S-I-X

He is six. My baby is six.

I didn't want to have a birthday party this year, because he hasn't yet figured out who his closest friends are at school...and I didn't want to invite the entire class. Have I mentioned there are 28 of them? Andrew was totally okay with not having a party...further proof that he is Jeff and my son.

A few weeks ago, I suggested a special Mommy/Daddy/Andrew date day in place of the traditional party. I pulled up the website for Medieval Times (a knight dueling restaurant/entertainment place)...pooh poohed. I suggested taking the train downtown and going to a museum or lunch...pooh poohed. I suggested even going up to NYC and seeing the Christmas lights, etc...pooh poohed.

Exasperated, I finally just asked him what HE wanted to do since he was such a party pooh-pooher. He thought for about 5 seconds and said, "I want to go out to breakfast and then bowling."

Done.

So that is what we did today. Jeff's folks just got in town last night, so we left the Littles with them and went to IHOP for breakfast. Then we walked next door to the bowling alley (that opened at 9 am...). Then we went to the party store to shop for decorations for his cake...nothing like last minute. Oh, and he decided that he wanted a rectangle white cake with plain white icing...no decorations but candles.

Could this kid be any easier? Seriously.

We love him...you know that. He knows that. It was so fun to just be with him all morning...our sweet 52 pound, 49 inch baby.

Thankful Thursday

So much to give thanks for!

Jeff
3 healthy kids
laughter every day
contentment
good friends all across the country
parents that love us and our kids (enough to miss their own Thanksgiving AND to be late to prepare their own Thanksgiving)
a warm and comfortable house
a good job
the ability to stay home with my kids...even when they drive me insane
chocolate mint truffle coffee creamer
flannel pjs
baby kisses


And on and on and on. We are going to a good friend's house for Thanksgiving (thanks for inviting us, Elizabeth!) and then Jeff's folks will arrive sometime tonight. Andrew's birthday is tomorrow...a busy weekend for us!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

A mess

Lily is really going...I can't even believe it. I mean, I am a big believer in not potty training until the child is ready. As in...no involvement from the parent. I don't understand cleaning up accidents for 6 months so you can say your child is "trained". I don't understand how a child is "trained" if you have to ask them every 15 minutes to sit on the potty. I just don't believe in that. But I have never been forced to do that...my kids are fall babies, and they are nearly 4 before starting pre-school.

But once your child clears the ripe old age of 3...you start to wonder if there will be a college roommate in the future who will tolerate a diaper pail in the corner of the room. The pressure is palpable. It feels like people are coming out of the wood work, potty training their 18 month olds successfully (see above about what I believe about those "trained" children). My logical brain repeats the mantra, "No one starts kindergarten in diapers", but when you watch your daughter scream in rage at the mere suggestion of the potty...you wonder if Lily will be the first.

But I didn't give in to peer pressure. I just waited. And waited. And like I said yesterday, every couple of weeks I'd cave to the pressure in my head. I'd convince myself that it was because I didn't pressure her a little that she just lazily stayed in diapers. Once I jack-knifed her into the underpants, she would pout and scream and quickly wet through. And then I'd mentally kick myself and berate myself for thinking this was something I had any control over. And then we'd go another 2 weeks or more with diapers until I caved to peer pressure again.

And now...voila! She is potty trained. Today she went from 7 until 12:30 without asking to go potty. I thought for sure yesterday was a fluke. But when she asked to go at 12:30, her pull-up was dry and she filled her little potty. Hooray! Then I put her down for her quiet time.

When I went to get her, she was lying in bed naked. Uh-oh. There were tissues covering the floor. It took me a while to figure out what had happened, but eventually I saw that she had pooped in her pull-up. Then she tried to change her own diaper...getting poop on the floor in the process. She threw her diaper away (in the hamper) and tried to wipe up the poop with tissues. Then she peed on the floor. Then she took clothes out of the hamper and tried to mop up the pee. Then she lay on the bed and tried to put on a new diaper. She looked ashamed and mortified when I came in. She said, "I tried to get out to go potty, but the door was locked" (it was not...she just couldn't get it open). I felt AWFUL. I clearly had not gaged her potty training readiness. I just am having a hard time changing gears this fast.

How do we go from last Friday having zero interest (rage against, in fact) in the potty to Wednesday we are ashamed of dirty diapers and try desperately to clean one up? Other than the nap fiasco, Lily stayed dry all day, and went potty (#1 and #2) successfully 5 times. No prompting from me.

I promise I won't write more about this...I am just in shock. And thinking she'll be wearing underpants to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Amazing.

I dare not speak this aloud

But typing it should be fine, right? I still think I'll whisper it, just in case it's not true.



I think Lily is potty training herself. After quickly realizing that every time I suggest it, she screamed and refused, I gave up. GAVE UP. But every 10 days or so we would have an "underpants morning"....MOSTLY because I would hear about yet another 13 month old that had potty trained while my more than 3 year old refused. So I would drag her screaming and kicking into a pair of underpants, and she would wet through them and then underpants morning would be over. But I wanted to give her the feeling of being wet at least a few times...and the experience would also convince me that she was NOT ready and this was NOT something I could force her into.

Then a few days ago, she started asking to sit on the potty. Totally out of the blue. I seriously could not even ask her if she wanted to try without causing her to scream and holler and have a tantrum. (she really is a pleasant child...) And the thing is? When she asked, sometimes she would actually go.

Then today she asked me a total of 8 times. 6 of those times resulted in success. Holy CRAP. And she was totally dry in her pull-up all day except for nap time. Holy CRAP.

I don't know why I'm surprised. Andrew kind of did the same exact thing at almost the same exact time. I guess when you are ready you're ready. Hopefully I'll remember this for Michael and not feel the peer pressure of the more "successful" parents that surround me ;)

A, L, and M Digest

Andrew-Perils of Reading

We were going through the check-out line last week after our weekly grocery shopping trip. I try to squeeze it in while Lily is at school so I only have to bring the boys.

As I put the groceries up on the conveyor-thingy, Andrew looks at the candy, magazines, and other sundries that are supposed to tempt you last minute. And we have this conversation:

Andrew- "Mom! Oh no! Dr. Phil has only months to live!"
G- "Well, maybe...but probably he's okay."
A- "But it says so right here on this magazine."
G- "Well...you can't believe everything you read...especially on these types of magazines. Sometimes they make stuff up."
A- "How can they do that? Why are they allowed to say someone is going to die?"
G- "????????"

I contemplated getting into a discussion about 1st amendment rights and how you can do just about anything to get someone to buy your product and how sometimes publishers think that making a buck is more important than how it makes someone feel...

But I just shrugged and kept putting things on the conveyor belt. It's just one of the perils of reading.

Lillian- God loves me

Lily came home from school last week and we had this conversation-

Lily- "We had candy at school today."
G- "Really?"
L- "We got it from a basket"
G- "Why did you get candy today?"
L- "Because God loves me."

It doesn't sound that cute...but the way she said the last bit was so flippant and cute.

Michael- Gravity is a tricky thing

Michael has practiced and practiced testing gravity. He is quite the scientist. Everything he can get his hands on, he throws...and it always bangs to the ground. Always. Until Sunday night when he got a balloon from Red Robin. Once home, Lily promptly tore the string off, so it was able to float all the way to the ceiling and out of Michael's eyeline.

Jeff retrieved it for him, and Michael was thrilled! He promptly did what he always does...threw it down...and then went to chase it like a ball. But! It had disappeared! He was spinning around looking down for it with this look of incredulous surprise. We were laughing until we cried. And then, of course, we retrieved it again and he did the exact same thing. Even when we pointed out that it had gone up...his little brain just couldn't accept it. Funny!

Christmas cards? Check!

Today was the first day in a MONTH I've been to church because of all our illnesses. Nice.

I decided that dressing up for church would be a great time to take a photo for our Christmas cards this year.

Jeff and I didn't make it in this year. We haven't changed that much from last year, except that Jeff has gotten skinnier and I have gotten...um...NOT skinnier.

I'm not going to show you the picture I decided on...you know, because lots of you get cards from me, and I wouldn't want to kill the suspense for you. Thoughtful, eh?

Mama and her boys

Daddy and his girl

Kisses

Lily and her "Best Girl" as she calls Memere

And here's one of the shots that I didn't pick. But it gives you an idea of what I had to work with. And I did want an action shot...what good is a still perfect photo when one boy has a shiner and the other a huge scab in between his eyes and the girl has boogers and cereal goop around her mouth? And yes, I tried to wipe her mouth and nose, but she was too irate about getting put into a dress. Her mother's daughter.

Go brainwashing! I mean, Bucks!

Getting ready to watch the game. Zombie faces on.

Must go shopping

Oh, hi, blog. All's well over here...my parents came from Ohio last night, so I've been busy...you know...talking to adults and watching other people play Lion King and get tackled and gasp in amazement at the trouble that Mike can get into.

It's downright refreshing.

And I'd write more about it, but I've got to go shopping now with my Mommy. See, it's my baby's 6th birthday next Friday, and I haven't bought him anything. Now I have a shopping buddy and it all seems fun again.

Off I go!

Snap out of it!

So I've been quite the grump the last few days/weeks. Not really wanting to fix meals...we've had a lot of crackers and cheese and grapes for meals lately. I don't feel like doing anything but moping around the house. Can't even bring myself to shop for Andrew's birthday, because I'm stuck at home during the weekends with sickos and ditto to the week. Why not on-line shop? Because I just don't wanna. I don't want hugs and kisses from Jeff, I don't wanna exercise, I don't wanna go out after he gets home from work because it's too dark, I don't WANNA.

Can you hear my whining from over there?

So in a somewhat unrelated event yesterday, I had it out with Andrew. He woke up yesterday with puppy-dog eyes. The kind of day where any request of mine is met with big open pathetic batty eyes and whimpers. When asked what is wrong, he has no response but more whining. He refused to get dressed, play with his sister, even talk to his sister, eat, etc etc. Nothing was good enough, but he couldn't express what was bothering him. After I'd dragged him by the skin of his teeth through the morning, we dropped Lily off at school and headed to the grocery (like we do EVERY Wednesday). He responded with a whimper. I took him by the arm and got eye to eye with him and said,

"You know what, Andrew? Sometimes being in a bad mood is a choice. You can't even tell me what is wrong...which means you are choosing to be in a funk. You need to figure out a way to SNAP OUT OF IT, or you are going to make yourself and everyone else miserable today."

And then it was like you could literally SEE the light bulb go off over my head. Like in a cartoon.

So I made an effort to snap myself out of it. I made homemade soup for dinner. I made peppermint chocolate milkshakes for dessert. I made amends with my affection-starved husband (if you know what I mean). I did two dishwasher loads in a row. I vacuumed the family room. I put pig-tails in my hair and danced around the room with Lily like an idiot.

And then Lily started to spike a fever in the afternoon.

I have a feeling I'm going to have to snap myself out of a lot of future bad moods as well.

90

Today, my Memere turns 90. Even though she is not my oldest living grandparent, that is still quite an accomplishment. My Uncle Chuck asked all of us to write a little something about her that would be put together into a birthday book for her. I am a slacker, and never got it mailed...even though I had it mostly written a few weeks ago. So I'll post it here before finally mailing it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Memere has always been the grandparent I've felt the closest to. She lived close to us for much of my childhood...stubbornly moving and chasing after my parents as they moved all over Ohio. She had way fewer grandchildren...5 to my other grandmother's 23...so we got a bit more attention from her. She is my mother's mother. I am named after her...and I have always been so honored to carry her name, that I in turn gave my daughter her name. Jeannette. A woman to model yourself after in so many ways.

I have so many memories of Memere, that I don't even know where to begin. Because she lived near us, many of them are everyday, mundane things. Like spending the night at her house and playing with all her jewelry. Her house was always spotless and filled with breakable things...but she never made you feel bad about messing it up or even playing with fragile items. To her they were just "things". I remember that the cookie jar was always full, and the candy dish always had yummy coffee nips or Andes mints. I remember loving to tease her...about her wine habit (never excessive...we just teased) or the food catching on her "shelf" (read: ample bosom). I still can't eat smoked sausage without remembering Memere...she always served us smoked sausage, Velveeta shells & cheese and corn when babysitting us. Oh! And the kiddie cocktails! Memere would always have scotch on the rocks (I think) before dinner, and she would serve us sprite or ginger ale with a cherry. I made the mistake of eating HER cherry once...ugh. (I'm really making her out to be lush here...she's not. But maybe she's lived to 90 for a reason...) I remember taking trips with her...especially one that just she and I took up to Lexington when I was in college...she was visiting old friends and I was visiting my new boyfriend, Jeff.

But these are just little things. I'm sure Memere is cringing that all her granddaughter can remember is her smoked sausage cooking skills (she was a fantastic cook in her day) or her drinking. ;)

As I've grown to adulthood, Memere's attitude and philosophy on life has really made an impression on me. She has stopped being just a fun grandma to cuddle and escape real life with and morphed into the type of woman and person I aim to be...to become.

Memere was born the youngest of 5 girls. She was adored and pampered and spoiled...no doubt because of her sunny disposition. She married in her late teens, to a man 7 years older than her. My Pepere was an orphan who had spent the last 10 years or so trying to raise and support his 4 younger siblings without even a high school diploma under his belt. I like to think that he found true love with Memere because her optimism and loving nature and naive viewpoint was just what he needed to give him joy and hope in the world that had been cruel to him in his youth. She married him with no knowledge of how to cook or run a household or even what sex was (imagine her surprise on her wedding night!). She used to tell fabulous stories of burning Pepere's dinners and then all her oopsies when my Uncle Chuck came along. Lordy. She gave birth to her second child on Chrismas Day, and he died the next day. My mother came 3 years after that, and Memere was told not to have any more children. My Pepere began moving the family all over the country and once even out of the country. Memere was separated from her entire support system back in the days where everyone else lived close to family and there was no e-mail or Facebook or quick and easy flights for visits. She became a widow at the young age of 60 (or maybe 59?). She managed to become the head of her own household and figure out the finances and move several times...maintaining her independence and stepping up to the plate. In the last few years, she has struggled with health issues that have taken away her independence and slowly her mind and memories.

But despite her trials and tribulations, the overwhelming impression you will get if you have the honor of meeting my Memere, is that she is an incredibly positive, sunny person. She is genuine and humble and unassuming. She is the eternal optimist. She can always think of something good to say about any person or situation. She has always been downright pleasant to be around. This is evident in her lifelong collection of friends and how devoted her family is to her and what caring, self-less children she raised. She proudly displays pictures of all of her homes in all the states and countries. She talks fondly of my Pepere and jokes about her mistakes as a young adult. She speaks of the sad things in her life, but without self-pity or resentment.

This is what Memere has impressed upon me. Life is what you make of it...you can be grumpy and downtrodden about what is thrown at you, or you can make the most of what you have and enjoy it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

See how long and drawn out this is? This is why I didn't send it. I kept trying to whittle it down a bit and make it less rambling and long. I don't even know if I have all the details of her life correct...grandchildren don't always have all the pieces to the puzzle. But really I just struggled with how to adequately write about someone who has lived 90 amazing years...and been such an important part in my own 32.

A break from being sick

So today was a bit different. Everyone was feeling pretty peachy (except me). But I am still nervous about spreading the flu (or I just feel it coming on), so I felt like we should be home bound yet again.

We watched a little tv, served a little breakfast, spent time complaining that we didn't want to eat the breakfasts served to us, watched a little more tv, took baths, and generally fought, wrestled, teased our way into mid-morning.

Once our art work started to look like this, I decided it was time to change things up a bit:

And just as I was getting ready to make a run to the library to drop off some books, I discovered that it is FABULOUS out. So we all went outside and started collecting sticks to make nests and tee pees out of and drew with sidewalk chalk and ate Popsicles. Then I got the brilliant idea of raking the sparse leaves into piles for the kids to jump into.

It was a hit. It just felt so good to be out of our flu petri-dish...I mean house.

First the kids just enjoyed jumping and rolling around in the leaves.

Then Andrew started throwing them at Lily. I suggested throwing them into the air. And his attention was diverted for a few seconds.

Then Andrew wanted to bury Lily. She did not agree. So they decided that Andrew would be the one buried.

When Mommy had to clean up Lily (it was an underwear kind of day), Andrew grabbed the rake and took a turn. I only include this shot to show how few leaves we actually have as of now.

Then I had the brilliant idea of raking the pile to the base of the slide. Brilliant, I thought, until I called to tell my mother of my brilliance, and she basically said, "Well, duh." Apparently I have re-invented the wheel here.

No matter...my kids thought it was awesome.

Michael was slightly involved. He was smart and stayed away from the big kids...they were a little too rowdy for my flu-boy. But he did enjoy his Popsicle on the swing. Doesn't his face look great?

Oh, wait...here's the other angle.

So thank you Mother Nature for a much needed day out of the house...no contamination worries included.

Sick...blah blah blah...

Aren't you glad I decided to post every day in November? These last 2 weeks have been a BLAST to read about, I'm sure.

Today is no different...we're sick...blah blah blah...getting better...blah blah blah...getting worse...blah blah blah...look at my son's freak show eye...blah blah blah.

You may be in luck, however. I have an annoying cough...keep-you-from-sleeping kind of cough...tonight. (which doesn't really matter...since children have been keeping me from sleeping all week...) But this is how Jeff's flu started up. So hopefully for you all, this will prevent me from writing in this pathetic little health care blog. And hopefully, HOPEFULLY, the fact that Jeff had this first will give him some sympathy for me when I get it and he will actually take a sick day to help me out.

Crossing fingers.

Ready to fight

Michael is armed and ready to fight the flu. I called the on-call doctor at our pediatrician's office thanks to my sister's prompting (thanks, Kate). I just wanted an order of Tamiflu for the little guy, but the doctor really wanted to listen to his chest, since he has a history of asthma-like symptoms. So she met me at the office. No nurses, no office hours, her husband and kids were actually waiting in her van outside the office.

Mike's lungs sounded really good...congested but no wheezing or fluid. He has a mild ear infection. She assumed he was coming down with the flu. So we left with Tamiflu and antibiotics and instructions to continue the nebulizer treatments.

We are armed and ready to help Mike's body fight whatever ails him. And this afternoon, he started really burning up and acting miserable. He is breaking my heart with his pitiful cries. And it is so wonderful to be the mommy...Jeff was holding him when I was changing the sheets on his bed (he threw up during his nap). He kept screaming "Dow! Dow!" When Jeff finally put him down, he came racing to find me in the other room, yelling, "Ma! Ma!" (this is a child who has been saying Da for months and never calls me by name. talk about melt melt your mother...) When I picked him up he settled right into my arms and calmed down. I am humbled to be the source of comfort for this sweet little one. I just wish I could do more for him.

I'm so grateful to that doctor for seeing him...because watching him this afternoon may have brought me to the brink of worry and distress. But knowing his lungs are okay...and antibiotics are streaming through his body and Tamiflu is helping the fight...I feel better.

And here are some pictures of the eye from this morning (when Michael was obviously feeling better than he is right now...)

Starting to turn a bit yellowish and greenish around the edges. Lovely.

3 down...2 to go

Michael woke up at 2 am with a fever last night. I knew something was up because he started wheezing and coughing before bed. Nebulizer treatments have been started. I'm so so so worried about him...damn media.

Anyway, I'll post more later...gotta go cuddle Mr. Sicky-head.

(Andrew and Jeff are doing much much better. Lily and I are still miraculously not sick. Lily is still hyper. It is times like this living near family would be awesome. Just to take her out to lunch or to a park or something. Poor thing.)

Lookin' good

Well, we had a good night.

Jeff slept great and managed to get some Tamiflu from his doctor called in. He feels much better today, other than his annoying cough and runny nose. Fever seems to be under control.

Andrew slept great as well. His cough is much looser and less frequent. He is breathing easily and has no fever.

Lily, Michael, and I remain symptomless. Lily is still full of energy...a little too full...but having Jeff home yesterday gave us an opportunity to run errands and visit lots of fun places like PetsMart and the toy store. Michael literally squealed every time we got out of the car to go into a store. I was doing the same...except in my head.

I am still assuming that I will get the flu. So I am trying to get ahead on things like laundry and meal prep to get us ready for Mommy down. I asked Andrew's doctor if there was any hope that I wouldn't get it. She shrugged and told me that if I was lucky I'd just get a mild case. I'll take each day I feel good as a positive...if Jeff and I can manage to not be sick at the same time, I think we'll survive ;)

So things are looking good here.

Well, except for Michael. He's not looking THAT good...but feeling good will suffice for now ;)

Update part 2

Pneumonia. My boy has pneumonia. But doesn't have to be hospitalized.

Now my daughter won't nap, so no rest for the weary, and I'm hungry as can be because I haven't eaten yet. Yah...I'm pretty much doomed.

Update part 1

A quick morning update:

Jeff feels like he's been hit by a bus. His company called to check on him (read: tell him NOT to come into work) and told him that many people have been out up to 10 days with this. Lovely.

Andrew is scaring me. He is listless and coughing so hard and wheezing and not eating or drinking and being totally agreeable and sweet and sad. We have a doctor's appointment in an hour. Bonus: Jeff has volunteered to stay home with Michael and Lily.

Michael woke up looking like he was the loser in a boxing match. A little Philly Rocky-Balboa for you:


It is hard to get a shot of him, though, since he feels just fine. Looks horrible. Feels normal.

Hasn't learned anything, either. I've pulled him off the kitchen chairs countless times today.

Lily is doing great. She is full of energy and bored out of her mind.

Still has the attitude too.

I'll update when I get back from the doctor. Pray for my little (big) guy.

2 down, 3 to go

Well, now Jeff has "it". When I called the pediatrician for Andrew this week, she told me she thought he probably had H1N1...but I am doubtful that you can diagnose something just by hearing that he has a fever and a cough. Aren't there a lot of things that have those symptoms?

If it IS "it", the incubation period is 4-6 days...and Jeff came home from work last night and immediately started piling on the covers. His cough is bad enough that he couldn't sleep last night (guess who else couldn't as a result?). He has fallen.

I wonder when I can consider Lily, Michael, and I "safe". We have certainly been around Andrew more...but we don't ride the train to work everyday...Jeff could have picked it up somewhere else. In any case, it's another day in the house for us...since Andrew was up all night coughing as well.

Le-sigh.

But not to be left out...Michael decided to head dive off of a kitchen chair right before bedtime last night.

He looked like this right after the event (and 15 minutes of ice...you should have seen how gross is was immediately afterward).



Looks like my plans to take Christmas photos this weekend is cancelled. Perhaps this will have to be it...the last shot before Mikey tried to pop his eyeball out...

Have a good weekend!

My scapegoat

scape-goat (n) a: one that bears the blames for others b: one that is the object of irrational hostility

Can you guess who the scapegoat at our house is? When I am trapped in a house with no adult interaction?

Jeff.

I have nowhere else to place my frustration and depression and rage. I can't exactly blame the children for being sick and bored. I am not even going to the grocery, so I can't take it out on some unsuspecting check-out clerk. Jeff is it. My point of contact and release.

He handles it quite gracefully and understandingly. God bless him for that. Because sometimes you just need to release the tension.

As an example of how Jeff takes the blame, I present to you a scene from yesterday morning:

Andrew and Michael were both awake...Andrew crying and moaning because he felt sick and his chest hurt...Michael crying and moaning because I stopped him from throwing everything on the tables and counters down to the floor. Lily walks downstairs...because she learned how to open doors by herself yesterday. Excellent timing. Anyway, she walks downstairs and asks to have her diaper changed. She is reeking of urine and soaked up to her armpits. I see the mess that is her queen sized bed as I peel her pjs off and stick her into an impromptu bath, which Michael wants to get into and which prevents me from constantly comforting my whimpering sick child down on the couch. As the pj's come off, I notice that she is wearing a Target pull-up...from yesterday afternoon and not the most absorbent.

And I immediately say, "Your FATHER couldn't even remember to put you in a night-time diaper. Look at the mess I have to clean up because he can't tell the difference."

pause 2 seconds.

Wait. Jeff was at fencing last night, which means I am the one who didn't change her diaper before bed. This whole situation is my fault.

pause 2 seconds.

"Oh, sure, your FATHER was at fencing. After I am stuck at home all week and can't even get out to the friggin' grocery store, your FATHER gets to come home for a half-hour and then leave to go socialize and have fun at FENCING. When children are sick, his life doesn't change a bit...just gets to keep doing his activities and normal schedule. My life turns upside down, but not him...unaffected. No wonder I didn't change her diaper...trying to get all the medicine's worked out and humidifiers set up and sick children to bed by myself. This is still your FATHER's fault."

See? Jeff can't win. My scapegoat.

Meh.

Okay. So nothing funny or exciting is happening to report due to me quarantining my sick child. (unlike USUALLY) All I can think of is to write yet another post about how I am the worst stay-at-home mother in the history of time, because the last thing I want to do is actually STAY AT HOME with my children. I don't even feel comfortable taking Andrew to the grocery, because obviously this little fever virus is quite potent. Just 2 days at home with these children and I am contemplating who will hire a woman that has been unemployed for 6 years, and has not practiced a single working-related skill other than typing a whiny blog...oh and this job must pay enough to put 3 children in day care.

But I figure I've written that post about 50 times on this here blog of mine...pretty much every time I'm cooped up. Thank GOD Jeff doesn't travel for work, because I'm pretty sure if I was cooped up all day and then had no relief at night...I'd go get a job at McDonald's and leave the children in the care of Shadow. And, yes, MickeyD's would hire me...I have previous job experience with them.

Rambling!

So I keep saying I wanted to talk about joining a church, which sounded good when I started to type this up...but already (after writing 2 paragraphs) I am feeling very MEH about it. Which is kind of how I feel about everything when stuck at home for many days straight. Want to eat dinner? Meh. Want to do a craft? Meh. Want to Christmas shop? Meh.

Fun, aren't I? Lucky kids. Andrew perked up yesterday morning...he woke up at 4 am ready for the day. Kind of. He was still sporting a 102 degree fever, and acting all slumpy and sickie. At 6 he sweat through his pj's. It was gross. But then he jumped off the couch at about 9 am and began torturing his sister. I immediately took his temp...and sure enough...it was 98.4. Figures. He was restless and annoying and teasing and tackling and pretty much annoying until after his nap...when his temp reached 100.1. I didn't give him anything, because I was really hoping that 100 would count as fever free so he could go to school the next day. But by dinner time, it had hopped back up to 103.1. Bummer. Another day at home.

Lily is the one that I'm ready to kill. She is so hyper and bored and antsy. She is like me...likes to GET OUT. I wish we lived close to family so I could FARM HER OUT...just for a lunch date with Grandma or to a park or WHATEVER. She is so freaking annoying, and yet I understand she is bored, but seriously...I can't play pretend games with her because she is so bossy and spends the whole time yelling at you in her gibberish how you aren't playing right. So not only am I playing Lion King for the 3,000th time, I am getting hollered at for doing it wrong. Makes me want to wash the floors or something. Except that Michael would get into the wash water and slip on the floor and ....

Oh, it's going to be a long day...

Levels of sickness

Andrew is DOWN, folks. Down. He took a 4 hour nap yesterday afternoon...seriously. I had to wake him up, because even Laid-Back-Sue here was worried he would fall into a fever induced coma. He was up today at 4...probably because he took a 4 hour nap yesterday. So I'm up as well. Yah, I should be all ready to fight off this virus. Oddly enough, 5 Kindergartners in our evening playgroup have the EXACT same symptoms. And I haven't seen these people in 2 weeks. Weird.

Anyway, watching how I take care of my sick baby reminded me of being sick as a child. Keep in mind that my memories don't go all the way back to Kindergarten ...but still. There were different levels of sickness growing up. Nothing was officially verbalized, but you could tell how sick you were by how Mom treated you.

Level 1: You are staying home from school sick. Mom makes you stay in your bedroom the whole day. You aren't allowed out to watch tv, or color, or play in the house. You must stay in your boring bed. All. Day. Child's conclusion/diagnosis: Mom doesn't think you are really sick. You better get your butt back to school tomorrow, because it is boring as sin at home. School really IS better than being at home.

Level 2: You are staying home from school sick. Mom lets you eat on the couch and watch television. You have to take naps, but you can also cuddle up under a blanket and be entertained by Tom and Jerry. Child's conclusion/diagnosis: Mom must think I am legitimately sick. She is taking pity on me, and wants me to be comforted and happy.

Level 3: You are staying home from school sick. Not only does Mom let you watch tv, but she buys you a new box of 64 crayons and coloring books. You are allowed to use them at the kitchen table, or watch tv, or play...if you have the energy to. Child's conclusion/diagnosis: Holy CRAP. I am dying. I must be dying. Has she called the priest yet? New crayons? Did you buy me a burial plot while you were at the store?


I look back on this quite fondly, I have to say. Mom did a great job of not making it a fun thing to stay home from school when we were only border-line sick. Inadvertently, she made it quite obvious when we were seriously ill. I will probably follow the same route with my kids...why reinvent the wheel?

And just so you know? Andrew is at a Level 2.

Almost a sick week

For the last week or so, I've been holding my breath.

I sense that we are getting sick. I can feel it coming. Michael's nose is running and he needed his nebulizer starting in the middle of the week. Lily is acting...well, she's acting more "Lily-ish" this week. Andrew is a bi-polar mess...hyper and frantic one moment then mopey and lethargic the next. Andrew started a barking cough yesterday afternoon. I had a sore throat for 2 days. Last night Andrew went to bed with a 102 degree fever.

It's weird. Like the build up to this sickness is taking FOREVER. The anticipation is killing me. I stayed away from playgroups and other sanity-savers last week, because I was CERTAIN that this would be the day we got sick. But it is STILL like that. Let's just DO this thing.

So instead of running around with our friends, we've been hanging out a lot. And the kids are always so helpful with the chores...especially the carrying 5 laundry baskets up and down 2 flights of steps...Thanks boys.


And we've been doing more tv watching than usual. Both the older kids like to snuggle with their favorite cuddly-bear.

But we just haven't gotten hit real hard yet. There's still lots of laughter...whist almost choking to death on fish sticks...

Unfortunately, I think they are recommending that you don't send kids to school who have had a fever in the last 24 hours. Looks like we'll probably have a legitimate sick week on our hands this week. Joy!

A How-to post

Are you short on cash this holiday season? Looking for the perfect gift for your family and friends that fits in your budget?

You love the Snuggie...it would be great for everyone you know...it is such a genius invention. But does it fit in your budget?

I've got it! You can make your own Snuggie for all your family and friends. Follow my easy 2 step directions.

Step 1: Find a robe. That's right, look in your closet and get out your robe. That one, hanging right there on the hook.

Step 2: Turn the robe backwards. You heard me...just turn it around. And put it on.

Ta-Da! You have just made your very own warm and comfy Snuggie.

Trust me...your family will love it! How did we survive before the invention of the Snuggie?

***Thank you to Andrew for the blurry photography.

***Thank you Jeff for modeling my Snuggie...what a good sport.

My life

I love Baby Blues. Unfortunately our piss-poor newspaper doesn't carry it, so I'm forced to read it every day online. You can too!

I'm always reading the strips and nodding my head or laughing out loud. The creators really have parenthood nailed.

But Jeff even laughed really hard at this one...I think it was like a window into his life:

Questions answered...

I got two questions from my plea on the first day of Ramalamadingdong Blogging Month. I think I have addressed them kind-of in past posts, but I'll revisit them again this morning, because my throat is scratchy and I haven't had any adult interaction this week...so I'm lacking inspiration. Thank you to Kelsey and Emily for providing me with a post!

Question the first: I want to know how your attitudes as a parent have changed now that you have 3 kids. And were you always this laid back...even at the beginning with Andrew?

Okay, I don't feel like I've changed too much...but I can point to one thing I no longer do. I used to constantly compare Andrew with other kids his age. CONSTANTLY. I would always be noticing how other kids talked, moved, acted and then mentally checking Andrew against them. When Lily was first born, I started to do this with her and my memories and written stats of Andrew. That quickly fell apart, since Lily was so different...and yet so deliciously wonderful all on her own. I guess watching Andrew grow up has made me realize that kids get to where they're growing to all in their own way. I watched Andrew's playmates who could barely talk at 3, turn into Kindergartners that are more proficient readers than him. So now I am to the point that Mikey being a cave-man doesn't really bother me, because I can see that he is developing and changing and learning...just in a very different way and rate than my other kids. Lily not potty training despite the fact that EVERY OTHER LITTLE GIRL I KNOW potty trained by 3...frustrates me a bit, but doesn't worry me. She'll get there. It is very liberating not to compare.

As far as laid back? I think I've always been laid back. To the point that I know it drives my MIL a little crazy. I think most of the times that I've taken my kids to the doctor for other than well visits, it has been because of pressure from an outside source. I just don't worry about things much. I am the person who takes their kids to the well visit and says, "I don't worry about things. So you need to tell me when I should start to worry about x,y, and z" That's what I did last week when talking to the doctor about Lily's nasal voice and snoring...I know she has big adenoids...she MUST. But I'm not worried about it...so I asked the doctor when I should. (she said I shouldn't) But I'm laid back about most things in life...so it makes sense that parenting would be the same.

Question the second: I want to know which transition was the hardest for you...0 to 1 kid, 1 to 2 kids, or 2 to 3 kids.

I'm pretty sure I answered this back after Michael was born...maybe even last November...but I can't find that post. And I think my answer has changed. I have always maintained that going from 1 to 2 was my easiest transition. I was already a mother, already staying at home, already had friends in the same situation, anticipating the sleep deprivation, fully understanding what parenting was all about...just didn't seem that bad. But I think back then I said that my hardest transition was 0 to 1...because it was just such a change in our lifestyle and newly figuring out what living without sleep was all about, etc etc.

But I'd like to change that answer. For me, I think this transition to 3 kids has been, and continues to be the hardest. Mostly because once I had Andrew, I figured out the whole sleep deprivation, and not being spontaneous thing, and we were on a roll. Have 3 kids continues to be such a challenge...to the point that now Michael is 18 months old...I STILL avoid certain situations because I don't think I can handle doing it with 3 kids by myself. I often feel I am in over my head.

That being said, I think that anyone you ask will give you a different answer. I think the difficulty of transition has less to do with the number of kids and more to do with the personality of your kids, the spacing of your kids, your work situation, your living situation, etc. If Lily had been a colicky, barfy, non-sleeper, and Andrew had had a terrible adjustment to adding a sibling, then my answer would probably be totally different. If I had given birth to my 3rd child when my older two were 10 and 7 years old (like my mother did), then my answer would probably be totally different.

Crappy answer, eh?

3 years ago

3 years ago today, I packed up my car and my 4 week old infant and my almost 3 year old...and my mother.

3 years ago today, I started driving down an unfamiliar route towards a house I'd never seen towards a state I'd never visited.

3 years ago today, I dropped off my toddler with my in-laws at a Wendy's in Zanesville, so I could spend a week getting things settled without him around.

3 years ago today, I was stopping every 2-3 hours on the Pennsylvania turnpike and nursing my tiny newborn at rest areas, truck stops, and Denny's.

3 years ago today, I was anxious to finally see the town that we'd be living in.

3 years ago today, I was super tired from not sleeping and nursing non-stop and dealing with post-partum depression and living out of a suitcase for a week.

3 years ago today, I knew I'd have to stay in a hotel rather than just GET to my new house. I was so insanely curious to see what Jeff had picked out all on his own.

3 years ago today, I felt how deep my mother and father love me. Their help and assistance was the only thing that kept me from feeling completely overwhelmed and depressed.

3 years ago today...I moved to Philadelphia. Actually, tomorrow marks the day that I walked into my house for the first time.

And I'm so happy with how it turned out. And really really wondering why I didn't get some big piece of jewelry from my husband for doing it when we did it.

Brothers

I've said it before, and I'll say it again...I always wanted 2 boys. When I was pregnant with Andrew, I didn't really care if I had a boy or a girl, but I thought I'd be better with a boy (obviously not realizing how important football knowledge would be to raise this particular child). And when I found out I was pregnant a 2nd time, I immediately wanted another boy. I'm confident that if I'd had a girl first, I would have wanted another girl. I am from a family of same-sex siblings, and I admit that I am not familiar with the interactions of brothers and sisters.

I was, of course, thrilled when Lily was a girl. I am loving so many aspects of my girl that I can't imagine life without her. And she and Andrew have a dynamic and loving and hating relationship that I can only pretend to understand. It's both unbelievably cool and indescribably frustrating to watch.

But brothers...that dream is coming true. Right before my eyes.

Let's begin by saying that Michael completely idolizes Andrew. He breaks into a huge grin when he sees him and loves to cuddle and wrestle and follow Andrew around. Andrew is so very very patient with him.

Yesterday, Michael woke up and immediately wanted to "Go!"...which meant go in the basement. So I brought him down, and Andrew followed. I left them both down there (I know! I'm a terrible mother!), and listened as they happily played near each other. Lily was not involved...which added to the happiness. She was eating mini-wheats and watching her morning show. Ah! Bliss!

Michael came upstairs after a bit and went to the toy box and got out this:

Then he grabbed the Eagles helmet and ran to the basement door and pointed and shouted, "Go!" I opened the door and he dangled the helmet over the edge of the stairs shouting garbly goop at his brother. I explained to Andrew that I thought Mikey wanted him to wear matching football helmets. Andrew was in the middle of something (I don't want to know), so we closed the door. Michael took off his helmet and began wandering around the first floor looking for something to destroy...I mean play with.

Andrew came up a few minutes later, and Michael grabs both helmets and hands one to Andrew. And then they started to chase each other, with Michael squealing and giggling so hard I thought he was going to run into a wall (good thing he had a helmet on).

Brothers:


And now I'm feeling really bad for Lily. I wish beyond wishes that she could have a sister. Even though my sister and I fought like cats for much of our childhood, there is something so nice about having someone experiencing the same sorts of things as you go through life. Someone to whisper the secrets of how to deal with your period during gym class and someone who understands the hurt of rejection from a boy and someone who is in the trenches of being a mother with you. I literally HURT for Lily that she won't have this.

But, then, I could always end up giving her ANOTHER brother...and really? Doesn't she have enough pee on the toilet seat to deal with in her future?

Clutterbugs

I confess. I am a clutter bug.

Let me be more specific. I am not a hoarder...in fact, I am almost too good at throwing stuff away (let's review how I missed Andrew's Halloween parade, because I threw out the "new and improved" parade schedule.). But the stuff that I have just doesn't get put away very well. I'm not good at immediately putting things into their appropriate locations. And I am terribly bad about not noticing boxes, etc. for MONTHS. Once it is set up against the wall, I literally just forget about it.

Usually the clutter issue is remedied every few weeks when I have guests over and need to make space for them. Or when I have stepped on one too many toys and go on a disgruntled cleaning rampage. But some things just become part of the fabric of our lives. Like the unopened baby gate that has been sitting in our upstairs hallway waiting to be installed for the last 2 1/2 years. And now that we don't use gates, since our youngest doesn't really need them...it will probably sit there another 2 1/2 years until we figure out who to give it to.

But now that Michael has become our first ever table climber, the situation has become dire. The clutter that has normally been spread evenly throughout the house has begun to accumulate in the few spots left that he can't reach. What seems like a very light dusting of clutter becomes a heaping mound of clutter very quickly when all piled up.

And now I will give you photographic proof.

Exhibit A: Kitchen counter

You can see the "L" of our kitchen counter. There in the back is the dog biscuits that Michael likes to snack on, the tissues that he likes to rip out of the box and into a million pieces, the pens/paper/markers that he likes to eat and/or draw on the table with, the 7 billion sippie cups drying out because our dishwasher doesn't have a dry mode (and apparently neither do I). There are the ceramic Halloween bowls that we store the kids' loot that Michael could easily shatter on the ground. There are countless papers sent home from Andrew and Lily's school, that I feel sentimental about for 24 hours until the piles start sliding off onto the floor and Michael rips them into a zillion little pieces. There's the dog leash that he wraps around his neck and a box of crayons and the tray to his high chair that he throws to the ground with a clatter, giving me a heart attack several times a day. And the cereal that I just hadn't put away yet.

Exhibit B: Microwave

Over on the other part of the kitchen, we have the area that I hide things from Lily. This is the only place left that she cannot reach, but Andrew can. So this is where we stash the gum that Andrew likes to chew, Andrew's school party treats, post cards from family, more school papers that I felt sentimental enough to move over here until I decide what I'm going to do with them permanently. My cookbooks, and electric can opener from the previous owner that I have never used even once, and the annoying singing ghost that seemed like a really fun idea to buy until I brought it home and owned it for 3 seconds. And I'm pretty sure my pie plate is buried under there somewhere. Yah, I don't make many pies.

Exhibit C: China cabinet
Moving into the computer/living/catch-all room...Here is the china cabinet that my Memere gave me, along with her beautiful tea cup collection. You'll see that there is a new pitcher to replace the old one that Michael shattered when he managed to pull it out of the only cabinet that it fits in. There are the remaining tea candles that were originally stored in this cupboard...Michael chewed up 5 of them before I got to him. There are CD's from Jeff's car that I think he brought in so he could put some of the music on his iPod. The blue bag is the stuff that came with his iPod when he bought it over a month ago. The big box is Waterford Crystal that my in-laws brought back from Ireland with them in August that I'm too afraid to move anywhere else lest someone find it and break it. And under it all are the picture frames from Jeff's office that he wants refilled with more current pictures of the kids so that everyone doesn't think he has triplets that are 6 months old.

Exhibit D: Top of computer desk

And up on top of the computer desk are more overflow from Jeff's old office, extra pads of paper that we don't want Andrew getting all at once, CD's to burn, and, ironically, an office organizational tool.

I didn't even photograph the top of our desk...Yikes. I do occasionally filter these things into their appropriate places...especially in the kitchen where stuff piles up extra quickly. But, seriously...bad huh?