Tuesday, September 14, 2010

ONE YEAR OLD!!!



ML,

Today is your birthday!

There will be a newsletter later today (or this week) that will talk about how much we love you and how grateful we are for all that you have brought into our life!
But also to tell you how impressed we are by you-
You are strong
You are resilient
You don't mind getting knocked over all that much
You like attention, but don't necessarily DEMAND attention.
You are sweet and full of laughter
You have great hair!

Happy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Birthday Boy!!!
We love you more than we can express.
Mommy and Mama

Sunday, September 12, 2010

1148 days

3 years and 2 months...

In our lives, since that day:
- one house sold
- one house purchased
- 3 anniversaries
- two children born
- three family surgeries- 1 c-section, 1 tonsillectomy, 2 sets of ear tubes
- Stitches put in all of us except the little one who needed a head CT, MRI, several lumbar punctures, and a whole bunch of other nonsense.

1148 days and nights of life and love and laughter, stress and grief, hunger and fullness, exhaustion and rest...
Countless conversations...
Weddings and vacations...
Drinking and dancing...
Playing, tickling, swimming, and nights at the pool...
Breast feeding, potty training, falling down and getting back up...
Tears of sadness and of happiness...
Many injuries have healed and scars formed,
but still, there is one big, unresolved, sucking wound...

We try to stay back from this. We try to have faith, have hope, and not get caught up in the fear and sadness that a tragedy like this leaves behind. We pray- for peace, for justice, for the man that survives- the man that exists but does not really exist, since that day...

There are things that can never be explained, repaired, or forgiven...
We are not vengeful people, but there are things for which vengeance was invented...
Senseless things for which there is no satisfactory atonement, nor any appropriate emotional response...

The next few weeks should be filled with joy: There are many things to celebrate in September. But our emotions will be layered, textured, and likely raw in the coming month...

The first trial is scheduled to start tomorrow.

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

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)

Thursday, September 02, 2010

Another ridiculous week

I'm so wiped out, right now. But so happy.

It got hot again this week- 90 plus degrees for 4 or 5 days now.

A hurricane is on the way: Earl.
It shouldn't be that big if/when it hits us (they think category 2) but we bought some water and supplies just in case.

Last weekend, my gram fell and broke her wrist at a funeral we were attending. She's fine, but watching her go thru that left a lot of us a little shaky.

After getting to see many good peeps this weekend, Katy and I got sick Sunday night. We had the exact same symptoms, and the exact same time of onset- so we couldn't blame one another like we normally might.

We only occasionally glared with contempt and animosity at our two boys, perfectly healthy little cesspools that they are... whatever virus caused their barely noticeable runny noses and crankiness last week turns the adults of the house into piles of tissue-seeking, sinus-head-achy, sleeping with cough drops in our mouths, and taking advil around the clock, sudafed addicts.

JB looked at my pathetic, sickly expression yesterday morning, took out a notebook, and with the speed of an expert Nurse Practitioner writing a prescription for Victoza, he drew me a masterpiece that resembled a Sine curve in black, fine point ink and told me, "This is for you... so that you can have it... for work."

Read between the lines, people! He really gets me, and knew that it would help my cold (and my feelings of desperation) to have a piece of him with me all day.

Not to be outdone, ML waited all day at day care- doing his thing, which involves dragging his care-givers around in circles, clutching one of their fingers as if he is Gollum and the finger he is holding is wearing the RING- until I walked thru the door at 4:40pm. He stood, steadied by his band of merry women, and walked to me. WALKED. Not dragging someone with him by their finger. Not 1 or 2 steps... no. It was at least 6 steps. It felt like 7 or 8 or 10 steps before he reached me.

I was in awe. Laughing and cheering. I assumed he'd been doing this all day, but the expressions on his care givers' faces indicated to me that either they would go on to win academy awards one day, or this was the first time they had seen ML deliver on the promise of upright mobility too. "We knew you could do it!" they shouted and clapped...

I was prepared to go home and not see this behavior again for a while. When ML laughed for the first time, he giggled and chortled for a full 15 minutes and then we didn't hear it again for 3 or 6 weeks. But last night, he walked and walked and walked.

And tonight, we got a digital recording of it:



Um, yeah. That right there? That is on day TWO of walking... In his life.
DAY.
TWO.

Awesome. (Sung in a high-pitched vibrato)

JB has been very sweet, encouraging ML to walk.

He has paused a moment several times to look at us with a cocked head and an expression of, "WTF is everyone so worked up about... I 'been walking up in here for several years now, fishes!!!"

But he seems to understand enough to shake that confusion from his eyes and mirror our excited and proud reactions. Already, Katy and I have stopped cheering for every one of ML's new steps. (Mostly it is because our energy levels are low and our minds are fragile and limp from the week's "illness"... But also, I mean, do you see how many STEPS this kid is taking?!? Constant cheering of that volume is a lot to ask...) Anyway, JB- you can hear him in the background of that recording- if he sees ML walking and we are not making a big enough deal about it, he brings it to our attention: "HE'S DOING IT... HE'S WALKING."

I think he is trying to show how supportive he is (we heap praise on JB whenever he acts the part of "doting brother.") But the expression in his voice doesn't quite get to, "LOOK AT MY AWESOME BROTHER!!!" He instead sounds equal parts excited, panicked, and underwhelmed; like he could be saying, "LOOK THERE, HE'S TRYING TO EAT HIS OWN POO AGAIN, LIKE I TOLD YOU HE WOULD..."

I said to Katy tonight, "I don't remember being this excited when JB took his first steps."
She said, "You were."
Memory is a strange thing. Every day I am totally enthralled, enamored, and sometimes freaked out by how amazing JB is, but I really don't remember him being as awesome as ML is at this age. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention back then. Maybe there's not enough brain power to store specific feelings. Maybe I'm successfully "living in the moment". Maybe it's what we always blame it on: sleep deprivation. In any case, just to bring my heart back there, I went searching for this post: Evidence of Walking.

Like I've said before:
The heart and body remember things the mind can't...
For the rest of it... I guess that's why there are cameras.

Bottom line: I sure do love these boys.

Tonight, to celebrate, we went to the pool.
The perfect way to end a 94 degree day.

I feel very, very blessed!

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Grateful

In the last couple of days, We've received word of a lot of sad news.
Several deaths of people peripherally connected to us:
The father of a friend from high school.
My boss's nephew.
My cousins' other grandmother.
The former associate pastor of our church.
Katy's dad's boss.

It's like every time the phone rings there's another death notice to check out. Yuck.

Also, Katy's uncle had a stroke which scared all of us and significantly effected his speech.

Still, the last few days have felt really peaceful for me.

Our beach vacation last week was a lot of work (4 kids under five years old, and three days as a "single parent"- though not really b/c I had a lot of grandparents and TT/Uncle Bill back up).

Let's just say a 'day at the beach' is not the "Day at the beach" it used to be at this point in our lives. BUT, To me, it was quite perfect*... The beach, the sand, the salt air, the sounds and smells of the shore, the suntan lotion, the walking and lugging gear, the outdoor showers, the commune-style living, the good food, the Bananagrams... Something in me is "patched up"; something I must have inadvertently torn over the last year, something I didn't notice was missing until I got a taste of it again. (sigh) My heart feels safe and content- all wrapped in a big warm beach towel with its hair drip-drying in the salty breeze, and its toes exploring the sand- still now, days later.

Sunday, it rained all day. Quiet, steady, awesome rain. And yesterday, there were some amazing chilly winds for the first time in months (not exaggerating). I've decided that 2 stormy, cloudy days are the perfect way to experience "home" after a week on the beach. It promotes naps and laundry and meal prep and strategic plotting of the coming work week.

JB, after spending a few days exhibiting unprecedented defiance, has relocated many aspects of his gentle self. Today in the car on the way to drop off, he said so many adorable things, I didn't even tax myself trying to remember all of them. ML has continued his beach-learned habit of 3 hour afternoon naps.

Tonight I got a facial and pedicure. It was pretty luxurious and self-indulgent for a Tuesday. When I finally got home, a "ready for bed" JB smiled and sniffed at me, "You smell so good, Mommy."

If gratitude were melted butter, I'd be that first forkful of lobster that gets dunked and swirled around and dunked again before held up, dripping to someone's eager lips .

*Thanks Mom and Dad


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

Sent from my iPhone

Sunday, August 22, 2010

New Tap Shoes

Well, he's signed up for dance class.
And when we bought him these used shoes- his head didn't actually explode, but it was probably the best $5 we've spent in a while.
I guess all that "SYTYCD" with his mama really paid off.

Observe cuteness:

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Newletter: Month 34

JB,

Today you are 34 and some-odd-fraction months old.

Holy smmokes. We talk a lot about you in these here web-pages, but if these were supposed to be "monthly" newsletters, we (and by "we" I mean "I") have failed you.

You and I had a big fight at dinner tonight.
It started with Sit down and ended with you crying in time out and me red-faced, muttering, and pacing a few yards away.

The new thing from you is NO.
I mean all kinds and versions of "no".

There's the little, "do you want more milk?"
No.

And then there's the, "Please SIT in your chair."
NO.

And then there's the, "You are in time out."
NO, I am not going to time out... no.

The defiance comes with a touch too much whining for my taste...
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! NOOOoooooo!!!"
And hysteria... at least it did tonight.

Since you have generally earned the nickname, Mr. Mellow, you can sometimes be like living with Dr. Jackle and Mr. Whine. Honestly, it IS hard to hear "no" to the simplest request, query, imperative (from a not-yet-3-year old) when your safety or comfort is at stake... I am sure this will be as hard or harder when you are 7, 10, 13, 16, 21 years old, but i guess my thought is that at least you will have the vocabulary for a fair debate and enough of a grasp of the concept of cause-and-effect for me to not have to be the only one "choosing my battles".

But these events are not without my own emotional response. And our similarities are already emerging as reasons we will butt heads: stubborn, watery, sensitive, brave, wishy-washy-not-sure-what-i-want-and-that-is-hard-enough-to-deal-with-inside-of-me-let-alone-having-to-try-to-convey-it-to-you, DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED IN ME, and LET ME FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN! heads. Sweet, sweet boy, you and I are a lot alike.

But, you are also like your Mama- she won't go into the Ocean unless I beg or trick her either. You and she notice things I miss every day. Things I would miss completely if you weren't pointing them out: "Hear the crickets, Mama and Mommy?"

It's been several months now that we are blown away by the way you are calculating and figuring out the world, grouping ideas and things together correctly, extrapolating out notions that seem impossibly wiser than your age.

You know all four components of your given name; you know your address including city and state. You know what we need to do in different weather- what to wear if it rains or snows or is hot, why we put the windows up or down, when we use the windshield wipers, why lights go on at night; You look for stars and the moon when the sun starts to go down. If you see a digger, you ask how he can do his work without a dump truck. When you see a telephone pole, you tell us about the wires attached and what they do, what they are for. When you see our neighbors leaving, you ask where they are going... and we have to think up 5 or 6 "maybes"... "Maybe they are going to work... Maybe they are going to visit their kids... Maybe they are going to the store..." we joke that "everything comes down to safety": hard hats, lights on cars, reflectors, lines on the road, seat belts, windows that don't go all the way down, treads on shoes... When answering the incessantly asked question, "why", I would estimate, 80% of the time the answer is ultimately safety. But that's not satisfying to you:

JB: Why that truck have a step there?
Random Mom: because it is too high without a step.
JB: Why?
RM: so that the driver/worker can get to the top without getting hurt.
JB: Why?
RM: to keep him safe
JB: Why?
RM: It is probably an OSHA violation; his employer needs to prevent repetitive motion injuries and calculate what step size is ergonomically proper to avoid undue stress on his joints.
JB: Oh.

It sometimes seems as if you will only accept the answer that is above your pay-grade, and then your reaction is a very mellow, "oh." As if, "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

You are getting good at pretending and telling stories. Your cousins have helped you learn about pretending. The three of you are constantly "taking our orders" in your pretend restaurants and you alternate between having every imaginable food we can conjure up OR telling us, "We don't have that here," to all the items we request. It is adorable but maybe makes us think we go out to eat too often.

JB loves sports: the world cup on TV, baseball, basketball, our softball games. You are starting to understand the difference between the games and the rules, the positions, and the teams. You take turns being the batter and the pitcher, the kicker and the goalie. One day, you used 4 sippy cups to tell me which were the on the soccer team that "had the ball" and which were on the team that "didn't have the ball" (this was based on the color of their tops). You also have followed Mama's lead in your affinity for dance as a spectator sport. There's this show called, "So you think you can dance" on TV which I hope (by the time you are able to or interested in reading these newsletters) is a faded memory. You and she sit and watch and rewind and cue up your favorites for me to see. There was one where boys were dressed at ball players and "danced it out"... it was like all of your favorite things rolled into on 3 minute segment.

We bought you a pair of "tap shoes" which are really a pair of plastic, purple girls shoes that make noise as you clip-clop across the floor. We set out to buy you some flip-flops but when you wandered over to the girl's section of the store and used your most politely hesitant voice to ask, "Can I have these?" We just couldn't leave them behind in the store. You couldn't nap for the entire weekend after we bought them b/c they were on the floor near your bed and it was too exciting to sleep with those shoes just sitting there. We are sufficiently convinced that you want to try to dance and in the fall there's an "all sports" class at the Y at 9am and a tap class down the street at 10 am... I think if we buy you real, authentic, ACTUAL tap shoes, you will soil yourself in excitement, so... I mean... CLEAN UP IN AISLE SIX... bring it on...

Your vocabulary is impressive. Your conversational skills are ever-improving. See this post for a few of my favorite, recent items. Despite your obvious smarty-pants status, you have developed this somewhat annoying habit of asking, "What?" when really you know exactly what we said and what is going on. You've had trouble hearing in the past due to the difficulty with your ears being full of fluid, but if we just spoke louder every time you asked, "Whattt?" (you like to really enunciate the hard "t" at the end) it would be like a school for the deaf around here. Then too, we've noticed that if we just don't respond to the "Whattt?" you tell us what we said. Your Mama complains that I have a Premature and exasperating "What" that is part of my vernacular, and I have also heard you say my "which one?" That is one of mine too. You had an ENT appointment last week which revealed that both of your ear tubes (Placed in January) are out, so now we will have even a harder time determining if your "Whattt" is related to water-logged hearing or absent-minded distractedness.

Speaking of trips to the hospital... In June, you got your first stitches. Briefly, here's the tale. ML was sent home from school with a fever. He puked all over me and then when I handed him off to Mama, he puked all over her. in our brilliance, we were carting him all over the house, trying to calculate how best to get him comfortable and cleaned off, so he puked in about 4 or 5 rooms of the house. I took you to come mow the lawn with me so you would be outside, and I was worried about your safety in the backpack carrier, so I buckled you in with your sunglasses on and took 5 steps away to get the batting helmet that you love to wear (safety first.) You kicked yourself over and the sunglasses cut your forehead when your noggin' hit the pavement. We called your TT. she came over in less than 300 seconds. It was the dinner hour and Mac was in nothing but a tutu. Dried blood caked all over your face, you asked your cousin, "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" She deadpanned, "Why is there blood all over your face?" When I said, "I'm sorry buddy, I think we have to go to the hospital." You started sobbing a staccato alternative: "We'll... stay... here.. you mow the lawn... I'll sit ... and ... watch... I fe...el bet...ter." You got 4 stitches. The trip to the ER took 5 hours. You are stuck all summer wearing a bandaid over your forehead to try and prevent the sun from making the scar more noticeable. I felt terrible for at least a week, but then I made up some story about how it would have been much worse if I hadn't buckled you in the carrier- that's the story that I'm sticking to kid.

You've started using expletives like, "Awesome!" and "Cool!" to describe things. You use the words, "actually" and "also" and "holy guacamole"... you are clear on what drink is an "adult beverage" and what is a "kid beverage". The "Actually" kills me... I just love it. We say it all the time, but when it come out a kid's mouth, it is just so funny.
This exchange typifies the adorableness of it:
Me: JB, what's your favorite letter?
JB: um... 'A'
Me: That's a good letter.
JB: Ummm, actually, it's 'B'

You also hear words and they make you think of other similar sounding words. When you overheard your grandpa use the word, "mediocrity," you looked at him and said, "And also, I have crocks on."

You finally started treating ML like he is occasionally intruding on your perfect world. When he comes crawling towards you and the toys you are playing with, you have started say, "NO," to him. (surprise, surprise) You do this when he starts to crawl away or toward the stairs too, "NO" as if you need him to stay still for you to be comfortable. This makes sense. Your brother is very different from you- he is all "go now, ask questions later" and you seem to have always been a "Let me take it slow and think about things before I move" kind of kid. We are pretty stern with you about saying "NO" to ML. We try to tell you that you don't have to protect him or your toys that you can tell us and we will steer ML to safety... that you can just explain to him how to do things, but this is coming out as instinct "NO, ML," and to be honest, your mommy and mama are surprised at how long it has taken for any territorial behavior to show up.

Then too, I would be remiss if I did not point out how often you reach toward him with a soft touch to say 'HI' and how you don't react hardly at all if ML swats at you or climbs on you. You continue to be an absolutely amazing big brother. All we could have hoped for and more.

You are doing great at school. The teachers say you are one of the best kids there: polite, friendly, happy, smart. You have made it clear that you remember your old school, but you prefer the new one and that is a relief for us- we would have been very heartbroken if this transition seemed to have hurt you somehow.

Your favorites right now:
Food: spaghetti and meatballs (still)
Color: Orange (still) but at least 1/2 the time you will tell us your favorite is orange AND red
Favorite toys: trucks, "soft things" (puppy, barry white, polar bear, teddybear), glove-balls-tee-helmet, puzzles,
TV show: Handy Manny
Potty training status: Mostly dry, most nights... sometimes not, but otherwise completely potty trained. (as it's been for nearly 6 months now)
Patented "JB kisses": 'two handed' - one hand on each cheek of the person you are kissing.

We can't believe that you are going to be 3 years old in less than 2 months. You are getting so big and despite all of the "NO's" you are lobbing at us on a daily basis, you are as sweet as honey from the hive. We are astounded at how cute you are and smart and beautiful... It sure makes it hard to be stern with you and consistent when you misbehave. But we will figure that all out...

We love you very much!!!

Mommy and Mama

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Missed opportunity

Yesterday was 8.9.10.

I spent the whole day writing 8/8/10 and then today I realized it was 8/10/10.
FUCK

This really bummed me out.

Last year, I spent all of July 8th enjoying the date and I was convinced ML would be born on 9.9.9.
But Yesterday, I blew my chance at that kind of once in a century date-reveling.

--
Sent from my iphone

Thursday, August 05, 2010

Two things...

1) We just had the most insanely AWESOME thunderstorm from about 6 to 6:30 am.

2) Yesterday, Prop 8 was ruled unconstitutional and overturned by a federal judge in CA.

This is a big (fucking joe bidden) deal.

------------
Sent from my iPhone

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

The Puzzle Master and The Foodie

I wish I were writing more... I miss it.
We have been planning for a big party this weekend, trying to fix up the house, trying to organize and plan.

My sister: Sometimes I think you only plan parties so that you have deadlines for your projects...
Me: That is absolutely the reason we plan parties.

We are excited to see friends and family. These children and this year of getting acclimated have affected our social life. So I have been staying up late and trying not to fall asleep on the way home from work.

Softball ended Monday night. It was a terrible game. We were shutout and lost via the "mercy rule." It was a fast game, and there's nothing to make you hate the mercy rule like a game that is over in 51 minutes, I mean come on!!! There should be an associated time component: you can only get mercied after the 5th inning if you've been playing for more than 90 minutes.

Anyway, it was a weird season for all the rain-outs we had and it was much hotter than usual, and this was Katy's and my first season trying to both play with 2 kids. Our team aunties and Nana and Papa and Grandma Bella helped us to accomplish this and our boys (and their moms) are better for all the nights they (we) were breathing in hot air at the field for 2-4 hours during the week.

It was like the team we had 15 years ago- nearly all of our fans under the age of 7. Our team composition has changed a little every year. The cooler caddies are turning into meals (you've got to feed these kids). The 2 teams that merged (was it 3 seasons ago now or 2?) have definitely jelled into one team.

Katy and I continue to look at this ever-evolving group and marvel that many of our best, most genuine, reliable, generous, supportive, laughter-filled, friendships were born of this low-pressure women's league softball team in the town of Midpoint. These people have helped to raise me, allowed me to help raise them, their kids, and are helping me to raise my kids. This is nothing less than a network of support and crazy sanity.

Regardless of the final score, we break bread (read: chips and dip and some times BBQ or take out) and sip beers (and juice boxes). And recount a strategy to do better or at least have more fun next time. Every year game I try not to pull muscles. At least once a night, a warm breeze washes over sweaty skin and one of us chants, "a day at the beach". Or this season, "NO REWARD".

At the end of the season, I always worry a little, "What will next year bring?" I only hope more of the same unexpected, simple, fun and a sense of "found time" outdoors with peeps.

I will do a photo update and newletters for each of the boys soon (I SWEAR!!!)
For now, briefly:

Señor Destruction (as we've taken to calling our younger son) is finally... getting some bits of food down the back of his throat. He's been "eating" and "feeding himself" for a while now- about 4-6 weeks, I think: bits of cheese, avocado, crusts, pasta, apples, mango, many fruits other than strawberries... ML long ago (2 weeks) rejected tiny bits of food for larger slices and chunks he can gnaw on, but he is like the cookie monster: The stuff goes in, he spends a good deal of time chewing it, and it falls or is spit out in tiny pieces.

We can recycle perfect piles of food from his bib and put them on the tray in front of him and he will continue until we are left with diced produce. It is very interesting and not like JB progressed in his eating at all.

ML looks like he is eating, but if you train your eye on him, eventually, the stuff comes out. Chew, chew, chew, chew, chew, spit out. He's still on formula and baby food, so we are not worried about his calories, it is just a funny little trait of his. This week that may be turning around. I think a few pieces are actually making it to his esophagus and stomach.

ML also is insistent about walking everywhere. He wants to walk non-stop while holding ONE FINGER. He does this thing where he is holding an adult's finger with one hand and he takes his other hand and grabs you to steady your hand so that he may either adjust his grip on the finger he is holding, or select a new, sturdier finger to cling to. It is a strange demonstration of genius and my father said, "It pretty much freaked me out how smart he is- that seemed like too high a level of reasoning for a kid so young."

JB is blowing our minds too with his sudden capacity to put puzzles together. Katy and I don't know why this is so impressive to us, but a few months ago, he couldn't really do any puzzles except the ones that have a picture of the exact thing that you are putting into the singular cutout- one hole for each piece. Now, he can just somehow do puzzles. He is cautious about not wanting to do it wrong and will often repeat, "Can you help me? Can you help me?" But we realized if we treated that question as if he said, "Can you watch me?" Instead of jumping in and helping, he can do it all by himself.

He also got a new bike- 2 wheeler with training wheels. He's had it for 1.5 weeks and has ridden it almost every day. The progress he has made in his ability to steer, start, and stop is also amazing to us. Maybe we are easily thrilled, but I this is where it gets hard not to limit a 3 year old by what your sure he probably can not do.

Katy and i have talked about paying serious mind to and trying to implement some research that we learned about from Adam: that kids who are told, "You did so good, you are so smart! I'm proud of you," are much more likely to not want to try new and harder things, than kids that are told, "You did so good, you must have tried really hard! I'm proud of how you chose to stick to it".

I can already see in JB some of what that study concluded: if success is tied to the labels "smart" or "good", moving on to harder things might mean losing those labels. But if success is tied to working hard and not being afraid to try, than moving on to harder things only requires being willing to put forth more effort. "I guess I can try harder next time," is a much easier on the I-want-to-please-you soul of a child than "I guess you must have been wrong when you called me smart".

It's a good lesson for me even in evaluating my adult learning processes and successes and failures too.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Now your shirt looks like your heart feels...

JB did a ten minute, "NO, MOMMY... DON'T GO... PLEASE... NO...ONE MORE MINUTE... PLEASE, ONE MORE KISS..." hysterical dance at day care drop off this AM, complete with sputtering, stammering, real tears and copious facial mucus.

Extracting myself was somewhat...

Heartbreaking.

He loves his new school and his teachers...
(SIDEBAR: Oooo... remind me to tell you what happened at his old school)
And we have a standard drop off routine that is generally tear free...
But this week has been harder for him for some reason.

Maybe because it has been a hard week for us (his moms).
Maybe because he's been getting to bed too late.

Dropping the boys off at day care is tough on my spirit anyway.
It's not that I think I would be the greatest stay-at-home mom; I'm pretty sure I would not be as patient as their current care givers.  And it's not that I think it would be better for them to be at home during the day ...Call it denial or self substantiation, but I have really "bought into" the "day care is really good for kids" shtick. 

My kids have thrived at day care.  They are surrounded by a team of smart, generous, loving people.  They are showered with praise and affection. They are learning and enjoying new things and people (and songs and stories and toys) every day.  They are exposed to and building up epidemiologically significant levels of immunity to all sorts of pathogens.

It's just that...
It is a long time to be away from them (work day + commute time). 
And sometimes in the AM, it is such a relief to drop them off, that I know I must be a bad person. 
Bottom line: It is hard to drop them off when they are happy to be there, and it's even harder to drop them off when they put their heads down and cry (ML) or beg for you to not leave them (JB).

But today, after the trauma/drama at drop off, I drove to work feeling 2 parts melancholy and 1 part numb.  I tried to turn it around and  committed to making it a better day than yesterday.  When I got to the office and saw myself in the bathroom mirror:  My black shirt has all these white patches and smudges where JB's moist protestations of abandonment were left on my lower abdomen...

And that explains the post's title.


--
Sent from my iphone

Friday, July 23, 2010

Just barely one step ahead

This morning JB was a wreck. Crying, whining, not himself at all even before he woke up completely.

Then he started (pretty convincingly) with a litany of, "I don't feel good"s and "I'm sick."

He couldn't tell us what was wrong just kept crying and saying he was sick.

We persisted in the somewhat gentle questioning and then he cried out, "MY BIG TOE. MY BIG TOE HURTS. I HURT IT AT MY SCHOOL AND NOW I DON'T FEEL GOOD."

Poor kid, if only he said, "My belly."

I would have fallen for it today if all that drama were connected to belly pain.


Sent from my iPhone

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Go to bed, already.

Tomorrow, we will try to spend the day demonstrating pleasantness in the midst of our anxiety and discomfort.

Tomorrow, we will try to remember the spirit of women who were pretty damn good role models even before the mantle of sainthood was placed on their memories.

Tomorrow, we will let our bodies and minds fight it out... Our minds want to be in charge of our emotions, but grief and anger have a way of marking you physically. And "the body" sometimes has a more accurate memory than even "the memory".

Tomorrow, we will cherish our children.
(A little more than we do every other day.)
Tomorrow, we will try to be gentle with each other.
Tomorrow, we will try to be generous and a little more patient than we usually need to be in our interactions with others...

But TONIGHT, before I go to bed, I'm going to check every window and every door (like Katy made me promise to do) to be sure they are locked. And I'm going to say a silent, but heartfelt "fuck you" to the psychotic criminals who killed our friends 3 years ago...

Then I'm going to wash the destructive anger off my face, and brush the bile off of my teeth, and try to shake the gnawing anxiety from my core. And THEN, I'm going to hold my wife close- hoping that my love and concern can keep bad dreams at bay- and trying to convey to her through my actions that no matter what, I'm here with her and I love her... and I'm sorry for the losses she has endured.

------------
Our church benediction:

Go out into the world in peace
Have courage
Hold onto what is good
Return to no person evil for evil
Strengthen the fainthearted
Support the weak
Help the suffering
Honor all beings
Amen.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Conversations overheard

July 1, 2010:
At a Dayton Dragon's (minor league) game, JB, still awake in the 9th inning: "Where's the um'pirate?"

July 5, 2010:
Out for a walk with JB in the stroller... Neither of us has spoken for a few minutes. Out of the blue he announces: "Bibbity Boppity BACON".

July 11, 2010: JB is falling asleep in the car after many hours of swimming and playing. His eyes are lolling around in his skull and I say to him, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He blinks a few times and says, "Can we hear some Lady Gaga?"

We stop for gas a few minutes later and there is an amazing double rainbow. It is the first time we have the opportunity to show him a real rainbow. Katy and I pull JB out of the car and point to it, using various clouds, trees, and an airplane as points of reference.

Moms: Do you see it? It is right there?
JB: yes (he's looking in the wrong direction)
Moms: Look up there, see the colors?
JB: yes
Moms (trying to point him to it) see the jet? it's about to fly through the rainbow. Do you see the rainbow?
JB: (not looking high enough in the sky to see the rainbow) Yes. I see it
Moms: (emphatically repeating themselves)
JB: Um, can I just look at that dump truck?
Moms bring their gaze to the horizon and see a huge, orange, municipal, dump truck parked about 200 feet away and start laughing, hysterically.

This morning, in our kitchen, JB has his hands in fists:
JB: can you clean my hands off
Me: sure.
JB: (Handing me an empty banana peel) They have some of this carcass on them I need to clean off.

This evening while waiting for the tub to fill, a naked JB is sort of quietly muttering to himself: "blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah"... I can't really hear him and lean in for a better listen. He sounds like an actor patiently rehearsing lines. With a gentle inflection, he intones: "I'm not mad at you, I'm not angry, I'm just explaining... I'm not angry... I'm not mad, I'm just explaining..." I run, silently giggling to get Katy. She says, "Where did he pick that up?" I roll my eyes as she has said this to him 2 times this evening alone... And last week when I caught him considering the dimensions of an electrical outlet and shouted him away from it, I had to write a convincing jingle off-the-cuff with these very words to stop the kid from sobbing.

NOT TO BE OUTDONE...
ML: (several times over the last few weeks) "DA!"
"Da-da!"
"Na-na!"
"GA!"
"Laaaaaaa" and "AaaaaaaRrraaaaaaarrrrr" (in a perfect imitation of a drunken Barney from the Simpsons.)

So effing amazing... these kids are!

Monday, June 28, 2010

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.