Sicker and Sicker...

Last Sunday, Nicholas started complaining of a sore throat.

He wanted to go to church, though.

I often feel a little odd when my kids start talking about church school. I kind of get afraid that they are turning into little preaching born-again Jesus freaks. Which, if you know either my church or my personal views on religion, couldn't really be farther than the truth. In fact, my kids love church school because 1 - there are bigger boys there with DSi game systems, and everyone gets together and plays the games, 2 - there is a teenage girl there with a DSI and she lets Nicholas play some of her games, and 3 - this teenage girl also happens to know everything there is to know about Pokemon.

All three very important reasons for going to church wouldn't you agree? The Church of the Eternal Pokemon.

Anyway, Nicholas was upset when we told him he couldn't go to church. He cried. He said it was his turn to bring the snack, which it was. But he had a fever and sounded like a frog.

The next day I took him to the doctor. It turned out he had Strep.

I think it's only been a couple of weeks since I mentioned to someone that my kids didn't get Strep, which was odd, because I seemed to get it twice a year when I was a kid.

But never fear, we've finally caught up. Thank Goodness! I thought we were falling behind.

The Old Guy

There is this old guy who walks on our street.

Our street was not made for walking. There are no sidewalks, and it is long and curvy. Cars need to move to the wrong side of the road to avoid the odd runner or pedestrian. I stopped walking out there with the stroller after a few uncomfortable walks with baby Nicholas.

But this old guy is out there walking in all but the most extreme weather. He is ancient and wrinkly. When cars pass him he waves his cane at them in greeting, without ever raising his eyes or smiling. Old New Englanders do not smile unless forced. They nod.

One day we ran into him at the dump, and of course Steve spoke to him. It turns out he has lived in this town forever, and has seen it transform from a few houses in the woods to the booming metropolis it is now. The population has boomed. He cannot recognize his own home for all the changes, the new roads, the new buildings. I know how he must feel. It's changed since we have move here, and that was only 8 years ago.

Sometimes I realize that I haven't seen the old guy walking for awhile, and I worry that something has happened to him. He might have had a fall, or he might be ill. He might have died. People do, and he is old. But he always pops up a day or two later, just walking up and down the street, going slowly, shaking his cane at the cars that pass.

So much to do

There are times when I look around and see how much I have to do around this house - everything that needs fixing, cleaning, doing - and I panic. I can't possibly plant a vegetable garden, pull out the remaining thorny brush, repaint the boy's bathroom and re-organize the basement in the same year! Where do I even start? I can't think of where to begin.

Or when. When do I start? There is no time!

Over the past few months I made a change to my schedule. Instead of working out at 8:30 or 9am when the kids were in school, I started setting my alarm for 5:15. I have been getting up before the day begins so that I can run five miles before breakfast. I originally did this so I could spend more time writing. But alas, I am even worse about writing than I was about running. It's easier to squeeze in a run between dropping the kids off and a vet's appointment. It's harder to squeeze writing in between the school bus and gymnastics class. I find I do odd jobs instead, like emptying the dish washer and doing laundry.

I was supposed to have a novel written by now. It's been two months. Instead I have 30 pages of draft. But my workouts have become much more frequent. I'm keeping the change.

Because of this feeling of being overwhelmed, of not having enough time to fix up my own home or pursue my own hobbies, I am making another change. I have taken a good look at my life, and my habits, and my activities, trying to find out where I spend my time.

It's at the computer.

I love my computer, but it's stealing my soul. Not just this blog, but Facebook and Netflix. My IPad changed my life, but I need to put it DOWN!

And more than that (Mom, please don't hate me) I have to put down the books.

See, when I'm not checking out everyone's status updates or watching bad movies on Netflix, I have my nose in a book. I used to think this was OK, because it's a book. Books are our friends, and we can learn from them, and they can speak to us in a way that ordinary people can't. But Books also drag my mind away from life. The last time I put down a book to interact my sons learned to ride their bikes.

So now, no books. No computers. Not during the day. Except for writing. And keeping track of my running and possibly to listen to music when I'm in the shower because that's a really cool trick. And reading my book during nap-time. That will be OK, too.

Instead, I am going to do yardwork when My kids are outside. When I am tired of that I have to play with my kids. Or sleep. Anything else, really. I can do this. I can, I can!

Pysanky

This year I finally broke down and purchased a pysanky kit online.

My friend Larissa used to invite me over to do this complicated egg decorating when I was a kid. But a much, much older kid than my kids are now. But I wanted wanted wanted to do this so badly, and I was sure that, with a little help, each kid could make some really cool eggs.

It was a long process. I used to think it was the dye that needed an hour to fix itself to the egg. The dyes actually worked fast - I found that five minutes in a dye could get it to hold. It's the process of applying wax to the egg that is so time consuming.

And it's longer with the boys. Why? Because of the fire.

Yes, fire. See, you light a candle and then heat up the little tool with the wax in it over the candle to soften it. My kids weren't sure what the flame was supposed to do. They kept trying to hold the little tool right at the end, which had just been in the flame. A couple of times they accidentally scribbled on the fingers holding the egg - with hot wax.

You may notice that there are only ten eggs in the bowl. See, these eggs were not hard boiled. You either do them raw or blow out the shells. I am not an expert in blowing out eggs, so I took my chances. (also, I thought it would be easier to get the eggs to stay in the dye if they were full of... egg.) I broke one halfway finished. Nate broke one he had finished and was so proud of he refused to put it down. And then he cried.

The kids made some pretty cool masterpieces. They worked with me, one at a time. They opted to do less designing and more scribbling. I did a few, also, so they could see what kinds of things you could do, but I am also not that good.

We finished up yesterday, when we also colored the dozens of eggs I hard-boiled with the friendly coloring kits. After the bright colors of the pysanky these all looked pastel. And after the scribbled designs on the pysanky, these all looked really boring.

The kids were proud of them, of course. And instead of 10 eggs in a week they made 30 eggs in ten minutes. I guess it's faster. But I think we're keeping the Ukranian egg decorating kit for next year. As the kids get older, they can really have fun with it.

Sneakers

A few weeks ago we took the boys to the mall to buy new shoes.

We do this every once and awhile, mostly when I realize that someone has holes in the toes or can has worn out the velcro-fastening.

I can't go into a lot of detail about what happened that day, but I will say that Nate and Andrew ended up with new sneakers and new sandals, and Nick did not.

Nick then spent the next 3 weeks with only one pair of shoes, which he had to wear all of the time.

Finally, with Tee-ball starting, I realized he needed a new pair of sneakers.I gritted my teeth, explained to him exactly how the shopping trip was going to go down (I choose! Me! The Mom!) and told him he could choose sandals if he was good.

The big news, folks, is that Nicholas is finally wearing sneakers that tie! He has finally let go of the velcro and has a nice pair of Saucony sneaks. With laces.

Now I just have to teach him how to tie them.

Tee Ball!

I signed us up fpr Teeball again this year.

And by "us" I mean Nicholas and Nathan. But as they are too young to get to and from games and practices themselves, it really is an all-family event.

See, the rest of the month of April is full of intense practices.

We had a practice yesterday. It was cooler than it had been in days. And for some reason the park is always 10 degrees hotter or colder than the rest of the town. The little kids were so excited to get their team shirts! And they then just pulled them over their coats and ended up looking like little football players. Andy and I spent 5 minutes at the playground and then waited in the car.

There is another practice today, and a couple more during the week, at 6:30pm. Now, 6:30 pm might work really well for the dad who coaches and gets out of work at 6pm. But for the family that usually eats dinner at 6pm and starts baths at 7pm, this doesn't really work at all. I realize I have kept my kids on an early-to-bed schedule. It's about to get turned on it's ear.

Not to mention that many of these practices and games take place during choir practices (mine) Karate classes (Nick and Nate's), or directly after piano lessons, church youth choir, or whatever. We're going to be rushing around and making some rough choices.

Especially since, for some reason, there are only 9 players on the team. 9. The pressure is on. We can't miss a game. Not that anyone keeps track of winning or loosing. At this level they only play 3 innings, and everyone gets a turn at bat. This might make the games a lot shorter.

Famous Last Words

last night, as I am putting the boys to bed...

Nate: Mom, can I have a bin, just in case I have to throw up?

Me: Don't worry, Honey. I think we're all done with throwing up for now.

********

one a.m.

Andy, (directly into my ear as I sleep in my bed): Mom! Nathan is throwing up!

Playing Catch-Up

I do most of my blogging on Saturday mornings.

Picture this: Saturday morning. Most normal people are sleeping. But my kids are in their PJ's and watching Transformers on TV. I am awake, but in my bathrobe, snuggled on the couch, and creating a post for each day of the upcoming week. Some weeks I don't have enough to fill seven spots, so I end up skipping days, or hoping something interesting happens to fill the void later in the week.

Last week, I got as far as Thursday. What this means is, although the post about Nick getting sick was yesterday morning for YOU, it actually happened on Friday night and into Saturday morning. But after that I had nothing to write for Friday's blog post.

Lucky for you, Readers, I found something to write about on Wednesday night and into the wee hours of Thursday morning.

See, Andy got sick right after supper on Wednesday, five days after Nick. And then, at 11pm, Nathan followed suit.

Actually, Nate became quite ill. While Andy was sleeping peacefully in his own bed, Nate kept getting sick all night long. While I settled into the guest bedroom with him, I remained convinced I would be getting up at 5:15 for my morning run and yoga. At about 3:30am I realized this was not going to happen. Even though I am not the sick one, I would be sufficiently sleep deprived as to make a run almost impossible.

Also, what if Nate kept getting sick while I decided to run a quick 5k? That wouldn't be fair to anyone.

Also, at 6:15, I was more tired than anyone on the planet.

As it is, I have suspended the rules for today. I am too tired. Instead of showering, I am in my PJ's and will go out with Nick in my PJ's to wait for the bus. I don't care what the neighbors say. Nate and Andy do not have to get dressed even though they seem bright and chipper this morning, and are in there arguing over who get which hot wheels car. I am also going to let them watch TV this morning. While I catch up on laundry and change every single bed sheet in the house. And disinfect the bathrooms. And all that kind of stuff.

So, to sum up: I thought we got away with only 1 kid getting sick. I was wrong. Also, it's Friday for you, Thursday for me. Also, I didn't get enough sleep last night. That is all. I'll see you on Saturday.

The Vomit Diaries

Is there anything more depressing than the sound of a kid throwing up at 3am?

No. Not really. Because you know you have to get up and do damage control. And depending on which kid is sick, this can be considerable.

Of course, last night, the kid in question was Nick.

Nick is older, so you think this would make things easier. But that would be a false assumption. See, Nick is also on the Top Bunk. Which means that, to check on him, I have to climb halfway up a ladder, in my sleep.

At this point I want to apologize for my stories about puke. I know no one likes to hear about it, and I don't, I really do NOT post about every single throwing-up experience that goes on in our home. But it's just that these situations keep bringing out new hilarity that I feel MUST be shared.

As I am perched on the ladder, helping Nick "aim" for his blanket, he can't get down. He is busy throwing up, and I am on the ladder he uses for his descent.

In the end, I'm left with a blanket full of yuck, which I carry to the bathroom, clean up in the toilet, and deposit in a laundry basket. I then return to the bedroom and I'm pleased to note that Nick's PJ's are clean. And his sheets are clean. Which is odd because the room still smells. A lot.

But his brothers are asleep. Yep, Andy is asleep there, across the room, and Nate is down OH MY GOSH WHAT IS THAT ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND NATE'S COMFORTER YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!

Yes, see, Nick started throwing up and just leaned over the side of his bed. Which happens to be two feet from the ceiling. I also had to clean Nathan's comforter, a number of books, and a large splatter area from the rug.

The stench was unbearable. In the end, all of the boys woke up, and then started crying because of the smell. I couldn't blame them. At first I sent Nate to the guest room and thought Nick could then sleep in Nate's bed, which was at least closer to the ground. But the carpet was so soaked and the room was so smelly, I ended up moving all boys to the guest room, which was a gamble because there are some really nice quilts in there, and I don't want them puked or peed on. I had to fold them all and put them all away and put Andy's comforter on top of the boys. And then get Andy his special pillow, and his special book, and his special llama.

Then Nick puked again, and I realized that all three boys would be up all night, and that the younger two were probably going to catch it. Steve (who by this time was also awake) suggested Nate and Andy sleep in our bed, and I could stay with Nick. Which worked fine. I just had to pry Andy out of the guest room bed, as he was crying because he really wanted to sleep with ME. Then I had to carry him, his book, and his llama to our bed, and get him to put his head on the pillow. Then I had to find Nate, who was wandering around the house by this time, probably trying to find a place to sleep that wasn't smelly or crowded.

And then I climbed into the guest bed, where Nick immediately plastered himself against me and breathed in my face for the rest of the night.

Please do not let all of us get sick.

Mammogram

Yes, I'm talking about that. So if you think you'll be offended, you can skip this post. But I will not go into any descriptive detail, so you're probably safe.

See, the thing is, I've heard nothing but awful things about getting a mammogram. It's uncomfortable. It's even painful. It's humiliating. It's a big, huge, pain. I didn't even WANT to know.

When my doctor referred me for a baseline mammogram, I groaned. I dreaded it. Why me? But really, I had no idea what to expect.

And afterward, I was like.... THAT WAS IT?!

SERIOUSLY?

THIS is what people dread? Those five minutes? I mean, I wouldn't say I had fun, or even that I enjoyed the process, but I have to tell you that I just don't see what the big deal is. I mean, cost and insurance aside, this was one of the most painless things I can think of. In fact, since I am a list maker by nature, I have made a list of things that I enjoy LESS or dread MORE than getting another mammogram. Given a choice, I would rather have a mammogram than do any of the following things, all things I know I will have to do at least once in the next few months. (My next mammogram should not be until I turn 40.)

1 - go to the dentist.
2 - change planes at JFK
3 - attend a birthday party at Chuck E Cheeze
4 - shop for shoes
5 - or pants
6 - clean puke out of the carpet at 3am

There. That was just off the top of my head. I'm sure many more things will come to me later today.

Dental Superstar

Here's Andy at his second dentist appointment. This is the one where they do the actual cleaning. He did a great job!

Left Behind

Not everyone is thrilled about Nick and Nate learning how to ride sans training wheels.

These Days

Nathan walked in on me in the shower yesterday morning to ask if he could ride his bike. I calmly asked if I could rinse the soap out of my hair first.


Bike Bike Bike. It's all about bikes.

This video is particularly funny. Or at least it would be, if you could hear what the boys were saying.

Just before he disappears behind the house, Nick shouts "I'm flying!" And Nate copies him and follows him on his bike.

And then Andy shouts the same thing. Only he's on the purple thing, and I start laughing, which is when the camera starts shaking....

And then you have to keep watching to see how the boys manage to ride into each other.... just watch.

Bike Rider

The weather has been so great these past couple of days that Nathan wanted to go out and ride his bike.

The thing is, I had accidentally run over the training wheel with the car. It was bent in such a way that the back wheel was off the ground, and no matter how fast Nate pedaled, the bike was stationary.

So I took the training wheels off. "I'll teach you how to ride without them," I said. And I pictured the rest of the morning being spent running up and down the driveway, encouraging and shouting and teaching Nate how to balance and pedal at the same time.

Ten minutes later.... see for yourself.



Now, you must understand that this posed some issues. See, Nathan learned to ride his two-wheeler in two minutes. But Nick hadn't learned yet.

By younger brother learned how to ride a bike before I did. He was five. I pretended it didn't bother me, but it did. Not enough to teach myself, mind you. My mother finally had to drag me out of the house and onto a bike. I think I was fifteen or something.

I thought this would be the same thing. I am aware that Nick and Nate have different strengths. I thought Nick's first reaction would be to panic. And then he would fall, and then maybe we would be able to coax him back onto his bike before next fall.

But when Nick came home he was very excited. And within a few minutes he was also zooming around the driveway.

Overachiever

There's always got to be one that over-performs. I call this one "Floyd." He's always been a good two inches taller than his brothers.

Tick Tock

I found a tick on me the other day, which means the pets' flea and tick medication has become a priority again. And the pets are all hiding from me.

She won't find me behind this chair...

Reading, Writing, Etc.

Nathan's red PJ's make him look a little huskier than usual. There is a layered flap in the bum.

Nate needs to work on his writing, but he is doing a wonderful job reading. I showed him The McGuffey's Reader that I used to learn to read. I don't know if it's the actual copy, or just someone else's, but I have one.

And now he has it. After reading the first lesson, he kept asking if he could read on. And now he can read quite a few of them very well. Mind you, he only starts Kindergarten in the fall. I think it's normal that I have fewer academic worries about this particular child.

Play

Andrew At Play

Trick and Treat

This is what we had for dinner a few nights ago.

What can you tell from this photo? Aside from the fact that we really like yogurt in this house, I mean.

Well, if you're up on your food gags you can tell that I have a need to follow trends, I guess. The cupcakes are not cupcakes. The reason they look like they do is because they are actually made of meatloaf and the frosting is mashed potato. The "grilled cheese" is actually pound cake with frosting.

I had few problems with the cupcake, and was more worried about the pound cake with frosting. Too sweet - who puts frosting on pound cake? It was too much. Pound cake alone - heaven. Frosting - too sweet! The kids loved it, of course.

AS for the cupcakes, the boys ate them. All but Andy. Andy loves mashed potato, but would not, could not, eat either frosting that tasted the way it did or blue mashed potato. Neither explanation would get him to swallow that stuff. He ate a little of the meatloaf, but that's about it.

And now I need to find a trick for next year that does not involve oreos or gummy worms. Seriously, there has to me a good healthy food trick out there.

Sick Again Again

I am sick again.

I've had a tough couple of months, in that respect. This time, it's my throat. It hurts.

Not terribly. Not all the time. But enough to make me grumpy. Also, my head hurts and I'm tired.

I feel well enough to go about my day. I get up, I take the kids places, all that fun stuff.

But at 5:15, when my alarm goes off, I can't get out of bed to run. I have been hitting snooze and finally turning the alarm off completely. In my half-sleep state, I think this will make me feel better. But as the day goes on and the pain wears off to a dull scratchy ache, and I find myself eating slices of toast to give me something to do, I really start missing my morning activity.

This transformation is the one I never thought could take place. I am itching to exercise. I need to run. I need to work up a sweat, and when I don't I get grumpy and restless. Even having a cold or a... whatever this is doesn't make that need go away completely.

Tomorrow I'll run no matter what! Unless, of course, I get worse...

Ghost of Tetris

We had Tetris for our Nintendo when I was a kid. One day, the game cartridge disappeared, and we never figured out what happened to it. But the thing about Tetris is, the game stayed with you.

You spend the whole game trying to fit shapes together, and you do this over and over and over. And then your mother calls you to the dinner table, and you realize that your brain is trying to fit the curve of the serving platter to the curve of a spoon. The carrots on your plate might fit well into this steak. The game haunts you.

I found this game on my iPad call Mysteriez. I might be spelling that wrong. It's hard, because the creators of the game purposely misspelled the word, so now I have no idea how to misspell it. Anyway, I've been playing this game for a few days now, and it's getting to me.

The name of the game, aside from being misspelled, is misleading. There is no mystery involved. Instead, there are a series of pictures, and each picture has the numbers 1 - 40 hidden somewhere in them. And I have five minutes to find them all. And it's harder than you think.

I am not recommending this game, mind you. It's the kind of game that's a quick brain teaser when I'm waiting to pick up Nick or stuck in a waiting room, but it's not all that entertaining.

My trouble is, I've been playing them a lot lately. And now I realize I'm finding numbers everywhere. In tree branches, in my breakfast cereal, in the laundry... I see fours and fives and sometimes a roman numeral ten... numbers everywhere.

The April Fool

In '97 it snowed on April 1st. Feet of snow fell from the sky. No joking.

I remember because I worked at a preschool, and I got the day off. I spent the day in my shirtsleeves digging out my car. It was fifty degrees and warm.

Today is April 1st. We were forcast 6 to 12 inches. The weather site Steve was on actually said "This is not an April Fool's Day Joke" so that people would take it seriously.

I hate snow. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

Spring is here. It's April. The flowers have started growing, I've restarted my compost, and I have seedling in my windowsill.

And the kids are home from school because it's a SNOW DAY.

Andy's Teeth

Andrew had his first visit to the dentist this morning.

The practice of dentistry has changed since I was a kid. This is probably a good thing, considering all the advancements in technology. I'd hate to think they were still doing things the way they were 30 years ago. But still, some of it takes me by surprise.

Nick, for example, had two of his molars sealed. I don't know exactly what this is. They paint the teeth with varnish and then use a special flashlight thingy to heat it up and dry it. This is supposed to prevent decay somehow. Which is strange, I thought that's what brushing and flossing did.

Checking in, the receptionist did not hand me a clipboard with copies of a form. Instead, she handed me an actual tablet computer, and I filled the form out electronically myself. It went right into the system, including my signatures on all those privacy practice forms and the ones telling me about the kinds of fillings they use.

Andrew has to go back next week. I might have mentioned this before, but they don't like to clean teeth on the first visit. They poke around and ask questions, and then schedule a cleaning for two weeks later. If you ask me, this is a stupid practice and a waste of time, but that's the way they do it. I have no idea why.

Andy had a great time. He listened, he opened wide, and he even let them try to take x-rays, even though only 2 of them worked because his mouth was too small for the ones on the side.

When the actual dentist showed up he said "Hello! Can I take a look at your teeth?"

Andy just stood there, not saying anything. Then we realized he was opening his mouth, showing the dentist his teeth. From across the room.

Bad Word in Context

I volunteer with Nick's school class during Library time. At this point it's a lot of reminding kids not to climb on the shelves and trying to find a Sponge Bob book that child X hasn't read yet.

This morning the kids started asking about Easter books. At this library, locating the Easter books is made simpler by the little sticker someone has placed at the top of the spine. Easter books have a Bunny. Halloween books have a witch. Christmas books have candy canes. You'd think this would make finding a book fairly simple.

However, not all the children were satisfied with this search method. One child in particular always needs a little extra help with her search for the perfect book, and she is not satisfied until you look something up on the computer for her.

While I was helping her shuffle books around and she was making up and changing her mind, another child ran up to us, his face in a panic. "There's a bad word in that book! The book that kid has on the rug. It's a bad word!"

The librarian and I exchanged glances, both wondering what book in the children's library would possibly have a bad word in it? Or what word was being mistaken for a "Bad Word!"

I went over and took a look at the book. The boy smiled at me in that way, the one that has discovered a broken rule in the grown-up world. He pointed at the offending word.

It was an Easter book with a religious slant.

The word was "Jesus."

And I'm just going to leave it at that.

Library News

Ever since Nicholas was eighteen months old, I have been taking the kids to Story Hour at the library in our town.

Nick is almost seven now, and too old for Story Hour. Andy has just turned three, and just finished his first five week session of Big Kid Story Hour. I think of it as "The Story Hour Where I Get To Read A Book" because I don't have to participate.

I know I have written about Story Hour Registration before. Even though the library is closed and registration does not begin until 9am, people begin lining up outside the doors at 8am. Then you get a number for each child. And then you get to sign up for one of five possible morning or afternoon sessions.

Because Andrew and Nathan are in school three days a week, and do gymnastics, and because Andrew still usually naps on the afternoons, we usually choose Thursday mornings to do Story Hour.

Well, yesterday the phone rang and it was the Children's Librarian. She was calling to let me know that Thursday mornings weren't going to be available this time around - there were too many conflicts with the day, and they would have had to cancel two of the five classes.

And she was calling me because she knew that we preferred Thursday mornings, and didn't want me to be surprised when we showed up for registration.

I am telling you, I LOVE this woman and this library. I mean, who does this? How thoughtful is that?

Cookies

Steve recently purchased ten boxes of Girl Scout Cookies from one of his Sunday School kids.

Ten. You know they're $3.50 a box now, right?

Ten boxes.


The difference between me and Steve, who I love dearly and who cannot really be blamed for helping out this little girl and bringing cookies into our home, is in our interpretation of the situation.

What ten boxes of cookies means to Steve: We will have cookies for a long time.

What ten boxes of cookies means to me: I will eat ten boxes of cookies within the next two weeks. If I control myself.

I mean, is there anything in the world quite like a Samoa?

I do not, as a rule, purchase things like cookies or chips or ice cream. Or pastries or cakes. Or anything, really, that a normal person might think of as sweet, unless you count yogurt or craisins. I like to keep this stuff out of my house because this stuff in unhealthy, but mostly because I do not have the will power to ignore the stuff. I will deny my children chips and then somehow consume the entire bag during an episode of Glee.

Steve, on the other hand, is an eater. Is will sit down and eat a big huge meal. But he is oddly unmoved by cake, cookies, or chips. He can let a cake sit there in the fridge for weeks, let cookies wither in the cupboard. And then, three weeks later, he'll go "where did the thin mints go?" and look at me. And, really, they were just SITTING THERE! If he had really wanted them he would have eaten them by now, darn it!

Over It

I'm sorry about complaining.

And I'm done.

I went into the school to see what I could do about getting Nate to the morning class next year, and the answer was: nothing. What's done is done, apparently. From what I gathered from the ladies I spoke to int he office, and the emails I traded with the principal, my case for putting Nate in the morning class simply wasn't as compelling as that made for the other children. I felt sick and awful about it, and when I dug up my copy of the application, it turned out they were right.

I don't know where my head was that morning. I don't know if I was distracted, or in a rush, or what. But I neglected to mention anything related to scheduling difficulties at all. Perhaps this would have tipped the scale in my favor. Perhaps not. But now I'll never know, because I honestly didn't put everything down.

Lesson learned - put everything down. Explicitly. In writing.

I also found out there is a good chance we might get switched to AM if enough people drop out or choose to go elsewhere. 3 people. That's all I need. It's entirely possible. I also decided that this would not be the worst thing in the world. Is it what I wanted? No. But at least the difficulty will be mine. Nathan will be fine. Andrew will also be fine. And I can adapt to anything for a few months. After some thought, this is not serious.

I think that I was already feeling helpless about the school situation, and this tipped me over the edge. I want what's best for my children. We all do. But I suppose every parent has a different idea of what "BEST" actually means. And so there is disagreement, argument, debate, and when all is said and done, we won't care because we'll be in High School already.

Angst #4

Nathan has been placed in afternoon kindergarten.

Kindergarten is half day. In order to save money, they split it into morning and afternoon, so they could double up on class space and teachers.

I asked for morning, but not everyone get their first choice, due to the fact that everyone wants morning. Also, I waited until almost 10am on the day registrations were due to turn in my registration, as I didn't realize it was first come first serve. I thought it was random.

Why is this a big deal, you ask? What is the problem?

We get up in the morning, and I get the kids ready to do the day's activity. Most days, the kids go to school. At least Nick goes to school. If the kids don't go to school they have library, or they have gymnastics. There is usually something to get us out of the house.

At 11:30, I pick up the kids from preschool, or our activity is over, and we go home, have lunch, and nap. Andy still needs a nap. Sometimes Nate needs a nap. I sometimes need a nap.

Now imagine, for a moment, that all of this turns on it's head because I was late getting the registration in, or don't know the right people, or because I know the wrong people, take your choice.

I drop Andy off at school, and I still have Nate all morning. The free time I used to have when the kids were in school at the same time is gone. I pick Andy up, and I still have Nate, but now I have both of them for another odd length of time because drop of for Kindergarten is an hour after pick up for Andy, meaning it's too little time to go home and eat, but too long to go right there. And then I have Andy all afternoon.

I can't sign Andy up for morning gymnastics unless I bring Nate, and Andy won't do well in the afternoon class because he gets grumpy without a nap. I get no free time to clean, shop, write, run, volunteer, do anything without having to fetch juice or entertain or keep an eye out to make sure a lone child doesn't write on the walls or eat all the crackers or ty and swing from the hall light with a jump rope to be like Tarzan. Ever. It's back to last year before Andy was in school at all, only with more driving.

I am so upset about this, it is unreasonable. There is a slight chance that he might be changed to morning, as it wasn't our first choice. But I'm pretty sure I don't know the right people for that. It's just that, with one little letter, I went from really looking forward to next year to really dreading it.

Angst #3

So, Nathan has been enrolled in public kindergarten next year.

First, I need to tell you they have cut back on the program.

Why would they do this? you ask. Well, here's the deal. Our town has four public schools. The high school, for 9-12. The middle school, for 6-8. An upper elementary school, for grades 3 - 5, and a lower elementary, which has been grades 1 and 2, but recently had a kindergarten class added.

Except for the High School, which is brand new (we used to ship our kids off to the town next door) all of the buildings are pretty crowded. See, the town experienced population growth, and that means more children, and the school buildings were unprepared.

The Lower Elementary School is crowded now, especially since Kindergarten has been added. The town voted to add a special Kindergarten building.

But apparently the Upper Elementary School is even MORE crowded. So crowded, in fact, that a decision has been made to split the 3rd grade in half. Half the third grade shall remain behind at the Lower Elementary. Even though it's already full.

This causes a problem. Suddenly the same resources are not available for all third graders. Suddenly the third graders do not have access to the same music, science, art teachers. What's to be done?

Well, the solution for the music and art classes is that the music and art teachers at the Lower Elementary get to teach these students for an extra year. Unfortunately, as there are only so many hours to the day, this means the kindergarten will not get music or art.

The librarian assured me that Kindergarten will still get library time, but she gets a shorter lunch.

Kindergarten Woes

Another school year, another basket full of angst toward our public school system.

As you might remember, Nick was in the first ever kindergarten class for our town. Before that, there was just no public kindergarten. That was year #1, the angst revolving around the fact that I was sending my firstborn off to the wolves in an unproven program run in a bunch of trailers that was only 2.5 hours long. Because we didn't want to spend the money on a full day program.

Year #2 of angst was because Nick was recommended for the transitional program instead of 1st grade. They deemed him unready, and predicted he would not do well. I angsted over that one plenty, although in the end I came around and decided it was the best thing for him. A lot of this has to do with the teacher he ended up with, because she is so wonderful, and I would put him anywhere to have had her.

Anyway, my angst and anger have become unleashed over this anew, in this is the LAST year that particular program will be offered. It's the money. They don't say that, though. instead, they posted a particularly snotty paper written in "researchese" explaining how it has been proven for YEARS that holding a child back at this level does not improve their chances at success, and that giving a child an extra year of kindergarten is just a waste of time and resources, and that it poses a bunch of extra problems later in middle school, something which no parent ever wants to consider when making this choice. And now it's rendered useless as we have this kindergarten program set up and can spot children who will have difficulties on the way in and offer these perhaps twelve children a full day for "extra help."

I have to say, I read this article and then shook for hours. Because for years the one thing I have been hearing about the transition program is "It's not Kindergarten!" and it's not. The kindergarten program is 2.5 hours. Transition is full day. They do the work the first grade does at a less intense pace. Also, this lady who wrote this report obviously did not talk to me about what I considered in making this choice, because I did so think about his being a year ahead in middle school and in high school and in college. I thought about his self esteem and his abilities and weighed placing him in a classroom where he was unable to keep up and would foster a hatred of school and a sense in incompetence with that extra year.

But most of all I got angry that they placed all this on the parent. As though I forced them to put my child in the transition program because I had some sneaky plan to make him a better football player or a better student than anyone else. Like I was trying to cheat the system. The SCHOOL offered and even recommended it. That was why I did it. And now they turn around and basically state that it was a selfish choice that is, in the long run, not actually going to help my child. And by the way, my kid went to their new kindergarten, and still 'wasn't ready', so there.

I have more to say, but it's going to need it's own post because I'm too wound up.

Whaa Whaa!

This post is about nothing. Well... nothing in particular. I am going to use it as a warning.

I've written a few posts in advance. And they are, to be quite frank, really irritating in their quality. I complain a lot, and whine a lot, vent a lot. And not always very coherently.

I'm sorry. I plan on going back and editing them to make them a little more... you know. Readable. But I' not making any promises. So please consider this fair warning.

Officially Spring

How do I know it's Spring?


My gramma used to make a bit of a fuss over the crocus coming up in the spring. She would fuss over them and say the frost would kill them. These are not crocus, they are tulips, and possibly some daffodils, depending on where I planted the bulbs. But the sentiment is the same.

Here's where the other half of the bulbs are.

Keeping Up

Photo Op.

What is this?

I have no idea what Nate is doing here. Karate? Dancing? Saluting?

Happy St. Patrick's Day

I'm a few months behind on my holiday stories. Please deal with it, or wait ten months and come back.

When these were posted all over the walls at the preschool, I pointed them out to Nathan. "I like yours," I said. "Who is that man again?"

"It's Barack Obama," he says.

When the kids get the camera

Utility Belt

Nathan likes to keep stuff in his pockets.



All of them.

I Don't Want To!

We follow a pretty regular routine. Sure, there are variations - some days we have show-and-tell and other days we need to go buy sneakers. But there are some things that we do every, single, day, like it or not, no matter what. You would think that my kids would learn to accept this.

But no. No they don't. Every day after lunch Andrew informs me that he is not going to take a nap. And I then inform him that he is. And he tells me he isn't. And I say he is. I am lucky that
1 - Andrew is small enough to be distracted by the story that comes before nap and that
2 - Andy actually DOES NEED a nap, and so usually falls asleep before too long and I have to wake him up when Nick's bus gets home at 3:40.

Just this morning both Nick and Nate told me they were not going to school. "I'm not going to school!" they said. Only they were screaming so it was more like "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL!" And in Nick's case, an added "I'M NOT GOING!"

It's important to examine who is speaking before reacting to statements like these. There are differing translations.

Nate: I don't want to go to school
meaning - I don't want to stop playing with these toy dinosaurs.

Nick: I don't want to go to school
meaning - I don't want to go to school

In either case, the important thing is not to give in. In my case, it usually involves a lot of screaming, shouting, and threatening. I'm all for talking things out, but we're on a schedule. We have no time for coaxing or easing into the idea of school. That bus in ON IT'S WAY, like it or not, and we better be out in front when it gets there. (We weren't. We were still in the garage when it breezed on by. ) Also, more than once I have dragged a screaming or sobbing Nick and placed him on the school bus. Yes, I am heartless.

Nicholas is particularly good at refusing to do things that I require every day. These things include practicing his piano, and doing some homework. For the record, piano practice is usually just over 5 minutes and homework is writing out his spelling words - there are five of them. That's 5 minutes, and 5 words.

Nick throws tantrums like the gods of Olympus over these 5 minutes and 5 words. He refuses. He screams, he cries, he becomes angry and threatens to rip up the sheet of practice words. He scribbles on the paper. He tries writing them very quickly so that every other letter is backwards and unreadable. He tells me that he hates writing, he hates writing, that no one else has to do this homework and that I am so mean and so AWFUL and it's so unfair.

I get very angry. I want to bang my head against the wall. I want to bang HIS head against the wall.

He likes piano a little more. Especially when he finally can play something all the way through. But the writing he fights me on.

I keep having to remind myself that
1 - it's not so much that he doesn't want to write as it is he really wants to play with his brothers,
2 - it's only five words, so how unfair am I really being? and
3 - my job is to prepare him for the future, and in this case the future is first grade, where people will need to read the ideas he writes down. So being able to form letters and words needs to be a priority.
also
4 - he would have more playtime if he would shut up and do his darn jobs!

Why Didn't I Get A Girl?

in my bedroom one afternoon as I'm changing from a skirt into sweatpants.

Nate: Mom, those socks are connected.

Me: They're tights.

Nate: They are very long socks.

Me: They're tights. See?

Nate: Oh. They're pants.

Me: They're TIGHTS! Get OUT!

Foiled Again

Many mornings I wake up before my alarm.

There are a couple of reasons for this. The first is that I've always been a morning person, and at some point in the night I will start waking up and looking at the clock to see how much time I have left to sleep. When I find out I have less than fifteen minutes, I wonder if it's worth my while. After all, I will only get woken up by a rude alarm noise. I hate my alarm's noise. And the alarm had the capability to wake up not just Steve, but the boys.

I try to be as quiet as I can in the morning because I want my kids to stay asleep. They, like me, are light sleepers once the bulk of the night has past, and the slightest noise can awaken them. And then not only will I not be able to run, but I will be awake. And although it may not seem like it, that's where the heart of me longs to be at 5:10 am.

So I quietly pull on my leggings and my sports bra, I carry my sneakers and walk in my socks, and I slip out the bedroom door...

And then my children mess the whole thing up.

No, not THOSE children. The OTHER ones. The furry ones. My pets.

See, no matter how many times I've done this, the pets equate any adult with open eyes with getting fed. As soon as I leave the bedroom, Franks starts meowing loudly and pitifully. "Meow! Eeeeeeeyow!" he says, weaving in and around my feet. Gunther also thinks the day has officially begun. He doesn't say anything, but his nails click click click on the wood floor and the stairs. And he leads the way down, ke-THUMP ke-THUMP keTHUMP you would think we had an elephant instead of a lab-chow mix. Puck is usually much better behaved. Unfortunately, don't think it has to do with manners but with laziness and his failure to pick up on the fact that I am awake.

The pets are always surprised, and a little offended, when I ignore their bowls and a furry nose on the door to head downstairs to the basement. They sometimes try to follow. I swear, even though I close the door behind me, Frank has been able o open it half the time.

Anyway, before I wake up the house is still and silent. But moments after I get up the place is a whirlwind of pet activity. No wonder the boys are getting up before 6!

Cry Cry Cry

I swear, my kids will cry over just about anything. Or fight over just about anything. Everything can be fine, but if someone has a green cup the other two will want it. And if someone has the job or washing windows, suddenly this is the most coveted job in the world.

Nick is folding towels. It is his new job, one he picked because he said he'd like to do laundry. So I let him. Andy is crying because his job was not folding laundry and he was told to go start cleaning the toy room.

Nate at first did not want to clean the toy room. Even when told this meant no TV, he said, "fine." But when I told him this meant Nick would get to play his DS and he wouldn't be allowed to even watch, he changed his mind. And ran upstairs.

And from upstairs Andy started crying again, probably because Nathan started cleaning up what HE wanted to clean up.

More Mice

The mice are back.

See, they went away for awhile. I caught four of them, I think, and then the mousetraps were empty. And they stayed empty for days. So I took the mousetraps and put them away.

But then, the other day, I found mouse poops in the drawer. And also, those little spatuls thingies I use to get the last of the peanut butter out of the jar were nibbled to the stub. And little red plastic shavings were everywhere.

So I put the mousetraps up again.

And then next day there was a mouse. And I let it go down in the woods, past the shed.

And then days went by with no mouse. So I forgot about it, until this afternoon.

This afternoon I was going to once again remove the mousetraps and live, happy and secure in the knowledge that our home was mouse-free.

But one of the mousetraps was closed (empty), and my ice-cream scoop with he rubber handle was gnawed.

So the mice have been around, but not falling into my traps.

Nick says it's because the mice have figured out that they are traps. I think the traps may not be working the way they are supposed to be working. Or, based on the mouse poops I found in a different cabinet, they are in the wrong place.

I have baited the mouse traps with mouse bait AND peanut butter, and have set them up in new locations. I'm hoping these work. But I am very close to getting the poison ones, simply because I hate setting the stupid mice free.

Seriously, you can open the trap and wait for it to climb out, but it won't. It will cling to the inside of that plastic box like glue. You have to SHAKE it out. And honestly, I feel like I'm killing the mice anyway, setting them out in the cold, in the snow, with crows and hawks and foxes out there.

DS

Oh, the trauma when a 6 year-old's Nintendo DS stops working.

Let's home we figure out how to fix this soon.

This Might Be Science

One of my most favoritist bands ever is They Might Be Giants. When I was in High School we had a couple of their albums, Flood and Apollo 18. I loved them. They were kooky. Which, ironically, is why a lot of people find their songs similar to nails on a chalkboard.

But guess what? They make kids music! Yes, yes they do! A lot of the songs they write are perfectly fine for younger children, and they even have a few albums out specifically for kids!

I have known this for a while. I just wasn't sharing.

But recently, at the library, I found a CD called "Here Comes Science" and it also has a DVD with videos for all the songs. The boys already love "The Elements" and "My Brother The Ape." The funny thing is, I've become enamored with science again. It's not like I hate science, but I usually find it cold and difficult and complicated. These songs touch every part of science, from biology to astronomy, chemistry to physics. Even scientific theory. And they are all, as far as I know, accurate. (Except that one song about the sun. They've added a short song after that one explaining how they were wrong, and new evidence has been discovered.)

Anyway, it makes me happy, and might be a good gift for any youngster.

Dinosaur Movie

When I was feeling all sick and my head hurt every time I moved or looked at the light, I decided to put on a movie.

"What movie do you want?" I asked the boys.

"How bout the dinosaur movie we watched in a long time ago?" said Andy.

"Which one?" I asked. Trying to remember all the dinosaur movies we've watched.

"The one... with the dinosaur... we watched it before."

"The Land Before Time? With Little Foot and the little guy that says 'yep yep yep?'"

"No, the other one."

"Dinosaur? The one with Aladar and the egg?"

"No, the one we saw... before in a long time."

"Um, Dinosaur Train?"

"No."

"Dino Dan?"

"No, it's the movie we saw before!"

"Um... The Land Before Time?"

"No!"

Andy was clearly getting more agitated and I was backtracking because I had run out of movies. So I grabbed my trusty ipad, went to Netflix, and typed in "Dinosaur."

The first movie that popped up was, of course, Dinosaur. A movie which, for the record, I had already mentioned, but which Andy assured me was not the one he was thinking of. But it was.

"This one!" he said, pointing at the little poster of the dinosaur.

What did we do before technology?

Sick Again

I was sick again.

I woke up on Friday a little after five. And I was tired. Because it was 5am. And I didn't want to work out, but I reminded myself that I always feel better when I work out, and always feel icky and eat more junk when I don't.

So I dragged myself out of bed and made myself run five miles. I went slower than usual, adding on a little extra time. I wasn't gasping for breath the way I sometimes do.

And then Andy came down, and I walked him back up the stairs and we got the other boys... and then I realized I wasn't tired in the usual way.

I kept having to sit down. I didn't want coffee. I DID NOT WANT COFFEE. Or food. Also, my tummy was starting to hurt.

I managed to get the kids to school, and then I slept. And then I picked Andy and Nate up, and I slept some more. I called Steve and asked him to bring home milk. I watched a little TV, but my head was hurting, so I stopped. And I slept some more. Nick came home, and I put on a movie. I climbed back into bed. Steve came home. I said hello to him, and I climbed back into bed.

And I stayed there until 6am this morning.

I feel much better now. A whole different person.

Schedule Change

I have been setting my alarm for 5am to run.

It's always been a challenge figuring out when to fit in my run.

I've tried many things in the past. Mostly I did one of two things depending on the day's schedule. I rushed home after dropping the kids off at school, getting on the treadmill, and running really fast, then rushing through my shower and showing up, out of breath, to pick up the younger two.

Or, I turned on the TV, handed the kids their DS's, and barricaded the room with baby gates before getting on the treadmill, turning every so often to shout "give that back to your brother!" and "No jumping on your brother's head!"

It was not fun. I felt that I was giving up all of my alone time to running (I was) and I had to cancel any time I had anything else to do, like food shopping, or a doctor's appointment. And when the kids were with me I often ended early and angry.

So last month I made a choice. I would try to run before the boys woke in the morning.

The boys often wake up before 6am. I don't know why. I have tried to discourage it. But even after late nights they wake before first light.

But 5am is the earliest I will get up. No earlier. I bought an alarm clock. I lay out the boys clothing the night before. And my clothing. And my workout clothes. I pack the boys backpacks and get everything ready to go.

And for the most part, it works.

I ran into a few glitches. The boys sometimes wander into the basement in the middle of my run, and then I have to stop and figure out what to do (I usually send them back to bed, or tell them to go up and read books quietly.) A few times they will be awake when my alarm goes off. Once I even heard Andy say "What was that noise?" when I turned it off.

But for the most part, I am happy with this arrangement. I gives me a couple of extra hours on some days, or lets me work out on days I wouldn't otherwise have time.

Yes, I get tired.

Which is why I have started sleeping again at naptime.

Laundry

I hate doing laundry. I do it every single day, but it never gets done. There's always more. And the creatures I live with keep making things dirty! They're always peeing in the bed (kids), or throwing up on the duvet (cats) , or spilling tomato sauce on their pants (ok, this was me.)

I know I'm supposed to be thankful we have a washer and dryer, but I wonder. If I had to lug everything to the laundromat, then at least it would be one day of intense laundry and I wouldn't have it hanging over my head every single minute of the day.

Pores

In my quest to uncover all of my flaws, I have discovered that I have large pores.

I know. This is odd. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about things like pores or my skin, unless I'm breaking out or sunburned. But apparently, this way of thinking has added up to years of neglect. And now my skin is blotchy and uneven and I have large pores. I must have read an article or something, because I can't figure out why I suddenly became obsessed with this.

Anyway, there is no cure for large pores. You just cleanse your skin and then try to tighten them up somehow. I chose to do this with a mud mask which I purchased at the grocery store.

I used it. I was pleased, all things considered. But mostly I was pleased with my blue mud face. So was Nathan, who was startled into silence when he came in to ask me / complain about something and saw me propped up on pillows, my face bright blue. He stood there for a few moments, a little smile or his lips, his eyes HUGE, and then left. I think he was torn between screaming and asking me to put some on him. Then he left and I overheard him telling Andy I had blue on my face.

Need a Rush

When does middle age start? Am I qualified to be middle aged? I mean, I'm over 35, so this very well might be the middle of my life, or the beginning of the middle of my life. Then again, I could get hit my a bus...

I'm not trying to be morbid. Not at all. Or fatalistic. I'm actually just trying to find a way to bring up the subject of... well, of being tired.

I'm tired. I'm tired a lot of the time. Every once and awhile I'll have a moment, or a stretch of time, a few hours, where I am not tired. I feel energized and awake and alert, and it's such a great feeling! I love it, and I want it to last forever.

But more and more often these days I am just exhausted. I want to laze about in bed and read or watch TV. I don't want to do anything but nap. I want to sleep late and fall asleep early.

I'm not sure why this is. I'm eating well, with the occasional cake binge. I'm sleeping enough. I'm working out. I don't think I'm working out too much. I'm not really under any unusual stress. But somehow it's all adding up. Last night I went to bed before 9 and still had to drag myself out of bed ten hours later. Even if I'm not middle aged, I feel old.

Fifty Cents...

I still make Andy take a nap.

He's the only one. Sometimes the other boys will nap, but they are older so I almost always let them choose. Andy, however, melts into a puddle of whiny snotty tears at 5pm unless he gets to spend at least one hour unconscious.

To get Andy to sleep, I usually lay down with him. I know I shouldn't. I used to be able to send Nick to nap alone, and he would. But Nate was more stubborn, and he and Nick found out they could talk to each other and pinch each other for hours without sleeping, so I started staying with them thinking I would break them into it slowly.

Instead, when Andy was born I just started sleeping with them, or reading until everyone fell asleep and I could get up and do stuff. If I don't, they never settled down, and I appreciated the time to read or nap myself.

So now it's just Andy, and the other boys "play quietly."

I like resting with Andy. It gives us some time alone. And although most days I read him a book, some days, like today, we'll look at the computer a little.

Today we looked at the Bronx Zoo, and I told him that we might actually go there for April Vacation. I told him we might be able to ride a camel. He got excited. Then he asked if there were elephants. There are - and I told him so. But then I realized they were part of an exhibit that opened in May. April comes before May, and I told him I wasn't sure if they could be seen before May. "We'll have to see if they show the elephants before May," I said.

And then I realized that Andy's chin was trembling and tears were in his eyes. "But I want to see elephants!" he cried.

I told him we would keep going to zoos until we found some elephants.

The End Of February

It's snowing. Again.

I shouldn't be surprised. Here in New England we get snow through the end of March and flurries until April. Once we even got 2 feet on April 1st.

Still, I see February as the hump month, or the Wednesday of Winter, if you will. It's the Month we have to get past so we can get to Spring.

Maybe this is why the snow today didn't get me down as much as it should have. It's the end of February. Do your worst, snow! Spring is coming. The flowers will wake up, and you will melt into the muddy earth. And it's only a matter of time before we are struggling with the windows, trying to create a breeze in the house to cool us down.

Also, this is why they put the Easter stuff out. To remind us that Spring is around the corner, at with it, chocolate and jelly beans!

Is It Easter Yet?

I went to the grocery store to buy valentine's chocolate and they were taking it off the shelves. It drives me crazy that they can't even wait until the day of the actual holiday to take everything away. Apparently we were supposed to stock up the day after New Year's.

And now we are supposed to be buying jelly beans and chocolate bunnies. They were being set up before Valentine's day. The tragedy is that Easter is not until the end of April. And I can't buy Easter candy NOW. I'd just eat it. Or I'd stash it on a high shelf intending to save it for baskets and then, one night, in a moment of weakness, my brain would turn itself off and I would find myself eating six Cadbury Eggs at once.

Smiles

Winners and Losers

In Vegas there's a lot of gambling. And when there's gambling, there are winners and losers. And without further ado.... The Winners and Losers of 2011 Vegas:

Big Winner: The Fountains Brunch at Bellagio. We stayed at Bellagio. We needed to eat. This brunch was "upscale" and by that I mean "expensive" at $60 a head before drinks or tip. It was so, so worth the money. Exquisite food, view of the fountain, and a whole room of desserts. Which, by the way, we were too full to eat. But we did anyway. If you ever ever are in Las Vegas on a Sunday morning, go here. You will not be sorry.

Big Loser: The Amazing Johnathan. Not so amazing. Sadly.

Winner: Jean-Phillipe's Chocolate Waterfall. This Patisserie was also in the Bellagio. It's a creperie. And there are beautiful cakes on display. I didn't eat either of those, but did have an overpriced croissant and a coffee. But the best part is the waterfall, which has three different kinds of chocolate falling, and the lady in the chocolate dress.


Loser: It was cold. Not as cold as here, but colder than last year. This didn't stop some people from swimming in the pool. I was not one of these people. I require at least 60 degrees before immersing myself in water.

Winner: Ginger Martinis.

Winner: The Lord-of-the-Rings slot machine. Because it played clips from the movie, and was in one of those high-backed chairs that shake when the volume gets loud and the speakers are right on the headrest. I didn't win any money on it. But it was more fun than the 7's and the cherries and the lemons.

In My Dreams

I just came back from a trip to Las Vegas.

Vegas is over stimulating. There is so much going on, all the time. Slot machines beeping, clinking, flashing, and playing the same musical phrases over and over. Everything is over the top, at you all the time, and at any moment a big busted lady in almost no clothing will offer you a cocktail.

The time change and the change in lifestyle added up while I was there. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but spent the time in the hotel room reading World Without End, a book that captivated me from the first page, which is the only reason I would lug it to Vegas with me in the first place, because it's 1000 pages long. I have an ipad and can get books on that, but no, I lugged the old fashioned paper book. The story takes place in 1300 England, and centers around this cathedral and a hospital. Naturally it involves a number of monks and nuns.

My first night back from Vegas we got home at 1am and I fell into bed, exhausted.

And then I had this dream that I was trying to build a casino run by monks.

Yoga Yoga

This morning I did a little yoga, 30 minutes, for the first time since I got sick.

And my back is sore. And my arms.

I take this as a sign that it is doing something.

Soon I'll be doing the advanced DVD's, where the lady casually says things like "place your knee over your shoulder" and balances on one arm with her legs sticking out to the side. Even Nathan's jaw drops when I play this DVD. What she does is just impossible unless one dislocates one's limbs while in a gravity-free zone.

Hypocrite

Is it wrong to discourage my boys from biting their nails... when it is painfully obvious, looking at my hands, that I bite my own nails?

The Sounds Of Spring

The past couple of days have been extraordinarily warm.

I bundled Nick up to wait for the school bus, as usual, and as we stood there I realized it was noisier than usual. "What do you hear?" I asked.

Birds. There were birds singing.

And rain. Only it was snow melting and dripping off the roofs of houses.

And a stream. Only it was just the melting snow running downhill.

Warm weather does amazing things for my soul. I get happy in a way I forgot that I could. The cold and dark of winter hardens people, I think.

After two days of weather so warm I sent the boys out to ride bikes without coats, it is scheduled to get cold again tomorrow.

I can't wait for spring.

Andy Speak

The other day I was making grilled cheeses for lunch.

Andy: I want to help!

Me: OK.

Andy: I can't see!

Me: Here, stand on this stool, but stay away from the hot stove.

Andy: I want a tarantula!

Me: A spider?

Andy: No, a tarantula.

Me: A tarantula is a big spider.

Andy: No, to cook with.

Me: Oh, you mean a Spatula!

Knock Knock!

The boys like to tell jokes.

They don't quite grasp the concept of humor, though. Nick is getting there, but somehow all joke telling sessions end with someone shouting "Fart Fart Poopy Pants!" and all three boys collapsing with laughter. While I sit there and try not to look scared, because I have never found the word fart funny in my life. I just skipped that stage.

Andy likes to tell the "Interrupting Cow" joke. But he tells it like this:

A: Knock Knock
B: Who's There?
A: The Interpring Cow.
B: The Interrupting Cow Who?
A: ... MOO!

And then Nick tries to explain that he messed it up, he has to *interrupt* or it doesn't make sense.

But to tell the truth, the joke is kind of old. And somehow I find Andy's version funnier.

And Better Than Ever!

I'm Back!

After all this time (days and days!) I'm surprised if anyone is still checking in. Please forgive me.

See, I was totally knocked out either by this stomach bug or food poisoning or something. I was up almost all night on Sunday. I'll just say I wasn't throwing up or anything, and that's all the detail you'll get on that part except to say that I have never experienced anything like this before in my life, and at one point after a few sleepless hours I became alarmed I was getting too dehydrated. Which was serious because Steve was away on a trip, and I was alone with the boys, and if I passed out or died there would be no one to feed them and they would wander out into the street and get hit by a car. (note: it's far more likely that they would just turn on the TV and play their hand held video game devices for hours.)

Naturally and logically, I decided to measure my dehydration by stepping on the bathroom scale. I lost four pounds that night. On my frame, this is kind of a lot. Oddly, I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would feel well enough in the morning to hop on the treadmill for a five mile run.

I did not.

The next few days were a blur. Not only could I not run on the treadmill (I didn't try) I got tired walking down the stairs. I was reluctant to eat anything. And I was running a fever. A low fever, but still. Whaaa. Poor me.

So here I was with the boys, shuffling to get them to school and get them fed and all that. And an amazing thing happened: I got almost everything done that I needed to get done. Well, except laundry. But I relaxed about getting Nick out the door in time for the bus, thinking I would just drive him to school if he missed it. And he didn't miss it. I remembered to send the boys to school with valentines and remembered to bring in ice-cream for Nate's school party. When the boys were at school I slept. When it was time for Andy's nap I slept and let Nate play video games. When Nick got home we did piano practice, slowly. We did homework, quietly. And then I put on a Sesame Street video and slowly made supper - chicken and rice. I ate the rice.

Bit by bit I became human again. And yesterday afternoon I bounded down the stairs after putting away two loads of laundry feeling on top of the world! I have never felt better in my life! It had been years since I've felt so ALIVE!

Of course, this morning I went for my five mile run, and afterwards I noticed that I had pain shooting through the muscles in my legs. Which I think means I am still a little dehydrated. It's a process.

Valentine!

Taken From Cake Wrecks, one of my favorite blogs. Read every single one, folks. And have a happy happy day!

On Hold

I'm not feeling very well. I have a little bit of a tummy thing. No big deal. Just feeling really icky and not up to talking. Or writing. Or eating anything.

Please forgive me for taking a few days off of blogging.

How Much Snow Is There?

There is so much snow in our yard, that when the Oil Fiasco was going on the other day, Gunther got out. But instead of running over to the oil guy or to Steve, he stood on the edge of the snow and barked. Because even the dog won't go trudging through the snow in the yard.

Oil Fiasco

Remember how we ran out of oil?

Well, that was on Sunday, and not just any Sunday, but Superbowl Sunday. The Day When Nothing Gets Done.

Steve called the company, because we are supposed to be on automatic delivery. They usually come around with the truck and fill up the tank, need it or not. But for some reason they hadn't lately. Anyway, the lady who answered the phone paged some guy who was on duty and who came around with five gallons of kerosene. But we knew it wouldn't be enough to keep us warm for very long, and we weren't sure when the oil truck would be stopping by next.

So we conserved. We turned the heat on only in the rooms we would be in, and only as high as sixty degrees. We wore sweaters. I did not run the dishwasher, or bathe the children, or shower myself (I did run and then tried to take a cold shower, but the cold shower was way, way colder than I thought it would be, and I only lasted three tenths of a second before screaming the scream of death and making my way back out into the frigid air of the bathroom where I gasped in pain and shock. I took a sponge bath instead.)

Needless to say, we were all very happy to see the oil guy on Monday morning.

We almost missed him, you see, because he didn't come to the house. I happened to look out the window to see why the dog was barking his head off and saw the oil guy standing at the top of the driveway, staring at the house as though it were something unusual, like a spaceship, or perhaps a T-Rex. Steve then threw on his boots and walked out to meet him.

I wasn't out there, but it turned out the guy didn't want to walk through the snow. He had been there just last week, he said. Did the office call us? They told him they left a message. He told them to call us. But there was no way he was going to walk through the snow.

Let me just say here that I think it is actually reasonable to state that you prefer not to walk through three feet of snow if you are a delivery person. However, if you are unable to deliver oil because of that, leave a NOTE! CALL US! Tell us what you need us to do so we can accommodate you and we won't run out of oil when it is ten degrees outside. Not doing this is irresponsible.

Anyway, the guy wouldn't do it. So Steve said he would.

The guy went back to his truck, and Steve dragged the heavy hose through the snow to the side of the house and filled up the tank. The oil bill was over $850, (it should last us 6 weeks) and we got no discount for Steve doing the work, nor did he, or we, ever get an apology or any kind for not delivering our oil, or for not informing us of our responsibility to keep our yard free of snow.

The cherry on top is that Steve hurt his back tromping through the snow with the hose, and is now in constant pain. Each time he has to get up, or turn over, or walk, he remembers the oil fiasco.

Fifth Disease

Nick got Fifth Disease two weeks ago.

His cheeks got bright red, and his arms and tummy were all rashy. They didn't itch. He didn't have a fever. It was just this random rash that hung around. His teacher said Fifth Disease was going around, but that once the rash was present it was no longer contagious.

Andy got it the next week. He never had a fever, wasn't really sick. He just got this rash. And since he got it Monday afternoon, and didn't have school Wednesday, I just sent him in on Friday.

Well, the teachers didn't love having him all bright red and rashy. They wanted a note from the doctor saying it was OK for him to be at school. Which was a problem. Because it was Friday. There are no appointments over the weekend. And also the boys had a make-up gymnastics class at 2pm, and Nick and Nate were supposed to go to Karate at 4:15.

We didn't make it to Karate. But I did get a doctor's note for Andy.

And then, this weekend, Nate started acting sluggish. Dragging his feet, being quiet. And Sunday his cheeks popped up bright red.

I'm keeping him home a couple of days, just to be sure. But I hope the school won't make me go back to the doctor to get a note just for him.

Oil

This morning we woke up to a cold house.

I figured I had run around the night before and turned the heat in all the rooms down. I do that sometimes, especially after I watch or read certain ecological or environmental articles or documentaries.

But I hadn't. Instead, we had simply run out of heating fuel.

See, we have oil heat. And the oil heats water, which runs in pipes to heat our home and also to give us hot water. But the oil needs to be delivered. A truck usually comes by every few weeks and blocks our driveway while a guy drags a huge hose over to the side of the home. The dog barks for 10 minutes straight, once breaking a window in his fury.

But the guy hadn't come by for over a month.

It's the kind of thing we should have noticed, but didn't.

And so we were caught with no heat or hot water.

Of course this is Sunday.

Steve was able to get someone to come by with a few gallons, but not what we usually use, and nothing that would last more than a couple of days. So we turned down all the heat. No washing dishes (which just means a sink of dirty dishes) and no baths (until after I run tomorrow, when I shall shower.)

I hope the real delivery guy comes tomorrow.

Agh! Ack! Thhhpt!

I have to make a confession. I have this habit of writing a week's worth of posts ahead of time. I pre-post, or schedule things to be posted.

This makes sense for me, because I don't always have time to sit down and decide what to say. It' a lot easier for me to get a bunch of writing done at once.

But there are a couple of drawbacks. For one thing, should I get a little gloomy and depressed and write about how I'm trapped in my home with my children and they are slowly pecking me to death with requests for juice, it may not actually get published for a few days. And then, by the time it does, I will be fine, and the juice-rush gone.

Another drawback is that I somehow need to to come up with a week's worth of posts at one sitting. A whole week. Which is why some days you might check in and all you find a a photograph of one of the boys picking his nose, or a sentence about how I have run out of shampoo. I know. But my life really isn't that interesting.

This is one of those times. I sit down to write and... I've got nothin'. Not even a poorly shot photograph.

Boy is this week gonna be fun!

How to not live to see four

The other morning I made bagels for breakfast.

This is a treat for the boys. They love bagels. I think it's because we refused to let them have them for a long long time, due to the fact they are a choking hazard.

I place the plate of bagels on the table, and the boys oooed and ahhed, then I started to cut one up for Andy.

"NO! I want a whole one! DOn't cut it up!"

At this point my mind did a very speedy calculation, weighing the costs of having this argument this early against the possibility of anything actually happening added to Andy's ability to cram food into his mouth.

"OK, fine. Take this one, it's a whole one. But you have to chew it Very Very carefully!"

"OK!"

"And take small bites!"

"I will!"

"I'll put this other one back on the plate, and you can have a whole one."

"Thanks!.... Now cut this one up."

Seasonal Depression

I think that most years I keep a good head on my shoulders until mid to late February. That's when I start to go a little bonkers, get a little stir crazy, and I start feeling lonely and stranded and cold and dark and I hate the world because it's cold and overcast and the snow and ice are surrounding me and they are never ever going to melt and spring divorced me no one loves me and we are never going to be warm or sunny ever ever again.

The recent post of the photos of my deck? Remember that one? My brother Jamie commented that we had a lot of snow and that it wasn't even February.

February has come early, folks. And with it that cascade of self-pity and endless white of overcast sky meets snowy ground. Really, they are one and the same.

I think it's cabin fever. A need to get out and do something. I feel the need to connect and get out and buy bathing suits and plan vacations I will probably never take. May those that take them enjoy them. I will sit here and smile and pretend to be happy for you. And you can pretend I'm not jealous or feeling left out. And then we'll all drink some more wine, and life will go on.

That's the magic of it all, right? Life goes on. I have faith that, eventually, spring will come, and my tulips will break ground. I can restart my compost and plant some tomatoes. And in the long run it won't matter, will it? Because the snow will melt and it will all be forgotten. In theory.

Perspective

Don't Ask

I really have no idea what he was doing in this photo.

Pirate Nate

Corn Flakes Again?

Argh!

Pirate Andy

What do you mean the ship is stuck in the ice?