on a huge Daddy kick for weeks now, so he’s been handling bedtime and I’ve just been called in for one final kiss before he lays her down. Tonight’s one-on-one time to read books, get her dressed into her PJs and to rock her before bed was a rare welcome treat.  As we snuggled, singing “Bust a Move” (don’t judge me) in the dark and laughing ourselves silly I was overcome with this huge wave of gratefulness. Grateful that God gave us this child even if we weren’t ready.  Grateful that the Bean is the child we have.  Grateful to be living the life I am with the people I’m sharing it with.

Just plain grateful.

Feb8

Best & Worst

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Every night at dinner we play a game. Each person has to go around the table and say what the best and worst part of their day was.

Scorch loves this part of dinner and if one of us forgets, he’ll get the conversation rolling.  The Hubs & I love it because it gives us great insight into the daily life of a pre-schooler and all the drama it involves.

The best part of the day for Scorch is usually one of two things- recess time at school or our family dinner time.  I agree with both things- I mean, what’s better then getting to run around the school gym with all your friends or to eat a good dinner with your family? Now, if it were me, I’d add bedtime in there too but at 4 the lure of 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep just isn’t that great.

Talking about the worst part of his day is where things really get interesting.  Sometimes it’s mundane- Peter wanted to play fireman & Scorch wanted to play dinosaurs, but Peter got his way and that made Scorch so sad.  Sometimes it’s funny- like when Scorch is still ticked at us because we wouldn’t rush right out to the store to get him what ever toy he has his heart set on.  This is usual told with pouting, tears and pleading. Sometimes it’s scary- like when he told us how his friends (being 4 years old & not knowing any better) tried to tie a jump rope around his neck and drag him to jail while playing Cops & Robbers.  Regardless, the answer is always enlightening and we get so much more out of him that way as opposed to simply asking how school was.

The Bean is still too little to play along with us, but I hope we keep having these conversations forever.  They are typically the best part of my day!

Feb7

Makin’ Whoopie

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A few months back, the Hubs went to the store to pick up a few things- light bulbs, garbage bags. You know, the boring things you need to pick up on a Saturday morning before working around the house.  He came home with all that plus something extra for the kids.

Whoopie cushions.

Naturally, the kids thought they were awesome.  There is nothing funnier when you’re 2 & 4 then bodily functions- and a toy that sounds like toots?? It’s like hitting the jackpot.

Then, like with all toys, the kids lost interests and moved on.  Until today.

Today the kids discovered that they could “trick” someone into sitting on a whoopie cushion and pretending that the noise was real.  When I came in from work today, the kids had a chair set up with a pillow on it and a blanket over the seat with a suspicious looking bulge under it.  They invited me to take a seat after my long day of sitting in front of my computer, so I did.  When the whoopie cushion made its noise, the kiddos laughed so hard they got tears in their eyes.  When the Hubs got home some 15 minutes later, it was even funnier.

Since then they have been trying to slip cushions under everything to surprise us- there is no escaping them. Consider this fair warning if you come to our house!

Feb3

Like Wrestling a Greased Pig

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After a fitful night’s sleep, the Bean woke up yesterday and immediately yelled out “My ear hurt.”  Poor pumpkin was a crying, clingy mess for about an hour after she woke up. She didn’t want to eat, she didn’t want to watch TV or read a book, she just wanted to cuddle.

I put in a call to her pediatrician at 8:31 am (I figured I’d give them that extra minute to turn their phones on) only to find out the office was closed due to bad weather.  Wonderful.  So I bundled the kids up and took them to the walk-in.  Thankfully we were there early enough to get right in and seen. The Bean was a champ with the nurse and the doctors- letting them look in her mouth, noses, eyes & ears.

The diagnosis?  Ear infection & pink eye.

When we got home from the pharmacy, I had to give Beaner her first dose of antibiotics.  I had gotten it grape flavored AND I bribed her with M&M’s so I figured it wouldn’t be that hard.  She said she was a big girl and wanted her meds in a little cup, so that is what I gave her.  She promptly took one sip and declared it too yucky.

Well, I knew she had to take it- rejecting her meds based on the taste just wasn’t an option.  So I loaded up the squirter and tried to corner her. She’s no dummy so she ran.  After a few mins, I had her caught and on my lap. I figured I’d squirt it in her mouth really fast and all would be well.

I figured wrong.  The child spit all her meds out so it was going down me, running down her face and into her hair.  Lovely.

I gave her a few minutes and counted out all the M&M’s she could have if she took her meds, trying really hard to entice her.  But she’s was on to me and wasn’t buying it.  She fought me with all her might but I finally got that one measly teaspoon worth of antibiotics down her through a combination of body pinning, cheers, bribery, threats & fancy maneuvering.  I’ve now given her 3 more doses since yesterday and each one is just as much fun as the first. At least I’m smart enough now to make sure we’re both in old clothes before I try!

 

Feb2

Paul

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Paul was a sweet kid I went to school with. He was short with dark hair and amazing eyes not unlike my Scorch. He was a wise-ass and a charmer and he always, always had a big grin for everyone. He was honestly one of the nicest people I ever have met.

Paul died the summer I turned 16.

The day is etched into my brain. I spent the afternoon driving around country hills with my boyfriend- with no particular destination in mind, we just enjoyed the day. When I got home my parents were literally standing in the window watching for me. Paul was in a car crash- he was driving on a windy road and crashed head on into a dump truck. He was killed instantly.

At almost-16, I had never lost anyone close to me before who wasn’t elderly. My friends and I had lived a charmed life up until that point. Paul’s death shook us to the core.  The days after his death are still so clear to me. The crying, the huddling together, the wake, the funeral, spending time at Paul’s mom’s house trying to prop each other up.

About 10 days after Paul died, I spent the evening with two friends. As it often did, our conversation turned to Paul and how we wished we knew that he was at peace.  On the walk back to my house, we sat down on the side of the road and asked Paul to give us a sign that he was OK.  We sat there in silence- waiting, watching for that sign. After a few minutes we realized how silly that was- because anything from the owl hooting to the car honking could have been a sign. So we got specific.  We told Paul if he was OK to please please cancel swim lessons the following day. The three of us taught swim lessons for 4 hours a day and wanted a break.

That next day while I was driving to swim lessons, I saw one of my friends and her mom driving away from the pool. When I got to the pool, the director was sitting outside. She told us that lessons were canceled that day- the pool pump broke in the middle of the night.

I still get chills when I think about that.

Happy birthday, Paul- I’m glad you’re OK.

Feb1

Run Forest, Run!

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Today I put on a swimsuit for the first time since Aug.  I dread the first time I have to put on my suit each year.  The silent praying that it still fits. The yanking, tugging, pulling & swearing as I maneuver myself into it. The not-so-silent sigh of relief when I see it still fits as I selectively ignore the too-pale skin that hasn’t seen warm sunshine in way too long.

The thought of having to put on a suit has been hanging over my head since yesterday when I realized the day of the kid’s first swim lessons of the year was upon us.  Scorch goes in solo, but the parents still get in the water with the kiddos the Bean’s age, so there was no avoiding it if I wanted my kids to get comfy in the water. I even got out of bed after being up all night with a cold, braved sub-freezing temperatures and crappy snow covered roads to go to 5:30 am Spin class  just so I could feel somewhat better about my body before trying on my suit before lessons. (Don’t ask me what I would have done if it hadn’t fit).

I never used to be this self conscience about my body. But 2 kids and 15 lbs later, I am.  I know what I need to do to remedy the situation- I just need to find the willpower to commit to carrot sticks and salads instead of hot chocolate and PB&J. I also know I need to get a more committed workout routine- 2 Spin classes a week aren’t cutting it. Spinning more often isn’t possible due to the class schedule so I’m toying with the idea of taking up running. Again.

See, I tried to take up running last Spring**.  I really like the idea of running.  The thought of being able to do it anywhere is awesome. I have these visions of running on the beach during vacations or around the school grounds when the kids get older and have sports practice.  But the truth of the matter is, I hate running. Loathe it. Detest it.  I got up to running 2 miles (HUGE FEAT for me) and then I hurt my knee and just never picked it up again.  I have so many friends that love running- they run 3, 4, 5 times a week- and I just shake my head and wonder what I’m missing (and what they are smoking).

So tell me- what am I missing? I’ve got good shoes (I went out and bought them last year from a running store), I have an iPod full of great tunes- hell, I even have a dog to keep me company.  How do I ease back into this and at least get to the point where I don’t hate running?

**I tried the Couch to 5K program last year and wasn’t at all a fan of the stopping/starting aspect of it.