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.

Another Summer Get-a-Way

Last week, we spent two days (and one night) in Cincinnati. Cincinnati is just 90 miles from Indy, so the kids didn’t even finish a Harry Potter movie before we arrived. We spent the first part of day one at the Creation Museum, which is actually in Kentucky. This brand new museum tells the biblical story of creation in a comparative format with the big-bang theory. The museum is beautiful and everything is very well done. Here is a picture of Andrew as he discovers the giant moving dinasour above him.

But, very crowded and lots of reading. The kids were not too interested, except for an occasional naked Adam and Eve and Noah’s Ark. After we toured the museum, we hung around on the grounds passing time until our 4:30 planetarium visit. The grounds are beautiful and while also still very new (and the foliage isn’t very lush yet), there is a winding asphalt path, flowing water, beautiful flowers and one of those rope foot bridges (you know, like rope and wood planks—a real challenge to walk on).

The boys enjoyed that way more than the museum. We scouted snakes in the water and butterflies on the flowers. Jeff scouted mullets (seriously, he did. It is Kentucky, so he kept pretty busy). But, we couldn’t pass enough time in the heat and ended up heading to the hotel before our planetarium show time. We checked in the hotel and the boys spent some time jumping on the beds. Then, we headed to the pool for a swim. Andrew was ready before everyone else so he and I snuck back to the room, got our clothes back on and went to the bar for cocktail hour. I got him a Shirley Temple and he drank it in the lobby while I drank my wine and we waited on the others. They joined us for another cocktail and more Shirley Temples. We ate dinner at the hotel to keep things simple. The hotel restaurant was along the river (actually on the Kentucky side, looking over to Cincinnati). There was a Reds game wrapping up and much activity on the river. The restaurant was empty and the kids could enjoy themselves (a good think because my glass of wine was very big and by that point, I didn’t pay too much attention to what they were doing). Back to the room after dinner for bath and showers. I ordered sundaes from room service and once everyone was out of the bath, the sundaes arrived. Ah, they love to eat room service in bed…just like me. My little Leona Helmsleys, I am so proud.

Next day started with breakfast downstairs in the hotel again. While we tried to search out a little local breakfast spot, we just were not in that part of town (if that part of town exists at all in Covington, Kentucky). Then, off to the Cincinnati Museum Center to see the pirate’s exhibit. This is an exhibit of items recovered from the only discovered pirate ship. It is a wonderful exhibit. In the intro, the docent said, “You know who Captain Jack Sparrow is, don’t you?” and the boys eagerly answered yes. She sternly and dramatically replied, “Well, forget him. He is make believe. What you are about to see is the real deal.” In that same re-functioned train station is the Children’s Museum. Indy is home to one of the world’s (and I mean world, not state or nation) most renowned children’s museums—but this one had some very cool stuff. The boys were totally occupied every second they were there. Then, a quick trip to the Museum of Science and Natural History. Back to the hotel to check out and off to lunch at an arcade (sort of like a Dave & Buster’s). Phillip was in heaven. Final stop, the Newport Aquarium. It was over $70 to get in—Jeff and I both almost passed out. So not worth the money, but still a nice little (and I mean little in the “quaint” sort of way) aquarium. Oh, and
after we paid and entered the museum, they said—no strollers. We were like, hu?!? It isn’t always easy to keep track of three little kids in a crowded space like a museum. But, we managed. Then, in the car and back home. A quick but fun trip.

Point of Reference

Okay, Anne...here is the frame of reference. Also included are shots of the accompanying scratch that can be buffed out, the enormous door job that appeared under her watch (which is some what forgivable, I know...door jobs can just happen), and although it didn't photograph well, another dent that is the result of the time she ran into the side of the garage (white paint rubbed off) and acted oblivious. So now, you be the judge. Just a scratch?

When Is a Scratch Just a Scratch...?

This week marked the last week for our most recent nanny. Was parting such sweet sorrow? No. It was time. She (being very young and still quite innocent) got pregnant in the spring and ever since then, she has been totally distracted with babyism.

I try to remember what it was like, how excited I was, the thrill of the unknown and the great expectations...but serious, I was never so consumed. I was doing home remodeling and gardening up to the end, I was walking every day and doing prenatal yoga. Yes, I loved to talk about the baby and being pregnant. Yes, I read a million books on birth and took tons of classes. But, I also realized very early on just how long nine months was and thought, I cannot sit around and just wait for this baby forever!

She stopped lifting, reaching, holding, etc. She stopped doing everything and started telling the kids, "...because the baby" all the time. She spent hours sitting watching the kids because she was too tired, felt sick or was out of patience already at 10AM. She wrote potential baby names all over our driveway in chalk. Andrew's favorite thing to say right now is that he has a baby in his belly and his belly hurts where the baby is. Nice.

So on her second to last day, she pulls the van in the garage and Jeff--all the way in the kitchen--hears a noise. What was that? He walks out to the garage only to reappear in my office with a red and puffed out face. Oh my, he is mad. I go look. Oh, I am mad. We have her go look. She seems indifferent. "Sorry. It was an accident."

When does sorry cover it? We let the other three go--including the one where she hit the side of the garage and pretended to be oblivious to the giant white scrap down the backside of the van and the giant door ding on the driver's side. Fine, we will buff, polish and shine it out and door dings happen. But this sucker? It has dimension to it. It is a deep scape. It will require a trip to a body shop. "I am sorry, I said it was an accident."

I say, you know, this isn't some piece of crap car. She tells me that she didn't see Jeff's bike leaning up against that side of the garage--didn't see a bike? A big black mountain bike? Were her eyes even open? Then, she starts in with "...well the kids were screaming in the car while I was pulling in and..." I interrupt her, with my finger pointed and my voice tense, "Do NOT blame this on my kids, got it? You are responsible for this, not my kids."

Now what? I am most offended by her total lack of ever even offering to help with the costs, even if she had no intentions of really paying. Not one utter of I will help with the deductible or let me now how much the estimate is. Only, "I am sorry." Needless to say, the conversation continued and wasn't pretty. Jeff was incredibly upset (like the kind of upset he gets twice a year) and now so was I, but soon it was obvious, none of this really mattered as she only had one day left on the job.

So, when is a scratch just a scratch? In your book--is this just a scratch? Comments, suggestions, thoughts--please.

Dear Britany,

I defended you that one time when you almost fell with Sean Preston, 'cause I know we all sometimes trip, but now you have gone way beyond the defendable. I am in line at the store on Sunday, with all three of my kids (who were rolling on the floor of the store, grabbing candy and trying to play the lottery machines), when I see a tabloid with a picture of your two children on the front. They were hysterically screaming, with arms in the air and seemingly saying your name. The headline read, "Help Us."

Wow, now that is some powerful journalism. Can't the government intervene? I mean this is a serious crisis. They are no doubt stuck in some horribly large house with a nanny all day until you need them to prop in front of the press--oh, the torture. Who would have ever thought that K-Fed should get the kids? I mean, really Brit, it does seem he is more stable. Gangstas can make good daddies too, ya know.

And, what is with that valley girl act you do for the press. I feel so bad for you when you do that. Do you think it is funny? Do you think it sounds cool? You really just sound totally insane when you do that. Hello, valley girls were popular when I was in like 5th grade and while my friend Lisa told me leg warmers were back, I have not seen any signs of valley girls making a come back (Ah, I still remember the best Lisa Frank metallic sticker I had that said, "Gag me with a spoon.").

So, do us all a favor and just go away, sort of like Lindsey Lohan just did! See? Now it is all mysterious and her whereabouts are unknown and she is receiving some undisclosed medical treatment and the press is stalking her mother's house. can't you just do something normal like that? It seems you had another car chase yesterday in Beverly Hills. really, you should just get some like Ford Explorer or something. Your black Mercedes is just a little too obvious.

Okay, that is all I have to say now. But, you cannot count on me to defend your actions any more. I am so over it. You just have gone too far over the deep end. I don't care what your excuse is--I know, the Mickey Mouse Club can really cause some serious PTSD, but some how, you need to find the strength to move forward, or move to France like Michael Jackson did.

Love, your pal....

K

What I Have Found So Far...

(In reference to an earlier entry)


We checked everywhere--even under the house. Finally, we decided the smell had to be in the fridge. On Saturday, while our kids were still away (they spent two nights at Granny's, she took all the Grandkids to King's Island), we emptied the entire refrigerator...I mean the entire fridge. We took out every shelf, piece of glass, drawer, everything. We sprayed the whole thing down with cleaner (this Lysol food-safe surface cleaner) and went through every single item individually. Oh, it brought back memories--hello food items that expired in 2006! If it looked borderline or was expired, we tossed. Start fresh was the attitude. We found the smell. My neighbor had given me a bag full of beautiful, dark green broccoli from his garden. For some reason, the smell was horrible, despite the fact it appeared totally fresh. Tossed (but oh, how I love broccoli).

As a side note, when I went to the store yesterday with the boys to replenish (as we cleaned the freezer and pantry too), I bought a big head of broccoli. We buy almost everything we can organic, free trade or locally grown. Part of the trade off for that is sometimes not freakishly large veggies like in regular supermarkets, or deep deep rich colors but just normal produce like you might get in the garden (odd shapes, smaller in size, etc.). And, most of the time, these are smaller farmers who lack massive transportation systems to get the produce to us, so it usually doesn't last as long as that from a big store (or big farm). Clearly, this is changing as some of the largest food producers in the U.S. now see the commercial potential in organic (ah, capitalism a work). At any rate, this is turning in to a very long story. I am cutting up my broccoli last night so I can steam a batch for the week and I notice it has bugs. Hundreds of bugs. Tiny spider bugs deep in the florets. Ewww. Had to toss that broccoli too. For some reason, I don't think I was meant to eat broccoli this week.

Update on the school. We have two hot contenders, both totally different. We are going to visit our number one tomorrow with Phillip, to meet the first grade teacher (there are two, so it isn't necessarily the one he would have) and let him see the school. We showed him on the Internet and he wasn't that excited, but I think it is more about grieving for his old school. We talked about that, I told him I understand (which I do, I certainly changed schools a few times) and we went over who from his tight group of Kindergartners was going back--just one boy. He saw his good friend Graham and Graham confirmed he is going to a different school too. He seems to be warming up to the idea. Our back-up plan starts August 14, though, so time is not on our side. And, for our first choice, there is still much work to be done (testing, letters of reference, applications, etc.).

I finally got paid from the one client whose check was always mysteriously in the mail. They still owe me final payment for a second project, but it isn't quite as much money, so not such a big deal--however, they still have to pay it!

The yard isn't looking so hot. We had the chemical discussion again. Jeff is convinced the chemicals are safe. I just don't buy it for some reason and am still resistant to it when the kids are little. Can't he just have a perfect lawn when the kids no longer care about it. Besides, they drive trucks, bikes, scooters, wheel barrows and other equipment through it, so it isn't like it is perfect now. I gave up Orkin inside too because of the chemicals. They say those are safe, but I still am not certain on those either. Any opinions about this?

Oh, ice cream. I love you so. But really, I am going to try to lose some weight. I feel enormous and I need to take control and stop complaining. Ice cream really isn't bad if I measure it out properly. I can still have it, I just have to save my calories all day knowing I want it. That seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? Ugh...it is a lot of work!

My DNA

Not much surprised me here, but this is a very cool little personal inventory test.





I am an Attentive Analyst.

Highlights:

• I am very ware of my own abilities, and I believe that I will find the best way of doing things.
• Problems do not intimidate me, as I believe in myself.
• I have a strong sense of right and wrong, and I am not hesitant to express myself.
• I learn a lot about myself by talking things out with people, even if I don't always share things that are important to me.
• Understanding the dynamics of a situation is an important skill that I have, and you often intervene to clarify things for others.

Lowlights:

• Although I care about others, I hesitate to trust them to act in the best way on their own.
• While you have strong opinions about what is right and wrong in the world, you risk coming across as judgmental.
• I need to move beyond things that I find comfortable and open myself up to a broader range of experiences.
• While I care about people, if I found ones I truly trusted, I could get closer to them.
• I need to embrace the imaginative, creative part of my personality more often.

All good advice, but thinking is often easier than doing. I liked this test because it allowed for variability in your answers. I am not an A, B or C person. I am a A with conditions or a C with great exceptions. This test sort of allows for that. Do it and share your results!

I Am Trying To Find...

The source of that smell in my kitchen. Is it in the fridge? Is it the trash can? I cannot figure it out, but it is nasty. I threw out the melon, I tossed the chicken. The smell is still there.

A school for our first grader. A last minute decision by the administration at his current small school where we love, love the teachers and other families has led us to pulling him out for the fall. School starts (for most places) in less than two weeks! I am trying to breath deep and have faith that it will all work out and that the right solution will reveal itself to us. Going to look at two yet this week (both still have openings).

Cash. It is the darnedest thing. When I send invoices, I sort of expect to get paid. What is with people dragging their feet with payments? Seems like some months, all the money is in by the 5th and other months (like this one), people think paying is optional! I am running a business here, people.

A solution for the yard that doesn't involve toxic chemicals on the grass but also doesn't allow weeds to grow. I am losing the wager on organic lawn care. He is going to make us go back to chemicals next year if the grass doesn't quit growing those weeds.

A evening snack that satisfies my need for chocolate and dairy products but doesn't involve a bowl full of ice cream and like 700 calories. (or we could just make pants with elastic waists cool again).

New Pictures in the Web Album

New pictures in the web album! That is about the only new thing on this site lately. Seriously, I am going to update soon. But, summer has been busy. Work, more work and a few get-a-ways (see our trip to Chicago in the web album), a lot of activities, some camps and a little bit of drama.

Right after we went to Chicago, I went to Atlanta for a conference for four days--it has made keeping up with work a real challenge, but I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel...or is that a train about to run me over?

Tennis league is over. Our team didn't do so hot and I would say that I only had fun about 1/3 of the time. The other 2/3 of the matches, we played total bitches who lacked any sense of sportsmanship. But, did it make me a better player? Yes. Will I do it again? Yes. Will I expect to win more next year? Absolutely.

He Noticed My Breath

I leaned over to talk to Phillip while kissing him goodnight, all snug in his bed and he raised the sheets over his head with an "Ewww, your breath stinks." Why do I love that?

Sure, even when they are toddlers, they sometimes giggle that you have smelly breath and babies? They will let you breathe in their face all day and never even notice (since they cannot really smell). But, tonight, the way he said it...it was just like the way I would say it to Jeff or my mom.

Little boy no more? Am I in a hurry for him to grow up? Not grow up up, but let's just say I am even more amazed at this person he is becoming than I was at the tiny baby he once was. I love him being real and I love it that we can relate to each other. It just feels good to have your bad breath noticed sometimes.

That Twinkle in My Eye

The Scene: Me folding beach towels at the dryer, Samuel standing near by chatting with me.

Me: I hate this towel (referring to this ugly-ass Aztecy towel from like 1989).

Sam: Why?

Me: I don't know, it is just so old it reminds me of like the 1980s.

Sam: When I was in your tummy?

Me: Oh, no...you were just a twinkle in my eye. I didn't even know daddy then.

Sam: And then I was in your tummy?

Me: Yes, much later.

Sam: What will you name another baby?

Me: There are not going to be any more babies, mommy and daddy decided that. But, the next one would probably have been named David, Brett, or if it was a girl, Elizabeth Jean. That was always my girl name...after Grandma Weaver.

Sam: There is going to be another baby.

Me: No, there isn't sweets, mommy and daddy are happy with these kids.

Sam: Yes there is, I can see it.

Me: See what?

Sam: The twinkle in your eye.

....do I really need to say anything here?!?!

Another Milestone...

Our boys have a friend who lives just across the street. M turned six in May and was adopted from China. Her parents tell this heart-wrenching story of her being discovered in a gutter in China, wrapped in a blanket with a bottle, but no birth certificate or clues to who she belonged to or when she was born. They said based on her size, they picked a date and called it her birthday.


I get that, and I think I have written about this before. I understand that whole idea, but the bottom line is they are wrong. This girl is either the biggest Chinese person I have ever seen or she is actually like 8. We first noticed it when she turned "4" and all the sudden became highly verbal and would hold extremely sophisticated conversations with us--leaving our then 4 year old starring at her totally clueless.

She used to be closer with Sam, but in the last year, Sam has become old news for her and she prefers Phillip, for two reasons I think. First, he is closer to her real age (despite her "official" age) and second, he happily accepts bossing from girls.

So, where is this story going? Because she demonstrated some even more "mature" behavior this week. We had a neighborhood meeting with the City one evening on a corner, across the street from our house. Her dad dropped her off so she could play while we were all at the meeting. We could see them from the meeting and they appeared to be rather busy.

She stayed a little longer, they played in the backyard, hidden in the forest. Finally, the sun started to set, I was finished cleaning up dinner and it was time to get ready for bed. Jeff walked her home and the boys piled in the door, sweaty and smiling ear to ear.

"Mom, we played a secret game with M." Oh boy. I was pretty sure I knew where this was going. So much for the secret part of the game. I probed further.

"You did? What was it?" I asked. Sam continued to disclose the secret. "We showed her our butts and penises." Okay, this conversation just went exactly where I wished it wouldn't but thought it would. I asked for more details. Was it her idea or theirs? Did they get naked or just pull their pants down? Did she show them anything?

Mostly I feared they both pulled a "hey, check this out" and exposed themselves. But, the details followed and it seemed to be as to be expected. She told them what to show and they would flash it. I didn't really react and told them that while I know we wonder what other people might look like under their clothes, those are private parts and even if a friend asks to see them, we should tell them it's private.

But, I still wanted more details. Phillip wasn't playing along. He was tight-lipped, but Samuel was spilling. I kept asking how they got to that point; what were they playing the moment before it happened? Sam gave me all the dirt. Totally innocent, totally curious. Sam thought it was so funny what she said. "She said now show me your dee-dee, or what is the other word for it?" I tried a few options, like pee pee, but he kept saying no, that isn't it. I asked Phillip was the word was she used. "Wiener, she said wiener."

I went back to Sam, "Did she call it a wiener?" "Yes! That's it!" and he rolled and rolled of laughter. Oh, and she showed nothing, she was just the director. I asked if they asked to see anything, they were both very, very adamant and embarrassed about even the possibility and said, no, no, no way. But, I know, it is probably only a matter of time before they do ask.

Seems as if no matter how open and honest you (you in the collective sense of us) are about body parts, kids are still curious. It is natural, normal and in its own right, a milestone of development...just much harder to swallow than cutting teeth or learning to crawl.

Where's the Dafoom?

What is up with every child going through a period where they are obsessed with public bathrooms?!? Is it just mine? The weird thing is that I HATE public restrooms and will hold it far longer than I should and go out of my way to stop by home just to go pee. I cannot even fathom the other in a public restroom, so it isn't even worth discussing.

So how is it I have children who have all gone through a period of being obsessed with public bathrooms? Before we go anywhere, I make everyone go pee. If they refuse, I give them the eye, shake my finger in their face and say, "You are not going at the store." And, I mean it.

For Phillip, it was when he was about three. He fell in love with pooping at Home Depot. Every time we walked in that store (and during that time, we were there a lot), he would say, "Mom, I need to go poop." I would redirect him, but he would always whine and wince and I would cave. We would work our way across the store, as for some stupid reason the bathrooms were over by the concrete and no where near the kinds of stuff we were always buying. He would hop on the toilet and squeeze, push, squeeze, fart, and then say, "I'm done."

Samuel, well by the time he was potty trained, I just made Phillip take him in. But, those times were few and far between. I could almost always distract him or talk him out of it. Now there is Andrew. I think I have already written about the time I turned the aisle in Target only to find him standing outside the Family bathroom yelling "I need go pee" with his pants down to his ankles.

Every store we go in, he SCOUTS out, and I mean SCOUTS out the bathroom. Whenever we get near it, he asks "Mom, where's the dafoom?" as if he hasn't already found it. I say I don't know (even though I do) or they don't have one (even though they do). He proves me wrong-quickly. "Mom, there's the dafoom." Oh, there it is...hmmm...interesting.

Last night we were in this fireworks store (yes, we LOVE 4th of July--are you kidding? Four boys? We blow up everything). He sees this door that he cannot figure out where it leads to (obviously not an emergency exit). "Mom, what's that?" I said I didn't know. "A dafoom?" No, I tell him, they don't have a bathroom. Well, he says, "But, I need go pee." Well, sorry I tell him, no bathroom. "Mom, its a dafoom." No! I insist, it isn't. Now look at this cool bomb thingy. "Mom," I return his call with the look and he says "I just have feu wait to get home." Yes, you just have feu wait for da dafoom until we get home.

Airplanes

Our dentist is a pilot and has his own airplane. He has been our dentist for over 12 years and has seen Jeff more times than we would like to remember (due to a puck or two in the mouth during hockey). He keeps promising Jeff he will take him for a ride on his plane as he flies in and out of a small airport not too far from our house.

He called Jeff late last week and told him about a fly-in at that small airport this weekend. I had never heard that term before, but I guess it means tons of pilots fly their planes to this airport, land, shoot the shit and fly away. So, Jeff took the kids up there this weekend to see some planes. He met up with our dentist, who let the boys sit in his plane.

In the course of an hour, Jeff said they saw more than 10 small planes take off and land--no less than 50 yards away on the grass runway. Here are some of my favorite pictures from their adeventure. I was of course, playing tennis.

Dr. Ed showing the boys the controls--Pilots ready for take-off (more pictures on the Web Album)