I set the alarm today for 7:10 hoping to get my backend out of bed in order to go to the gym. Going to the gym usually gives me more energy, especially if I do it in the morning time. Well, the alarm went off and I woke up but I didn’t get out of bed. It was so cozy under that huge comforter that we have that I just layed there contemplating a workout. And then Queenie woke up so the idea was officially a no-go. But, the great thing is that I was awake and feeling good about being awake. I was energized, to say the least and it felt wonderful!
So I made pancakes and cleaned up the house a bit and even got in a 20 minute Pilates session in between comforting Queenie (she has an ear infection). The rest of the morning was spent with Queenie on the couch watching Babies and me trying my hand at the new cake recipe I want to use for her birthday cake. I have been doing a lot of searching lately for cakes and cupcakes and all things buttercream. For some crazy reason I have this dream of opening an American bakery here in Madrid when we return. Hopefully that idea is due to pregnancy hormones because I am realizing just how little I know about baking. But, there are some great blogs out there that are getting me excited to learn more. Possibly not to open a bakery, but enough to make me famous with family and friends! My favorite blog right now is Fields of Cake and Other Good Stuff. She is where I got this incredible recipe for a new vanilla cake. She calls it Triple Vanilla Brown Butter Cake and IT IS THE MOST DELICIOUS VANILLA CAKE I HAVE EVER HAD!
Granted, with my crazy oven, all of my cupcakes fell because the cake wasn’t quite done even though the toothpick came out clean. ERRR! But that doesn’t really matter for my coffee and cake break because this recipe is so good you could eat it raw! (please don’t. Salmonella and all, folks.)
You really have to like baking to make this cake since it calls for some patience in making the brown butter, but it is so worth it. If you aren’t into having steps while baking look into her other recipes, she has some great ideas. Like adding a small packet of instant pudding to your buttercream frosting. SO GOOD! Really, I tried it today. And I think I may have eaten my weight in it, too! Even Queenie ate it, which she doesn’t normally eat baked goods and really doesn’t usually eat while sick. THAT IS HOW GOOD THIS IS!
I can’t get this point across enough. But, even if you aren’t a baking goddess, this woman will bake for you. How amazing is that. Right now her new post is all her delicious holiday goodies she can ship out to you and I would recommend you try them. Support our small businesses in the States! I am going to use her for some Christmas gifts and am a bit jealous that I won’t be around to taste these little treats. If mine came out so delicious, I’m sure a professional’s comes out even better.
So, yes, the energy came and went and left in its path fallen cupcakes. Now I have had a lie down and now am off to try another recipe. Chocolate this time. For Queenie’s party I will definitely be using the Triple Vanilla Brown Butter Cake. That will certainly start me on the road to fame with our friends. But for now I need to try another recipe and soothe my ego. Crazy oven or no, I haven’t had a fallen cake since…well, since only having a roasting oven and being stubborn enough to think I could bake in it! Yes, that was our first house in Spain. Oh, good times.
Okay, going now. Queenie is sleeping still and the energy may leave soon. I still haven’t pinned down the reason to its fickleness!
Yesterday at 9pm I snuggled unde my covers with Queenie in her pjs, turned on Baby Einstein (Wordsworth, of course. The only one she likes these days.) and I finally allowed the tears to come rolling down my cheeks. They had been waiting all afternoon and evening for me to allow them to roll down, and even though my inner self still sees crying as a weakness and can’t stand it when I succomb to said weakness, I couldn’t hold them back any longer.
I seriously felt like I was slowly and quietly breaking down. Just dissintegrating into nothingness; into my own crabbiness and exhaustion. Having worked as a waitress 30 (or more) hours a week while studying full-time I have known exhaustion, but this is like nothing I have ever felt. It isn’t the sleepiness that you feel in the back of you eyes or hear in the deepness of you throat. No, this is exhaustion that slowly breaks you down until you feel like throwing something through the window or screaming for no reason other than to hear something else than a whiny child. And of course it is at these moments that your husband decides to wake up your sleeping child from he nap in order to say good-bye and go back to work even though it is 6:30pm (and he won’t be home until 11pm), as you very molecules seem to be melting you child accidently spills her bowl of cereal ove the high chair but you can’t help yelling out, “NO!“, this is also the moment when your child as finally gotten over her crying fit of not wanting a bath and now wants a bath but the wate is cold so you start the water again only to find out that the gas pressure has dropped, the pilot light has gone out and you can’t remember how to start it all up again. And after fighting with said child to eat something for dinner (and a small bowl of Goldfish is finallly settled on) you resort to putting cereal in her milk bottle, getting her pjs on no matter how much she protests and taking her to bed. But even though she is exhausted herself from only getting half a nap and from what you are pretty sure is the start of an ear infection, she immediately stands up in bed and cries that cry that probably makes the neighbors think you are beating her……..and…..you…..just……can’t…….take…….it…….anymore.
So that is how Queenie and I ended up in bed watching Baby Einstein until half way through the video I decided to turn it off and we both fell into a restless, dreamfilled sleep. Well, she finally stopped moving (although she has started to grind her teeth at night. A terrible habit she got from me.) but I continued in my restlessness as Principe called to say he was almost coming home, then came home and I had to apologize for a phone call I made to him earlier on in a not-very-nice tone telling him about the gas, then as he ate dinner alone and got into bed, but couldn’t sleep right away because he just never can and then as Queenie woke up at 3am, then 3:45am, then stayed in bed with us in her own restless sleep. At 5am I finally placed her back into her bed, but she woke up again at 7:10am crying. I felt as though I had been inbetween reality and dreams for the last few hours as I reminded myself to make another bottle for Queenie with pumpkin puree for vitamins and saw myself make the most beautiful cupcakes for her birthday with all the ingredients that the store that we travelled an hour to in bus yesterday didn’t have.
At least I am able to manage my bouts of frustration and anger rather well outwardly. I have rarely yelled and rarely yelled more than a “no”, clamming up afterwards in order to not say anything I will regret. But it didn’t keep me from feeling the need to apologize to Queenie yesterday and remind her that I love her. Probably because the anger that I feel I may not be expressing too much outwardly, but it is definitely effecting my ability to be a fun mom and playmate for Queenie (minds out of the gutter, please. Playmate had a different meaning before the Playboy bunnies.)
Today I don’t feel like getting out of my pjs and I certainly don’t feel like going to playgroup, but there is a need to go that is hanging in the air like a heavy gas. If we don’t go it will be a day full of television and I hate those days. They are more depressing than any other. So we are going. And I am going now to shower. And hopefully the exhaustion won’t overtake me today. or if it does hopefully I will be able to handle it better than last night’s episode of slamming the gallery door and kicking the non-working dishwasher.
That’s me at the moment: husbandless. Principe has been working through the weekend from 10-10pm. Again today he won’t be home until 10pm and today is a city-wide holiday. While everyone else is out watching their kids ride bikes and having chocolate con churros as a family, I am sitting at home with Queenie and counting down the days, or months really, until I get my husband back. Being husbandless sucks. It really does. And while I have great respect for single moms, I don’t think it is really comparable. And I do have a lot of respect for them. A lot. But this is really more like being a military wife, since most of them stay-at-home. The difference, see, is that single moms work outside of the home. They have to, and so they get a break from being a mom. Not that working is such a wonderful break, but it is still a break in such as way that when their is a holiday and they get to stay home, it is a woderful, joyous, unusual thing for them to stay home with their kids and see all the new things that they are learning to do, say, be. But when you are a stay at home mom and you see what your kids do everyday and you have to cancel your hair appointment for the second time without knowing when you will be able to schedule it again because your husband can’t promise he will be home anytime before midnight for the fifth time that week, then staying at home all weekend at the house, as though it were a Tuesday, isn’t as joyful.
Before anyone pounces on me, I am not complaining. Not totally. Yesterday when I was about to cry because I didn’t know whether to try and keep Queenie awake to see her daddy or to put her in bed (yes, hormones just may have something to do with this) I told myself to straighten up and to thank the Lord for Principe’s job. After all, it is what provides for us and him choosing to work so hard outside the home allows for me to stay home with Queenie and to work on my writing (which, btw, is a whole other topic. Stupid crisis needs to end now so us writers can find some work!) I am totally thankful for this job. For the money that it provides, for Principe being willing to do it, but on the other hand I really want to go to the gym. Just for 45 minutes. But I can’t. There is no one to watch Queenie.
And I really want to get my hair cut. I should have done that in October when things weren’t so hectic. Now I have to wait until my mother come to visit. Which will be a wonderful 10 days of going to the gym everyday, getting my hair, possibly a mani-pedi and having someone else to watch Queenie in case I am so crabby about my headache that I need to lie down (like yesterday. Thankfully she took a nap and so did I.) Of course those days of bliss will be ending and thus will start 2 1/2 weeks of Principe being in Miami. Yep, he will be in Florida working until the 21st. Hopefully they won’t decide to stay until the 23rd. This is December we are talking about, obviously. Yep, going to see Christmas lights and shopping for Christmas presents, that’s just going to be mommy and Queenie. Possibly another lonely soul whose husband is working too much.
I’m not complaining. At least I”m not angry, really I’m not. And I’m not upset about it. I knew this was coming and again I grateful we have a job that provides for us. I guess I’m just running out of ideas and hope. That’s it. I’m running out of hope. See, today Principe was supposed to come home at 3pm so that we could have lunch together. His boss called him last night and said he was only allowed to work a half day today. So I was encouraged. Queenie was going to get to play with her daddy all afternoon while I tried my hand at some baking or possibly writing or whatever. Maybe we would watch a movie together. Maybe we would take a long walk and he could see how well she follows now (before I brag too much she is still a toddler. Keep in mind she follows better than she was before. Not that I didn’t have to pick her up and carrying her home yesterday!)
But then he called at 2pm and said he was staying. He had convinced his boss to let him stay. And I understand. Really, I do. He and his coworker (male, thanks) are alone in the office, with fewer distractions and are working well. They have gotten a lot done this weekend and want to finish the project instead of feeling rush this week to finish between phone calls and meetings and other deadlines. I understand. So much so that I almost feel jealous for not having that rush of being pushed to a deadline. Maybe that has more to do with it than anything. Maybe I”m a bit jealous. but then, not enough to stop staying at home. Not right now.
I made Chicken and dumplings, even though I was almost certain that he was going to stay. I was almost certain last night when he told me he would be coming home. And yet I allowed myself to dream about today. Today being the only day that I could see in our future as being a day that he would come home early. We’ll see about next weekend being home. We are supposed to go to Valladolid to celebrate Queenie’s and her cousin’s birthday at their abuelos’ house. We’ll see if that happens. One thing is definite: the 21st he will be home. That is the day we are having Queenie’s party. I just can’t count on him being around to help with preparations or to even buy her present. We have settled on us browsing the internet for ideas and then me buying it. What a bummer. I guess more for him than for me. Not about the preparations, though. He isn’t good at doing preparations anyway.
I’m short on patience these days. I’m short on breath these days. I’m short on dinner ideas and sleep and eating fruit and exercise and phone calls to friends long enough to get all the new news out. I’m short on a lot of things.
See? As I said in the last post, discipling went out the window today, after three days of diligently getting a translation done only to be told this morning that they don’t want it yet because they will be sending me a rewrite on Monday. Hmmm. No complaining, I just want the paycheck!
Things I’m not short on? Hormones. That might have to do with the patience shortness. I’m also not short on the consumption of gummy bears. Yes, I know they are made with petroleum. Yum, Yum. I’m also not short on sarcasm or snarkiness or snide remarks in my head. I’m pretty sure television is at fault for this. I have been watching episodes of Weeds lately as a friend of mine told me she loves the show. And I did for a little while, being able to by-pass the anti-christian remarks along with the free marketing for global warming and all things anti-mililtary, but today I watched my last episode half-way through season 3. No more. Too much. The snarkiness when representing Chrisians is just too much. We aren’t half-wits you half-wit script writer. Most of us aren’t hypocrtites and you can really only call a Christian a hypocrite if they claim to never sin or to being human. We fall, we ask for forgiveness, we get back up. Most of us are finding our way through this world and our religion and trying to make good on it all. Why do you so happily point out to us our flaws? We know we have flaws, that is the basis of Christianity: admitting that you are a sinner and cannot hope to be perfect. But we are saved from the guilt of not being perfect because our Father is teaching us to be better humans. And yet we will never end up being perfect. Not perfectly nice, not prefectly sinless, not perfect wives or husbands or friends or workers. But we try. Probably harder than you.
Anyway, I guess I am also not short on soapboxes today.
But today Queenie DID take a nap, which is almost over, and today I did get farther on figuring out how to make a jungle themed cake for her birthday and today I did do half and hour of pilates and will do another half an hour when I am done typing here. I also wrote an email to a good friend and called another, even though her phone cut us off after 18:04 minutes. I also went shopping for ideas on Queenie’s birthday present and ended up spending only $1 (on apples. No, the present didn’t get purchased, I’m not that good of a shopper!)
So today I get a breather from a whiny child who has refused naps the last three days, making my life more challenging. I have had to take deep breaths often, aside from the deep breaths necessary from my uterus moving upwards, in order to not freak out. Hormones are terrible things sometimes. Really terrible. They make you feel like yelling because the furniture is dusty again and then crying because you yelled, then swearing and throwing things because the homemade fig newtons that you tried to make ended up tearing when being placed on the pan and then weren’t fig newtons at all bet rather pie pockets. Tasty, though. And fattening.
It seems I am also short on time today. That’s Queenie. Time to go outside before it gets dark.
I have another translation to do that is due on Friday. Around 21 pages, which is a lot for just three days, but it turns out that there is quite a bit of repetition. Not too bad. I am spending more time on the structure than on actually translating, but whatever. Like I said, it’s nice to feel wanted, to feel like I am earning some money. The bad thing is that just yesterday I became disciplined again and started in on my third novel, which has been sitting with 83 pages for almost a year now. Just as I was getting excited about being disciplined and actually writing for me, I get other work that I can push aside! Not that I’m complaining, I’m not. No complaining here. I will just have to become disciplined again on Friday. That shouldn’t be to hard since I am spending today and the next two days being disciplined and working on this, right?
Well, that’s what I thought, but I usually feel bad about the state of my house by the time I am done with a translation, so I wonder about my discipline….I really do. It’s incredible how much more discipline it takes to do things for yourself that are not as yet bringing in money like working on my novel or sending out queries to magazines or just searching for writing jobs then to work on something that will bring in a check next week.
But the truth is, although I love the feeling of working and bringing in money (even if it can’t compare to anything close to a salary) I would hate to find myself ten years from now calling myself a translator insted of a writer. I would hate that. Really, really hate that. I want to be a writer. I want to write my own words and see them published, sitting on a shelf somewhere or perhaps being read by someone on the Metro. That’s what I want.
…but at the moment, it is nice to feel wanted.
Mamitis is a Spanish word that describes a child’s extreme dependance on their mom. And my child has caught the mamitis cold. It doesn’t help that her papa isn’t home a lot these days. In fact, it is almost 12pm and Principe still isn’t home from work, which means she saw him for exactly 35 minutes this morning and nothing more. Is it any surprise that the mamitis bug is hanging on hard?
I understand that this is probably just a phase, but we already had one of these phases, then it seemed to let up, then she got sick and the mamitis bug took root again. It seems that the mamitis bug has actually built a home, bought a bed and couch and plans to stay the duration of the winter. Example: Last Thursday Principe came home just in time to read books and put Queenie in bed. It starts right there, with the books. We read books before naps and before nigh-night time. During the afternoon and many times at night she sits next to me as we look through the books and pick out items that she knows or she asks me what something is called, etc. It is only the nights that Principe is home and tries to get her to sit on his lap that she makes a fuss and comes over to my lap. Then there is putting her to sleep. Principe picked her up and she immediately started to scream. I handed the bottle over to him and silently left the already dark room, and she contined to scream. And continued. Then let up. Then started again. About 6 minutes later Principe called me in to hand her over. He was so heartbroken that she didn’t want her papa to put her to sleep.
The next day he came home telling me that a coworker of his told him not to worry, that it is normal. In fact, just the other night one of his children woke up from a bad dream and when he walked in to comfort them the child said, “Not you, I want Mama.”
There are just certain things that kids relate their parents to. For Queenie Mama is the one who provided food and helps her sleep and Papa is the ones who comes up with cool games. She loves her papa, really. Just on Sunday morning they sat in our room for almost an hour playing silly games and Queenie had so much fun she whined (through the hiccups she caught from laughing too hard) when it was time to stop. Yes, she loves papa, but he just isn’t the one she wants to put her to bed. And much of that comes from him never putting her to bed when she was littler. He would always wave it off and say I was better at it. Guess you reap what you sew….
There is more of point to this, and I am sure you are waiting with baited breath to know what it is.
Mamitis. Have I ever explained here the pressure that stay-at-home moms get here in Spain to put their kids into daycare? It is a small movement of women revolting against the idea in Spain that if you stay home with your kids you are forfeiting yourself and your future. No woman here wants to say that they are an Ama de Casa. No one. Not anyone under the age of 50, at least. The pressure to wait to have kids is quite strong and the pressure to place those kids into daycare once the 4 months maternity leave is over is even stronger (I know, they have better laws here on maternity leave and other such things than the States). Just the other day my inlaws were over for lunch and when Queenie woke up from her nap she welcomed them with open arms, but when it was time to eat she didn’t want her abuela to help her, she wanted me.
“You need to send her to daycare to cure her of the mamitis,” was said several times. Interesting, coming from a woman who stayed home with her first two kids.
If anything is going wrong with your child (ie.: doesn’t eat well, doesn’t sleep well, is shy, is too agressive, isn’t agressive enough,etc) the cure is always said to be daycare. I have no idea what it is like in the States, daycare I mean, but I know exactly what it is like here and there is no way I want my child there if I can help it. Not to say that all children who go there are somehow damaged from it, it just isn’t something I am comfortable with. Especially when the largest salary I would be earning here in Spain would be around 20,000-25,000Euro for working 9-10 hour days, not including transportation there and back. In Madrid that could add up to 12 hours out of the house, away from my child with half of my salary going to pay someone else to educate my Queenie. Yep, half. Expensive!
We moms talk about this pressure a lot at the playgroups, those of us who are either Spanish or who are married to Spanairds, of course. The rest don’t really feel the pressure as much. It seems that we are seen as rogue women who need to be led back to the path of feminism. Unlike the movement in the States where you can say with pride that you stay home with you kids and still have the opportunity to get back out in the work force (perhaps with a bit more difficulty, but you are able to get out there) once the kids are in school, here it is seen as something from the fifties, or something that the uneducated women do. Because, really, why would you spend time at the university if you are just going to turn into a baby factory and stay home with you kids? Why on earth would you want to be responsible for teaching your child good eating habits, how to tinkle on the potty, that he/she must hold hands when crossing the street or what color the trees are when you can pay to have a professional teach them those things while you continue in your career path? Okay, now I’m becoming snide.
Let me step back. There are those women who actually have a career path, a good job and have studied for years and I certainly don’t blame them for wanting to continue working. Many times these women would not be happy staying at home and if you aren’t going to be happy then it isn’t the right decision for you. But then there are friends of mine who have a job but no career, ie. it isn’t a job that they particularly like neither is it a job in which they can go higher up in nor is it a job that they would fight for if the need to arose. They still look incredulous when you ask them if they are going to stay home after the baby is born. For what? Why? (or the best) We can’t afford that, no way!
I know for a fact that their husbands make just as much as mine. People must think we have money growing out of our bums over here since I stay home. I have heard that so many times. One friend in particular has this sort of non-career job and I know that she makes less than 20,000euro a year.
I guess I shouldn’t judge. It is just that I feel judged so often for not being woman enough or feminist enough (I will gladly say I am an old school feminist, not definitely NOT a new school feminist.) that I guess I find it easy to throw it back in their faces. And what’s with us deciding not to start Queenie in preschool next year at age 2 1/2 in Toulouse? Don’t we know that kids adapt even if it is in another language other than their mother tongue (in Queenie’s case it would be her third language. She still doesn’t speak either one of the first two). Don’t we understand that she is going to be behind (we are going to homeschool her so that she isn’t)? Don’t we know that even if we homeschool here she will have to learn to adapt to the routine a year later than the rest of them, that the rest will already have friendships formed, that the rest will already know what is going on and she won’t (I’m sorry, didn’t you just use the arguement that kids adapt easily for the first point?)? And not being gung-hoe in making her learn French? How dare we!
Errr. Guess I’m just a bit irritated today with all the judgement on my parenting skills.
I have this problem. It’s pretty big. Or rather, it’s bound to make me big. And it’s turning into a business idea, although the dream can’t become reality for a few more years at least. No, I’m not becoming the real life Nancy from Weeds. I’m just addicted to baking, not being baked, although I do have some good memories of early college……
Digressing…
I had this problem while pregnant with Queenie, too. All I wanted to do was bake. And eat the baked goods. Now, I have to say that I give most of the baked goods away (mostly to Principe’s co-workers and playgroup) but I do eat my fair share. That is why one of my missions has been to turn my recipes into healthier versions of them, so that I don’t get too fat enjoying the bounties of my oven! I found a great blog that helps me do just that: Eat me delicious. I am about to try making her chocolate yogurt muffins to take this weekend to the in-laws. And I can smile when they complain about me making them and Principe fat. Yes, I will smile that wicked smile that says: I know more than you know, while keeping my mouth full of chocolatly muffin goodness. Sounds like an unbeatable weekend to me!
I hate headaches. I get them often, too often, and I hate them. They get in the way of doing ANYTHING, really. They make you cranky and tired and unable to move or look at light and when you are a mom of a toddler that all equals=suck it up and make dinner.
Thankfully, if I get it pretty much in the beginning Tylenol brings it down to a manageable hum. I know most people out there claim that tylenol does nothing for them. I used to be one of them. But it does. Perhaps it doesn’t take it all away, but like I said, it makes it manageable. And when youa re pregnant there isn’t much else you can take so it’s either that or nothing. And believe me, today “nothing” was not an option. Thankfully it didn’t get to a shaking-under-my-covers- from-the-pain migraine because that would not have been fun. But it did get to the point where I had to speak in low tones, turn on low lights, press my hand to my forehead in desperation and still try to get some dinner down for Queenie, get her a bath (explosive diaper today through the onesie made not having a bath not an option. It was great too, because I was on the bus when I noticed the big, dark, wet spot on the back of her shirt. Sweet. Made the bus smell pretty great.) and get her into bed. Of course she didn’t take a nap, otherwise I would have tried to sleep off the headache earlier in the day. But, no. Not Queenie. Not today. She had one of those fruit squeezie things that claims to be all fruit and absolutely no added sugar or other stuff, but it sure did give her some energy. maybe natural sugar gives more energy. The silly energy of a toddler, I’m saying. The kind that makes them spin around until they are so dizzy you think they are about to black out, run up and down the hallway, laugh at any silly face you make at them and take out more toys than they can possibly play with at one time. At the same time I have to admit that she was really good today. We went to the store without a stroller and she was very obedient and compliant. She picked up all of her bath toys without being asked and went to bed without needing to read a million and one books. Maybe the come down from natural sugar is gentler…?
Things are humming around. We move to Toulouse February 1, 2010. Yea! Just two months before Baby X is born. WE have an ultrasound on the 17th of November. The BIG one. The one where we will hopefully get to see if Baby X will be wearing blue or pink, which will allow us to start thinking about names. Then my mother comes for a visit. Then Principe goes to the States for two weeks for work coming home just in time for Christmas (23rd of December…!). Christmas is always two weeks of craziness and then it will be back to Madrid to pack and finalize the move. The next three months are going to be insane. In between all of that we will continue to go to playgroup 3 times a week and perhaps see if I can get some writing done in the meantime. I have already pushed scrapbooking aside until France as I dream about the 4 bedroom apartment we will be allowed to rent. A whole room just for scrapbooking, writing and crafts. It going to be sweet.
Yesterday I was thinking that the move is a bit bittersweet, although I am super excited and have been since this was just a possibility. But it is a bit bittersweet in that I am finally making friends here in Madrid at the playgroups and now I’m leaving. Two of these friends won’t be here when I get back. One leaves in December already and the other will leave in July. We are having a great time though hanging out together. Honestly they are becoming better friends between the two of them since they both live downtown and can therefore spend a bit more time together, but I am in no way feeling left out of the group. We went to lunch today with another woman who is from California and very nice as well. We have a lot in common so I think that friendship might blossom as well. Then there is another woman who only shows up to Tuesday and Thursday and we also talk quite a lot, but there is a bit more distance between us as she never wants to hang out oustide of playgroup. Not a big deal, but it obviously cuts into getting to know each other better. It is probably because she works at night, so I definitely don’t blame her for wanting the afternoon hours to herself.
Anyway, I’m having a blast going to playgroup. Even if Queenie said she didn’t want to go anymore I would still make her for my sake! Thankfully she loves it.
Tonight is going to be a great night. After spending all day nursing my head and trying to get things done, I get to now clean up the kitchen and review the last ten pages of a translation in order to send it before midnight. Of course I’ve been sitting on these last ten pages for ages and left them for the last moment. I never learn, I know. Must be the love of stress and pressure that makes me do it again and again! Of course the 800Euro from all this stress and pressure will relieve quite a bit of any headache that may return, don’t you think?
As my niece said for an entire year after experiencing her second birthday (the first that clearly made an impact!). Every birthday that came around, as soon as she saw the candles she would scream, “Happy Birthday, ME!” Yes, ooh and aw at the cuteness. I don’t blame you.
So, today is my birthday. 28 years old. Pretty uneventful, but that is what happens when you get older and are married with small child(red). Principe took my out on Thursday night to a fancy restaurant that was participating in an event where we could eat for 25 Euro each (when it would usually cost around 40) so he woke up today not even thinking that it was a big day. I had to remind him! 
Oh, men! Then he finally admitted that he didn’t have anything planned for the day, didn’t even have a small present from Queenie, which is strange because she gave me a present last year and for Mother’s Day. Really dropping the ball, Principe. Perhaps I should change your name here…..
I’m not actually upset about it. This morning we went to a Halloween party for Queenie with the American Women’s Cludb of Madrid. It was nice to go and talk to other Americans or people married to Americans and it was especially nice for Principe to see Queenie paint and color and interact with other kids. Most kids were older than her, but she still had fun. Afterwards we went out for a caña but ended up having lunch: roast veggies, patatas bravas and sepia (cuttle fish). Yum. I can still taste the garlic! Queenie was super good. She watched the birds eat bits of bread from the ground and eat her sandwhich and potatoes well. Actually, she has eaten really well all week long. Of course, when we had cake this evening she eat the frosting off, getting as little cake as possible on her fork, but hey. She is only 23 months!
Birthdays are a big deal to me. I like to make a cake (although my oven today deciding to burn the outside of the cake while leaving the middle mush. Temp must be off. Yes, it’s a big deal. I take pride in my baking and have feelings of failure and depression when they come out like they used to when I was 12 years old. I would throw it out if I had time to make another one.) I wire cut the two cakes in half and placed them back in the oven to toast the middle a bit. Oh, well. Nothing a lot of frosting can’t fix….!
Now that my birthday, as uneventful as it was, has come and almost gone, my thoughts are turning to Queenie’s second birthday. The party we are sharing with her cousin who will turn 1 the week before. As luck would have it, we are celebrating the party two weeks later than hers and one week later than Queenie’s, even though both of theirs fall on a Sunday. Scheduling stuff.
The actual day of her birthday it looks like we will be with the inlaws. And I’m not too excited. It makes sense to go, as it gives us a chance to celebrate all the many November birthdays in one day, but I would rather stay home. Birthdays are not what I expect them to be here. Principe grew up with a birthday meaning that everyone calls to wish you a happy birthday and you get to choose the lunch for the day. And there is a random present thrown in there at some point. There might be a cake, there probably won’t. But it just isn’t a big deal. No one gets overly excited. No one lets you each frosting for breakfast or plan a special day. It’s just another day, really.
But for me it is more. I like candles, and excitement and feeling special all day long. Like being called “the birthday girl” and getting toast made for me and being allowed to watch an old movie instead of soccer. Guess what I’m watching now…..? No, it isn’t Humphry Bogart. More like Real Madrid. 
Cutlure differences. Family tradition differences. Who knows. But if we go to the inlaw thing that weekend I already have a promise from Principe that we will return early to do a small family thing here. The inlaws will be confused and a little ticked about it, but there are some traditions that have to be just our own, don’t you think?
Whatever happened to the phrase. It’s such a good one. I mean, I know that this is really the kind of thing that Word Girl does and I do not mean to tread on her territory, but really, this is a cool phrase that makes you feel all Jane Austen when using it. (It is a phrase that introduces a new topic of conversation. Like “incidentally…..” Not sure too many of us use that word either…)
By the bye, this is my topic for the day. Creative, yes. Although it may get annoying by the end as I will probably take on a British feel by the time I’m done. Blame it on all the British mums at my playgroup. Blame it on the fact that I’m bored. Blame it on the rain. I don’t really care. Or should I say, I don’t give a powder puffs arse. (Do they say that stuff? I’ll have to ask. Sounds right….)
By the bye, I’m going to kill my dishwasher. If I could physically kill I would take great joy in doing so. I didn’t doesn’t work and makes this really awful sound but I don’t want to start washing the dishes by hand. Not after a full year and a half of not having to do so. The only things keeping me from throwing its arse out the bloody window is the thought of a future of chapped hands and/or a continually messy kitchen. I prefer half-washed dishes.
By the bye, I actually have work this week. A dear friend of mine who is a translator wants to branch out into Spanish-English, but since he isn’t a native he needs help. So we are collaborating together. I started today, and although it may be a pretty boring topic, I will earn 150euro from about 3 hours of work, not including the editing/proofing process. Not bad.
By the bye, I can’t seem to type today. If I left all the mistakes I am making in her you wouldn’t be able to understand a word I was saying. It would be as though I had my brain wires crossed. Thank goodness for spell check, eh? (Okay, that was a bit Canadian more than British, but Anne of Green Gables was my favourite book/movie as a preteen and she was Canadian. What does that have to do with anything…..nothing, really.)
By the bye, Queenie is better and actually eating. She would prefer to eat chocolate all day long and I am half tempted to let her, but the hyper-nutritionist in me won’t let me. I did get her to eat a full bowl of chicken and dumplings.
By the bye, I made some freaking awesome chicken and dumplings. I’m thinking of becoming a cook.
Seriously, all joking aside, I keep dreaming about opening an American bakery in Spain. People here have no concept of cake here and need to be taught that it the definition of said item is not “layer whip cream on top of whip cream on top of chocolate syrup on top of whip cream”. Seriously, it’s gross. Today I thought a Cupcakerie would be a hit. especially in Madrid. But we are moving to Toulouse in February so it will have to wait. By the time we get back I’m sure I will have lost interest. Oh, well.
By the bye, did you see this video of the train hitting the stroller with a six month old inside. And the baby is okay? I’m surprised the mom didn’t have a heart attack right there. She must still be shaken up. And it is totally something that could happen to anyone. (shudder)
By the bye, playgroup three times a week is making me slack off on housework. There are days when six o’clock rolls around and I look around and think, “What the heck did I do all afternoon?” You know what the answer is, don’t you? Nothing.
By the bye, my OB tisked at me for having gained 5.5 pounds in 5 weeks. Yes, yes, she has a right to do so, since that kind of is a lot. But let me clarify: that would be 6 pounds for the last 17 weeks. So bite me. Or I’ll just bite this doughnut….
By the bye, my in laws are doing great about not obsessing about the whole Down Syndrome thing. They surprise me, actually.
By the bye, better get back to the ol’ translation work.
Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And the British didn’t come out in me. Hmmm. I’ll have to work on that and have a really British post some day. They have me saying “biscuits” now instead of “cookies” at playgroup. It’s like a language plague. At least in my brain. I can’t help it, I have always taken on the accents of people who I’m around. It’s embarrassing, but true.
But this time I am fighting back.
And now to throw out my dishwasher. It runs for 2 minutes and then shuts off. Unnerving.
