I Really Got it Right

**Warning: Comments do not match up with pictures and I give up. Blogger has a mind of its own tonight with pictures. It's late and I am tired of messing with it. You can get the idea***

This year, I really got a few gifts right. Jeff with the ipod. His old one died, a sad and unusual misfortune (hint: never buy an ipod anywhere but at an Apple store). And the Mountain Bike magazine subscription.

Andrew with his skateboard that he asked Santa for...

...or maybe not. How about Andrew with his crane.

Or Phillip's gift to Andrew--a copy of Monster's Inc. to replace the one he lost after he watched it 947 times and the hug that followed.

And Sam with the rolls and rolls of tape. I know it sounds like an odd gift, but I saw it at my favorite toy store and couldn't resist. It had him written all over it. He was so excited when he opened it and he looked at me as if we both knew just what he would do with it. About 12 tiny cartridges of tape with different patterns (spider web, aliens, skull and crossbones, caution, all different colors and more). I did know what he would do with it, even when I bought it I knew.

But, it's rolls of tape...its existence is finite. Here is what I found when I wondered upstairs tonight.

...on the linen closet

...the boys' bathroom door

...Phillip's bedroom door and on Phillip's wall

...around Phillip's desk chair

...on Sam's door (doesn't seem like enough caution warning for his room)

...on Sam's headboard

...on Sam's wall (that sort of looks like the beginning of some pretty offensive graffiti, doesn't it?)

...on Sam's other wall

...and on Sam's other wall

Exactly what I thought it would look like with the tape in hand...only not as bad as I had pictured. What is not photographed is the large, bigger than a softball, ball of tape that I found in his trash can. I love that guy.

Better than Prom

There are two things I always wanted to do when I was a kid and my dad would always say no. 1) Carriage rides. 2) Rent a limo. We have taken the kids on a few carriage rides and, Dad, I was right--it is fun, dammit. The limo thing, I don't know why, but kids always want limos.

I remember my friends and I would save up money and pool it together to get a limo for a few hours. It used to be $100 per hour (way back when). Competition is a good thing and there are many more providers in the area than there used to be--now it is only like $60 per hour. But, we always needed a grown up to make the actual reservation. That never came from my house-my dad always hated the idea.

Lately, Phillip has been dying to ride in a limo. Every time we see one, he goes crazy and points out the window. He doesn't think there is someone special inside (like we used to), but it's the car itself he is fascinated with. So, we planned a big surprise for the holiday.

We rented a limo and it picked us up at 4PM. The kids new NOTHING about it, we didn't even tell them we had a surprise planned. It appeared in the driveway. They were confused, but calm. We all piled in. "Where are we going, what are we doing, did you know about this?" The questions started to pour out of all three.

"It's a surprise. We planned it for you." Then, I offered them all a Shirley Temple (a treat usually reserved for cocktail hour when we are at a hotel). I mixed them up in champagne flutes and passed them out. They were riding in style and loving it!

Our first stop was the State Museum to ride the train and see Santa (for the second time). Next stop, dinner at their restaurant of choice. They chose Friday's. By then the grenadine in the Shirley Temple's had kicked in and everyone was very squirly, so dinner was a bit rocky. I think all three of them, at one point or another, were on the floor under the table.

It got dark as we were eating and we left Friday's to head to the Zoo for Christmas at the Zoo (like a gazillion lights). We walked all around the zoo, rode the train and then headed back to the limo. More Shirley Temple's. We headed home but took the long way to look at some lights, including driving around the circle a few times.

They loved it! And, I must say, it was super nice to go all those places without parking, dragging everyone out of the car, coats, hats, etc. Instead, we just left a lot of that in the car, he would pull up curbside and drop us off. When we were done, just hop right back in!

They all kept saying this was the best night ever. Phillip, on the ride home, told me this was a great present. I was glad that he got it that this was a gift for him, not an expectation, but a gift. It may be a new holiday family tradition--we all had a great time.

New Photos Added!

I have added a ton of new photos in the web album and I added the pictures of the tree below. Check 'em out!

The Perfect Christmas Tree

...doesn't live here. Our tree is a masterpiece clearly constructed by the hands of children. The ornaments hang in large clusters on branches near the bottom. Candy canes hang half-eaten and still in their wrappers. The lights, once tucked neatly into the body of the tree, now droop and hang.

It is a real tree, and always will be. We are real tree people. When I was growing up, my dad did some work for a tree farmer. Which, meant a trade. We not only continued our tradition of real trees, but we ramped it up to trees still in the burlap ball, which were eventually planted in our yard. Oh, the memories of that annual disaster. We have done that around here a few times, but for now are just sticking with the sawed off Douglass from Lowe's in an effort to simplify our traditions while the boys are so young.

Our ornaments remind me of our house before we got our own stuff. Our ornaments are a collection of hand-me-downs, freebies and a few simple ones we bought together here and there. Some from my childhood, some we have received as gifts over the year, some we bought together in the early years of our marriage. Sounds just like all of our old furniture before we moved to our grown-up house and got all new.

When I was growing up, I used to love to open the box and see all of my favorite ornaments. The glittery ice cream cones, the salt-dough Santa my aunt made, the puffy plastic (and now, clearly very creepy) boy and girl dolls, the ones I made all on my own and other colorful ones. Then, one year my mom announced she would be getting all new Christmas tree decorations.

It was the eighties, so she decked the tree out in peach and light green to match the decor of the very hip living room in which it always resided. Custom cut ribbons, frosty glass balls in peach, strands of greenish pearls, methodical placement of each piece. It looked beautiful, but certainly wasn't the tree of my childhood.

I get it now. My mom, no doubt, conceded to the crazy tree for all those years, knowing that one day, she could take it back and make it the way she wanted it. Me too. I know the tree is cute and kid-like, and I live in a house full of kids--but really, I long for a sophisticated, well planned and organized tree with a gazillion lights. Knowing my day will come--I will have 20+ years to decorate a tree with no kids (and I will no doubt be wishing our kids were here)--I let it go and enjoy the lopsided, lumpy, almost falling over, ornaments in a pile underneath or hanging in clusters on a few branches of a tree.

They stand back and admire, proud of their work. I am happy they care. The prefect tree doesn't live here--and I am okay with it. At least, for now.

Man Cold

It has already been a difficult year in our house with colds. Andrew is on like number five. Last week, it was Jeff's turn. Watch this to see what might be in store for you this winter if your husband gets a cold...



But, I must say, my husband is nothing like that when he is sick. He is strong, brave and doesn't whine. I am lucky and in love.

Email Pet Peeves

Whether in email or a text message, for some reason every time I read HAHAHA, I think people are being smart, like saying, "haha very funny you asshole." LOL does not offend me, I get that but the HAHAHA I don't get.

I don't mind :), :0, : or :> but it does drive me crazy when people write Smiles!

I hate it when people write emails or texts in all caps. My husband's texts come across in all texts and it bothers me. At first, I thought he intentionally does that and I kept thinking, what is the point--is he trying to yell (as they always say all caps are in email)? Then I realized he doesn't have a Blackberry and his phone must just do it.

Ah, his phone. He had to have this damn Razor. He got it. He hates it. It really does suck. I swear it is possessed. It goes into roaming when he is standing in our kitchen or screams he has voicemail like six hours after I call (even mine does that sometimes). It freezes and he has to totally take the battery out just to get it to work again. He took it to Sprint to complain. They fidgeted, tested, massaged. The verdict--nothing wrong with it.

Anyway, where was I going with this random post about email. I also hate it when people have like size 24 font in their emails or the letters are in colors or wonky fonts. I hate business emails without signature lines and I hate personal (and business) emails with 16 line mantras after the signature line, things like, "laugh because laughing is the best medicine for making the world a brighter better place." Vomit.

I hate it when people forward with the full message buried 14 emails in. I hate it when people reply without the original message attached (I have talked about that one before). I hate it when people don't reply when they receive something from me via email--like a simple, "Thanks" or "Got it" would do just fine.

I also hate it when email from people that I have approved, verified, welcomed and corresponded with a million times ends up in my spam folder. My spam folder is only delivered once a day, so if an important message is in there, I don't know it until the next morning. But, I do like my spam filter. I haven't had a penis enlargement email in my inbox ever since my web guy hooked me up.

Finally, I hate it when you are on a mass distribution list and some idiot hits reply to all with their response. Wow, full of a lot of hate about email today. Back to cleaning out my inbox. What are your email pet peeves?

Annual Maintenance

Tis the season for my annual maintenance. I start this week with my annual trip to the dermatologist for my annual exam. Melanoma runs in my family, so an annual exam is necessary. If you have never had an annual exam by a dermatologist, it is one of the most invasive exams ever. There isn't a square inch of your body that they don't examine--up close and personal.

Last week, the annual eye exam and the annual gyno exam. Eyes, no problems. In fact, my vision is always fine. The reason for the visits is again, the melanoma. You can develop melanoma in the back of your eyes-did you know that? I didn't until the dermatologist made me start going to the eye doctor every year. So, every year, we look at pictures of my eye balls (which, eye balls totally gross me out) and make sure there is nothing there.

The gyno, first let me just say I love this woman. She has delivered each of my three children and I have been going to her since I was 15. She is a character straight out of a movie. But, she always seems to know just what I need, especially in labor. Her relaxed and natural approach to all things human has always been a good fit for me. She had a firm voice when I always needed it and a gentle concern when I was scared.

But, the annual exam is always brutal. I knew it was coming-my weight. I have gained and she was certainly going to comment on it. She did. The conversation started with a review for me (as if I didn't know) of my weights for the past three years. I cannot believe what I weighed three years ago. "Tennis just isn't that great of exercise" she said. "Especially if you play doubles." I play doubles I said, but I said I play at a decent level at least four times a week and most often do drill-and-plays for 1.5 hours, it's a fair amount of cardio I said. "No, it just isn't a very good form of exercise."

Okay, first there is no way I am giving up my tennis. Second, it is so much better than no exercise at all and third, I can thank that not good form of exercise for my lovely leg muscles that I am quite happy with. But, okay--point taken I have gained weight. She notes I am still well within healthy ranges, but for me it represents quite a gain. Well, I reminder her, this is the longest I have gone without being pregnant or breastfeeding in eight years--a lot has changed about my body over the past year and I think that, and turning 35, have a lot to do with it.

Yes, probably she agrees. But still, you are on the upswing, let's stop that trend. I again chime in with the fact that I got to that disgustingly low weight after the birth of my third by starving myself, and I mean starving myself. I never ate. I just wanted to be skinny, so I would starve myself. My weight was so low that there was no way I could healthily maintain it. So, I slowly started to gain. Okay, she said, glad you are eating, but watch what and how much you eat.

Well, I try, but since I am so active (with that tennis that is a bad form of exercise), I seem to get very hungry some times. I eat incredibly healthy. But, sometimes I make the wrong choices, which for me pretty much focus around chocolate, bake goods or pasta. No fast food, really rarely even any restaurants.

I now weight the same I did in high school and college. I hate how much I weigh, but I am still within normal ranges and my BMI is still healthy. I couldn't believe I was rationalizing my weight with her. I am now feeling worse about it than ever. All I can think is that she must not realize how sensitive to it I am, how much the numbers on the scale bother me. And, they bother me a lot.

I am trying to reverse the trend, I am trying to get noticeably skinny again, but life is demanding and it is hard. That is not a reason not to succeed, but sometimes things interrupt my quest and remind me there are more important things in life than being super skinny (although I think I only believe that about half the time).

For me, preparing and sharing a great meal with people we love (friends, family, etc.) is worth it. I love that feeling. I hate the way my pants feel the next day, but I love the feeling of fellowship over a meal. That is my constant struggle. On again off again. A mad, mad love affair with food and a deep desire to be skinny. I am manic about my weight. In our casual once a year office visit, I am sure she doesn't realize how obsessed with this issue I am.

I will always struggle with, one of my deep insecurities, perhaps my number one secret--my weight. Someone who is otherwise very confident is stuck viewing themselves as living in a body that is fat. I do need to lose weight and I will--I can, but I think she should be telling me if my BMI is fine and my weight is well within healthy, that she is glad I am not still starving myself all the time.

More Secrets

First, thanks to a comment from someone I realized I left the Hills off my list of favorite reality shows. Really, I meant to say The Hills and instead put The O.C.--which is where it all started for L.C. and her crew. I love that show and all the dirty scoop that comes with it. Okay, now on to more secrets.

2) I have a tattoo. It's tiny and done poorly, but I will never forget when I got it. I was 18 and home from college for Christmas break. My best friend and I were both feeling rebellious. My parents had just informed me they would be getting a divorce and I decided to return to Philadelphia early--but before I left, Liz and I drove to the nasty side of town and got tattoos at Don's. I seriously cannot believe I didn't contract HIV or hepatitis from the experience. Now, I need to get some work done on it and have an idea, but being older and wiser, I am waiting for just the right person to do it--no more filthy tattoo parlors for me.

3) I stole a pair of earrings from Target. Yes, I was young, couldn't even drive. And, the same old story--a friend made me do it. I even remember we paid for some stuff, so it wasn't like we didn't have the money (but I guess stealing isn't always about not having the money). She loved it and got such a thrill from it. I remember being so scared and feeling rotten. I never stole again (although, I am pretty sure she did).

4) I have bad, unfounded and completely crazy generalized feelings about certain ethnic groups. Am I a racist, well in the Jerry Springer sense, I would say no, but I am sure there is someone out there who would want to prove me wrong. These are things that like you always here your grandparents say like, "Never trust a German" or "Europeans are ungrateful and pompous." Or things like, Chinese people shuffle their feet in their shoes (see? big generalization. I am sure not all Chinese people do that, but I think they do). But, they are my beliefs and most of them are stuck in my head.

5) I sometimes like it when people are jealous. Okay, this is a big deep secret. But, think about it. You work hard, you do your best, you invest in your house, your job, your family--whatever it is. Sometimes, when people are jealous, it feels kind of good--like affirmation, like yes, I have done good--good enough to make someone else wish they could do it that good too. I know, it's wrong, but we are talking secrets here, people.

6) Last one...I once saw something so awful, I have never told another person. I think about it often and keep thinking maybe one day I can say it out loud, but I have never been able to and deep down inside, it makes me feel horrible. Someone suffered because of it and I did nothing. When I think about it, I feel so sad and like I missed an opportunity to stand up and help someone, like I contributed to that person's misery. I wasn't brave enough, I was scared and I made the wrong choice. Maybe one day I will tell the secret and feel better. Maybe I will send it to PostSecret and feel a burden off of my shoulders, but I doubt it.

My Secrets

There are a few secrets (or even hints of secrets) that when I divulge, people gasp. "No way, never"...they say..."you never did that, you were never like that, you never thought that." But, they are true. I did do those things, had those thoughts and acted that way, I did. Not that I am some goody-two-shoes, but people that I have met later in my adult life cannot imagine what I was like in my early twenties. They don't believe the stories--but I promise they are true and one day, I hope you read about them in a book.



My big secrets today are too secret to really discuss in this blog. People I work with, people I live with read this thing. Family members, friends and friends of friends. I am not divulging the really deep ones here, the ones I would write on a postcard and mail to PostSecret. But what about some not so dangerous ones. Ones that are embarrassing or ridiculous or make me even stranger than you thought I was. Let's do this a little bit at a time.



Secret number one. I am a total TV junkie. I plan my evening around television shows; I have had a television in my room since I was five and need it on to be able to fall asleep (or I have to take something as the anxiety alone of no TV is enough to keep me up). I love reality television. I watch every show I can--you name it, I try to see it. Here is a list of some I won't pass up when flipping through the channels.

The O.C.
Run's House
Kimora Simmons-Life in the Fabulous Lane
Family Jewels
Survivor
Amazing Race
Project Runway
Top Chef
Kathy Griffin Life on the D List
Hell's Kitchen
Wife Swap
Nanny 911
Kitchen Nightmares (I think that is what it is called)
Real Housewives of Orange County
House Hunters
Trading Spouses
Dr. 90210
The Girls Next Door
Intervention
The Bachelor
Beauty & the Geek
Big Brother
The Apprentice

I watch them all for different reasons and with varying levels of interest, but I love reality television. People are so freaking weird and this lets you see that up close and personal. Even if they are acting, how weird is that...that someone would go on a reality show and act?!?! The whole thing is a study in the bizarre behavior of humans and I love it. More secrets next time.

Really, I Should Just Give Up

Don't you think? I mean, I just don't seem to be able to do it. I am going to try again, really I am. It just seems like it takes so much time, not the writing part--that comes easy, but the blogger part. The spell checker sucks, it takes time to upload pictures and then it seems like, for what? No one every comments and after more than 45 days without an update, my daily views are down to like nine. So, for you nine people who look, I am going to try again. Check in tomorrow for a fresh start.

Some Conditions Apply

We got a call the other day from some political campaign polling our opinions as voters. Well, I say we, but Jeff answered and he is the one who gave the opinion. I listened to his answers and from that alone, I was able to determine what the questions were.

I have so much trouble with these kinds of things. For me, life is not black or white, everything really deserves that "additional comments" box to qualify and explain answers. Things are complicated and complex. A simple yes or no seems impossible--no matter what the question.

"Right Direction," he said. Sigh. Right direction? Well, yes...sort of. I believe in this country, our leaders and our rights. But really, seems like at some point, things need to change with the war. I am not bashing Bush or those amazing heroes over there fighting for us. It is more of a Dr. Phil moment--how is the current situation working for us? Not to good. Maybe right direction, poor execution or wrong direction despite the excellent execution...not sure and this is a debate that much too large for my little mommy-blog. But, the point is I think it is way beyond choosing from three answers: right direction, wrong direction or don't know.

"Pro-Life," he said. Pro-Life, clearly they asked what is position was on abortion. Oh here is another whole-can-o-worms. Pro-Life? That is it? Not that I have a problem with his position or the fact that pro-life is his position, but more I am fascinated by the fact that he can answer--that quickly and that plainly. Pro-Life. What about all the what-ifs? What about the reality that is life for so many children in this country--hungry, ignored, abused. What about the woman--young, scared, maybe even raped. Nope, for me it isn't as simple as pro-life.

I am not sure there is an additional comments box big enough to help me really articulate my position on this one--I don't even think I fully understand my own position on it. I say I would never make that choice, but I haven't ever been in a position where I even needed to consider it. What if they told me the baby's life or mine? What if they could tell the baby had three hearts growing on the outside of its chest wall. What if, what if, what if.

I have been pregnant, am a mother and all I can say is I have enormous respect for the miracle and responsibility of making humans. God's grace is ever-present in the course of pregnancy, but the gift isn't for everyone. I don't have an answer and wouldn't be willing to let some random phone poll use my complex confusion and inability to commit as a check in their politically-preferred column.

And, it isn't just these big issues that throw me for a loop. A survey on a hotel stay is never without comment. A "how was everything" at a restaurant usually involves some commentary. Do I just like to hear myself talk? Not so much. I think it is more about my compulsive need to analyse and contemplate. And, perhaps there is a dash of my constant pursuit for perfectionism in there. I always want whatever it is to be striving for perfection, even though it is unattainable, you should still strive to achieve your best. So, go ahead...ask my opinion. But, don't expect a simple yes or no answer in response.

The State of Womenhood in America

These are actually sort of heartbreaking. You have probably seen them before. Really, I wish I watched them when I was like 12...and I should probably watch them once a day even now to remember what is real and what is, well...not.

To the women I love (okay, all you creepy freaks googling things like women who love women, I mean women I love as friends), I love you because you are you! The you, you--not the you you might want to be on the outside.






As for me, I will just keep obsessing about how fat I am.

Ever Done This?

Okay, I have once again ignored my blog for far too long. For the 64 or so of you who check in each week, keep checking as I will continue to try to update. I promise, I write many fabulous blog entries each morning in the shower, but before i can get them from my mind to the computer each day, things get in the way.

I have some great pictures and adventures to update you on, but no time for that now. It is Sunday night, I need to eat a big bowl of apple brown betty, get the kids in bed and change my closet to fall clothes. But, in the meantime, wondering if you have ever done this...or something similar.

This weekend, I was loading the kids up in the car to go to a little festival at the Peace Learning Center. I had been gone earlier in the morning playing tennis and had a very sweet, but young babysitter who fed the kids ice cream, Twizzlers, gum, popsicles and other forbidden fruits for breakfast while I was gone. I am so not kidding. And this is after I said, "I am making pancakes for lunch, so try to encourage them to eat a healthy breakfast that doesn't involve syrup (meaning--not a lot of sugar) like a bagel." That didn't go over too well, huh? Needless to say, everyone was totally wound up the rest of the day. Jeff was down south riding the Hilly Hundred, so it was just me and my crew.

They are all getting in the van in the garage when from inside the house, I hear Phillip rip into Samuel with the nastiest tone I have ever heard. Now, you should know that Phillip's rudeness to his siblings isn't new. It is a problem we have been working on. He is impatient, pushy, physical and down-right rude to them on a regular basis. I storm out the garage door, teeth clinched, finger pointed and yell--"If I hear that nastiness come out of that mouth one more time, I will fill it so full of soap you won't be able to talk for days. Do you understand me?"

On the me part, I hear my echo. Ooopps. I am in the garage, the door is open and the stillness of the fall air carries my voice at least two houses down. Great. Neighbors no doubt heard. The soap part, yes, we have done that--for biting (and for us, it worked). But the screaming, I am super embarrassed about, not to mention the fact that here I am screaming at him telling him not to scream at them. Oh the hypocrisy. Oh the embarrassment. Oh the shame. Ever been caught losing it? I hate that...I know someone heard for sure. I need to get my ass to the Peace Learning Center pronto, don't ya think?

I moved on. We went to the festival and had a great time. The mayor was there and while he was speaking, Phillip started talking to me kind of loud. "Phillip, we need to be quite and respect the mayor while he is talking, even if we don't like him." He turns to me and says, "I know you think he is a jack-a. I heard you call him that once." Acting surprised and oh so innocent, I said, "Me? Call him what?" He repeated and told me he heard it at my dad's house one time. Oh those little ears--the listen like crazy and never forget. Sounds like I need my mouth washed out.

Wow, Where Have I Been?

Where have I been? Let me see if I can fill you in (or at least start to fill you in).

It all started shortly after back to school night at Phillip's school. Soon there after, Phillip developed the first official cold of the season. I expected the other two wouldn't be far behind. But, on Tuesday of that week, Sam surprised me and woke up with pink eye. Oh joy.

We still had an inventory of eye drops left over from last year's on again/off again love affair with pink eye. I thought, no need to call the doctor. Pink eye is pink eye. We started treating with the drops. It almost immediately went away. But by bedtime that day, Andrew had it too. More drops (oh, he is fun with drops). Still no call to the doctor, what is the use? We know they have pink eye and she will just prescribe the drops.

We swear sometimes that the doctor's office is a racket. Now, she says she likes to see pink eye victims this young because at this age, they often simultaneously get ear infections. Well, I maintain, until someone complains about their ears, we are not going. More drops.

The next day, Phillip wakes up with pink eye. More dro..p...s....oh...no, the we are running out of drops. I send Jeff scamming to the pharmacy because I think we have a refill left on at least one. None. "I will fax the doctor," the pharmacists tells him. Oh no, I am dead. He told Jeff to check back later. She is going to kill me.

Sure enough, about two hours later, I get a phone call from the doctors office. I knew I was in for it. Here is how the conversation went--or really went, if we both would have said what we wanted to say. Name are changed to protect the innocent, of course.

Hello...

Hi this is "Mona" from Dr. Smith's office. We received a fax from the pharmacy that you need a refill on eye drops. What the f*#& is going on? You think you can just go to the pharmacy and try and get scrips filled without notifying us?

Well, I...uhm...we knew it was pink eye...and...um...the drops...we just...

Yeah, bi-atch. You just nothin. You think you can get treatment without paying your $30 per child co-pay?

But, it's pink eye and she said...

If they are sick, she wants to see 'em. You don't need to be guessing what is going on with anyone. What about their ears, hu? You gonna look in their ears too?

No..but, see...they are not "sick," they just have pink eye. They are fine, everyone is acting fine, they just have pink and crusty eyes, but they are fine. No one is complaining about their ears. No one is acting sick, I just thought...could she maybe refill some drops and we can see what happens? One is already better, really! Just three doses of drops and his eyes are clear. We were just going to give some things some time before we scheduled...

...See what happens? Is that what you do? See what happens? Wait until it is the weekend, they are running a fever and then take them to an immediate care center?

Okay. Never mind.

Damn straight, never mind. Good luck to you and your freaky family.


So, we didn't get more drops and now they know they are sick...er, uh have pink eye and if anything else develops, they will certainly be saying, "see...we told you so."

But, the eyes cleared quickly and then, Sam and Andy started in on the sneezing and coughing, congestion and whining. They were feeling lousy. Sam persevered and worked his way through it. A little bit of Tylenol and some Nyquil (children's strength) and he overcame. There were a few days he complained about his ears, but it passed.

Andrew was brewing something. By Friday, he was running a fever and totally congested--but nothing was coming out his nose. Well, those with kids know it has to come out somewhere. Phillip would always throw up when he had a bad cold, but Andrew had diarrhea. He was miserable. He wouldn't eat, sleep or blow his nose. By Friday afternoon, I found myself putting him to bed for the night at 4:30. I was ready stories when I noticed him rubbing his ears. I asked him if they hurt--he said no, it was his tummy that hurt.

I was perplexed, but grew concerned as he tossed and turned all night and burned up with fever. He almost threw up in the middle of the night (disaster averted) and woke up at about 5:15am unable to sleep anymore. He was miserable.

But, a birthday party for Samuel and Phillip was due to start in just a few hours. Cancel the party or have the party? By now, I had convinced myself he had something bacterial and had moved beyond the viral stage. The party could go on--it was scheduled for all outside anyway. But, I felt bad that Andrew wasn't going to be up for enjoying it.

I debated about what to do regarding the doctor. Could we wait until Monday? Did I really think he had an ear infection? Was it just a bug? Who would take him to the doctor (since I was in party-planner mode)? I decided he needed to go to immediate care. I concluded I thought he had an ear infection and decided if they could fix it with a quick visit and some antibiotics, he would be eternally grateful to us.

I called the triage nurse and got approval for the immediate care visit (oh, I love HMOs). Jeff got home, changed and headed that way with Andrew. Within 20 minutes, party guests started to arrive. The party was fun, but I had to slightly alter the agenda since Jeff wasn't there. Then, I lucked out and my friend Anne, the most fantastic photographer in the world, stayed and photographed the party. I am so lucky (oh, they will just turn out like yours, she said...ha!).

After an hour or so, Jeff returned. Double ear infection confirmed. Omnicef and some other loving tasting concoction to loosen things up. With just one dose, he slept all night. Monday, I had to call the pediatrician's office. I greeted them with, "Well, you were right, one of them had an ear infection."

I could hear the smile on the other end of the phone, "...oh, is that so? So I guess we need to schedule a recheck in a few weeks..." I guess so, I said.

That was Then, This is Now

I love to look back and see how the kids have changed. It seems so amazing to me that in just one year, they can go from looking like a baby or a toddler to a boy. No doubt, soon I will see the transformation headed toward manhood. (By the way, mothers of boys out there, just finished an interesting book called Boys Adrift. Worth a read.)

They love it when I tell them this, but it is true. At night, when they are all quitely sleeping and I sneak in to watch them for a moment and kiss them, I still see their baby faces. It brings back memories of rolling over to nurse these tiny babies who would cuddle in tight or peering over the crib while they lay arms over head, mouth open and tiny baby breaths pulsing out of their lungs. Mmmmm. I love that. I know, no more, no more. But, please never let me forget.

(Blogger is being difficult with photos and text...again...so please ignore the poor formatting).

Phillip's first day of Kindergarten last year....













Phillip's first day of first grade this year...


















Samuel's first day of Preschool last year (yes, those are mittens. If you have to ask, you just don't know Sam).

















Samuel's first day this year. The biggest difference (not including the mittens, although they still often make appearances) is look where the backback is hitting him. He spent the year growing for sure.


















Andrew's first day of school last year, which never really materialized into school (Mother's Day Out) because he would never stay without hysterically crying.

















Andrew's first day of school this year. While it stays, it is only with Samuel by his side so far. This week, we start trying to work on staying by himself.

Pictures of Phillip's FIRST LOST TOOTH on the Web Album.

Just Some Peace and Quite, Please!

I had a good day with work yesterday and crossed many projects off my list. I still have a pile of bills that are overdue and I am behind on balancing checkbooks because I still haven't been paid from a big client who is now about five weeks overdue. I keep hoping every day the money will drop (it's direct deposit), I mean, eventually it has to, right? Soon, they say, soon. Hurry because we are scrapping together quarters and have been for a week. The quarters are almost gone too.

Anyway, back to what I am blogging about. Good day at work and I then read some emails around 4:30 that just sort of leave me needing to process some stuff. But instead, I walk out of my office and take on the family. Surely I can finish thinking about these things while I hug my kids and talk about our plans for the rest of the evening.

Nope. I can't. And, why do I keep thinking I can? I can be a bit of a loner. I love quiet time alone (or time alone in a coffee shop listening to the stories around me). I used to play alone a lot when I was a child. Sure, I can be social. But then I need to retreat, decompress and analyze.

So I do this stupid thing often where I walk out of my office before I have really had time to decompress and analyze whatever it is that I am still thinking about. But, once I walk out my office door, I should never expect the quite I need to think. A house full of three boys who are excited to see me does not yield one second of peace and quiet.

I quickly grow annoyed. They are acting totally w-i-l-d, beyond just normal excitement and boy stuff. They are being rough, not listening, interrupting, fighting, chasing, screaming--you name it. I start a glass of wine to see if that will help. No luck.

We sit down to dinner, dinner is wild. Everyone talking at once, whining that they don't like the food, complaining about someone taking the last of something, grabbing, standing up in their chairs (or laying in them...ugh that irritates me!). We finish dinner and get in the car to go to Back to School Night at Phillip's school.

By this time, I was frustrated by other things too. Like the school's lack of available information and direction (or return of emails from one staff person at school) about Back to School Night. Now I was yelling, talking through my clinched teeth and had totally lost all patience. The school is crowded, we are late, we are misdirected about where to take the kids for childcare, we are ignored standing at the table waiting to sign them in, we are late the parent meeting and stuck out in the hall where we cannot hear a word--a single word--of the 30 minute meeting and I am even more annoyed than ever.

I try to get over it and calm myself down. We go to the classrooms to hear the teachers' shpeal. I want to talk to the teacher after to ask her how she thinks P is adjusting. I wait. And wait. And wait. It's almost my turn and I see the clock hands now showing 8PM. Bedtime. Jeff goes and picks the kids up at the childcare. I continue to wait. She is having an in-depth conversation with some parents about their son. We wait in the hallway some more.

They are drinking out of the drinking fountain (you know how I feel about that. Hello? Germ-pool). Sam keeps drinking so much he chokes and gags--like three times. P's teacher is still talking. Finally at about 8:20, we decide we cannot wait any more and must leave. I still have to find the afterschool enrichment lady who didn't reply to my emails and find out what the deal is on fencing, which starts tomorrow.

Fine. Resolved. I am still annoyed, but I smile and she warms up eventually and acknowledges the lack of reply to my emails. We head to the car. They are wild--running everywhere, screaming, jumping--doing anything but getting in the car. I am talking through clenched teeth again with bulging eyes. They fight over a water bottle. Sam, who just drank like 16 gallons of water at the water fountain starts whining (and I mean whining, with a little fake cry thrown in) that he is dying of thirst and must have water immediately.

By now, I am so annoyed and desperate for just a few minutes of no one talking. Guys, please! I ask. Let's just ride home quietly with no fighting or talking. I so need just a few minutes of silence--or even just a few minutes of just one person talking and everyone listening. Please please please! No. No such luck. Bedtime is rushed, showers in between the jumping beans, somersaulting naked boys and a first lost tooth. Quite, please!

Finally, at 8:50 I am joined with a big bowl of ice cream and some quiet. I can think! Now, what was it I wanted to think about???

Summer Weekend Fun

Last weekend started with some summer fun. A long piece of paper on the driveway...some paints...six tiny feet...

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter




















The cold gushy paint felt so good on their feet!





















View pictures in Piscasa Web Album to see how it turned out (but, if you have three boys, I bet you can guess how it turned out)...

This weekend was so beautiful. It has been weeks since we have had weather this nice. Blue, blue skies, soft breeze, cool temperatures--we made the most of it.

The boys and I (Jeff was working until 2)started our day with breakfast outside at Panera, they each ordered a giant cinnamon roll with milk. Then, we headed to Connor Prairie (a living history museum). We arrived right as they opened and joined only two other cars in the parking lot. We took the "tram" for a nice ride to the far side of the museum and started at the Zimmerman's farm.
















The boys helped carry in wood for the stove, as Mrs. Zimmerman was getting ready to bake some bread. Exploring continued including a game of marbles at the house of the potter and another game using iron hoops at the house of the Blacksmith.









































And then the animals at Connor farm. A donkey, sheep, chicks, roosters, all roaming the barn amongst visitors. Samuel and Andrew held a chick. Sam did great, but Andrew squeezed too hard and the chick chirped uncontrollably!

Other weekend happenings include Samuel's (and Phillip's this time too) Friday night BMXing (this is last Friday). Andrew cried for an hour leading up to it that he wanted to BMX too. We tried every way we could think of to explain to him that he couldn't go BMXing because you have to be able to ride a bike, "Fine" he would say, "I will take my Plasma." Andrew loves the Plasma, he rides that thing faster than any kid I have ever seen ride a toy using his or her feet (and burns big holes in the tops of his shoes by scraping them on the ground) but it is not dirt-track ready. He was miffed.

Jeff posted some pictures of the first BMX excursion on his blog, but nothing prepared me for seeing it in person. Wow. They are brave, strong and determined! They both can make it all the way around. Samuel is like an animal on that track--focused, fast and determined to get some air over the jumps.

And then there was the afternoon/evening at my cousin's house where the boys discovered all things manly. Four wheelers, golf carts, guns (well, the kids didn't shoot guns, but the guys did). Ah, country livin'! See pictures on Picasa Web Album because I am getting super annoyed at Blogger when trying to upload these photos into the blog. It is totally sucking.

Email Annoyance

I love email. I mean, I love love email. It has changed my world and allowed me to keep in touch with people like never before. I have never liked to talk on the phone, it drives me crazy, so I was never good about calling my friends and chatting. Email has allowed me to chat whenever I can--same thing many people say. It is on my terms, even if it is 5 in the morning.

But, I get a lot of email and sometimes it is hard to keep up. Some days, I will get as many as 70 or so legitimate emails. I can be gone for a few hours only to bit hit with over 40 emails in a single morning. I have great spam filters and almost never end up with Cialis ads in my box. These are 70 real emails that need responding to. So, what is my biggest pet peeve? People who don't include my original email in their reply.

If you are responding to let's say for the sake of this conversation 50 emails a day, do you think I remember what I wrote to you in an email two days ago? I probably don't even remember sending the email! Yet their reply says things like "sounds good" or "I agree!" or something even more vague like LOL!

This causes me to have to go back in my labyrinth of sent emails and sort by sent to to find the most recent email I sent to them that they might be replying to. What a pain in the butt. I keep my email extremely organized and view my inbox by sender so I can choose who I want to deal with at any given time. I can accumulate emails from one sender then, focus on that project and knock out all my email responses at once. Then, I file all emails in the client's file and delete them out of my inbox as soon as they are addressed.

Sounds like a good system, but I remain forever bogged down in email. Blackberry, desktop, laptop, my email seems to be everywhere. I am actually considering taking a break from email our next vacation--now, if you know me, that tells you how overwhelmed I have become by my former BFF. I guess it still is my BFF. It remains my primary means of communication and often gets the job done--efficiently.

But just remember when you check that little option to not include the original email in your reply that there are people out there like me--and even much worse--whose volume of email is so great that we need that little reminder of what in the hell we were emailing about in the first place!

We Never Do It

First grade is off to a good start. Of course, it is early in the game, but so far he really likes his new school and has lots to talk about when he gets home. Uniform still looking darn adorable. They seem to be easing in to real work. Yesterday he said they did a worksheet where they wrote down stuff about their families but he didn't know how to spell any of the words and the other kids did. I reminded him that it will take time to catch up. We are confident he will, but if not, we will reassess.

Lunch is included in the lofty tuition. So, there is no packing lunch for my picky eater. He chose his own food for the past two days and yesterday they had pasta, but it had sauce on it. Needless to say, he was pretty hungry when he got home. When I used to pack his lunch, I would tuck a little handi-wipe in there so he could clean his hands before he ate. But, most of the time, his school included hand-washing in their lunchtime routine.

In case you are new, I am a total germ-a-phobe. Although I like to think I just practice good hygiene and illness-prevention, it is clearly beyond that. If you have three kids, you know how worth it it is. "How do you guys wash your hands before lunch?" I asked. He looked perplexed, wondering how he was going to answer this one.

"Oh, we really don't. We never really do it." What?!?! They don't wash their hands? These are first graders here--they still need guidance on such important things, just like they do about their zippers or crazy hair. I am finding it hard to believe that they have the kids wear these uptight (although totally adorable) uniforms yet let them get away with never washing their hands.

"Well, you do wash your hands after you go to the bathroom, right?" I didn't like the answer. It was a yes, but a less than confident yes. "Well, how can you get your hands clean before you eat?" I sent bottles of hand sanitizer to the classroom (actually on accident, they were intended for his backpack), where are those? They had yet to make an appearance. "I will have to tuck a bottle of hand sanitizer in your pocket so you can use it throughout the day."

Then, I thought about the implication that may have for my new guy in a new school. Oh, you know, the dork that carries the hand sanitizer. Just not sure that is the proper solution either. I am trying to work through this. He will bring germs home-period. But, come on people, a little common decency hygiene please.

The school made a big deal to us how his teacher's husband is an oncologist. They told us like six times. Well, that is great and I am sure he is super smart, as is she, but she served a six-pack of Oreos to each child for snack on the first day and doesn't enforce hand-washing? Wife of an oncologist or not, she is making some pretty unhealthy choices. Okay, okay, I know--in the grand scheme of things, she appears to be a great teacher and the cookies could be just a first day of school treat (he said they didn't have snack yesterday because they were running behind).

So, what do I do? Deal with and find a way to manage my germ-a-phobia (oh, and by the way, you may quickly say something like, you can get over it, but it isn't as easy as that or I would be over it by now. That is the thing about phobias, they make no sense and you fully know it, but you cannot do anything about it. Haven't you ever seen grown adults with real phobias of something like circus clowns?), say something or inquire with the teacher about hand washing habits at the school or send hand sanitizer in his pocket? Any ideas here people (and I know more than the two who comment read this thing)?

Tomorrow is the BIG Day!

First grade starts tomorrow. Here we go...

We tested the uniform assembly tonight. My heart melted. Have you ever seen such a handsome boy? I saw his baby face when he was sleeping last night.

Terrible picture of me, I know, but this is all about him. Click on my web album for
more great shots of him in his uniform.