Little Brother

The last time I was home, Winston had a bit too much to drink. He became sentimental and let it sneak out that he considered his brother and sisters his best friends. I was very, very touched, mostly because I understood.

Today he is 31, and I do not remember a time before he was born.

Happy Birthday, Winston!

How We Eat

My kids become hungriest when I start cooking dinner. Suddenly their ears prick up and then come running from all four corners of the earth (yes, I have two children, I don't know how they manage to reach all four corners, but they do) begging me for a slice of bread, cheese, some tomato, goldfish crackers, ANYTHING! Because they are starving, you see. And besides, they don't like whatever it is I'm cooking anyway.

I usually give in to the first of these demands, reasoning that I am hungry, too, and will also be nibbling while I cook. Also, as long as I only give them a reasonable number of Cheerios and don't let them rn away with the whole box, it won't completely ruin dinner. And also, they won't eat dinner, anyway.

Nicholas is a grabber. I will extend a handful of raisins or Cheerios meaning for the boys to share, and Nicholas will somehow manage to fitt my palmful into his much smaller palm, mostly by also placing large handfuls into his mouth.

Nathan, on the other hand, has a much more delicate style. He can do one of two things. The first is to trat my hand like a bowl, and eat the Cheerios one at a time from my hand. He refuses to hold more than one at a time, or to eat them from a cup or a bowl. He needs me and my Mommy Hand holding the Cheerios for him. This is preferable, though, to the second thing he does, which is to eat the Cheerios DIRECTLY FROM MY HAND. Like a horse or a goat, licking my palm for the very last remnants of Cheerio or raisiny goodness.

As for me, I prefer pie, in bed, either with a good book or watching HOUSE.

Cranky Pants

I'm not sure who this post is about.

It might be a post about Nathan, who has been crankier than usual these past few days. He has reached the point where he is trying to speak, but very few words are actually, well, words. When he gets frustrated, not only with his communcation but with his ability to move heavy objects, put puzzles together, turn the pages of a book, etc. he screams and flings the nearest object across the room.

Of course, this might also be a post about NIck. Nicholas is uncomfortable. Determined not to poop in the potty, yet reluctant to poop in his underwear, Nicholas has solved the problem by just turning that function off altogether. At least mostly. For the past couple of days. Needless to say, he is uncomfortable. He whines and whimpers and screams when I suggest we sit on the potty or have a nice glass of prune juice. All night long I was in and out of his room, alternately soothing him or threatening to throw him out the window, depending on what kind of dream I ha been having when he woke me up.

Which bring me to... me. This could be a post about me. Because I am definitely cranky. I am exhausted from lack of sleep and trying to be patient. I would pay someone twenty dollars to wattch my kids while I used the bathroom, just so I could sit without two kids climbing on top of me. As I type this, Nathan is whacking me with his sip cup, which apparently is out of milk. He is also trying to climb up my body, and it is only a matter of time before I loose it and lock myself in the closet just to get away.

The End, have a nice day.

Busy, Busy, and more Busy

Today I looked at my to do list and realized there were eleven items on it. I usually do not allow my daily to do lists to exceed five items, as it causes undue stress and then I get nothing done, whereas the fewer items I have on the list the more apt I am do accomplish additional tasks...

Anyway, I'm off to get the dog licensed, to drop Nick off at school, stop at the post office, the dry cleaners, come back in time to put Nate down for a nap, and that's just the morning.

Happy Hallmark Holiday!

I am aware that Mother's day is a "Hallmark Holiday," meaning that it was invented by card companies in order to sell more greeting cards, and then adopted by other industries as an excuse to push their own merchandise.

But I don't care because today I got to sleep in, and Steve made me breakfast, and I got chocolates and all sorts of wonderful surprises. How nice!

Also, every mother deserves a day. Fathers, too, but they get one later. Because parents work HARD for their kids, and there is no way to accurately appreciate it until one becomes a parent oneself. I don't care what you say, YOU JUST DON'T KNOW unitl you have been up all night worrying, chaging sheets, cleaning up puke, taking temeratures, and rearranging you entire life to accomodate the little lives you are responsible for.

So here are some pictures of Nathan doing housework. It's how our house stays clean.

You Talkin' To Me?

What? WHAT?

The POINT

Nathan has this habit of changing the channel while the TV is on. This wouldn't be a big deal, except that he has horrible taste. I will leave them watching Diego to put the laundry in the dryer, and when I come back they are watching the jewelry segment on Home Shopping Network. Or maybe it's a Paid Program by Bowflex. Whatever it is, it lacks in plot and the acting is simply not convincing.

Nicholas HATES it when Nathan changes the channel. As soon as the picture changes he screams the name of the show he was watching "Backyardigans!" or "Blue's Clue's!" as though Nathan had erased the show from TV FOREVER!

Yesterday Nathan changed the channel, and Nicholas pushed Nathan. I put Nicholas in a Time Out, and changed the channel back. WHen Nick's Time out was over I let him back in the room, but Nathan changed the channel again two mintes later. Nicholas pushed him again. I put Nicholas in another Time Out, this time with a bit of yelling about how we just DID this and we do NOT hurt our brothers and we USE WORDS instead! And I turned off the TV.

When I told Nick his time out was over I tacked on the "I think you should say something to your brother." Nicholas slowly slid off his chair and went over to Nathan, and I was expecting the usual "I'm Sorry!" and the hug where he squeezes Nate's head until Nate squeals.

Nicholas took a deep breath. "Nathan," he said, "Don't change the channel!"

Sprinkler Tales

Yesterday it was hot. So I thought it would be a good idea to plug in the sprinkler and let the boys play in it.

This sounds so easy, doesn't it?

First I had to get the boys ready. This was slightly less complicated than getting them ready for play in the snow. But instead of putting stuff on, it's mostly taking stuff off. Then putting on swim diapers, then fighting them to apply sun lotion, which is hard because they don't like it and start to pull away, at that point it is, truly, like trying to hold on to a greased pig. Two greased pigs.

Once hats were on and towels located, I picked them up and headed outdoors, where they immediately gravitated to the small plastic wading pool. This pool was full of water. Why, you ask, would a semi-intelligent person allow a pool full of water to remain on her property when there are small children about who could easily drown? Well, the answer is I DIDN'T! That pool is the cause of so many problems. First of all, it's light plastic, so if it's not weighted down the slightest wind will send it into the bushes separating our yard from our neighbors. Second, if you leave it out empty, the rain will fill it up within a week. I swear, even if it doesn't rain, it will only take a week. Finally, even if you put it upsdie down, the rain will cause the plastic to bend and turn the stupid thing inside out. Water is heavy.

Anyway, the big issue with the pool yesterday was not the dirty rainwater in the filthy pool, but the dead chipmunk floating on top of it. I had to rush insdie for a bucket to scoop out the poor creature and tote it to the bushes (where the pool escapes to) and then empty the stupid pool AGAIN. This time I dragged it into the basement and told myself I would scrub it clean with floor cleaner before the boys would use it again. We'll see. It might be easier to buy a new one.

Finally I hooked the sprinkler up and turned the spigot... only to realize that the outside water hadn't been turned on yet, and I had no idea how to do it. So I had to call Steve at work.

Once the water was on and the sprinkler was working, Nicholas screamed and Nathan cried. It was on for less than two minutes.

Toasty!

I have run out of pictures to post. To be honest, when the kids were feverish and I was stressing about my Aunt I didn't really go for the camera too often.

Today it is supposed to get warm. More than warm, HOT! Accuweather has predicted a high of 87, with "Real Feel" of 89. That means that it's still 50 in the morning, but even now I can feel the heat of the day in the air, as though it were a scent. I dressed both boys in overalls - Nathan in these cute tractor overalls that used to be Nick's, and Nick in these new Go Diego Go! overalls that are actually a size too big for him, and that are actually a Very Bad Idea, given that he can't remove them himself to use the bathroom. Once I realized this I suggested changing him into other, easer to manage summer clothing, but you would have thought I had suggested drawning our cats for fun. So I quickly dropped it and resigned myself to a day of difficult potty-going.

Regardless, I will take pictures, because it is going to be worth it.

Only Pretend

One of Nick's favorite things to do is to curl up under a blanket and pretend to take a nap.

The key word there is "Pretend."

He is never excited to REALLY take a nap.

Completely Exhaustified

The other day I had the idea that, after bringing the boys home from the doctor, I would be able to feed them lunch before putting them down for a nap. This is how far Nate got. Didn't even get out of his coat. He just collapsed on the floor, inches from the garage.

Good Show! Whot, whot!

Yesterday I drove down to Cambridge and saw Mike Daisey perform his monologue, MONOPOLY! It was absolutely fantastic for more than a few reasons.

First of all, this is only the second one that I've seen, but Mike's monologues are amazing. In this one he manages to weave together Monopoly (the game), Wal-Mart, Tesla, Microsoft, and also some aspects of a production that he worked on a while ago. The performance is intelligent, enlightening, funny, and touching. Not all at the same time, at different times, otherwise we'd all be shivering balls of goo by the end.

Seriously, if you ever, ever have a chance to see Mike perform, please go for it. I promise you, it is neither a waste of time nor money, it is worth it, I swear. And he goes everywhere, to so many places, that I'm sure eventually he'll be where you are. GO! Mom, Dad, THIS MEANS YOU! I mean it, you might really enjoy yourselves.

Mike is a friend of mine from school, about a billion years ago, and we were both in that crazy theatre company in rural Maine, because none of us had the sense to go anywhere there were actually people to work on our craft. But that is not why I think his show was spectacular! Really! It is really, really good.

After the show I got to hang out with Mike and a few other friends that I happen to see more often, and I had such a great time, despite the fact that I spilled water everywhere and kept checking my cell phone like some neurotic mother. I have to remember to get in touch with him again soon. MIKE - stop by on your way up to NH, if you can! Just let me know when.

The one drawback about hanging out with people from school is that I start to feel nostalgic and get the urge to memorize scripts and start singing show tunes in a really loud, now-out-of-practice voice. Thank goodness the boys are my best critics.

I love my house, I love my nest...

It's the time of year when nature once again asserts itself and reminds us that there are other creatures out there besides us. By that I don't just meant that little buggies seem to crawl all over any item the kids leave in the grass for more than two minutes.

Yesterday morning I saw deer grazing by the brook for the first time in a long while. I love to watch them. Unfortunately, Gunther, who never seems to notice them when they are on OUR side of the brook, noticed them yesterday and began barking frantically, probably in an attempt to get them to play. I resisted the urge to rush out and ahout out an explanation of the electric fence, knowing the deer wouldn't understand the concept and would think I was a liar.

The geese are also back. I hate the geese. They poop a lot.

But the best visitors we've had so far have been the birds. There are many many birds. Including one that kept returning to the deck, often with twigs in his mouth. A few moments before dinner I poited him out to Steve. "I think he's making a nest in the Grill," I said. So Steve went out and lifted the cover, only to have a second bird fly into his face. It's hard to say who was more startled. And what was in our grill? This.


We left the hood open after clearing out the half built nest. All day yesterday I watched the bird hop around, trying to figure out what happened to his home, specifically the roof. Once he showed up with three other birds who just looked and shook their birdy heads before flying off. We think they were contractors bidding for the jod of rebuilding.

Poke in the Foot

I hadn't called my mother in a couple of days because I had some idea I would call her in the middle of the funeral service, or during the viewing, and that her cell phone would ring loudly, and that it would all be my fault for calling at such an inopportune time.

But yesterday I finally picked up the phone, reasoning that, by then, the funeral AND the burial would have been completed. And they had been. In fact they were on the long drive back.

My phone conversation was cut shourt, however, when Steve came in to tell me Nicholas had a splinter the size of a large crochet needle sticking into his foot. Which, in fact, he did. It took twenty minutes, tweezers, and a needle to remove the thing, not to mention a lot of crying and a lot of sweating - on my part.

Nick whined about his foot all night, refusing to get into the tub and asking me to "take it off his foot" before bed. I was positive he'd forget about it be morning. I was wrong. This morning he is still limping and complaining, leading me to question my splinter removing skills. Did I leave a bit of it in there? Could I have caused serious damage? Touched a nerve? Not disinfected enough?

No Way! It's May!

May means a bunch of birthdays are coming up, and that in less than a month Steve and I will have been married FIVE YEARS. It also means I should plan something for Nick - oh, the pressure? Party or no party? I mean, he's THREE! But what about that kid who had a party and invited us?

May also means I need to do more yard work. Which is silly, because the ground is too wet where I need to work, and even so I need long stretches of time where I don't need to rescue a child or chase one around the house. I still have seeds to plant that I just can't get down.

Finally, May means a bunch of trips to town hall to register pets and cars, to the vet for check-ups, and fun things like that. I am in no mood to do these things. please, please, please don't make me do them!

I won't think about it until both boys are better.

Chatter chatter

Nicholas is bouncing back and forth from being so sick that he just cries for no reason, and from being so medicated that he feels no pain and chatters on about everything. Yesterday I took him to the doctor AGAIN and despite having a fever of 104, he happily sat there reading a book while waiting. As soon as she opened the door he looked up and exclaimed "I'm so glad to see you!" The whole visit she spoke directly to him, turning her head to hide her smile when he gave his funny answers.

"Do your ears hurt?" she asked.

"I just have a little gas."

"Can I check out your ears?"

"Absolutely!"

Of course, she found nothing, except that his throat looked "a little yucky" and told us to just keep medicating him. Which is fine, but I really do wonder how long a kid is supposed to walk around medicated to keep down a fever. We can't send him to school, I can't take him out, we're basically trapped in our own home. And every three hours I have to have a fight about forcing medicine down someone's throat.

I keep telling myself it won't last forever, and that the doctors are right, and eventually, maybe by the end of the week, it will magically go away.

Then again, Nathan's temperature is a bit high these days, so maybe forever is the right word.

True Life

Ever since I got the news my Aunt Frances was in the hospital, emotions have been beating me up from the inside. They have run the gammet from sadness to anger and hope to helplessness.

But none of those emotions could be compared to what I felt last night when I took Nick's temperature and the digital readout said 105.2.

That isn't a typo. That's one hundred and five point two degrees.

Nick just has this fever. He's complaining for a sore throat, but the doctor looked and said it was fine. His ears are fine. His lungs are fine. She even took a culture anyway, on the off chance it was strep. It wasn't. That was BEFORE his fever got so high. So of course I was on the phone in a panic.

He slept last night, but woke at 5am with 103.6 which isn't very comforting.

Frances's funeral is Thursday. I had been planning on taking the boys, which seems silly now that I think about it. But now I am not sure I even want to leave Nick. Not when he's got a fever that soars almost before whatever medication (Tylonol and Motrin) we're giving him wears out.

Found in my things

Good To Be Home

Need I say more at this juncture?

Here to do nothing

I'm in Tennessee.

I got to see my Aunt Frances, which is the reason I made this trip, after all.

She does not look well. If my mother hadn't lead me to the room, if I hadn't known to look for her in the bed, I would not have recognized her. Her face is partially hidden because she is intubated. Breathing had become a chore for her, so the respirator is helping her out. Her kidneys have stopped working, but they don't think the toxins in her blood will become critical enough for dialisys until tomorrow, so has of now she is bloated in her face, her neck, her arms, her fingers, and her legs and feet. She is also older than I picture her in my mind.

She doesn't always respond to visitors. I've had her roll her eyes and blink at me and turn her head a bit, but other times she cracks her eyes open then shuts them tight. They are keeping her sedated. It's very hard to watch, though.

It is even harder on those who love her. My mother and Betty and Mary are taking turns spending the night in the waiting room, even though they can't be with her, just in case something happens. There is always someone there.

I've been driving people to and from the house, taking them places they needed to go. I did a very little bit of cleaaning. I sat in the waiting room for a bit while my Aunts went for a walk.

But I'm leaving tomorrow. And nothing has changed. There is this limbo, this state of nothing happening, but everyone calling, of telling a hundred people each day that nothing has changed. It's a stressful, busy time, but also quiet and calm and sad.

I'm planning on going out after visiting hours and buying ink for the printer here at the house. I figure that's one thing I know I can do.