Playdate

I LOVE t-ball

...actually, no, I don't.

But I'm taking one for the team.

No question, a 5 year old in a baseball uniform wearing a helmet the size of a hybrid car is cuter than all the puppies in the world combined.  Absolutely, it's a great sport for the kids to learn teamwork, get eye-hand/feet coordination, and have fun.  And yes, I am loving the Kodak moments.  But when my husband signed up to be an assistant coach, that automatically signed me up for this commitment.  Let me tell you that running around getting to practice, games, photo shoots, I don't know - championship tournaments, with both kids and gear is not fun.  I don't even get to watch the games cuz I'm making sure Owen's not getting into trouble.  Sure I'm chatting with other parents but they are also watching the younger siblings of players. 

Rob and Ethan are having great fun together.  So if anyone asks, I will say through gritted teeth, "I love T-ball."

      

Putting a new skill to good use

Joseph did something, I don't remember what at the moment. But it got him sent to his room.

When he finally was allowed out, he handed me this Post-It Note:

Hard to be mad after that.

What was I thinking?

I knew it was going to be hard. But I didn't know I'd be ready to throw in the towel so soon.

Joseph and Hannah are both on Spring break from school all week. And today, just Monday, just mid-day Monday ... I'm already over it.

Sigh.

Doesn't bode well for the rest of the week, huh?

Next year, I'm definitely going on vacation.

Crappy Croup!

Croup. It's a pleasure we've been dealing with in this house since Joseph got his first cold when he was about 6 months old. Every cold he got, whether caused by the actual parainfluenza virus or not, got "croupy." I'd know I was in for a long night of walking Wyoming Ave or driving aimlessly around town (or not so aimlessly to the 24-hour Dunkin Donuts Drive-Thru on Route 10) when he'd sit up in bed shortly after midnight and proceed to bark like a seal. Sometimes it was really bad and he'd sort of whistle with each inhalation, a sign of more sever croup called a stridor.

We've been pretty lucky with Hannah: she has had croup only once or twice in her three years, and never anything too serious. Until this past weekend.

She'd had a little bit of a cold for a couple of days. Saturday afternoon she looked a little flushed and she sounded a little hoarse, but she'd been running around with a bunch of kids all afternoon, so I figured it was just all the activity. But, sure enough, Saturday night (into Sunday) she woke up in the middle of the night sounding mildly croupy. We opened up her windows to let in the cool night air, bundled her up, and she went back to sleep no problem. Phew.

Croup is often worse the second night, but since Hannah is not usually affected I didn't really give it much of a thought. We put the kids to bed (Hannah's windows were still opened wide), we went to bed ourselves, and everything was just fine. Until about 5 a.m.

Adam heard her first and ran into her room. I followed right behind. There was Hannah sitting up in bed, barking, and trying hard to catch her breath. We decided I'd take her out for a walk. I took her out to the porch and ran in to get some blankets, and in just the time it took me to get back to her, she had gotten worse. I decided to put her in the car.

I was hoping that she'd relax in the car and that her cough -- and the scary stridor -- would improve, but I drove in the direction of the hospital anyway. It seemed to be getting worse, and Hannah was NOT enjoying the cool breeze coming in the windows. But she couldn't even talk enough to tell me to roll the windows up.

I called the pediatrician hoping, hoping she would say that if I could get her to fall asleep I didn't need to be concerned, but no such luck. Into the ER we went.

If you've never taken a child with croup to the emergency room, you may not know that the treatment is adrenaline. You may also not be aware that once they give your child adrenaline, you have to hang around for hours because sometimes it works initially but then there's a rebound affect and the croup actually gets worse than it was before.

Hannah improved rapidly after the first dose of adrenaline, but I could tell even without looking at the monitor (she looked like E.T. with the tiny little pulse-ox meter on her finger) that she wasn't back to 100%. Her breathing still seemed a little labored, but the real clue was that she was calm.

So, at 9 o'clock the doctor gave her another does of adrenaline and said he'd be back to check on her around 11.

She was better before that.

Nothing like trying to keep a kid who's jacked up on adrenaline in one of those tiny little ER rooms -- and trying to keep the tiny little ER room intact all at the same time. She was climbing on the bed (in certain positions she thought it made a perfect sliding board), she was climbing on the big red trash can (you know, the one for things soiled with blood!), she was slinging the curtains open-closed-open-closed, turning the lights on-off-on-off ...

At 10:40, one of the nurses came and checked her and said she was sure the doctor would send us home and that she'd page him to come examine her and sign off on the paper work.

Then we waited, and waited, and waited ... The ER had been very quiet when we got there, but at least 8 kids had come in since. The doctor was nowhere to be found.

An hour-and-a-half later -- AN HOUR-AND-A-HALF!!! -- he finally made it back to us and told us we could go home. Hannah was still flying, but I was exhausted and beaten up.

So, when Tuesday morning rolled around ... you'd better bet your ass I sent her to school on Tuesday!

Signs

Signs that I’m turning into my parents:

1) I turn off lights all around the house…even when my kids are sitting in the room.

2) I’m constantly cold and having to put on a sweater/scarf/extra socks…that is, when I’m not sweating like a pig.

3) I tell my kids that they are also cold.

4) I steal Sugar in the Raw packets feeling justified because my coffee cost $3.80 versus the $0.99 coffees I used to get.  (Unlike my parents, I bought the Equal and Splenda.)

5) I quote the costs of things from “the good ol’ days”.  Like gasoline and coffee.

6) I blame my kids for my gray hair (cuz it couldn’t be age!).

7) I say things like:

“I will stop this car RIGHT NOW if you don’t…”

“Well, if your friends wanted to jump off a bridge…”

“Because I JUST said so!”

"What did I say?  What did I JUST say?!"

“There are children who don’t have ANY food! Now eat what’s on your plate!”

8) I have to ask Ethan to read fine print for me.

9) I cut napkins and paper towels in half.

10) I save the rubber bands that the postman uses to bundle my mail, Whole Foods wraps around my berries container and the ones art projects are rolled with.  And I make a nice ball with them.

Let the ridicule begin...

Magic lives here

I know that there are more and more parents these days who are reluctant to play up Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. I've even read that people refer to it as lying. Well they should avoid my house. Because Santa et al are all welcome here and they should bring along their other friends the fairies, wood-sprites and Man in the Moon.

My grandparents gave me a magic genie lantern when I was 5 years old. You may have seen it on my mantle. It's the oldest thing I own. And on special occasions we would hear it rattle in the other room. I'd run down their pink carpeted hallway and sure enough...the genie would have left me something. Not necessarily a toy, but always something special or unique. Often it would be left in the open hands of their Buddha statue. I can remember everything about the moment I received a handful of polished stones from the Magic Genie Lantern. How had these beautiful stones whizzed through time and space to me of all people? It was treasure. Magic meant that anything is possible.

Lucia and I went to the reservation last week into the woods to build a fairy house. I watched her diligently gather sticks, pile up rocks, yank up moss and create a cozy nook for the fairies to live in. She ran around and found 12 acorns that she turned into miniature cups. The final touch was a leaf for their bed.

And on Easter morning (after finding all the big guy had left for us including the chewed up remains of a very large bunch of carrots) she wanted to take the whole family back to the woods to visit her house. So we did. And when we found it, the cups had been moved. Proof!

I hope she remembers that moment the rest of her life.

Recycling

Whenever Adam gets a stain on one of his work shirts, I get a little knot in my stomach. I hate the thought of tossing them, but if they are stained I don't really think it's appropriate to donate them.

I have always wanted to make a "button downs and boxers" quilt, but that's also a daunting idea. I have nowhere to store the shirts until I have enough of the right colors, really; and with so many other little projects I want to do, it's unlikely that I would really ever bite off something so big.

Last weekend I found one of Adam's best shirts in the trash. Ugh.

But then, I had an idea ... What about a sun dress for Bean?

Shocking and uncharacteristic, I know. I took an idea from concept to completion in just a matter of days. Getting a Tuesday sitter for Miriam (!!!!!) certainly helped. I've decided Tuesdays are going to be my craft days.

Here's the back:

And a close up of the pocket:

Nothing fancy, but not bad for the first actual item of clothing I've ever made... er ... completed.

I might make some changes, though. I kept the shirt hem, and I think it's just a tad long. But I also think Hannah's about to shoot up, so if she doesn't complain I'll probably leave it. She has requested a second pocket, though, so I'll probably go ahead and add that.

As I was making the dress I was thinking what a shame it was not to use the yoke. Adam did a Google search and found this on the Craft Magazine blog:

How freaking cute is that? There's a detailed tutorial from "Cheytown" on crafters.org. Check it out even if only to see the incredibly cute pics of this dress in action.

Additional Google searches turned up ideas for shirt sleeves: skirts, little girl pants ...

Do you think Adam would notice if his shirts started disappearing one by one?

"You're not the boss of me."

That's the sass that's been coming out of Hannah's mouth for the past week or so.

Charming.

It usually comes in response to me telling her something like, "Hannah, it's time to get your shoes on now. We're getting ready to leave."

This morning I was done with it.

So me:

" Au contraire.

While it is true that you are in control of your body: what goes into it, where it comes out, and who may touch you when and how, I am in fact in charge of everything else. You may choose to do something different than what I ask or tell you to do, but that also means you are choosing the consequence of ignoring or disobeying me.

So, yes Dear Bean, I am most certainly the boss of you."

So Hannah:

"Ummmmm ... no you're not."

Then she giggled and ran away.

Pretty sure I broke her this time.

ed note: That picture was taken in October, but it came closest to capturing the sassy expression that accompanies the sassy expression.

All in the name of scientific advancement

I know it looks like some sort of cruel torture device on poor Miriam's head. But really I'm just letting the good folks at the Rutgers Baby Lab use her as a language development guinea pig. That thing on her head is a Geodesic Sensor Net; it measures brain activity in response to sound.

She was really pretty patient as they put it on her head and then adjusted each of the little sponge-covered sensors. And she probably lasted through a good 15 minutes of the actual test.

But then she slipped a finger behind one of the elastic bands that ran from the bonnet, across her cheeks and to the strap under her chin. She pulled on it, and SNAP!

Needless to say she wasn't very happy after that. She was too pissed off to even nurse.

We've only been twice, and so far it's been very interesting. And Miriam, of course, has just been a model subject.

There was only one awkward thing: being video taped playing with Miriam. Seems straight forward enough, but it was really kind of strange.

They led us into a room with a bunch of toys -- soft blocks, brightly colored balls, stacky cups, etc. --  scattered across a blanket on the floor. And then one of the researchers says, "OK, so just play with her, nurse her if you need to, and we're going to video tape. I'll be back in 15 minutes."

She was out the door before I could process it.

It's not that I minded being video taped -- I knew that would be part of the deal -- but I just wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with all that stuff.

Miriam is just now getting control of her hands, so I really don't play with her with toys. I do a lot of tickling, and kissing, and nuzzling. And I do a lot of talking to her as I carry her around in the sling doing stuff around the house, walking the dog, grocery shopping, taking the kids to and from school ...

I had no idea what to do. I don't really think I said much of anything for what seemed like an awkwardly long time. But the I found myself saying things like:

"See the red ball, Miriam? Ooh, bumpy!"

and

"Look at the duck. That duck is riding on a saaaiiil boat."

Not that there's anything wrong with that, but that is just not how I talk to Miriam.

I guess I need to tell them Monday that that was some impostor they got on video tape.

Red Alert!

I've been expecting this. The obsession has begun.

Connor watched Star Wars for the first time last week. He's seen episodes IV, V and VI and he loved them - but I think his dad may have been even more excited. Connor's already perfected some light saber-like sound effects. Really, does someone take boys aside and teach them that stuff?

Today he was at a friend's house and his friend has a light saber or two. He was kind enough to lend both to Connor for a few days and Connor could barely contain himself.

Soon after we got home he said this:

Mommy? You know Nate? Nate has The Force. He can use the light saber with his eyes closed. I have it a little bit.

I think he wanted to sleep with those pretend agents of death but I didn't like the idea of him and Emma swinging sticks at each other at 6:45 AM. I'm a mean mommy. But I love my little nerd.