My Sick Boy.

August 5, 2015 / Wanda / 6 Comments

That moment, when you reach across the bed and feel his forehead, praying that the heat has left his little body in peace…

Bryce has been sick with a nasty virus for the past week. We’ve battled six days of high fever and other bodily functions I’m sure you’d rather I not go into detail about. Well, that’s too damn bad cause I’m totally going into detail about it. The kid has had diarrhea like an arterial spray. I’ll let that visual sink in for a moment. You’re welcome.

My kids are both very healthy. They only get sick once or twice a year, but when they do get sick, it’s serious. It’s a knock you on your ass for a week kind of sick. Their bodies hold onto infection like a fucking grudge. It’s horrible and scary. When you’re holding your child while their body feels like it’s on fire with heat, you can’t help but be terrified for them. They get that glazed look in their eyes, and when they talk, half the time it’s delirious gibberish.

I took Bryce to the doctor on day five of the fever and she told me it was a virus going around that was lasting 7-10 days. She said his fever shouldn’t last for more than five days. I explained to her that we were already at day five, as Bryce lay in my arms burning up at 103 degrees. She reprimanded me for allowing him to have dairy products. I explained that I was giving him whatever he wanted to eat because he had no interest in food and had already lost two pounds in five days. She scowled at me. I scowled back. She is not my regular pediatrician. (She was correct though. I shouldn’t have allowed him to eat yogurt and milk.) Then Bryce had a meltdown in the office when the nurse tried to give him a dose of Tylenol. With tears in his eyes and a hot pink flush to his face he explained that their Tylenol was different than our Tylenol, and he preferred to wait until we got home and take our Tylenol. He said their Tylenol was yucky because it wasn’t the right color. I eventually got him to take it, but with the last sip he gagged and then regurgitated a large portion of the dose back at me. I carried him to the car, both of us splattered with Tylenol vomit. Good times.

For six days I monitored his temp, coaxed him to take medicine to reduce his fever and slept with him so I could feel his body and watch his breathing. I held cold packs to his back, forehead, stomach and legs. He would look at me with glassy eyes and say, “Am I still your little fireball, mommy?” It was the kind of fever that could have killed your child before the days of modern medicine. Thank God for modern medicine.

Finally, this morning, as I reached for Bryce’s forehead next to me on the pillow, I felt it. That cool, dewy ring of sweat around his head on the pillow. The gross, disgusting, beautiful ring of sweat that indicates his fever has broken. His little body was so quiet and deep in sleep, which was a blissful change from the constant moaning, rocking and shivering from the past six days.

I’m exhausted. I’m relieved. I can’t wait to get the hell out of this house. I need to drink wine on the beach and watch the sunset with my beautiful kids and my husband. I need to take him to the park and watch him run, and climb, and laugh, and play. I need to see him smile with excitement, health, and joy. That’s all I need. 🙂

If you ask me what I do all day, I will punch you in the throat.

August 1, 2015 / Wanda / 6 Comments

I’m trying out this re-blog thing for the first time and this post from last year seems to be reflective of my mood today. If you haven’t read it, great! Hope everyone is having a fantastic Saturday!

A Girl Named Wanda

I became a stay home mom almost four years ago after the birth of my second child. Prior to that I was a working mom, and at one time in my life I was a single working mom. So having experienced the parenting challenges inherent in those situations, you can imagine how thrilled I was to have the opportunity to be able to stay home with my kids. I thought it would be fun and I imagined all sorts of scenarios involving playdates, an immaculately clean house and home-cooked, healthy meals I would make for my family every night. I mean, how difficult could that be? I would be home…with my own kids…ALL…DAY…LONG.

Cue the hysterical laughter.

The reality for many of us, or at least for me, is that being a stay home parent is a lot like being stuck in Groundhog Day hell. You tend to repeat the…

View original post 1,316 more words

The most adulty-adult

July 31, 2015August 3, 2015 / Wanda / 12 Comments

Recently, my family and I were over at a friend’s house for their son’s birthday party. It was a party for a four year old, so there was a lot of fun stuff going on. There was a clown doing balloon sculptures and face painting. There were awesome little arts and craft activities and a bounce house. Of course, all the kids LOVED the bounce house. So, imagine lot’s of young children running around a picturesque yard with no shoes, squealing in delight over the endless fun of the afternoon.

And where there’s fun, there’s bound to be drama.

I was sitting on some patio furniture talking with friends when I see the hostess of the party run into the back door of the house with another mother and her child clutched in her arms. They were frantic. I could tell something bad had happened by the way the women were reacting and rushing the child into the house. A busted lip? A cut to the forehead? Did the child need immediate medical attention? Stitches? Who knows….it’s not my circus, or my monkeys. My kids were not involved, so I thought the best thing to do was to not over-react and let the adults in charge handle the situation.

A few minutes later, the hostess of the party (and I should mention she is a good friend and a great mother) poked her head out the back door and asked me to come inside. I gave my husband the ‘uh-oh’ look and walked into the house, where I was met with complete chaos.

Both my friend and the other mother were frantically rushing around and talking loudly in panicked voices. The child that I saw being rushed into the house, a beautiful little girl about five years old, was sitting on the bathroom counter with her feet in the sink soaking in cold water. She was crying uncontrollably. I didn’t see any blood or immediate signs of injury.

My friend says, “She stepped on a bee and we’re not sure what we need to do! We took out the stinger but she’s still crying and it’s swelling! I knew YOU would know what to do!” There was a first aid kit on the counter with all kinds of gauze, medical tape and bandages spread out everywhere.

What? They think I’m the most capable adult to handle this situation? When did I become the most adulty adult? When did I become the person you grab when you don’t know what to do?

I looked at the girl’s foot and there was no swelling. There was a tiny red mark where she had been stung. That’s it. She was simply terrified and carrying on because the adults in the room were upset. I guess I’m still surprised how many parents don’t realize that if you don’t lose your shit in front of your kids, more often than not, your kids won’t lose their shit either. I realize that sometimes it’s hard not to freak out when your child is upset or in pain. And it’s even harder to be objective when it’s your child whose experiencing something traumatic. But kids need to have faith that their parents can handle anything. They need to know that you are in charge and you are capable of seeing them through the tough shit in life. And when you’re five, your first bee sting is some tough shit. I guess my ability to keep calm in these situations is what makes me the most adulty adult. Sigh. That thought is so depressing.

I didn’t do anything heroic to save the day. I asked the sweet little girl what her favorite song was and asked her if she could sing it to me so I could hear what I was certain would be a beautiful voice. She immediately stopped crying, beamed her pleasure at me with a toothless grin, and began belting out Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. While she sang, I put a Band-Aid over the red spot on her foot. All better.

Her mother threw her arms around me and hugged me so tight, thanking me for my help. I left the room and went back outside to sit by my husband. He asked what happened and after relaying the events to him I said, “That I’m the most adulty-adult at this party really scares the shit out of me.” 🙂

I can never un-see that!

July 29, 2015July 29, 2015 / Wanda / 29 Comments

The other day I was at the gym, minding my own business. I was on one of the cycles, just finishing my cardio workout. In my peripheral vision I see this man walking toward me, and he stands directly in front of my cycle, which is positioned along a carpeted walkway.

I recognize him. I saw him a few days ago. I was lifting weights and noticed that he was looking in my general direction. I didn’t think he was watching me at the time but maybe I was wrong about that. He’s tall, in his late forties. A big guy. Not handsome, but not unattractive. Average.

I can tell he’s staring at me and he’s standing three feet away from my bike. I’m trying to keep my gaze on the display screen. Pretending I don’t know he’s staring. It makes me uncomfortable.

He slowly raises his shirt to reveal a hairy, sweaty chest. He begins to dry himself off with a towel while continuing to stare at me.

What the fuck!?

I look to the left, then to the right. Am I being punked? Is this for real? Who does this?

Then he turns around, lifts his shirt again, and dries his back while looking over his shoulder at me. His back is hairy and sticky with sweat. I almost threw up a little in my mouth. I don’t usually have an issue with hairy chests, but this is not sexy. This is not okay. Why is this happening? I feel as though I have been visually assaulted!

Then, and I swear to God I’m not making this up, he hikes his leg up on a piece of exercise equipment, sticks out his ass, and then looks over his shoulder to stare at me again. It was like something Will Ferrell would do in an SNL skit. I was speechless. I had no words. I couldn’t even laugh because his behavior was so ridiculous.

No one jumped out with a camera. No one started laughing. Am I being hit on? Is this how old dudes try and pick up women at the gym? No wonder so many people prefer to be single these days!

I can never un-see that! Ever! It makes me want to scrub my eyeballs with bleach and a wire brush!

I quickly jumped off the bike and headed to the locker room. When I got home I told Dan about it. He laughed and laughed. I said, “I don’t know if I was supposed to be flattered or insulted, but I’m leaning toward insulted.”

Help me feel better about this people….what’s your worst gym story?

Happy Anniversary, Wanda!

July 27, 2015 / Wanda / 19 Comments

Today marked the one year anniversary of A Girl Named Wanda!

In the past year, Wanda has gained 220 followers and has been viewed by people from 94 different countries!

Holy shit, that’s amazing!

I started this blog as a hobby. As an outlet to help reclaim my sense of self, which I felt had become lost in the day to day grind of life. I was dealing with some depression after moving to a new city with my family, leaving my career to become a stay at home parent, and finding it difficult to orient myself to my new life and surroundings. Wanda became my anti-depressant of choice, but I never really thought anyone would read it. So the outpouring of encouragement, love and support from my friends and family, and then from the WordPress blogging community has been incredible.

In the past year of blogging I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned that I’m funnier than I think. I’ve learned that we need to share common experiences with each other in order to feel connected with others around us. I’ve learned that no matter where we’re from, most of us are more alike than we are different. I’ve learned that other bloggers curse more than I do, and other bloggers curse less than I do. I’ve realized that I edit my posts too much based on my audience and I probably still care a little too much about what others think of me. I sometimes allow that to influence what I write about and sometimes I envy other bloggers who’ve chosen the path of anonymity. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn, from all of you.

Like I said, I’ve learned a lot.

I’ve always said that I’m not a writer. I’m not trying to get published. I’m not trying to write the next great American novel. I just enjoy sharing hopefully funny stories about life, parenting, and the frequently absurd moments that make the journey of self-discovery worth sharing. My goal now is really to connect with others. To laugh. To learn. To be a part of something bigger than myself.

Although I struggle to find the time I need to post with consistent regularity, I have fallen in love with my Wanda, and with all of you. So thank you for sharing in this with me. Thank you for taking the time to comment and share your stories. Thank you for reading my Wanda!

Vacation!

July 19, 2015July 26, 2015 / Wanda / 9 Comments

Hello, world! I’m home!

The family and I spent nine days visiting with friends and relatives throughout the Midwest. I call this trek our annual Midwestern Tour, as we hit Illinois, Indiana and Michigan in the same week. This time of year the area where I grew up is amazingly beautiful. You wouldn’t believe how green everything gets. Even the corn fields look beautiful when I haven’t seen them in a while.

We spent the first couple of days in Chicago, then drove south to central Illinois to visit my grandmother. We then drove three hours north through Indiana and Michigan to reach my mother, other grandmother and various relatives who live in the area. It was fast, organized, exhausting and incredibly fun.

Here’s the highlight reel…

While in Chicago, my college friend hosted a house party and invited all of our girlfriends from school, along with their families. We BBQ, drink, laugh and relive our glory years together while our kids run around and make new memories and form new friendships. This year the adults sent the kids to the basement to play so we could play the game, Cards Against Humanity. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s an adult card game of mostly vulgar and inappropriate topics. If you’re not too uptight and appreciate a dirty joke, then this game is for you. I will say that I did surprisingly well in the game, and my two most popular cards read, “Altar Boys,” and “Two Midgets Shitting in a Bucket.” Feel free to use your imagination here as to what these cards may have been in response too. 🙂

We visited my grandmother, who is 94 years old. I’ve always had a very close relationship with my Nanny and she’s an incredible woman. She is in amazing health but starting to lose some of her short-term memory. We looked at the same photo album about four times, and although it was new for her every time, I continue to be amazed at her ability to remember details about family history from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Her own mother was born in 1897, and every conversation feels like a history lesson, but one you don’t want to miss. When I ask her how it feels to be 94, she tells me, “getting old is not for sissies!”

St. Joseph, Michigan

While in Michigan, we visited with several of my high school friends, my mother, grandmother, aunt and a few cousins. I went to my favorite childhood restaurants. We drove to St. Joe and took the kids to Silver Beach, which is on Lake Michigan. My kids ran down the pier alongside the lighthouse, disbelieving that Lake Michigan wasn’t as big as our Pacific Ocean back home. I found a lake house there I would like to buy for the low, low price of 1.6 million dollars. What a steal! LOL! At one point Bryn looked at me, while having dinner outside on a patio overlooking a beautiful lake active with boats and jet-skis, and she said, “I can’t believe you got to grow up here!”

Yeah, I got to grow up there. It’s funny how so often in life we don’t appreciate what we have until we can look back with some perspective. Growing up, I didn’t appreciate the beauty of the fields, the lakes or the small community that looked out for each other. I took it for granted and was more excited to see other places. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the older I get, the more I appreciate where I come from, and this annual trip means more to me every year. I want my kids to experience the things I loved about growing up in the Midwest. Admittedly, my kids have opportunities that I never had as a child, and I’m thankful for that. But I also want them to appreciate the simplicities of life. The small things and traditions that add up to big things when you look back on your life and remember what you loved most about your childhood.

I want them to gorge themselves on strawberries while picking them fresh from the fields, and then bring the berries home to make fresh strawberry jam in grandma’s kitchen. I want them to canoe the rivers of my hometown and camp under the stars, even if it’s just in their grandmother’s back yard. I want them to catch fire flies, sit around a bonfire in a field with their cousins, learn to water ski on the lake and marvel at the incredible beauty of the leaves turning in the fall. I want them to know who their people are, and why, no matter what they choose to do in life, it will always be special that their family comes from this incredible place.

So yeah, it was a good vacation. 😉

Good morning!

July 7, 2015 / Wanda / 2 Comments

That moment, in the early hours of the morning, when it’s still dark outside, and your kid, who managed to wiggle their way into your bed in the middle of the night, suddenly sits up and declares with panic in his voice, “My tummy hurts.”

Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

You bolt awake, adrenaline filling your system as you grab your child, and run as fast as you can to the bathroom before Mount Vesuvius erupts in the middle of your bed. You just changed the sheets and a bed full of vomit is not something you want to deal with at 5am.

An hour later, after cuddling him through the stomach cramps, wiping his tears of fear, rubbing his back, administering Sprite, Tums, and a few Saltine crackers to get something in his stomach to absorb the acid, he looks at you and says, “I guess I just had to fart a couple of times, mommy. I’m ok.”

So, yeah. Good morning.

A Conversation with my Vivofit.

July 6, 2015 / Wanda / Leave a comment

I’m forty-five minutes into an hour workout with my trainer, Carrie.

I’m dripping in sweat and about to go into another super-set of exercises. I casually glance down at my Vivofit. It’s the fitness band I wear that tracks my activity levels. If there’s an extended red line across the top of the display screen then that indicates you’ve been inactive for to long and need to step it up. As I look at the band, the red line is blazing across the display because it doesn’t count anything but a full stride of movement, walking or running.

So I say, “Look at this Carrie! The red line is mocking me! It says, move your ass fat girl, you’ve been stationary too long!”

Carrie is quietly laughing at my outrage.

So I look at the Vivofit on my wrist and say, “Fuck you Vivofit! You don’t count the 100+ lunges I’ve done today, or the eighty squats I did with weights! You don’t count the rowing machine, or the fact that I bench pressed 45 fucking pounds! Screw you and your red line of ridicule and judgment!”

Carrie is still laughing. And then she says, “That could make a good blog post.”

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You’re number one, Vivofit!

The Love-Hate Challenge

June 28, 2015 / Wanda / 17 Comments

Hello, world!

Once again, life has been busy and I’m checking in to say hello and tackle the Love/Hate Challenge handed down to me by one of my favorite bloggers, Kimboxin. In this challenge, I have to list ten things I love and ten things I hate, then nominate other bloggers for the challenge.

Initially, it doesn’t seem too complicated. How hard is it to list things you love and hate? So, I spent a few minutes pondering the many nuances of what it means to love or hate something. If you really think about it, love is not the opposite of hate. Indifference is the opposite of love, but I have not been asked to write about things to which I feel indifferent. So, for me, this is not an exercise of opposites, but rather a list of items that either make me feel extremely happy or extremely unhappy. Oh, and I’m leaving out the obvious stuff, like loving my family or hating anchovies. Seriously, who likes anchovies?

Hate, hate, hate….

These are instruments of torture.

1. I hate high-heels. Why, as women, do we choose to wear shoes that after about twenty minutes of wear feel like razor blades are imbedded on the inside? I admit, high-heels make legs and ankles look more attractive. They add that special something to a dress or an outfit that flats just can’t imitate. They are incredibly feminine and just make you feel fancy. I occasionally attempt to wear them. But high-heels make me feel insecure. Insecure in that I know the pain is inevitable, and I know that with one small misstep or slip, I will fall ass over tea kettle in front of anyone watching. Friday night Dan and I celebrated our anniversary. We got dressed up and went to dinner at Beso, in Hollywood. Then we walked to the theatre and saw Phantom of the Opera. The theatre was less than two blocks from the restaurant, and in the seven minutes it took to walk there, I honestly felt as though my toes were being severed from my feet. I then made the classic mistake of taking the shoes off while I was at my seat enjoying the performance, because my toes began to swell, which then made trying to put the shoes back on feel like a fresh new hell. After the show, I put on a brave face, and hobbled out of the theatre, hanging on to Dan’s arm for dear life. It was all I could do to maintain my dignity and not look like a drunk hooker falling down on the street. About half way up the first block, I said fuck it. I took off the shoes and walked down Hollywood Boulevard in my bar feet. I figured, what the hell? It’s the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and it’s probably one of the nicest sidewalks in the country. I did enjoy a laughable moment though when we walked passed a strip club whose marquee read, “1000’s of Beautiful Girls and 3 Ugly Ones!”

2. I hate being the center of attention, or having too many people looking at me at once. It makes me feel very insecure and nervous. Even at my own wedding, knowing that everyone was looking at me filled me with anxiety. I prefer to blend in with the natives. This anxiety does not exist for me in this medium, thankfully. I want people to read my blog. And it doesn’t feel like the same level of scrutiny for some reason.

3. I also hate crowds. Too many people. Too much noise. No parking. And people tend to behave poorly in large crowds. I prefer smaller, more low key environments. Causal, laid back places. Pubs, not clubs.

4. I hate allergies. I am allergic to everything. If I was stranded on a desert island, I’d probably be dead within hours from touching a leaf or a plant, or being stung by an insect. A handful of years ago I saw an allergist and she did that skin test on my back where they scratch your skin with a hundred different allergens and then see what you react too. Within seconds of the nurse applying the allergens, it felt like fire ants were biting me everywhere. The allergist sort of freaked out when she entered the room and it took several doses of antihistamine to calm the reaction and welts on my back. When I looked at the chart she gave me, it said one of the items I was allergic to was cockroaches. WTF? I want to know what part of a fucking cockroach they rubbed on my back to find out if I was allergic to it. Gross.

5. I hate most reality TV. Mostly because it’s not reality and there is very little substance to these shows. I don’t give a fuck about the Kardashians, the Desperate Housewives of any city, or who the Bachelor or Bachelorette is making out with this week. And don’t even get me started on the Duggars. There are a few reality shows my family enjoys, but we’re pretty selective. My family loves MasterChef, American Ninja Warrior, the Amazing Race, and more recently, BattleBots.

6. I hate hypocrisy. If you talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk.

7. I hate it when people don’t take responsibility for their choices, or try to negate the choices of others. In life, your choices, for good or bad, is truly what defines you. Own them, and use your powers for good, not evil.

8. I hate Jalapenos. Does this need further clarification? I think not.

9. I hate technology when it doesn’t work. My last cell phone sucked. It was an older model Samsung that had the drop down keypad for typing. I preferred that to the touch screen because my fingers always hit the wrong key and it took me forever to do anything on the phone. So, one evening my friend was over for our regular Friday night wine o’clock, and I was bitching about my phone and how long it took to connect a call. And she said, “Can you just give it a second to let the signal come back from space?” LOL!

10. I hate skinny jeans on men. I can’t think of many things more emasculating than seeing men wear skinny jeans. Biggest fashion mistake, ever.

For the love of….

1. I love fresh, clean paper. There’s something about a new notebook or journal that fills me with excitement. It’s a clean slate. You can write or create anything. I would hoard them if I was crazy. But I’m not crazy. As far as you know.

2. I love office supplies. I have no idea why. I have always loved stores like Staples and Office Max. I love buying stuff that makes me feel organized. Shopping for school supplies as a kid felt like Christmas to me.

3. On this same note, I love making lists. I write lists for everything. Again, it helps me feel organized, and my brain needs this in order to feel peace.

4. I love getting flowers, for no special reason. Or for a special reason. That’s fine too.

5. I love giving and receiving compliments, especially when they are unexpected. Admit it. Getting a compliment at an unexpected moment can make you feel on top of the world. Especially because we rarely see ourselves the way others see us. And when you give a compliment, even casually, and you see that person’s face light up, it’s an amazing feeling.

6. I love it when I’m on the treadmill at the gym and one of my favorite Kid Rock songs hits the playlist. When Bawitdaba starts playing, it takes all I have to not start singing out load and head banging in front of everyone. That song, among others, just pumps me up and makes me feel like I could run a hundred miles. I can’t, of course, and about a minute into the song I have to slow down and remind myself that I’m forty and my knees can’t take that shit.

7. I love my husband’s photography. He enjoys photography as a hobby, and I love his pictures.

My kids, walking down the street, holding hands.

8. I love candles that make my house smell good. I specifically love Gold Canyon Candles. They are the best.

9. I love reading. I love being absorbed and transported by a story, and the devastation you feel when the book ends.

10. I love my husband. I know I said I would leave out the obvious stuff, but we just celebrated our anniversary, so it feels important to include him in this list. I love the life we have together, and the balance we share in our relationship. I’m proud of the man he is and I’m proud to be his wife.

Happy Anniversary, Dan!

I nominate the following blogs to participate in this challenge, if they so choose.

1. https://myspokenheart.wordpress.com/

2. https://nosajnawk.wordpress.com/

3. https://lindsaysmiles.wordpress.com/

4. https://brandedexplorer.wordpress.com/

5. https://sweetykannoth.wordpress.com/

6. https://hysterectomy4dysmenorrhea.wordpress.com/

7. http://catsatthebar.org/ (I would love to see the cat’s perspective on this!)

Locked Windows

June 14, 2015June 15, 2015 / Wanda / 17 Comments

That moment, when you’re walking through your house at night, closing the windows so it doesn’t get too cold in the kid’s bedrooms. You reach up to slide the window closed and start to close the blinds. Then you have a sudden flashback to a horror movie you watched in childhood that left you terrified of ever sleeping with unlocked or open windows. Yes, Salem’s Lot flashed through my head. That scene, where the younger brother whose been turned into a vampire is hovering outside his older brother’s window, scratching the glass and asking him to let him inside. That scene flashed through my mind, quickly and unexpected. I paused for a moment, then reached up and flipped the latch to lock the window.