At least he's not smearing sh*t on the walls

Things Milo could be doing with his stubborn, high-spirited nature during these times of intense life changes:

1) breaking things

2) punching people

3) making himself throw up

4) launching food and overturning dinner plates

5) marking his territory with urine

6) stashing, storing, smearing, or otherwise playing with his own excrement

7) sneaking out and getting drunk with the guys... 

8) hooking up with the loose girls at day care

9) making fake IDs with my iPhone

10) having nightmares, really falling apart...

I guess an occasional 2 hour bedtime show-down is small potatoes. 

At first, I thought it was standard stalling and tried to be firm. But 30 mins in (20 mins after his older brother had started snoring), I stopped focusing on getting what I wanted and just started rummaging through drawers for a white flag to wave...

When he sat on the top stair, twinkled his non-tired eyes, rested his full, puffy cheeks in his not-so-tiny hands and answered my, "You are going to bed right now" with:

"No.  I'm not."  Then he got quieter:  "I. Am. Not...   Not going to bed...   Not tonight."
Then he looked at me, with pity and exhaled: "no. I'm not."

Serious as a heart attack.

People, I know when I'm beat.  My mama did NOT raise a fool.  I'm all about being the adult - "the parent" and setting limits.  But it was the calm in his eyes- like the sea in a glossy travel brochure; it was his non agitated, purposeful stare...

And as Yoda- oops, I mean - JAKE told me earlier today, "Mommy, do you know the secret to beating your enemies?  Make them your friends."

"Okay," I told my curly haired challenger, "If you're not going to bed, come down here and and help me clean up.  You can start by cleaning up your cars."

Trying to get them to bed early on transition day, I had planned to return the 17 die cast metal cars (we counted them aloud 4 times as he parked then in the shape of letters (and one time in the shape of a "mark" that I when I tilted my head a little I realized was a pretty perfect "question mark") away.

When the cars were away, I had him put the couch cushions back and fluff the throw pillows.  Then I told him to go get two books and we read them each - twice.  Then we headed upstairs and drank a small dixie cup of water and as I laid him down, we talked about his day:  The hole he dug in the sand (It was huge)... The sand he put on the slide (even though his teachers told him not to put sand on the slide)... We talked about kindergarten coming up in the fall.

He didn't know that I had already decided I wouldn't even be trying to leave his lower bunk bed until I was dismissed.

Back when I worked in the ICU, I had this little rule, if a patient/or family rang his/her call bell 3 times within 20 minutes, I would pack up my charts and go in there and sit.  I would first see what they needed, and answer their question or request; BUT then I would pull up a chair or desk and sit there yammering and/or charting until the patient and/or family would say something like, "You must have other work you have to do."

When I stopped peppering Milo with questions and the conversation started to lull, I didn't make a move to leave.  I didn't even shift my weight, but still he grabbed my face and whined: "I NEED you." I held my hands over his hands, tight on my cheeks.

"I need you and love you too,"  I replied

"I WANT you."  He pulled me tighter.

"I'm right here."  I kissed both his palms and offered him mine. 

"I ALWAYS need and want you."

"Me too."  More kisses on his hands and arms

"You always... yell at me."  

I laugh.  "I SOME-times yell at you when you don't listen, but I am not yelling right now."

I snuggled in closer. "I'm staying right here until you tell me I should go."

Literally 10 seconds pass.

"When you hear the 'DING' you go.... DING!"  He high-pitched the last word into a flawless, one-toned bell.

"Okay, when I hear that noise, I should go?"

"No.  It ding'd.  You should go now... it already ding'd."

 Now I'm laughing, hard: "Wait... Now? go now???"

"Yes.  You have to. It already Ding'd.  Sorry.  I love you.  Now go."

Bahahahahahahaha!

Seriously, this kid is ridiculous.

DST= I'm so tired

Daylight savings time is like that hot, undercover cop who comes to your high school to "deal with the drug" problem but then she ruins the life of the valedictorian because he's sweet on her and she asks him if he knows how to get her some drugs...

And by that i mean, it's nice to get that extra daylight and all, but really- the time shift 4 days ago has  messed up these kids' sleep cycles.  I don't know how or why it happens.  It doesn't make any logical sense, but everyone is all coo-coo for coco puffs at bed time and all night long... And getting out of the house on time in the morning is a joke.

First wake

My dad's Uncle George died the day before Thanksgiving (last week).  As I prepared to go to the wake on Sunday, Jake asked where I was going. 

Me: Papa's uncle died and TT and I are going with Gram'ma Bella to the wake.
Jake: What's a wake?
Me: Well, when someone dies, there is usually a wake and a funeral... Or some kind of ceremony where you can go say goodbye, and go hug the family and tell them that you are sorry about losing the person they loved.
Jake: Who did they lose?
Me: Well, Papa's uncle George died.  So Papa's cousins lost their dad, and Papa's aunt lost her husband.  When someone dies, we say we "lost" them.
Jake: Oh.

I absentmindedly asked Jake if he wanted to go.  It wasn't an accident exactly.  He seemed interested and there is something I want to try to teach these boys early on about life being special and about death being a part of life. And about what it means to belong to a clan of people- that you have respect and are generous with your time, and sometimes you stop what you are doing to show up and bare witness at these events. 

Jake: Maybe... I have to think about it.
Me: okay (In my head: "ut oh")

(I never thought he'd agree...
After a few minutes, I thought of a way to deter my 'soft pants' loving boy...)

Me: You know, if you go, you have to put some dress clothes on.
Jake: What do you mean?
Me: I mean, I am going to put work clothes on and you will have to dress up.
J: Like, in what?
Me: Like a sweater, or a shirt and tie, and church pants and shoes.
J: What sweater?
Me: I don't know... like the new one that TT bought you...

(After a few more minutes...)

Jake: I'll wear a tie.

Me: Oh... Okay. (pause)  So, we should talk about what it will be like...  At a wake, there is usually a box called a coffin that the person who has died will be laying in.  And there will be flowers and pictures and his family will be there and we will go through and hug all of his family- Papa's aunts and uncles and cousins.
Jake: Okay.
Me: And at some wakes the coffin is closed and you can't see the person inside but sometimes the coffin is open and you will see the person.
Jake:  LIKE A SKELETON?!?
Me: Oh, no... He will look like he's sleeping.  He will have his clothes on and of course all his hair and his skin... Maybe his eyeglasses...
Jake: (interrupting) HE HAS EYEGLASSES?!?  (The idea that he might see eye glasses seemed as shocking to him as the idea that me might see a skeleton.)
Me: (giggling) I don't know... maybe he does or maybe he doesn't...  The coffin might be closed, but it might be open.  And he will look like he is sleeping, but he won't be sleeping because he isn't alive anymore; remember how we talked about what happens when a person dies?
Jake: Yes.
Me: Their heart doesn't beat anymore, and they don't breathe, and their body is still there, but their spirit isn't inside their body...  ?
Jake: Yes.
Me: Do you still want to go?

Jake: Yeah, but I want to wear the red tie...

Katy likes to tell people that before she met me, she had never been to a wake or funeral.  And now she never stops going to them.  She is gracious about this and says that if it weren't for me, she would have had no idea how to conduct herself at her grandmother's funeral.  I almost skipped Uncle George's wake, but it was at her "it's the right thing to do" urging that I was getting dressed to go.  As a former ICU nurse, I'm more confortable than the average bear with corpses.  I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that these things can upset "lay people".  There are some funerals that children should NOT attend.  Very tragic, unexpected deaths... funerals where the adults are generally falling apart and so grief stricken that they are not able to look out for the emotional well being of kids in the room...

When our friend Liz's husband died leaving her widowed with 4 children (3 of the 4 were grade school age and younger), of all of the things she did that impressed me, none impressed me more than her plan for the kids.  After a brief appearance at the wake, she had them brought back to the house where Katy and I played with them and fed them dinner and got them to bed.  Of course they had to go to their dad's wake, but the emotions were too intense and the line at the funeral home too long to subject them to the entire event.

When my friend John died, I have this stark memory of his nieces a few feet from the coffin only 6 or 7 or 8 years old and my brain was forming the judgemental thought, "What are these parents doing letting their kids just hang around here near the casket all night?!?" when their kiddie conversation came into auditory focus:

Munchkin 1: Do you know why he doesn't look like himself?
Munchkin 2: No?  Do you?
Munchkin 1: I think it's because his soul has left his body
Munchkin 2: Yeah, so it isn't really him anymore... just his body.

I had the urge to stoop down to eye level and grip their shoulders gently and tell them that he didn't look like himself because the mortician in this joint isn't worth shit and has clearly never heard of blush or hair gel... but as I exhaled, the psycho urge passed and I realized that (of course) these children were wiser and more balanced than I.  Truthfully, kids just don't have the baggage that we do.  They don't usually bring their accumulated insecurities and fears into the room; or if they do, their accumulation is miniscule as not to even register.

When my mom saw Jake at the funeral home, she tried to hide from me that she was a little freaked out, asking several times, "Aren't you worried that he will have nightmares?"

And here's the thing.  Jake already has nightmares.  He's just like his freakin' moms.  A few weeks ago he crawled into our bed and told us he dreampt that there was a fire and he was trying to save Milo.  [A FIRE?!?! Seriously?  Where did that fear come from, Disney?!? I promise, we've never talked about fires around the dinner table...]  And last week, he was crying because he dreamed that his grandparents left without saying goodbye.  Some kids have more bad dreams than others.  I've got to try to find some books to see if there's a way to teach or talk your kids out of bad dreams, because I was one of those kids.  At a very early age, I dreamed scary, stressful things.  I still think that is part of the reason I stay up so late- Some of those dreams are sad and exhausting- maybe it's better just to stay awake.

Anyway, I've come to believe that 1) My dreams are not necessarily premonitions.  2) Bad dreams are not something that always happens because of unrest in your conscious life.  It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with your perception of safety or security.  I know this because I was a very safe, protected, nurtured, sheltered child.  And so are our boys. 

Jake is a thinker and he reasons things out.  He likes to be prepared.  And even though Milo is comparitively our "spontaneous frat boy"... He also is a thinker, and a dreamer. 

"You are not quite right" is what I've heard in response to the explanation that this first wake was a "dry run" for Jake.  He will have to see some people he loves in coffins in the coming years and decades and this was his first.  I'm sure we will have follow up conversations and clarifications, but he came through the event without a flinch or twitch or question.  This was just an experience to him.  Not positive.  Not negative.  Not even that big of a deal.  Just something to stash away in his mental filing cabinet.

My working theory is sometimes (maybe) the sheltering and protecting that we do for kids is unnecessary. Sometimes (maybe) that "protecting" contributes to anxiety and unsettled emotions.  (Emotions like, "What if I am not good enough? What if I can't handle all that I am asked to handle?") Trying to pad the sharp corners of the world isn't what I want to accomplish as a parent.  Life is full of struggle and sadness, disappointment and grief.  Our job is to teach them how to deal with downsides, show them that they can handle uncomfortable situations.  Create a time and space where they can safely learn to be vulnerable and successful in struggle.  I kind of believe that is the only way to fully appreciate joy and love.

Uncle George's wake was the perfect opportunity for Jake to see death. To see a body that was without it's spirit. Someone that he didn't know. An event that had no personal sadness or confusion attached to it.  He observed a portion of the ritual without experiencing the associated loss/discomfort.

And when a kid that cries in the morning trying to decide what pants to wear (because he sometimes has trouble making decisions). When that kid tells me he wants to put on a tie and come with me to a wake, I'll go ahead and take him at his word.  I won't tell him he can't handle it.  I will stand next to him and let him see one way death can look.  Because I trust Jake.  Even at this young age, he is so trustworthy.

And I trust myself.  I know if we stumble into a room or situation that upsets him, I will be able to talk him through that discomfort.  I know Katy will always help me with that.  I know she and I will resist the urge to remove painful obstacles so that our boys can learn to overcome difficulties (at least a bit) on their own.  It won't always be easy.  Sometimes we will fail by doing too much for them and protecting them too vigilantly and either forgetting to let them struggle or losing our steel when confronted by the reality of their discomfort.  But we're lucky...

These boys already have the minds and hearts of strong, wise men.  I'm so proud of them.

I'm on the edge of Glory

For those of you that don't know, that is a Lady Gaga song... Edge of Glory - a song that our family is a bit obsessed with right now. I have an entire essay (vaguely outlined) inside me about how much I respect and adore Lady Gaga, and how if I can feel this way (as an older, mature, fairly "formed" female) I imagine you can multiply that by a million and barely score the surface of the desperate adoration experienced by millions of 12-20 year old women.

But that's a story for another day. Currently, I live with a (3-days-shy of) 2 year old who may simultaneously be Lady Gaga's biggest, youngest fan... and the ruin of her in my eyes. Milo*** won't let it go. He loves her. Her NEEDS her. And the little monster drives a hard bargain. When it comes to nagging us to play her music, he has the attention span and tenacity of Jane Goodall in the jungle. All he cares to listen to is Lady Gaga. And he is insistent. And I know you are thinking, "How can he know??? What does he really know about it???" But he does and he gets pissed if we try to listen to any other music. He acts heartbroken as if all other music is a compilation of dissonant chords and harmful to his dance-party way of life. For now, his parents are equally stubborn, and when we can't take another 50 rounds or 50 miles of Lady Gaga at the audio helm, we are getting used to listening to all other music with Milo screaming in the background:
LADY GAGA... LADY GAGA... PLEASE, MOMMY, MAMA... NO... NOW... GAGA...GAGA...WAAAAAAAAAHHH

(It goes on and on).

So, the title of the post also relates to my mood these days. I'm a little off-kilter; not sleeping enough; doing my best to balance. Finding myself needing to write more, but not writing. Finding myself needing to eat less, but eating like cRaZy. Finding myself wanting to exercise, but not turning the machine into high gear.

Despite what you just read, I'm pretty damn content with this life we are living right now. I am full of gratitude. I am amazed by my wife and our sons and basking in their glow. BUT... I am experiencing a fog of apprehension, and that familiar angst that comes with waiting too intently for the other shoe to drop.

The summer is fading, but it has been quite wonderful. Despite the fact that we experienced an earthquake (my first) and a tropical storm in the span of 5 days, we've had tremendous weather.

We’ve spent a lot of time this summer swimming and playing (and eating food) with friends and family… Some of that food has been seasonally fresh and healthy, and some of it char-grilled, processed, fried, and yummy (but very much the opposite of “good for you”- unless you are counting the “good for the soul” excuse that I keep coming back to.) We've had some terrific vacations: Ohio in July, Rhode Island in August...

This last week, though has found me in a bit of an angst-y, Don't-look-down-you've got-too far to fall melancholy.

To be fair, it's about to be autumn and I have a history of angst-y autumns at various times in my life. At this latitude, in this hemisphere in September and October, there is a very specific change in the angle of sunlight. The time of sunset sprints back toward the afternoon. It is still “summer” during the day, but the temperature plummets 20 degrees by a few hours after dark. You can close your eyes and smell the air (before more than a dozen leaves have changed color) and know you are breathing the first breaths of autumn. You could be in 80 degree sunshine, but know that shifting glare on the horizon means that the summer warmth will dissipate after dark.

Today is September 11th. I just finished watching the season finale of True Blood (a totally f'd up TV show that I can't quit) and about 2 hours of 9/11 "never forget" coverage. And I can't help but wonder, who is that slogan for? Isn't forgetting required a little in order to heal. I got my first glimpse of the WTC memorial and I just sort of burst into tears- it was the visual of the pools- water plunging down into the footprint of the original towers. I couldn't help but think of those people that jumped. I'm not one to get overly sentimental, but something about firefighters dying will always cause me to come a little unglued I think.

It's not just Sept 11th...

Last week, a 4 1/2 year old boy (a friend of a friend's kid) drowned in a neighbor's pool. The parents are a lesbian couple. The kids were with a sitter at the time of the accident. Feel the weight of that devastation for a moment.

Next week, the trial is about to begin for the second man who was caught in the act of, and then confessed to, robbing, pummeling, sexually assaulting, and murdering our friends one summer night in their own home FOUR years ago. But until the end of this trial we have to keep saying he "allegedly" did these things. His team of lawyers seems even more desperate and untrustworthy as he has shown himself to be. I know they have their job to do. But this guy is the one that is going show himself to be some kind of real SOB and I know you are going to have to put up with a little ranting from me in the coming weeks...

Then, there's Jake*** and Milo*** with their impressive, end-of-summer tan lines, and their ever-expansive brains and sharp observations of the world, and their little perfect bodies growing out of toddler-hood and baby-hood respectively. I know they are still young, but they are already growing up. And it's hard to imagine how we will continue to keep them safe when we know so much about how things can go wrong in the world.

There was a festival in town this weekend- food, fun, crafts, music (sorry, Milo, that the Marching Band, did NOT have any Gaga). One tent set up by a local insurance company was producing "kid ID kits". While you waited there, they took photos and fingerprinted your children. I wanted to do this because I can't imagine anything scarier than needing this data and not actually having it available. The entire time I was under this tent (probably 20 minutes for both boys) I felt like I might burst into tears. It was so anxiety producing to complete a kit that would help us if one of the boys disappeared, that it was actually hard not to mutter "never mind" and just run away from there. I felt as if someone was choking me and telling me a really sad story at the same time.

But you should see Milo*** in gymnastics class... and you should see Jake*** in ballet and tap and t-ball. It's a trick of the mind to worry about what bad might happen, when there is so much good happening all around. And I think it's a fool's choice to give into worry, when there is so much celebrating to do. These are the heroic lives we lead- planning a little for the worst, but doubting it will ever come and doing so with such loving intention that, that you make your kids feel all the safety the world may or may not offer.

Overheard at bedtime

After several bedtime stories, including the one about the Little Nutbrown Hare.
Katy tucked JB into bed, with parting words of love, she offered:

KT: I love you to the moon and back.
(pause, pause)
JB: I love you to the neighbor's house...

Sometimes I swear this kid says anything just to shut us up!!!

Coming home tonight

Almost a week since my last post, but a lot has been happening...

I've been away.

I came home from Texas last Friday night (3/18). Spent Sat with the family: did some running around, playing with the kids, grocery shopping, etc. Went to a baby shower for my cousin's wife, spent a few hours with my CT cousin-friends (That's a word I just made up... It's like "sister-wife" in Mormon country, and is used to describe people that you are related to by birth, but more and more as you grow older, they are your friends. While we're here, I think I'll also coin the flip side: "friend-cousins": These are people like the Tabors/Menzies/Priors and the Vuolos... people who fate has so kindly intertwined your families' lives that you are friends with them, but you think of them as cousins...)

Then Katy's parents arrived (Granny and Granna) and we had dinner and I got to the business of packing a fresh suitcase, and bathing, smelling, and snuggling my kids enough to carry me though this week that I have also been away. Katy and I woke up at 3:30 in the AM (last Saturday) to get me to the airport for my 6am flight to Sunny and Warm LA county. The trip with layovers and waiting times on the tarmac to "replace computers on the plane", and flying around in circles to avoid weather patterns, and the harrowing shuttle journey to the hotel took over 15 hours.

It has been neither warm, nor particularly sunny.

But, I have been working my tail off (so to speak).

Only as this week has wound down (Thursday night, Friday, and now) have I truly started to feel the weight of my- not "homesickness" exactly- but yearning to have my babies near me. I think I just compartmentalized it fairly well at the beginning. Also, I knew that (between Katy and my in-laws) the boys were not only in good hands, but they would be distracted and having fun in my absence.

Still, attending these two conferences back to back, I have been away from my family for 11 out of the last 12 days. Even Katy and I have not spent this much time apart since we started dating.
And it has been weird to miss a week that my in-laws took to spend with our family. I've been wondering what I have missed in terms of "bonding opportunities" with them, and while I was out here in CA, my God-daughter and sweet Mac-a-doodle turned 5 years old!!! So, I felt a little sad that night that we weren't all together celebrating.

I've done my best to put the time to good use. I've met a lot of interesting and fun people. I've networked and bonded. I've gotten to spend this last week rooming with (and joking and laughing and theorizing and scheming with) Tara. Tara has been a BFF of ours since Katy's and my grad school days. This week only confirmed why: she is good people. She is real and full of brain and heart power, and loyal and honorable, and not only hilarious- but appreciates (and plays off of) my particular brand of wit. She is funny, without being trivial, and carefully measures the weight of her words and actions like only a soul-sister of mine could.

It is absurd that we ended up here this week together, and I can't help but thank God (The Tiny Baby Jesus, or whatever older version of him you prefer) for the way this trip took T and I out of our other lives and put us here, together for a week.

I also tried to use the time well- to appreciate the things a mom of small children loses out on: Sleep, "Quiet time", complex and extended adult conversation, "me time", I've done some list making and sorting through of things in my head, a kind of spring cleaning of my brain. I've also hit the gym whenever possible and done some sweating- and yesterday got myself onto some of the beaches of Malibu for a little hike.

At the end of this, I am eager to get home. But I think I am going back a little bit of a healthier person. Maybe more focused, more grateful for what I have, more (possibly?) full of energy (though taking a red-eye tonight might put a damper on that).

I can't wait to see my sweetie and our kids!

You catch your breath and winter starts again...

It snowed every day this week... We got 3" on Tuesday, 3-4" on Wednesday, and another 12-15" of snow overnight...

Since I last wrote, our family has been through the ringer a little bit.

Tuesday night, I couldn't wait to watch the State of the Union Address (SOTU). I am a little bit of a political junkie and the SOTU is like the Superbowl to me (especially with a Dem in the White house). I even had this "live blogging" idea going where instead of driving Katy absolutely nutty by exposing her to my internal dialogue, I would write it to the blog in real time.

But something was up with ML- he was breathing too fast and audibly wheezing, and had hurled the contents of his stomach all over 2 different rooms after the hot steam shower I gave him. Katy and I were both already exhausted from commuting to and from work in the winter weather and 4 separate full body clean ups on 2 children. Katy announced, "I think I have to go to bed," and I replied, "I think I do too." Then my wife passed out from the shock of seeing me wave a white flag in the face of exhaustion. When she came to, we headed upstairs and our little boy woke up not but a few minutes later pretty uncomfortable. He seemed a little warm, but it was definitely his breathing that was freaking us out. We put it off and put it off b/c who wants to bring their 16 month old out into the cold night to get him checked out at the ER? We could have headed there at 8 or 9pm, but by 11:30 pm, we couldn't deny that he was breathing too fast, retracting, wheezing, not able to sleep, and it was getting worse. I called my mom to come sit with JB and we packed the little hyperventilator up.

There is an ER 10 minutes away that I would take myself to in a heartbeat, but it is not a children's hospital, to get there means a 3o minute drive. It is tempting, but I know I will never (if it is in my power) take a kid of mine to a hospital that is not a children's hospital. We were triaged in minutes and then given a number to wait - which is surprisingly reassuring when you have a sick baby. We were taken into a room within 15 to 20 minutes, and were there about 2 hours. They gave him some respiratory treatments which made him all jittery and tachycardic, but pretty much stopped the wheezing. They suctioned him, which did nothing but hurt his moms and piss him off. They said: "Probably RSV," and "Bronchiolits" and sent him home on albuterol.

We got home at about 3am. My dad had come by on his way home from work to keep my mom company and was shoveling our driveway when we pulled in. My eyes were rolling in my head by then, but we all slept only a few hours before Katy had to get up and go to work. I got JB off to school- walked him to the door with ML bundled in my arms and shouted a goodbye without actually crossing the threshold of the day care- not wanted to spread germs. Then I spent the day trying to console a very unhappy boy.

ML is not what we call a snuggle-bug. That is not to say he isn't sweet. He is a sweetie. But he won't sit in your lap for more than a few seconds. One of his favorite games is begging to get up on your lap and then wiggling right off again ad infinitum. But these last 2 days, he would just sit on your lap and/or rest his head on your shoulder, breathing at a rate of 39-48 breaths a minute. (Which, trust me, is alarmingly fast). He was lethargic and only a little interested in food, drink, or sleep. He just wanted to sit, stare ahead, and breathe. It was pathetic and scary. At some point in the day, I was too tired to stay awake with him, so I put him in bed with me and we both slept on and off for a few hours... It was decidedly un-ML-behavior... that he was just content to lay there and play with my hands or hair when he wasn't sleeping.

Last night, he was also restless and feverish, as high as 102.5. But this am, he was better and wanting to run around a little again. I fought the elements to get to work, and Katy took a snow day/sick kid day to be home. She got him to the doctor who checked to be sure there was no obvious infection that the ER might have missed. He screamed and cried b/c now he really hates medical personnel...

This has been a long week. But one that has made me feel grateful in this exhaustion.

We have broken the record for the most snowfall in one month - I can't find the exact number, but I think it is 54". And guess what, there is more snow headed here this weekend. Frankly, I've been loving it. I really have. And the more people complain about it... that just makes me love it more. But today... so tired... so spent from worrying and caring for the boy and you look out the window and calling it 12" is conservative. I was not looking forward to the battle of the driveway.

And then the neighbor, Tom, comes over with his snow blower...
What's a 4-letter word for a neighbor that comes over at 8am with a snow blower???
H-E-R-O

SRSLY- that guy has no idea how much we needed that.

Intuititvely obvious life lessons...

1) Sleep makes you feel less tired

Turns out that when you go to bed at 10pm and don't get woken up by a teething, sobbing mammal with a fever in the middle of the night, it makes a BIG difference how you feel in the morning.

For the last several nights, I went to bed around midnight (usually a little later), and WAS woken up somewhere between the hours of 1 and 4am. Consequently, I spent the better part of the last 3 days trying not to spontaneously start whimpering like The Princess Bride's Wesley after enduring the rack.

2) The main job of Children is to collect and spread germs

I know there are a a lot of things that people think Children should be and do-
- Be seen and not heard
- Spread joy
- Pass on your genes
- Scrub this floor until it shines like the top of the Chrystler building
- (and for the RCC) Be protected from the evils of homosexuality... (protected by ??priests??... sidebar... moving on...)

But from an evolutionary standpoint, this is their job for the first few years... to build up an immune system that is capable of fighting off all sorts of bacteria and viruses so that illness won't eliminate them like those visitors from War of the Worlds (Jeeze, I'm really on a movie reference kick this AM).

Between my sister's kids and our kids, one of the 4 has thrown up at least once in the last 5 or 6 weeks. Usually, they seem perfectly happy, then they get green for 48 seconds, look at you and say, "I have to go potty." Then they shoot the contents of their stomach at you in the living room, or where ever is inconvenient. Then after their vague embarrassment passes and the clean up is complete, they resume playing as if nothing happened at all.

Anyway, these kids are not ALWAYS sick so much as sporadically sick, unpredictably healthy, and major CARRIERS of infectious disease. Attempting to quarantine them when they are "sick" is impossible as the cousins would never see each other again. Katy and I have stopped even being phased by runny noses and coughs, but we are still in the mindset of trying to avoid the ever-elusive "stomach bug". The problem is, we do not know when the next puke will come... or from who. And even as seasoned health care professionals, we do not understand the meaning of low grade fevers that come and go for a week or more without any other symptoms.

This is no big deal if I am well-rested. But if I'm particularly exhausted, I start to get paranoid that my tiny children are trying to kill me.

3) Your tiny children are NOT trying to kill you

Mid winter's night dream

JB gave up the binki this week.

Oh the drama- mostly for the moms. He's 3 plus years. Our pediatrician said, "It's time."
But it seemed so harsh and unnecessary. Though he has only been using his binki at night for (I think) almost two years now, he has become more whiny about wanting and needing it and he doesn't really need it- he hasn't used it at school practically since his first birthday.

To her credit, Katy has been the enforcer on this one. She really took to heart Dr. L's "It's time." and I think she even heard it as, "IT'S TIME, YOU NEGLIGENT BITCHES!!!!!" Usually, I'm the one around here who is all, "Honey, we have to put our foot down." But in this instance, she was one step away from making him leave it for Santa on Christmas eve in order to get his presents in the morning.

But here is the type of kid we are dealing with:
Last week, we really played up this "YOU're A BIG BOY... YOU'RE GIVING UP YOUR BINKI" thing. And he was into it. Over the weekend, he told anyone who would listen, "I'M GIVING UP MY BINKI in TWO DAYS!" He got a special soft toy and a day trip to the museum with his Papa, and the previous days were full of snow and sledding and fun. Sunday night, when the binki sacrifice was upon us, JB went all, "Binki, I wish I knew how to quit you"...

It was hysteria and crying. Heaving sobs and heartbreaking bargaining: "I...wwwwwill...give..uuuupupupuuuup my Binknknknnknknknknk ieeee... to-ooo-ooo-ooo morrrrrowwwwww... Pleeeeeeeeeze, not tonight..."

This went on and on and I was the first one to crack under this pressure. The parental conferencing went on in whispered tones in between sobs:

Me: What are we supposed to do? He's a wreck.
Her: I know... I don't know.

US: JB, what will happen tomorrow if you get the binki tonight... If you want one more night, that's okay, (We nodded at each other, agreeing to this compromise on-the-fly) but we can't have this go on again tomorrow. (We nodded even more exuberantly at each other, a couple of clown-moms who think they are the first to craft a plan to cram 16 other clowns into a small car.)

Like an addict begging for one more chance, he tells us, NO, of course he won't cry or whine for his binki TOMORROW... tomorrow he will GIVE UP the binki...
He tells us this still in between sobs and spittle, but with the tone of a true con artist, practically convincing me that I am unfair to presume that he was looking for a longer reprieve- it is just ONE MORE NIGHT!!! What don't you get about that?!? No one is going to do this again tomorrow... TOMORROW is the day we GIVE UP the binki... Get it?!?

As he puts the polish on his point, with a heartbreakingly stoic, "please," his screams and cries evaporate. We can see his heart pounding in his chest. In the deafening silence that replaced the chaotic hysteria born of his tiny vocal chords, he inhales one more staccato breath for dramatic effect and leaves the wet tears trickling quietly down his cheeks. And though we know we are being conned, we know this is surely the beginning of months of long battles at bed time, Katy and I look at the clock which is proclaiming the time to be 9:45pm (nearly 2 hours past the little dude's bedtime) and we cave quicker than a house of cards in a wind tunnel.

One more night of binki...

And the next night, guess what happened?

Bedtime announcement:
"TONIGHT I GIVE UP MY BINKI!!!"
Bath. PJs. Stories. Brush teeth. Say prayers.
JB: Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, Mommy.
Us: Goodnight. Love you.
Him: Love you

To bed. Shut door.
(beat...beat...beat)
US: (motioning silently to eachother) W.T.F.?!?!?

5 days later... not even a bedtime request to see his former life-partner, Binki.

That's the type of kid we have got here:
One part "I'll do what you want"
One part "If you allow my timeline and/or I have some say in the terms"
One part "I trust you and can appreciate what you're trying to do here"
A spash of "I'm not really interested in months of battling"
shaken and poured into a fancy glass that has been chilled in "Just keep it in the back of your head that we all got a little of what we wanted here."

Unspoken warning of a 3 year old: I could have just as easily shut this shit down! But I didn't, did I???

I'm gonna try to stay on this kid's good side. Srsly.

Overheard in the darkness

It's 4:30 am.
It's pitch black in our room.
I wake up to the sounds of the familiar pitter-patter, pitter-pat.
Lately, he walks right by me around to katy's side of the bed.
That's what he did this morning...

JB: Mama wanna see something?
KT: (trying to wake up) what?!?
JB: I wanna show you something.
KT: huh? you want to show me something?
JB: yes. (pause. pause. Mama and Mommy can't really move yet. I'm trying to get up so that she can be off the hook with whatever he wants to show her... I imagine it might be a set of wet sheets and blankets.)
JB: (waiting patiently, trying to entice her) Wanna come see?
KT: (starting to get up) What? What do you want to show me?
JB: (He is insistent and won't tip his hand) Come see...
(pause. I am awake, but it is like I am paralyzed. I cannot figure out how to come out of sleep enough to move.)
(pause)
(pause)
KT: Stars?!? you see the stars? Are you trying to show me the stars?
KT: (in the sweetest, most innocent, and most wide-eyed voice you can imagine) Aren't they beautiful?
KT: Yes... they are. Thank you for showing me.
(sigh)

The last monday in June

I know it has been a dog's age since I have posted...
Sometimes keeping up with this here Gin-Soaked Olive is all I want to do and when it isn't caught up, I get tense and then I think, if I could only get back to writing I would feel better, but then there are so many things that NEED to get done, that it seems selfish and silly to not do the things you should do and so you avoid spending precious time doing the thing that you WANT to do... and then when you can't do the things you need to OR the things you want to, you start to punish yourself further by imagining some large scale strategy for re-creating the stories that you have failed to post in the time you've been away...

Maybe it's just me that does all this.

Anyway, Since I've written last, these are the things I want to catch you up on:
- Josh (Katy's brother) and Linda's wedding
- Our trip to Seattle and Portland (for the wedding)
- Summer fun at the Ta-BAR pool
- Status update on the new day care
- JB's first trip to the ER and stitches
- My birthday

All in good time.

It has been an interesting few weeks (if you can't tell from that list). It has also been a HOT summer so far. We are without central air for the first time in 5 years and trust me when I tell you, we have gotten weak. I swear that JB was sweating himself awake and then hallucinating because of the weather. ML gets really red when he is hot and it looks like he has a sunburn on his face, but when you bring his body temperature down, he color returns to normal.

So just because my eyes are burning too much (fatigue and I think from all the sweat that has run into them in the last few days) I am just going to give you the highlights from today:

2010 - the last monday in june:

8:01 AM - on my way to work, it is already 85 degrees F. Katy and I have agreed that she needs to spend part of her day off bringing the boys to their doctor b/c JB needs his last stitch that hasn't disolved out of his face yet to be removed (it's been 12 days); and ML seems like he has another ear infection: slight temp, tugging at ear, tell-tale cough.

8:03 - i realize I forgot my sunglasses and go home to retrieve them

8:10 - I've made it to the highway; I look at the dash, the temp is up to 87

8:36 - at work, check voicemail: that girl we need to fire if she calls out one more time, she's called out. Check email: very angry and obnoxious email from clinician/employee

9am - text from katy: the boys have an appointment at 10 am

10 am - Meeting

11 am - call from Katy: ML does have an ear infection- his second in 6 weeks

11:30 - another email from disgruntled clinician

1:30 - meeting

2:30 - another meeting

3:30 - 3rd email from (this time) an IRATE clinician who has apparently "nothing to lose." [The bitches I work with have no problem spewing out emotional emails to the very people that sign their checks -it never ceases to amaze me... Oh, and also, being a manager in this economy is fun. Everyone assumes you are stupid and out to get them before imagining there might have been a worse option on the table that you rejected to protect them... and keep the company doors open.]

3:40- insanely awesome 15 minute downpour

4:49 - abandonment of attempted email responses to irate/disgruntled/obnoxious clinicians

5:01 - in car; temp 92 degrees

5:40pm - arrive home. ML hasn't really slept all day. Has had 2 doses of antibiotics and looks like a kid that someone left in the sun all day without sunscreen; JB tells me he "laid on the table and let Dr K take my stiches out with no fuss or moving." excellent job, baby!

6:10 I give ML a bath

6:17 I dress ML in the cutest short-pants PJs

6:20 Katy and I give ML some motrin

6:22 I give ML a bottle

6:26 ML gives me a dubious burp

6:27 ML projectile vomits all over my shirt and the family room; into my purse, splatter on the wall and the TV table

6:30 Katy comes to get ML so that I can clean up a little and get him back in the tub; i strip down to my lady skivies

6:33 I go to get ML in time to see him projectile vomit all over Katy and the upstairs bathroom; I undress him and take him in the shower with me... he falls asleep in the shower. I dress him and hold him in the glider for nearly an hour to calm both him and me. He is coughing, twitchy, and looks so tall to me, but so tiny at the same time. I meditate on all the scary times we've had with him- worrying about his health, even though for the most part he is so healthy. I do some reiki on him. I do this "forgiveness" meditation that I learned in grad school that is mostly about forgiving yourself for not being perfect. I take time taking him in and feeling the heat rise off of his body- it is 86 degrees in the room, and he has cool cheeks and forehead, but a very warm torso and noggin'. He is the sweetest kid and I can't imagine how I would handle it if something were ever seriously wrong with him, this little illness almost seems too much to bare. I like just sitting there with him, alone together while JB gets to watch another episode of Handy Manny with his mama.

7:45 I head to the store to buy air conditioners. Katy and I have toyed with the idea of installing central air, but don't know if we can really afford it this year. We haven't purchased any AC units b/c i hate window units (they block the windows ALL summer, and can ruin the windows); and b/c we think, "summers in New England" are not all that hot... just a few weeks total all summer long... and b/c we are each still holding on to the dream that one of us will produce a compelling enough argument to "bite the bullet" and hire the HVAC guy to fill our house with ducts carrying magic/cool air. June is not over and this is at least our 7th night of >80 temps at night. I speed off to keep my sweet wife and my baby boys protected from the crankiness that comes with narrowly avoiding heat stroke on a daily basis.

10pm I finish installing an AC in the boys room and an AC in our room.

10:30 I toy with my iphone for a while- the new itunes upgrade is cool and allows for me to have a little fun grouping apps into "folders"

10:48 I skip a rational bedtime and ignore the burning in my eyes to write this down for all of you.

Soon: I go to bed.

Shout out to my Nightingale...

Last Friday was Nurse's Day.

"Nurse's week" started sometime either last Wednesday or last Monday.
If you google this holiday, you will see some discrepancies and inconsistencies about the dates... I digress...

For most of my life as a nurse, i really viewed this as a hallmark holiday:

Thanks for the shout-out, Hallmark, no matter how much money you make on cards this year, you can't possibly know about being a nurse and therefore, not really honor it.

When I was a teen? pre-tween? I'm not sure when this show was on... I was addicted to China Beach. Looking back, I had a serious crush on Lt. Colleen McMurphy:
Yum: Mee:

There I go digressing again... Anyway... Sometimes I credited this show to making me want to be a nurse, I didn't want to go to war, but i could really relate to this character- Irish, catholic, who wanted to DO something that mattered, but then in the middle of it was like, "What the hell am I doing?!?"

I think i was surprised when I worked in the ICU (years later) how much it could feel like you were living through a war even though you were in a civilian hospital during "peace" time. The woman and men that I nursed with in the ICU were amazing: smart, sassy, with the quickest wit and the crass-est, sickest senses of humor you can imagine. You've got to have a strong stomach and a lot of patience for shit (of the literal and bull variety.) And they did. And they laughed and cried and picked people and pools of blood up off the floor. And we ordered Chinese take out in the middle of cardiac codes, and helped families accept the death of their loved ones, and talked and taught and fought the doctors to get them to HEAR what the patients were saying.

I wear that experience like a badge of honor on my soul. But even so, it never made me view nurses day outside of the scope of cynicism. (see made up sassy bark to Hallmark corp above...)

Then this year... when I'm so far removed from clinical care of patients that I've started to call myself a "fake" nurse, Katy wins a Nightingale Award. This is a statewide recognition of nursing excellence. And sitting next to her at the ceremony, something changes a little in me. A little of the cynicism melts away. It is more than being proud of her and thrilled that she was recognized for all the amazing work she does and has done. (Though I am and I was). It had a lot to do with what happened last October and Last January, and Last September...

A nurse was there kind of saving and protecting us when ML gushed into the world.
A nurse was there in my most terrified moments, when I wouldn't even let myself think my worst fear about his illness and fevers and seizures three weeks later.
A nurse was up all night with us when his fever wouldn't come down.
A nurse was there to help get him help when he was having seizures.
Nurses were there, talking to and teaching and sometimes fighting the doctors on our behalf.
A nurse was there during all the LPs, during the MRI, during the EEG.
... During the nights, the early mornings, and the long afternoons.
A nurse was there to help us get some rest and to help us ask the right questions.
To help us calm down a little at certain points and and to get us riled up a little at others.
Then a few months later for JB's surgery... more nurses.
Many of them nameless to me now.
Keeping us sane...

It's different when it's your kid, I guess- those cliches about angels seem somehow less "cliche-y"
There's not a greeting card out there that can convey what those nurses did for us, but now there IS a part of me that has the inclination to buy a few and TRY to convey it...

But then, here we are on Mother's day. And as I write this, my pretty Nightingale Award winner is sleeping upstairs in our bed. She's an amazing mother. Tonight, she got JB to turn off a "Terrible 2" tantrum by suggesting that he could take his "bad attitude" and decide (IF HE WANTED TO) to put that bad attitude in his hand and throw it away and choose to be in a better mood. (I swear this is true.) And what do you think that little fucker sonofa'gun did??? He decided to throw his bad mood away. He pantomimed putting something into his palm and chucking it in the garbage and then (WAIT FOR IT) he was suddenly in a pleasant mood.

blink.
blink.
blink.

Thank God I'm on this journey with such an insanely talented and smart woman. I just love her and hope she knows how much! Cause I didn't get to sign the card I bought for her today...

Happy nurses week and mother's day, baby.

As part of my gift to you, I am going to (be extremely quiet as I come) crawl into bed next to you to sleep this day off!
All my love, Me

xoxo

New Petri Dish

JB is sick.
Mucus production high.
Random grabbing at ears and head.
Crying in his sleep.

We didn't even try to keep him out of our bed because he kept waking up, totally disoriented, and so unable to answer any of our questions that we weren't sure if he was asleep or awake.

We tried to give him the words in an either-or:
"Do you have pain or are you just "nose runny"?"
or, a multiple choice format: "What hurts- your ears, throat, or head?"

No luck he woke up every few hours shouting out and crying.
He was a whirling dervish in his sleep, twirling horizontal at us and pushing us toward our edges with his jabbing limbs, and flapping head. It was a friday night- TGI the weekend- so I was glad that we could have this night without really worrying about being up all night.

He woke up slowly this am, but seems better now.

ML has a runny nose too. Thick snot- not the regular, "day care clear drip" that is a fact of life. Oh, and flushed cheeks - though that could be from his new tendency to drag his face across
the floor when his arms tire out.

Day cares are germ labs.
Each one is different and the only choice is to let your kids BUILD UP IMMUNITIES!

We saw this coming a mile away!

April Showers

It's been rainy for 2 days.

I am out of it.

Out of energy. Out of reserves. Out of snappy, positive, one-liners about May flowers and it's always darkest before the sun...yada. yada. yuck-yuck-yuck.

If i were a celebrity, I would have been rushed off the set by now and hospitalized for exhaustion. You would have been rolling your eyes, yes, but you would not have wondered where I was (why no blog posts) because you would have read about it by now in the tabloids while waiting in line to buy your sloppy joes and jujubes.

There are a lot of forces contributing to my feeling devastatingly tired:

• Last night, the kids slept thru the night... but they didn't. It only seemed like they did because Katy went in there before I woke up. I try to let it not bother me at all... This waking up one or 2 times a night is NOTHING compared to what we were going thru, but now we are hitting 8-ish months since ML was born and yeah, it is gettting... zzzzzzz... oops, I fell off there- what's going on? Where am i?
  
• Exercise... I'm not really getting any. I sort of want some, but mostly don't. My body is stiff and bloated and not playin'. The tendinitis is acting up and my feet are starting to always be a source of pain... Losing some weight would help you say? Maybe, but can't we just sit here on the couch everyone?!? Yes, yes, I know it will help me feel better... Oh SHUT it Jillian Michaels! I would look like you too if that was my JOB!!!
  
• Day care - we are about to pull our kids out of the only day care they have known and put them into a different one. I have a lot to write about this that I haven't, but it is causing me lot of anxiety. They will do fine, I know, but this is a major routine disruption for all of us. Thankfully, all four kids (Cam and Mac and our boys) will be making the change together. NEXT WEEK. Hives anyone?!? I'm covered in hives. And I'm broken out like a first-generation weber cousin. My stomach is turned in knots and I'm telling you this is how people get SICK, this kind of I-can't-stop-my-brain-from-spinning-or-employ-logic-to-stop-my-gut-from-churning anxiety.
  

Disruptions of routines are very hard.
Even when they are good, they set you back a few energy bars.

The grannies were in town last week. They brought with them an insane amount of love and Lion King paraphernalia:

and at-home child care for a week that offered us the luxury of 1) not rushing 2 kiddies in and out of the house around our work schedule 2) Four extra loving hands to help with feeding, playing, bathing, etc of said kiddies, and 3) even "after care" so that the mommies could go out on a date together.

JB got to sleep late, nap whenever, and play all day! ML learned to walk*, wave, and solve quadratic equations. *The motion of walking one foot in front of the other, not walk walk.

Then, the grannies left and frankly we all a little disoriented... Katy and ML are coughing and dripping and sniffling, JB is back to his tiny dictator status... I'm walking around here like a bloated Britney Spears in an existential crisis; without the bankroll (or the addiction) required to get into a Promises-type treatment facility.

I'm not trying to be negative. I'm living the dream here. But is it me, or is the dream sometimes a vampire that causes severe anemia?!?

Defender of Family values

Wednesday night, JB got sick, in the middle of the night.
He woke up crying, clutching his face, all inconsolable and "it hurts" and "Waaaaaaaaa-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh-Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
We had to take him into our room and turn on a movie to calm him down.

This is a thing we don't usually do- movie, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!?! Definitely NOT.
But something was hurting him and he was disoriented. He's been getting better and better in his ability to communicate, but that night after telling us that "It hurts" he could not or would not help us understand what part of him was hurting. Katy and I decided, maybe 2 year old molars???

We gave him some tylenol and let him stay with us in our bed.

Occurring simultaneously, ML was freaking out...

We (well mostly Katy) have been torn about putting the boys in same room. It fits our life better- gives us a guest room and a place to put "an office", offers the boys a chance to bond later on over such things as, "Why are our parents such assholes that we have to share a room when there's another room YOU could live in down the hall." And, "I hate you." and also, "Don't touch my stuff".

The room they share is certainly large enough for both of them, but at this precarious phase of major parental sleep deprivation, we (well, mostly Katy) are always afraid of them waking each other up. So far, this hasn't played out in as much as the very opposite thing has happened: instead of waking each other up, they just take turns waking us up...

Back to last Wednesday... JB's crying out in pain DID wake up ML. And he was beside himself. Not in a typical "I have no object permanence this is all about me" kind of infant way. But in a WHY IS MY BIG BROTHER SO UPSET? kind of way. Katy and I each took a boy and tried to soothe them in separate rooms, but ML was distraught, looking for his brother. He genuinely seemed to be unsettled because JB was upset. ML was staring out the door, craning his neck around, trying to get a visual of his bro.

A few weeks ago, when I sent KT and JB out of the house to sleep train ML, on the 3rd night, I could have sworn that ML looked over at JB's empty bed and started crying. I chalked it up to the delirious imaginings of a desperately tired mom, but the more I watch this baby watch JB, the more I'm convinced it really did happen. If JB is in a room, ML will not even respond to his own name if turning his head means breaking visual contact.

Obviously, I have no idea how their relationship will develop and who will be the defender of who. But if I had to make a prediction, I'd say that ML will always be looking out for his big brother... I think we have a little enforcer on our hands.

------------------------

So, Thursday brought a fever for JB and Friday's visit to the PCP revealed an ear infection, "junky" sounding lungs, a prescribed course of oral antibiotics and (most upsetting) the news that his left ear tube- placed only 2 months ago- has likely been displaced. unless there is a ton on strategically placed wax in that ear, obscuring the view of the tube, it is not present in the ear drum.

Total bummer.

6 Things you may want to know

1) ML turned 6 months this week (and the newsletter is no where near done)

2) My car's "check engine light" mysteriously went OFF this week (after months of being lit, but ignored; I guess it just gave up on trying to get my attention)

3) Today on a walk, JB saw a brown vine that was either growing up or dying around a mailbox, and he said to me, "Why is that so mulch-y". (Mulch is his frenemy since last fall when the new mulch on the playground at school would get stuck in his soft, orange jacket from Aunt Marilyn and we eventually had to stop letting him wear it so that we didn't have to spend 2 hours a night picking pieces of mulch out of it.)

4) We've been sleep training ML- I sent Kt and JB out of the house so I could spend 3 nights alone with my boy- like a warrior in the woods- teaching him not to freak out when he wakes up and cannot comprehend why there is no binki in his mouth; teaching him to soothe himself, unwind, and get to sleep without a long, faceless, parental arm reaching out into the darkness and popping a binki magically back into his mouth.

These are the rules:
a) we can't put the binki in his mouth
b) we CAN put the binki in his hand (though we try to let him find one of the 1/2 dozen we've sprinkled all around his crib)
c) we are trying the Baby Whisperer's "pick up, put down" method (PU/PD)
d) we only use PU/PD if he cries for more than 30 seconds (yes, I do mean use a stopwatch...)
So far, so good. He's a terrific little dude, but his mommies are a little scarred by that night he cried for 8 hours and then needed to be hospitalized for a week. We've been careless about teaching him to self soothe and too quick to run into his room when he makes tiny little noises.

5) Today the outside thermometer on my car read 67 degrees F on my way home from work. (Yummmm-MEeeee)

6) Our 2010 census arrived today. I plan to follow katy's advice and, "Make us as gay as humanly possible." We will fill out the census as a married same sex couple with two kids. "Person 1" is female and married to "person 2" who is also female. "Person 1" has a biological kid and an adopted kid... (so does person 2). This is confusing because even though only one of these kids is "biologically" mine, I conceived OF both of them. I was involved in every decision and every aspect of planning, conception, and birth... So part of me wants to say they are both biologically mine, but fine... we will leave it at the literal answer.
However...
When the federal government gets our census, they will change the answers. They will change the truth to something that is less like the truth and more like what some people want the truth to be. They will say we are not married; even though we are legally able to wed in this state. They will say we are single. We will tell the truth on the US census: That we choose to live in a state where we can legally be married... We will tell the truth and they will change our answers. According to the federal government, there have never been same sex couples. There have never been and still in 2010 ARE NOT ANY gay or lesbian parents. There are no families with two women raising kids. There are no families with two men raising kids. There are no children with 2 moms or 2 dads.

The federal census is a constitutionally mandated count, every 10 years, of the citizens of the united states for the purposes of maintaining an accurate or numerically reasonable representative democracy... Though the primary (constitutional) purpose of the census is to determine congressional representation, the census is used for a lot of other demographic calculations in explaining the make up of the population of the United States.

Only if the census is accurate, do people get the right number of representatives. You must be counted to count... But here we are in the United States of America in 2010, and Katy and I will be counted as 2 separate, unwed mothers who live together. This is the last census (I would bet my life on it) that the government will be allowed to change our truthful answers to fictitious answers just because we are gay. But I will be in my 40s and my children will be 10 and 12 years old before their family is allowed to count; before our descriptions of ourselves are allowed to stand, without the government stepping in and saying, "From our legal standpoint, There is no such thing as you."

Rough few days

The week has been hard already and the snow is coming now.

Snow is not a metaphor... I really mean "snow" as in "wintery mix" that will either bury us or miss us completely- we won't know until it is over this weekend. The weather people are way off their game this year.

I am hurting from a lack of sleep. I stayed up Monday to write that post and then was up most of the night with both kids and in the morning I felt like I might not make it. The boys have been needy and I have been short tempered at times. Tuesday's drop off left my nerves shot because I spent an hour rushing them (esp JB) out of the house. Rushing the kids is my least favorite part of parenting (though fingernail and toenail trimming run a close 2nd)... but there is really no way around rushing them sometimes. I tried not to cry on the drive to work, but a few tears did leak out.

Last night I got a few hours of sleep and woke up feeling better. I even worked out tonight, so I am feeling NOT as much like DYING as I was the day before... But JB was sent home from school after vomiting. And ML slept fairly well last night, so tonight will likely not go as well. Both kids have terrible coughs. They are drippy messes and i wouldn't be surprised if JB's stomach thing is merely associated with mucus production and inadvertent digestion of said mucus. I say that now fully aware I may be cleaning vomit and/or diarrhea and changing sheets before dawn. Now Katy seems to be coming down with something. None of us really felt like eating diner. She asked for a protein shake and we gave JB a few sips of that with some pedialite. ML ate almost as much as either of them in the form of drippy rice cereal.

The wife and I have tickets to see a show in NYC this weekend (Christmas gift from my sis and Bill- who have agreed to also take our kids for 2 nights.) We have been looking toward the weekend like it is a drink of water and we are in the desert, but if JB is actually sick (there seems to be 2 bugs going around day care: a real 24 hour GI bug and then the "your kid puked at day care, but went home and didn't seem sick at all pseudo-bug") and/or if Katy is sick, the weekend might not be a weekend at all but just a drive in for a show.

I hope not. I'm really looking forward to spending some alone time with her and perhaps getting 8 or so hrs of uninterrupted sleep.

Holy worst-night-of-sleep EVER, Batman

It was a sinus-y, drippy, achy, restless, "my-son-is-having-surgery tomorrow, so I'm not going to properly medicate myself" attempt at slumber; punctuated by ML's Q2hour "please pop my binki back in" whimper, and JB's Q3hour "I'm coughing, I need water, WHAT DOES IT MEAN I'M GOING TO THE HOSPITAL?!?" restlessness.

1/2 way through the 5 hours I allotted myself to lay down, I remembered some ? urban legend about Vick's Vapor rub as a conductor of electricity that may cause fire if an EKG machine or defibrillator is used on someone that has used Vick's Vapor rub... What is that? Is that from ER in the 90s? Did I make this up? GSO readers, please respond!

My alarm was set for 4:18, but at 3:50am, I just couldn't take it anymore.

I've popped the Tylenol sinus, am going to have some tea, a light breakfast before the boy (who is not supposed to eat anything) wakes up. Then I'll check on the laundry, the (sort of) packed bag, Katy, and then wake JB so we both can have a hot, hot shower together to loosen up the mucus.

He's going in for ear tubes, tonsillectomy, and adnoidectomy. We expect to be there about 26 or 28 hours and then back home. There's a one week moratorium on school, and a 2 week moratorium on "physical activity"... That should be fun with a 2.33 year old :)

We've been telling them all week that he is sick with a cough and a drippy, messy thing. They haven't seemed too worried. This attention to keeping his providers informed has led him to 2 pediatrician visits in 5 days. I guess there's a chance they will look at him, hear his lungs, and/or decide that they can't do the surgery, but hopefully we can get this over with.

AS FOR ME, if anyone asks, IT'S ALLERGIES!!! IT's ALLERGIES, and if it looks worse than that, I'VE BEEN CRYING- A LOT!!! I know they don't want anyone even the least bit sick at this hospital. But I promise to be all Sudefeded up and never cough except into an article of my clothing and stay hidden in his room... I just couldn't not be there. I think I would ache and cramp and pace to DEATH if I couldn't be there.

Back to children's hospital next week

JB told us tonight that his "ear hurts". In the history of all his ear infections, he's never told us that. Either b/c he didn't have the language, or b/c the fluid didn't cause him all that much discomfort. He's never tugged on his ears, he's never moved his head with any indication that he was having ear pain, even when he was little...

That one time his eardrum ruptured, he did scream all night, but he was a baby and we were new parents... we didn't know what the hell was going on.

Now he's got the words, and it was just a little sadder to hear the complaint directly from his little mouth. But actually, we've been waiting for this...

Last week (or maybe 2 weeks ago) he went for his ENT follow up visit (every six months since his ear tube placement surgery last December) and his hearing is back to being significantly affected due to fluid behind his ear drums. Also, his tonsils are big and the ENT told Kt that our boy needed to get the ear tubes replaced and also that he should get his tonsils and adenoids removed.

This is an overnight stay and we were initially torn (having a little PTSD about ML's illness and returning to the sight of our 7 day "vacation of terror" this past October) as time passes, we both can't help but get excited for JB who doesn't even know that he is sick and the reason he is drippy, whinny, coughing, snoring, etc is b/c he needs surgery. We're "excited" (though stressed) because we both believe that he will be a new little boy without all this fluid and pressure in his ears and if he can breathe better and therefore feel more rested on a regular basis...

The surgery is a week from Tuesday. Tonight, we gave him Tylenol which is sucked down like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Thursday is his pre-op physical. If he's still complaining tomorrow, we'll be forced to call the pediatrician and/or the surgeon and see if they want/need us to do anything sooner than next week.

2 month vital statistics

ML had his 2 month well baby visit. Also last week, he got blood drawn for a phenobarbital level and repeat liver enzymes.

At the pedi visit, the kid was 13 lbs and 10 oz. He is in the 90th percentile for height and wt. And his head circumference is only in the 50th percentile. (I only bring this up b/c he does not seem to be getting a fat head, even though he is growing out of his britches... if you follow my pun.) He is already in 3-6 month clothing.

ML is such a good eater and such a good sleeper, that's impossible to imagine him as anything but perfectly healthy. My gram calls him "such a nice package". He eats 5-6 oz every 3-ish hours. All formula now. Katy stopped breast feeding about 3 weeks ago. He burps like a frat boy with a small change in position. Just sit him up and he lets it rip. He rarely if ever spits up. He hardly ever cries, except to tell us he needs something. He sleeps from 9pm until 5 or 6 (or... 7).

That sleeping thru the night thing might be saving my life right now, but what is not to love!?! So far, he's as good a baby if not better than JB. We are very lucky indeed!

Birth to 3 is coming every 2 weeks to give ML Physical Therapy. He is working on his neck muscles, especially trying to turn to his left as often as his right. And also to get his thumbs out from his fists... especially when he is upset or "stressed" he keeps his thumbs tucked into his fists; apparently this is a newborn instinct that he should have grown out of by now. (Who knew?)

For the most part, he is a happy camper and we adore him (JB included.)

I have some great stories and updates about JB, but that will have to wait. Tomorrow, hopefully katy will post the video of ML singing with his mommy. a-door-a-bull!

I am working 2 days this week and then we are going to Cape May for Turkey day!!! Will try to find time to pay the blog some attention. Having 2 kids makes the "alone" time much harder to find, though.