We interrupt this spring day...

To bring you a terrorist attack...

Two bombs were detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon today...

But I want to tell you a couple of better stories...

- Last week, Katy's parents were here and ran the boys around like thoroughbred animals.  Sometimes they were so tired that at dinner their eyes would drift to one side and their heads drift to another and they would almost fall over (I'm speaking of the boys, but the grannies were also similarly, joyfully worn out).

- Saturday was Gram'ma Bella's 89th birthday party (at the local Italian place we've nicknamed: 'Spooch").  We dressed our boys up in their cute, cute, cute 4 piece suits and had such a wonderful meal with the extended family.  During that time, my great aunt approached both Katy and me separately to let us know that friends of hers were complaining that "no one dresses their kids up any more" and then she added: "But I tell them, my nieces- they dress their boys up so nice!"  Katy and I were tickled.  I love it so much when older relatives get it... "my nieces" (sigh).

- After Gram's party, Jake went to a Karate-themed birthday party and was so Thrilled when he broke a board in half with his bare hand.  He said to Katy: "Maybe there was some kind of little line in it that I can't see that made it easier to break".  She replied: "I think you just aimed right through it and broke it all yourself." And then he kind of beamed.

- Later that night, my sister and I took all our kids to see the Croods.  It was Milo's first time in a movie theater and when he walked into the lobby he gasped like he was little orphan Annie seeing the Warbuck's mansion for the first time, and told us, "I've never been HERE before."  We sat all through the long, loud, cute movie and about 5 minutes before the end a VERY TIRED Milo turned to me and whispered/whined: "When do we get to pick out a movie?"
Me: Sweetie, this is the Movie... we are AT the movie.
Milo: NO, the REAL movie
Me: (laughing with love and empathy) no.  really... this is LITERALLY a "real" movie

- Sunday, we hiked up sleeping Giant park Tower Trail (3.2 miles round trip).  Both boys did AWESOME.  Jake did the entire hike- up and down all on his own two feet (it's probably his 6th time on the trail- first time that he walked all on his own without being carried even ONE INCH!).  Milo did ALL THE WAY UP and MORE than HALF the way down only getting carried on my shoulders for about 10 minutes.  I was seriously, so proud.

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.

Saturday AM

[Setting: The boys and I are laying in the bed together. They are watching a movie on the kindle. I am typing on the lap top. Katy is downstairs puttering and straightening up]

Milo: Doin'? (translation: What are you doing?)
Me: I'm writing
Jake: Why?
Milo: (imitating) Why?
Me: Because I like to write.
Jake: I like to write too.
Milo: Me too.

(sigh)

Today in creepy kid wisdom...

I have become increasingly amazed at the introspective power of children in general, but also toddlers in particular.

It's more than that thing that will make a child look at someone with bad acne and say,
"why do you have all those red dots on your face?"

Or size up a person of small stature and inquire,
"So, are you a midget or something?"

I'm talking about when a kid is trying to label and understand the world and they come up with an explanation that is at once S-I-M-P-L-E and COMPLETELY profound. Jake does this over and over again, with such frequency and such little fanfare that I can never even remember the examples or conversations. But I have witnessed him capture the essence of "human fears" and "economics" and "relationships" with dialogue that was not parroting of adult explanations but instead an application of some previously internalized concept to a different or more abstract situation...

Boy: We take good care of our friends right?
Mom: yes!
Boy: And we share with them...
Mom: yes...
Boy: But people we don't know might be our friends?
Mom: yes...
Boy: And we should be nice even if they aren't our friends...
Mom: Yes!
Boy: I would share my snack with anyone that needed it. But if my friends needed more snack, I would have to save some for them and me- and not just strangers...
Mom: well...
Boy: What if people take our stuff and then we can't share with friends
Mom: Um...
Boy: Sometimes people that are mean are just sad...
Mom: huh? (wondering if I ever told him this or if he is coming up with this on his own)
Boy: Like Doc Hudson was in Cars... about his accident...
Mom: (sigh) yes
Boy: He wasn't Lightning's friend, but then he was after...
Mom: Yup.
Boy: Sometimes, it's like everybody is our friend, but also, everybody is not our friend.
Mom: (holy shit!) yes... essentially.

That is a compilation and not an actual conversation, but people wonder why I say things like, "yes... essentially" to my kids. It's because if you are going to give me some Gandhi-esque sound bite, I'm not going to reply, "You're so silly, boo-boo-bear!"

This morning it was a slightly different twist...

First of all, Milo AVOIDED ALL THE PUDDLES IN THE DRIVEWAY!!! Katy and I have been working on this, with (occasionally) painstaking patience. We've tried to teach and show him that there is a time for PUDDLE JUMPING and a time for NOT puddle jumping. This morning, we implored, "Please AVOID the puddles, Milo!" and he did a soft shoe around them walking carefully as if solving a puzzle.

Both moms were thrilled and tripping over ourselves to take credit for teaching him to be this amazing and then we quickly swapped saying, "No, it was you honey... You are the reason he is so wonderful!!!"

At that point while we were giggling with each other near the front of the car, we overheard some absent-minded muttering in the back seat:
Moms: What, Jakey?
J: You know what Syndrome says on the Incredibles?
Moms: No, what?
J: "When everyone is super... no one will be."
Moms: huh?
J: Syndrome says, (with more emphasis on each word) "When everyone is super, no one will be"
Moms: (blinking at each other silently)
T: (to katy) Of 115 minutes of movie, THAT's the line that sticks with him on an average morning on his way to school?!? (laughter)
K: (to me) You're the one that planted your creepy "dark" poignancy in him...

Conversations with kids: Birthday edition

Today is Milo's 2nd birthday.

We've been prepping him for several days:

Moms: Who's bday is tomorrow?
ML: Noooo
Moms: Milo's birthday is tomorrow!!!
ML: No, Mommy... Mama
Moms: Not our b-day... Milo's birthday

This morning, we snuck into his room before his brother was awake and with quiet enthusiasm sang "Happy Birthday" to him. He actually acted shy, smiling but sort of hiding his head with his arm; and then pointing to us and saying, "No... YOU... Mama... Mommy." It was some combination of:
"Why are you guys singing to me? I don't want a birthday, YOU have one..." and
"I'm not completely comfortable with this attention and recognition."

It was cute but confusing- this patten is a few days in the making. Milo, embarrassed?!? Could that be right? What does it all mean? But just so we know were we stand in the order of things, when Jake woke up, he approached Milo. In a sleepy (almost like an over-tired teenager) voice with a vaguest modicum of excitement, he scratched out a single (non-musical) phrase:
"Happy Birthday, Milo."

The response came without any hesitation. Completely pleased with his brother's acknowledgment, Milo gave a full grin, "Thank you, Jake-Jake".

(sigh)

Battin' down the hatches

So we are expecting a category 1 hurricane in 20-33 hours. Or as my sister convincingly announced yesterday, "It's only going to be a tropical storm when it gets here."

The difference (in case you are wondering) lies whether or not the wind speeds are sustained at greater than 73 mph.

The photo to the left is not stock footage. It is an actual satalite image of Hurricane Irene. This storm is 450 miles wide- travelling up the eastern sea coast. Our state is 110 miles wide and roughly 70 miles north to south. Despite all the (justified) press that NYC, the eye of this storm is tracking right over our home (give or take a few dozen miles). So no matter if the winds are 60 mph or 80 mph. The gusts will be close to or over 100 mph and there will be a shit load of rain.

As I write this, ML is singing a chorus of "NO! NO! NOs!" to Katy who is lovingly preparing him a meal of pancakes. His age and general stubbornness are the only things that might stand in our way from having a hell of a good time in the next 30-40 hours. Last night, I was straightening up the yard, bringing everything inside, moving furniture and machines into the shed, cleaning out the garage so we can put our cars in there and I went to put the kids' wagon in the shed. But, I decided against it. There's a chance we won't have power for a day or two or more, and if that's the case, the kids could possibly play in the garage... ML loves that wagon practically more than anything or anybody. I told Katy:

"I was going to put this away (gesturing to the wagon) but then I was afraid that if ML woke up in a a power outage and his wagon was gone, it might be the final straw... That kid might pack a bag and take off out of here."

UPDATE: Hurricane Irene- overblown in this part of the state. We had 12-13 hours of no power, but other than that, not a lick of damage. Thank goodness.

Every day is Mothers' Day

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me.

By "rough" I mean nothing-really-that-bad, but flat out exhausting...

You know that saying, you can have something "fast", you can have it "good", you can have it "cheap" or... you can have any combination of TWO of those, but you cannot have all three?

That little riddle has been popping into my mind in the last few weeks as I have considered my lot in life... And this started scrambling around in my head...

The housework has fallen behind a bit. The house is just- well- not.clean. (I guess that is really the best way to put it.)
I've been trying to keep up with exercise, and I have a huge project underway at work that will span about six weeks (we are 3 weeks in).

I've been doing my best to be a good mom and wife and not knowing the "laws" of this particular species of Venn diagram, I am not sure if more than 3 areas can be sufficiently covered at one time. All I know is I can see the teetering- I feel wobbly. On the days/weeks I feel I am keeping up with my duties at work, exercise habits are hard to maintain... the blog (as you know) is long suffering. The highest priority is of course the family, and you'll have to poll my wife, but I'm not sure how well I'm holding up my end. The madness of parenting a rounding-the-corner-towards-2 year old and a rounding-the-corner-toward-4 year old is as pervasive as mold.

Katy and I marvel every day at the paradoxes inherent the chemical reactions that occur in our brains: The degree to which I adore these ruggies and the simultaneous tension I feel as my time with them stretches the seams of the fibers of my being... At some point in every day, i want to melt from the awesomeness that pours out of their minds and mouths. And invariably, at some point in every day, I want to run screaming from their nonsense...



JB, for example, does a lot of TALKING right now. When he has had the perfect amount of sleep (the formula that determines this magical amount of sleep has not been revealed to me) he is funny, sweet, and adorable. But a lot of the time, he thinks he knows what's what and, he doesn't. And he thinks he's in charge of stuff that he can't possibly control. The most amazing thing about a 3 1/2 year old is how they learn the "tone" that accompanies adult conversation, but the tone is usually empty. Knowing the lingo is only half the game... Kids have no understanding of snark, no comprehension of the multitude of ways that humans intentionally and unintentionally mess with each other. They have learned the words and they mimic the tone, but they have no knowledge of the rules of engagement.

Picture this: A cloudy day. I work 8 or 9 hours and race to the day care to get the ruggies. JB, who at times has difficulty with "transition" tells me he's not ready to leave and he stalls so much that he nearly gets a time out. ML bounds towards me, we walk out the door and before we get to the car he has splashed his way into a large puddle. Soaked, I buckle him in and then buckle in JB. The entire way home, there's a lot of loud yapping and screeching. I have not yet been with my beautiful children for 20 minutes, but I'm already not sure how I will make it through the next 3 hours.

We pull into the driveway and JB sighs loudly: "I hate our house."

Srsly?



I am white-knucking the steering wheel. I can't believe the potency of the feelings I am experiencing. I know logically that I can not take this joker at his word, that I need to have more patience, but pure disgust is like a warm, white fire slowly consuming me. If a fully formed human had said this, I would have been all like:
"WTF is wrong with you?!? WHO says that?!? That is rude and you have a lot of nerve!!! If you dont' like this house, you don't have to live in it!!! Do you have any idea how hard we work to provide you with a shelter this amazing?!?"

Mind you the entire time I am mentally speach-ifying, ML is screeching: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOHHHHHHH-ooOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAA!

I take a deep breath and ask JB in the most neutral tone I can muster: "Honey, why would you say that?" (inhale, exhale, heart beat, heart beat)

JB: "I don't know, I guess I just wish we could paint the whole thing orange."

[sigh] I'm glad I didn't just go with my first reaction.



ML, on the other hand is an entirely different beast. He is all action for JB's pensiveness. He is determined where JB is unsure. He is reckless and goofy where JB is cautious and serious. ML, for example, understands every mother-humping word we say, he can identify 68 different varieties of truck from a mile away, but he can not will his lips or vocal chords to pronounce the word: TRUCK.





I mean even though I know it is developmental, it really seem like stubbornness.
It's always:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!"
or
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
or, inexplicably:
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

His insistence and persistence is mind-boggling.
"Yes!" I shout back, "I know!!! a TRUCK!!! It IS AWESOME!!! Just like it was 5 seconds ago!!! LOok there!!! Another one!!! AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT NEW ONE OUT!!!"

ML is the type of kid that the first time he plunged his entire arm into the toilet bowl, it was all about the science of discovery, but now it is a Marks Brothers skit: He knows the specific "toilet bowl look" that he has to produce before he gives chase to the bathroom. And even though he has a healthy head start, he will wait for us- perched, contemplative, like a diver on a block- his arm readied at his ear, until i get within 2 lunges of him. We lock eyes. He waits for me to plead, "NO...." and then submerges to the clavicle, smiling... never breaking eye contact...

That kid tries to climb in the oven, sits in the refrigerator, turns on the dishwasher, surfs down the stairs into the garage, tries to feed peanut butter to the iMac. He smear blueberries in his hair to signal the completion of the meal and if you don't dive to remove the plate from his tray, he flips it like a flapjack at the world's fair. He has a power over me. I forget myself. I have thrown food BACK at him- in a desperate attempt to instill some manners, I act like a sociopath.

Still the boy will look at you and tilt his curly-haired head with a smile that says, "You know you're my girl" and at that point it's a wash.

This year, Mother's day was spent with friends and family and no gifts were exchanged in our house. We just enjoyed the air and the craziness.

Two minute update

I have two minutes to post b/c we are hosting Easter tomorrow and the kids are out of the house for 2 hours so that we can "clean" without having to reprimand ML for sticking his arm straight into the toilet every 3 minutes or so (the hook and eye lock I installed on the door is completely useless, because he has calculated the exact rhythm-pressure-code of wiggle, pulsing, banging, and pausing required to get the hook to magically "jump" out of the eye... the only way it even slowed him down is the one time I left it UNLocked and he spent 90 seconds reaching above the knob toward the lock to try to reach and fiddle with it.)

Life is good. It is cold and rainy today, but tomorrow is supposed to be nicer. We went to a Seder last night- my first... familiar with the stories and some of the words, not familiar at all with the food - so strange that I could be so unfamiliar with an entire meal of "traditional" food. It was yummy, though.

The boys are very sweet and smart and very whiny and needy and actually starting to fight a little - want the same toys, vie for affection. Not too much, but definitely both of them playing various things up for attention and starting to show signs of, "Whatever he has I want"... I'm not sure if it is the Irish/Italian/Catholic genes/ socialization in me that I find myself believing the corrective action for this issue is to add another sibling to the mix... It's as if I want to say, you think you don't get enough attention now, wait until the new baby comes shooting into town; I'll give you something to whine about!!!" Horror at the thought of adding more chaos to this dirty home! But there's so much love in these walls, something inside of me thinks we should divide it up and share it more.

(Katy is somewhere whimpering that I have put this out into the universe- she's just not interested in that "solution".)

Katy and I have been working hard at trying to be healthier. We joined the Y and have a work out strategy that includes going there a few times a week and using the treadmill in our basement more and playing along with a Jillian Michaels tape now and then. It is working. I feel better. I've lost 13 lbs. I can do 20 (full) push-ups. She's been run/walking 4-5 miles at a clip and I've been doing 3-4 (a larger and larger percentage of the time has been running over walking) I have another 25-35lbs that I'd like to lose. I've never been fixated on my weight, but I'm 2 years and 2 months away from my 40th birthday, and I think I'd like to start that decade super fit...

I feel torn about doing all the things I want to do- excel at work, work out, eat right, write more, have fun with these kids- doing them all well... It seems so POSSIBLE every morning and when we are "falling-apart-tired" at night, it seems so implausible. But mostly, I feel lucky and grateful (that's redundant, right?) for my wife and friends and family.

Okay, that was 12 minutes... time to go clean the house!!!

The Tensile Strength of Cheerios

I tried to write this blog post 2 years ago, but couldn't come up with much more than the name.

Two years ago, I first noticed how the floors of the house were littered with a minefield of Cheerios. JB got those things everywhere. And the ones he wasn't tossing, dropping, and sprinkling about, Katy and I were spilling ourselves. No brooms were active enough to sweep the "danger" clear.

After they achieve a functional pincer grasp and their diets advance beyond mush and slush; after they demonstrate successful mastication of the beloved crunchy oat wheel, then you have to spend a few weeks worrying that they will get distracted while chewing and somehow wedge a cheerio into some narrow portion of their trachea...

THEN, when you are convinced they could chew and swallow a Cheerio in their sleep, you start to use those things for everything: snacks, teethers, passifiers, counting exercises, lessons in sharing, a form of distraction, reward for good behavior... They are like baby dog-biscuits!

Thing is...unless you have live-in help (or are the kind of parent that can't sleep if one item is out of place, or unless your living situation requires ruthless attention to packaging up food lest you attract varmint of all kinds) evidence of the parental overuse of Cheerios invariably shows up all over the floors of your house. I could have predicted all of this, but what caught me by surprise two years ago, and what still amuses me now, is the emergence of this superhuman power I possess: Whether bare-foot or wearing shoes, I have highly sensitive, perceptive abilities in my feet. If I skip, walk, hop, or otherwise landed on a single Cheerio, I can instantaneously reverse course. I will hop up off that thing without even causing damage. Maybe I might crack the "O" into 2 or 3 pieces, but I have learned to instinctively spring-load off those things before crushing them into impossible-to-clean-up piles of oat dust.

At first it was like every WW2 movie you've seen with the soldier's foot on the trip wire and the calculated, slow-motion determining how to back up off of that thing without making a big mess. But then it became smooth and seamless like a 007 dancer.
MUST.
NOT.
CRUSH.
CHEERIOS...
KITCHEN.
FILTHY.
ENOUGH!!!

At some point, we all got better about not leaving Cheerios laying around, and many months could go by without one Cheerio narrowly escaping pulverization. BUT...

Now we are back to Cheerio mayhem again; and my toes and soles and ankles are back at it- bouncing off the cereal scattered around the floors of our house. It's a 1 1/2 year old thing. ML has mad self-feeding skilz, but a pile of Cheerios will not stay above ground when he is their commander.

So this is the part of motherhood is tricky.

You've got to stay on your toes... And you've got to be okay with some dust under your feet.

Valentine's Day pics

We bought our boys love-themed t-shirts for V-Day.
I barely remembered to take photos this AM, but it caused more chaos than one would think:


ML- 17 months old TODAY.
He is modeling his "All you need is love" T-shirt.
He's got his morning face on, hair is high, and he doesn't like it one bit that I am holding an iphone and he is not.



JB- spelling out his "M-O-M" shirt for the camera...

Last week when he was wearing it, he told me,
"That says 'Mom'. It's not for you, it's for Mama."
"Thanks for the clarification," I replied dryly. And then, "You know, you don't have to pick. The 'Mom' on your shirt could stand for both of us... for Mama AND for Mommy."
(pause)
Allowing this concession: "Okay, it can be for both of you."
"Thanks." (eye roll)


JB, putting his arms out as his little brother runs to him.


Heart-bendingly adorable display of brotherly love.


ML (backed up by JB) allowing a pic to be taken because he can see himself in the frame. Note the upper lip wound he sustained in the driveway last week.



It seems like he's smiling here, but he's in the middle of a fit related to me holding an electronic device.


And this is how every photo session ends these days, with one or both of them screaming and crying because they want to control the camera!

But can you believe how big they are getting? And they are so (mostly) sweet, that I have to work every day not to EAT them up!!!

What doesn't kill us makes us...

Sicker
Stronger...

Yesterday, I spent the better part of 7 hours up on our roof, shoveling and clearing ice.
It was a nice warm day (42 degrees when the sun was out) and the sun kept going in and out.





It was a little brutal, if I am honest. The snow was literally up to my thighs. Like the rings of a tree, there were all the layers of the storms we have had. I am well aware that we have had over 55 inches of snow this January, but somehow, standing up there, I could not get over how much shoveling had to be done. I wanted to quit so many times, but I knew if I got down and took a break, I did not have it in me to climb the ladder again. So I stayed and did the job as best I could. I used a hatchet at the edges, near the gutters where there was 4-6" of solid ice on roof near the gutter in the back yard (the South side of the house) and 10-12" of ice in the front yard (on the North side).

While I was up there, I seemed to be experiencing the stages of grief

First I was like, "this won't take long at all... it's a beautiful day! And getting up here at all is really the hardest part."

Then I spent a few hours sputtering a fuming inexplicably- pissed at Katy somehow (WHY wasn't she checking on me more often?!? Why hasn't she figured out a way to play some music for me?!?). Then turning the anger towards other members of my family- and friends that aggrieved or abandoned me (both living and dead).

I turned to Jesus a few times... "Help me out here, Lord, Please, I'll do anything..."

Then I got sad.

Really sad- strangely sad, thinking sad things as if I were alone in the wilderness and not on the roof of my own home. It was then that the events of last week (weather and baby's illness aside) came back to me... That we experienced the 2nd death of 2011. A friend of our family, Kevin. And then the "stages of grief" exercise that my brain was taking on didn't seem so totally strange.

Kevin married into the Tabor clan - whom I've spoken about here when G'pa Jim died and countless other times (especially when talking about the pool in the summer). The tabors are our family. The family we chose, choose, and continue to choose. My parents grew up with them and so did my sister and I.

They are some of the few people that know me now who also knew me when I was a shy, skinny kid. They helped me grow up. They encouraged my budding sense of humor, my musicality, my athleticism, my intellectual pursuits, and that I be honest and follow my heart. There's a stagger in the generations and sometimes I have more in common with the "adults" and sometimes I have more in common with the "kids" (we are all adults now so the gap is getting more narrow...) but I used to babysit for the kids of my babysitters and now those same kids, I occasionally call on to sit for my kids. It's a little convoluted, but it works. When I need advice or help, I call on my aunts, uncles and cousins in this "adopted" family as much as in my "real" family.

Kevin married one of Jim's daughters and they had 2 daughters of their own. They had a wonderful life, but at some point, the marriage stopped working.

Kevin was in NYC the day the towers fell. He called home to say he was okay and on his way home, and then he disappeared for 6 or 8 hours. The "radio silence" was in part due to a lack of phone service, but it turned out his "escape" was delayed when he was distracted by helping rescue workers sift through rubble some before making his way out of there. I remember getting a call that told me he was safe. And then I got a call saying he was missing. I remember hours and hours going by and I worked hard pushing the thought out of my head that we would never see him again. Then he came home, but he was never really the same after that. I only saw him once or twice again. His marriage had started falling apart before September 11th, and took some time to completely crumble. But even when we were all together, he always found a way to disappear from a crowded party after that.

Up on the roof yesterday, I couldn't help think of him and all this stuff I either hadn't thought of before, or hadn't thought of in a long time. He died last Saturday, January 22 at the age of 57. He died of natural causes after quite a few years (and reportedly several consecutive days) of abusing his body with not-so-healthy substances. He leaves behind 2 beautiful, strong, and heartbroken children. And a mess of us that miss him- what he was, what he could have been; plus the sadness that comes from knowing he experienced a lot of emotional pain and/or psychological anguish that couldn't be extinguished.

When I heard of his death, I had a very intellectual reaction that essentially amounted to, "That's so sad." When I went to the memorial service, and saw photos of him and saw his family- family that my heart recognizes as "my" family... i had a very emotional reaction. It surprised me. To suddenly be weeping and missing so urgently, someone I hadn't seen or spoken to for most of a decade...

Up on the roof, in the clear, cold air, I realized I was a bit of an emotional basket case. I was angry that this had to happen to him. Angry that he couldn't figure out a way to make himself whole. Sad and disturbed that the chance he could somehow make things better or right was gone forever. Sick that sometimes in the world, things just don't work out. Sad for my childhood and a time when there was less gray area in all aspects of life... I was glad to have all that physical labor to help me work it out.

Today, I am either sick, or just exhausted. So many parts of my body are sore: fingers, toes, arms, legs, neck, back; my throat is raw, my sinuses constantly draining post-nasal drip, my stomach full of mucus, my head pounding.

The weather forecast is not mild- the winter machine is starting again... the next three days might entirely erase all my hard work on the roof. But I feel I've done something to try to protect our property and our family, and that is something, at least.

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.

Updates from the home front...

1) Katy got home yesterday! Hooray!!! We missed her but she had a wonderful weekend with her peeps and I had some nice alone time with he boys... I felt good about the weekend. We ate well, and spent nice time with cousins. I showered ALL THREE mornings, and even got to shave ONE leg in the shower. Katy asked me, "What made you TRY to shave in the shower?!?" I told her I wanted to stay pretty for me and also, I like a challenge...

2) JB saw his first movie at a movie theater Sunday with his TT, Uncle Bill, cousins, and me. We saw "Tangled". I loved it. The girl cousins were literally vibrating in their seats in excitement. JB thought the whole thing was a little tired. He was absolutely ambivalent. When Mac called him on Saturday to invite him for Sunday, he (without really even knowing what it meant to "go to a movie," without asking any clarifying questions, and without a pause or any genuine consideration) replied, "No, thanks." He used a tone reserved for someone who is totally satisfied and who is invited to eat one more piece of chocolate- No thanks, I'm good. After we talked about what going to a movie was all about (including details of the treats involved- popcorn, candy, etc) he agreed to go and I advised him he better check to see if the invitation still stood.

The movie was sweet and entertaining, but as all Disney cartoon features, it was fairly adult themed and angst-y. JB feels a lot of feelings and did not like the darkness or the sadness that he sensed. The character of Rapunzel's "adopted" mother was played by Donna Murphy with lines that adults could laugh at- full of understated narcissism and self-esteem crushing abusiveness toward Rapunzel. JB couldn't name what that was, but he was uncomfortable with the introduction of her as a "mother". There were also tons of chasing and fighting scenes and a great deal of stated and perceived "sadness" related to the "missing princess". None of that was lost on JB. He sat with a consternated, furrowed brow for most of the movie and he asked 1/2 way through, "When is this over?"

I pointed him toward the antics of the hero horse, Maximus, and told him how great I thought the music was and we lasted until the end. But when I said, "We should bring Mama back to see this movie, I think she would like it." He replied, "No thanks" in that same, "I'm good" tone.

3) The town pool collapsed a little over two Saturdays ago. ML and I had just began our "Mommy and me" lessons and he seemed to really enjoy it. (As did I.) There has been a lot of drama about this town pool and constant complaints and outcries from people about the failures on many levels. They tried to make it an Indoor and and Outdoor pool with some kind of bubble/ retractable roof... a good idea in theory!

But, this is what the pool looked like the day of our first lesson (I was so excited that I snapped a picture on my phone):



And this is what it looks like now:

I mean, yeah... thank God no one was in there when it happened, right?!?

There is a lot of outrage in the town about it. I really do feel bad for the planners and decision makers. Obviously there wasn't the support to spend the money that they needed to spend for a durable and effective retractable roof. I guess they should have just built an indoor pool, but someone obviously thought it would be good to have a town pool that people could join in the summer.

We've had a championship level swim team in this town since I was a kid and there still isn't the support of the tax payers to give these kids a pool of their own. They have always been at the Y or at the Academy, or borrowing space at other town's pools. It is just too bad. The word on the street is now they have to heat the pool to some degree for the rest of the winter to keep everything from freezing and getting completely damaged. Crazy.

4) Gram went to Florida. For two weeks, with my aunt. This is good for her that she is getting down there and good for us that she is not down there alone or for an extended period of time. Since her stroke in September, she seems almost completely healed. Enough to even take a trip down the hill on our recent sledding expedition:







But that doesn't mean we still aren't worried about her health. I for one nearly pee'd my pants when I saw her on the sled... I was on top of the hill and was like, "WHAT?!? WHO PUT GRAM ON A SLED?!?" She came over dressed for it and had every intention of sledding; without any prompting at all, she put herself on that sled! I was absolutely dying for the 20-40 seconds she was sliding down, but when the sled stopped, (and she hadn't slammed her body into the side of the foundation or broken any bones) I was so thrilled and proud!!! She rocks!

5) One of the more glorious aspects of this winter has been the amazing and spacious 2 car garage that came with our house. There is nothing like pulling out into winter weather with a clean car... the awesomeness is dampened a little by the recent breaking of BOTH of our garage door openers... you win some, you lose some I always say. But thanks to facebook, I've got a friend that "knows a guy", so hopefully, we should be able to fix the situation soon!

Your snowblower CAN'T HELP YOU NOW!!!

We have soooooooooo much snow here right now.











The week after Christmas, we got 10-12" of a powdery mix. A snowman was built and several days later, some of the snow melted, the snowman broke into three separate balls, but certainly, we never saw the grass again. Friday the 7th, we got about a foot more. That snow was so fluffy and powdery that you could not even put a snowball together. I tried and tried, but could not make a snowball- SO FLUFFY!!!


(See the snow behind him on the deck?)


(JB is in front and ML is bringing up the rear)



Then last Wednesday, we got another TWENTY inches of the same pure, dry powdery snow. We have been shoveling our asses off, but it has been a pleasure- I mean, you could go through several New England winters and not have a snow anywhere as near as awesome as the last 3 we have gotten in the last 3 weeks. Also, the temp has only been getting up to about 32 during the day, so it is not melting and getting wet and then refreezing. It has been fluffy and puffy and dry, cold snow for about 3 weeks.



Today, we got about 3 inches of snow followed by 6 hours of slushy, frozen rain. This is more like it... This is more like the weather I am used to expecting and enjoying. This is the stuff that really hurts to shovel. This is the stuff that God invented to mock you for running out and impulse-buying that shiny snowblower (we did not do that, btw). This is the stuff that leaves the trees full of sharp ice-bullets and your back yard shiny like a Zamboni'd hockey rink.



For the last 3 weeks, when the snowplow came by to barf up that extra foot of junk onto the edge of my newly dug out driveway, I could barely complain- it was so fluffy... Deep, but still not icy, you know? But tonight, this is the stuff that pulls groins, and spasms lower backs, and leaves grown people weeping icicles. THIS is what I'm talking about, THIS is New England!!!





BUT this ice is on 22-36 inches of snow, SRSLY. So THAT is not normal at all.

The middle of our front yard has over 2 feet of snow on it. The snow banks that line our driveway are at least as high as my waist. Many sections of them are higher than my shoulders. The mailbox is buried. It is insane! Shoveling icy, slushy, sleety snow over your head is a work out. You get dressed in your winter clothes and they get wet from the inside out.

Thing is, it is exhausting. And I'm starting to get all worried about the roof holding up and the gutters not falling down, and the basement not flooding...

Still, I'm enjoying it. It is extreme and fun and awe-inspiring.
And look what it is doing to the boys:








(Young boys, obsessed with plows)

NOTE:
all of this pics are from 1 or 2 storms ago... I did not yet include any pics of today's additionally precipitation. Also, I am going to try and get some footage of downhill sledding up on the blog asap... So adorable!

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.

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

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!

Put your hands in the air, shake your derriere

While JB was keeping us crying on our toes this week, ML did ALL of the following:
Learned to CLAP,
WAVE
AND CRAWL:

On one of the bad mornings when it was all about JB, ML was in the apx 12'x12' Family room- which has about 7'x9' of roaming space, when the furniture, etc is considered...

The first time we left ML unattended for a few minutes, he had wormed over to the fire place and was nibbling on the slate of the outer hearth.

The second time, we found him under the overturned play-gym- not helpless on his back- but crawling forward, like a giddy-up-and-go turtle.

The third time, he had crawled over to where the laptop was and got his fat hands on the power cord...

GAME OVER, ML. Now you can't be trusted to continue making us look good. Therefore, we will watch you like a hawk... way to earn yourself some attention! Strong work...

How cute is this kid?!?