Highway 47 Revisited

Worst Christmas Ever

2010-01-02T09:45:00.003-06:00

All evidence of the 2009 Christmas has been removed from the house. No pictures were taken. There is no video documentation. For all intensive purposes, this Christmas never happened.

It all began with a snowstorm. Forecasted as the biggest storm since the Great Halloween Blizzard of 1991, the flakes began falling on Wednesday and didn't stop until Saturday morning. For obvious reasons, the family members that lived out of town didn't come down so, rather than having a houseful of guests on Christmas Eve, we were alone. Henry and I met up with some friends and went sledding that afternoon at St. Anthony Golf Course. This was the highlight of the weekend. That night, I started to feel sick and woke up the next morning in a full-blown asthma attack. Hit my inhaler and made it through the day, but wound up in the ER Christmas night. Watched the Elf marathon on USA a couple of times before they sent me home with a strong nebulizer med, antibiotics and steroids.

We headed up to my parents on Saturday morning since we felt the roads were safe. Chaos ensued once my crew intermingled with my brother's brood. As we were opening gifts in the late afternoon, I suddenly spiked a fever. I crawled into bed and wondered if this was the beginning of pneumonia. Then, the smell of prime rib wafted under the door and rumors of watching The Hangover were circulating so I got up. (For those of you who have asthma - do not watch The Hangover with a tight chest. There were a couple of times I thought I was going to literally die laughing.) My fever broke about 3 hours later and never came back. The next day, we packed up and left for home, Henry staying behind to spend the week with his cousins.

Monday, I got home from work and crashed in bed. Woke up around 8:30 and decided to go to the urgent care. Typically, once I'm on steroids, the cough and tightness are gone within a couple of days. I was getting worse and my lungs were now filled with crap. The doc listened to my lungs, looked at the cocktail of medications I was put on previously and decided that, because I wasn't responding, there was a hospital bed with my name on it. I said no (see previous posts regarding how my work feels about me being sick). So he wrote me a note and, as he wrote, he said, "Ms. Ince needs to be hospitalized for her asthma so fuck off." I really liked this guy. I went home with a different antibiotic and more steroids.

I'm not sure how I made it through the week. I still feel like shit. I think I'm slowly getting better, but it is taking far longer than it should. I got winded just putting away the ornaments. Dave met my parents halfway yesterday and then all the boys headed straight up to the other Grandparent's house for the "make-up Christmas". I'm staying put. Me and my new iMac are hanging out and getting to know each other. I make out with my nebulizer every 4 hours. I keep looking outside at the ice sheet in the park and wonder if I'm ever going to get well enough to skate this year. Ok, so maybe that's a depressing stretch of pessimism, but that's my current state of mind.

Yes, there were good parts (like when Henry came into our room Christmas morning and asked if either of us had wished for a bicycle because there was one in the living room without a name on it), but, compared to a typical fun and family filled holiday, it was lonely and depressing. I've been mourning the loss of my (not backed up) MacBook hard drive and all the pictures of Johnny's first year along with it. No holiday card went out. I didn't even make the cookies. I honestly just want to wipe the memory of the whole past month out of my head.

Bah humbug.

Letter to Banana Republic

2009-12-03T12:11:00.006-06:00

I was just in your downtown Minneapolis store looking to purchase a wool trench coat. I understand that yesterday (12/2/09) the store was offering a 40% discount on full price items and will be doing the same on Monday. I kindly asked the clerk to give me the coat at that discount today since there was only one left in my size and I missed yesterday's sale. She would not and acted as though this was the most ridiculous request she had ever heard. I then asked if she could hold the coat until Monday and, again, she sad she could not accommodate my request.

I have shopped frequently at this store in the past year as I work downtown in the financial industry and find Banana's line fitting for my office environment while allowing me to maintain my sense of style (not to mention that it's in a convenient location for lunchtime shopping). In this time of declining retail sales, I would have hoped the staff would have wanted to make this sale and retain a returning customer, but that is, apparently, not their priority. If the salesperson had been a little more friendly in her response rather than condescending, I would consider swinging by again on Monday to see if the coat is still there. At this point, however, I find the service I've received to be less than par and I'm sure there are other retailers who would appreciate my business.

SNAP!

Update: Ok, so I may have embellished the truth a bit above. I got a response back from Banana that said they were sorry and thanks for the heads up. That's it. Pfffffft. Totally canned response. All I really wanted was for the salesperson not to be such a snot. It was the look of "this woman is crazy" that pissed me off. I'm not crazy - I just really wanted that coat but didn't want to pay $230 for it. Oh, well. The funny part is that, at the end of the day, when I went to zip up my North Face jacket, the zipper broke. I no longer have a functioning coat to get me through days like today (20 degrees with a windchill of 7) or worse. Gotta love Minnesota winters!

Johnny's Golden Birthday

2009-11-28T22:20:00.006-06:00

What's with golden birthday's anyway? Apparently, it's a Midwest thing, but I've never understood what the big deal is. If you're a kid, every year is a golden birthday since anytime you get presents is damn cool. When you've achieved college age, it's just your birthday - do you really need more of a reason to party hard? After that, you're either still acting like you were in college and just don't need that extra reason, or, you're too tired from work/parenting/living a grown-up life and could care less. For me, it was my 30th birthday. I do remember getting tanked that night (I danced around getting people to do Jag shots with me), but it was really all about the fact that I was 30, not that it was my golden birthday.

Johnny really gets screwed. His will be birthday numero uno - the one that is really more for the parents (yay - we managed to keep the little creature alive for a whole year - this is way easier than having a plant!).

Since he will be celebrating next weekend with a cake, he enjoyed a slice of homemade pumpkin pie with some whipped cream today. Granted, he really, really enjoyed it but the poor guy won't remember how much fun we had.

Or how delicious the pie was.

I'm old.

2009-11-24T13:50:00.004-06:00

I just changed my profile to say I'm in my "late-30's". Used to say "mid-30's". Who am I trying to kid?

There are Christmas decorations up and carols playing downtown.

2009-11-08T21:51:00.004-06:00

Yesterday morning, Dave and I welcomed the season in very different ways. Both of us were up before dawn, making preparations for the morning's events. While he was donning bright orange clothes, I was trying to get a pair of breezers on a mite already wearing knee pads. As he climbed up a tree, I poured a bowl of Rice Krispies, opened some yogurt and prepped a bowl of baby cereal and fruit. As he silently watched and listened to the woods wake up around him, I woke a sleeping baby who still managed to be Happy Morning Guy while gobbling down his breakfast much earlier than usual. As he sat patiently waiting for the sun to announce the dawn, I was trying to get an impatient baby into the mei tai in a parking lot. As Dave was realizing that the buck in the distance wasn't going to get close enough, I watched The Boy skate out onto the ice for the first team practice of the hockey season.

Welcome to winter in Minnesota.

Cash Money

2009-10-21T16:10:00.005-05:00

I've recently discovered the neatness of Craigslist. Am I behind the times? John has grown out of a few things, and I got sick of them taking up space in my little house so I listed them a couple weeks ago. Two of the biggest items, a co-sleeper and his jumperoo, were out of my house by last Friday. Cash in my pocket...just like that! The co-sleeper went to a really cute, VW driving couple expecting a little girl soon. Being the stalker I am, I looked her up on FaceBook and discovered they were bible-bangers. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just glad I didn't say something like, "Fuck - It's hard to get this god damn thing all folded up!" or "God dammit! I just pinched my finger!". I actually didn't even utter a censored version of the above since I was trying to make a sale and, well, you know. I'm sure my struggling with it was evidence enough that the damn thing is hard to get all folded up and put back in the bag. I have not FB stalked the woman who bought the jumperoo. I just don't want to know and now I'm uncomfortable for doing it in the first place. FaceBook has made life sort of weird. I wonder if they stalked me...

There's something about the Bumbo seat, though. I've had three different inquiries and they all flake out. The first hit was a woman who wanted to come pick it up that day. She left me her phone number and I both called her and responded to her email. Never heard from her again. Same thing with the second woman. Said she really wanted it and was wondering when she could come pick it up. Left her a message and never heard back. The last woman asked if it was still available and I promptly responded. She then came back and said she was in contact with another woman who was selling it for the same price as me ($25 - half the retail price) and asked if I'd take $20. I replied no because it was hardly used and like new (John only used it for a few weeks before he figured out how to wiggle out of it). Now, I don't blame her for haggling - in fact, the jumperoo woman knocked me down $10. But when she replied, "Your loss.", I was like, really? Do you have to be a snot about it?

Henry and I promptly blew the jumperoo profits at the movie theater.

Cloth Diaper Give-Away - Wicked Cuteness!

2009-10-21T07:36:00.003-05:00

Oh my gosh - if you cloth diaper, you have to check out Fluffy Mail! One thing I've found in trying to cloth diaper a boy (well, to dress a boy in general) is that there is waaaay more cuteness out there for girls. I don't like race cars. I don't like football on any day except for Sunday (and an occasional Monday night). It's not fair. The women at Fluffy Mail solve that problem by offering TONS of embroidery options so you can design your own. Very cool and much appreciated!

Check out Oh Baby O for the chance to win one of these super sweet dipes. Please note that I'm totally going to win, though. I have my eye on this one and WANT IT DESPERATELY!!!

Conferences

2009-10-19T14:58:00.002-05:00

Wow - I have a lot of catching up to do. Guess I should make more of a concerted effort to blog more often...

Dave and I had been looking forward to conferences since day 1 of first grade. Partially because of all the stuff that went on last year and our instructions to wait and see what this year would bring and partially because of things that grow on volcanoes. We know he's a good reader, but were really prepared to hear about how he's wiggly.

The sheet Henry brought home specifically said that we should make an effort not to bring our student so we arranged for an auntie to hang with the boys, much to his disappointment. He found out that there was a book fair going on and really wanted to go. We assured him that we were definitely planning on hitting the books after the conference and thought that he was cool with that. Especially considering he put in his order of "Goosebumps" that morning and seemed satisfied. But, the wheels must have been turning like crazy in class that day. He had his teacher write him a note that said it was ok if he came along. How's that for problem solving?!

We left the house early so we could go to the book fair first and then meet up with The Boys and my sister-in-law for dinner afterwards. We ended up outside the classroom about 10 minutes early (Goosebumps in hand) and Mr. B had us come in right away (I wonder if the family before us even showed up). For the next 30 minutes, we sat in awe of our little boy.

Ok, so we know he's a good reader. We didn't know that he flies through his math and then walks around and helps other kids figure out the answers. He doesn't tell us these sorts of things. When they were testing for reading levels, Mr. B stopped him at the second grade level. He said he definitely is beyond that (suggested he could probably read Harry Potter), but he wants Henry to focus more on comprehension and discussion rather than on the more technical third grade readings for now. Mr. B said over and over again that he sees great things and went on and on about Henry's potential. He gave us some ideas to get his writing up to his reading level - the only thing he feels The Boy needs to work on in order to get into the Gifted and Talented program. ::big grin from mom::

On hindsight, I wish we would have brought him. It was a Henry lovefest. Sometimes, he seems to have a really low self-esteem, which makes me sad. Sitting in a room while his teacher raved about how smart he is may have done wonders for him. Damn. I hate hindsight.

So, for now, we're finding fun ways to make him write without raising any suspicions or putting any pressure on the kid. He "fixed" a bunch of stuff in the basement yesterday and I had him write up what was wrong and how he fixed it before I was going to accept his $166 worth of "charges". LOL! I had no idea that there was a giant hairball causing our TV stand to wobble. Can you believe it cost us $70 to have that removed?! At least he's fairly realistic...

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-10-19T14:13:00.002-05:00

Henry and I went to Where the Wild Things Are last night. Wow. It was so good, yet so sad! I did some reading before we went since there are some out there who think that it is too scary for little kids. Whatever. Granted, Henry really doesn't get scared at movies unless something jumps out from somewhere and then he laughs, which is good. I really didn't see anything frightening other than some big creatures who are a little rough (ok, maybe a lot rough).

The scenery was gorgeous and the creatures were incredible! They looked just like the book and I was amazed at how they were able to show so much emotion. The main difference between the full length film and a 9 page book was how Jonez developed the characters and expanded the story/plot. It's a very sad story about family and the fear of losing that closeness and it wasn't lost on Henry. At one point, as I was wiping tears from my eyes with my napkin I glanced down at Henry. There were tears streaming down his face. I laughed, at both of us, and handed him a fresh napkin. He looked up at me and whispered, "I can't stop crying." Ohhh, my little sweet guy with the heart on his sleeve. He's so my boy. We talked about the movie and the plot on the way home and I think he picked up on much more of the story than I thought he had.

One of the things that bugged me was how they had Max run off to the land in his imagination and how he returns. He gets in trouble and runs out of the house and down the street, his mother chasing after him. He comes back the same way and through the front door. The problem I had was that the land of the Wild Things was so obviously his room, like it is in the book, with the mountains made out of paper towel and toilet paper rolls, the fort he loves so much and the stuffed animals which became the Wild Things. Not that big of a deal, but why couldn't he just have been sent to his room without dinner?

If you have school-aged kids - GO TO THIS MOVIE! If anything, it makes for a great conversation about the unconditional love we should all be experiencing in the confines of our homes.

Fixing Johnny's Little Johnny

2009-10-06T21:17:00.004-05:00

Johnny had surgery a week and a half ago to repair a very mild hypospadia. Basically, it's a birth defect of the male variety and John's would have caused him to have to pee sitting down. We've been told all along that his is slight enough that the surgery was optional, but his pediatrician (who is nearly holistic in her approach to medicine) said that, if he was hers, she'd do the procedure - kids are mean. I could never have sent him to school having to use the stall in the boys' bathroom. His pediatrician advised us to stay holed up for the weekend prior to the surgery and to keep germ infested kids away from him. When I told Henry he couldn't hug his little brother for a few days, he got super sad and said, "But I love him!!" What a big brother!

We arrived at the hospital at 6:00 that morning and met with the surgeon and anesthesiologist. Around 7:45, we passed our son off to a complete stranger to knock him out so they could slice up his little Johnny and sew it back together again. Dave and I tag teamed our visits to the cafeteria for breakfast and I took a nap. Woke up just in time to find Dave playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook and to see John's doctor walking in to talk to us. We went to a private room where he diagrammed the repair on a whiteboard and told us that it went really well.

Johnny was already awake when they brought me back. I nursed him and then we were taken back to another post-op observation area to sit and wait. John and I snuggled in the hospital bed and watched Elmo's world. He was so sad and hoarse. I felt so guilty putting him through it, but keep telling myself he won't remember it and will be happier in the long run.

Right??...

My folks spent the rest of the week with us since I didn't want to send John to daycare with the stent and thought he could really use some extra TLC. Gordy took care of a few things that have been on Dave's honey-do list for quite some time (installing the new faucet in the bathroom among other things). I've decided that they should really stay with us more often - ha!

John was pretty needy the day after his surgery, but was acting like his normal self by Thursday. Friday morning, my mom called to tell me that Johnny was up but his stent was completely out. UGH!!! Spent 2 hours trying to get ahold of someone at the surgeon's office that could tell me if I should be freaking out or not. I finally got a nurse on the line and they had me bring him in where they clipped the stitch and sent us on our way. No need to come back for a post-op visit unless the little Johnny isn't looking right. Oh, and we were supposed to keep an eye on his urine stream. Um, he's in diapers. I guess we're supposed to let him wander around naked until he pees.

Anyway, he's doing awesome. Everything is looking great and someday he'll thank us.

Power Plants Grow on Volcanos

2009-09-23T21:06:00.005-05:00

We have a phone that announces who is calling when it rings...well, I should say "attempts" to announce. You see, it has a hard time with pronunciations of things such as, oh, SLPK Schools. You see, there are no vowels in SLPK and, well, it's really not a word. So, when the phone rang and I didn't recognize the gibberish coming out of the machine, I didn't rush to check the caller ID.

Shit! It's the school!

I answered too late and wound up running through the house to get to the answering machine, all the while apologizing to whoever was on the other side. I had no idea who it was with all the feedback screeching in my, and presumably the caller's, ear.

So, as I'm running, all the scenarios ran through my head:

It's the nurse's office. There's been a terrible accident.
It's the school office. Henry missed the bus and he's bawling his eyes out and afraid he's in trouble.
It's his teacher. There have been some behavioral issues.

"Hi! I just wanted to call you and let you know that I think Henry is an amazing reader." I recognize the super kid-friendly voice as Henry's teacher.

"Oh! This is Mr. B!"

"Sorry, yes. I'm so impressed with Henry's reading. He must read a lot at home."

I laugh. "He'd read all day if we let him."

"You can tell - he's doing great! He is definitely wiggly. He probably thinks I ride him too hard about that, but I know his potential."

I laugh again. "Yeah, he likes to move."

It turned out he had a little breakdown this afternoon and Mr. B hadn't seen that side of him before and I think he wanted to call to see if maybe he didn't get much sleep last night. No, he got the same amount of sleep as usual. He then continued to rant and rave about how well Henry reads and then told me about something he did that cracked Mr. B up so much that he had to tell Henry's kindergarten teacher. Henry was sitting near the wall reading and wound up doing a push up with his upper body while walking his feet up the wall. The part Mr. B liked was that, with all the moving the rest of his body was doing, his eyes never left his book. He said he had to let him do it for a little bit because he found it so funny, but then reminded him that it wasn't appropriate.

All in all, not a bad first call of the year from the school.

Actually, Henry has grown up quite a bit since this time last year. Everything about him is more grown up and it makes me laugh most of the time. He's also gotten to be quite the story teller. We heard Mr. B was known for bringing in some pretty cool things, but you wouldn't believe what we've heard.

Mr. B brought in a "power plant". I decided that, after a drawn out description, it must be one of those lightning balls. I'm thinking, cool! Then he tells me that Mr. B told them where the power plants grow - on volcanoes - that's where Mr. B picked his.
Mr. B brought in a lizard that turned blue. Then he turned green. A chameleon? This is the only story I haven't been able to debunk.
Mr. B brought in his dog. The dog has the same name as Mr. B. Really? And he was there all day, eh?

I can't wait for conferences LOL!

"Forever In Blue Jeans" - my least favorite Neil Diamond song and the one I remember most from 3rd grade.

2009-09-21T21:51:00.004-05:00

OMG I have to dress up for work two days in a row this week! Ok, so the company I work for is strange. Most investment firms are business casual at the least...not us. In the summer, shorts and t-shirts. Cooler weather, jeans and t-shirts. I could wear a different Wilco shirt every day of the week and have, many times. Partly because I'm trying to get a rise out of my boss, but mostly because I'm obsessed with Wilco and really like wearing jeans and t-shirts.

I am actually going offsite to a meeting tomorrow and we have clients coming into the office on Wednesday, thus, I have to look like I work for a mutual fund instead of a college student that crawled out of bed just in time for a quick shower before class.

And I'm not very good at it. In fact, I had to go shopping tonight. I'm down nearly 30lbs from my pre-pregnancy after having Johnny and have managed to keep it off. None of the clothes I had from my previous job fit anymore and wound up at Goodwill. I have one business casual outfit, one suit from 10 years ago that I can't quite get back into yet and one little black dress that isn't something I'd wear to work.

I picked up a pair of black slacks with a subtle bluish gray herringbone pattern and a cool waist and a platinum gray blouse that I'll tuck in. I actually had to use an iron tonight. Didn't know if it even worked if you weren't using it for an DIY iron-on shirt for The Boy. Shockingly, it did. Mother would be so proud.

Oh, and the little blue dress? Looked like crap on me. Sort of like a mu-mu. I looked like I was 11 months pregnant. And it was so cute on the hanger!

"I just want the girl in the blue dress to keep on dancing" - Mike Doughty

2009-09-10T12:30:00.004-05:00

I'm stitting in my office downtown, knowing there is a really cute blue dress just a couple of blocks away...on sale, no less. Unfortunately, someone "skimmed" my check card somewhere along the way so I'm waiting patiently for my new one to arrive in the mail. Luckily, the bank flagged one of the transactions - a nearly $400 purchase at a Target down in Bloomington - and called last Friday. I'm still shocked that a large purchase at Target would get flagged considering the amount of money that place gets from us. The perps also filled up several cars at a Holiday Station in St. Paul. The fact they were using the faked card locally leads me to believe it was a "skimmer" and not a hacker that got into someone's website. Either way, I'm pissed. I agreed to prosecute if the bank caught the losers, but I wonder if they really even try. Seems to me, with a time stamp on the transactions and the fact that all the gas stations have video cameras, it wouldn't be too difficult to go back and find a license plate number or two. We'll see.

Hot = young blonde country singer?

2009-09-01T22:11:00.004-05:00

Henry did one of those sudden maturity level jumps somewhere along the line recently. I'm thinking it's due to having a whole summer around a couple of 8 and 9 year olds at daycare. The other day I was told that Taylor Swift is hot. Really? Not according to my lesbian niece, but, ok. Does he know what "hot" means? He defines it as beautiful. Ok, I know he has an understanding of beauty so he must honestly think Taylor Swift is hot. I just Googled her and, well, I can understand how a boy might like to look at that.

He's got a buddy over here tonight while his folks are at the Twins game and they are playing video games. Henry does this thing where he color commentates throughout the game in a really annoying voice. I'm going to need to break him of that. It's fun to see him with a good friend hanging out and doing what boys do (which is call each other names and laugh, apparently). The buddy is getting tired, however, and I'm really glad the baseball game didn't go into extra innings. He's not pretty when he's tired.

Teeth!

2009-08-25T20:05:00.004-05:00

Johnny is at an age that I love...and an age that I hate. He's developed a sweet but goofy personality and is catching on that he can get a laugh when he does certain things (such as "winking"). I love watching him explore is world. He's non-stop busy and into everything, but we've baby-proofed pretty well so he doesn't hear too many "no's" or "uh uh uh's". I actually like to let him show me what I need to move by following him around and seeing what catches his eye that either he could wreck or could wreck him. Of course, the first thing he went for was an electrical outlet followed by Henry's books. He's got what we've deemed his first word which makes me nervous: "uh, oh." He says it in his "bear" voice - a sort of gruff thing he does. Of course, having to grow up with the nickname Blue Bear (based on his infant snowsuit) which evolved into Johnny Bear and sometimes just Bear, he was bound to start growling at us.

The hard part about this age and the next couple of years, is that kids develop their own ideas about what they want to do and it's hard to convince them otherwise. Obviously, at John's age, it's simply the fact that he doesn't know what all that noise coming out of our mouths is supposed to mean. "Daddy blah blah blah blah, blah blah eat. Blah's Henry? Blah, blah, blah. Willie, no!" But, we've already begun the transition to the battle of wills stage. "I know you don't want me to chew on this here rug, but, you see, there's these string thingies hanging on the ends and I just need to put them in my mouth. There is nothing you can do to that will make me change my mind and if you try, I will get very pissed." Granted, that battle will probably go on until he's at least 25 years old, but at least there will come a time when he'll grasp some (hopefully most) logic. For example, he'll eventually understand that, "please don't eat the icky door mat" means "Seriously, dude - we put our shoes on that thing - gross!" But for now, we just say "Uh, uh - icky!" and move him back to his toys.

Sometimes, it's hard to follow the Dr. Sears book of child discipline and use everything as a positive learning tool, like when he decides to see what happens when he uses his shark-sharp chompers on my nipple. He's got two on the bottom and four on top now. And they are like knives. Last Friday morning, he bit down hard and then raked them off. I howled in pain and may have yelled "NO BITING - HURTS MOMMY!" Yeah, I overreacted. Out came the lip, down rolled the tears and he went on a nursing strike until Sunday night. Of course, I cried every time I'd try to nurse and he'd shoot me down. I took a more relaxed approach on Sunday and finally coaxed him back. He's looked me square in the eyes and bit down lightly a couple of times since then, but I've managed not to scream, react calmly and take him off the boob. However, I'm a bit gun-shy now and, like a grizzly bear, I think he senses my fear. Dave was trying to be empathetic and I suggested John suck on his nipples once just so he could really understand, but he didn't think that was a good idea. Chicken.

Hi again!

2009-08-25T19:23:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting here, fulfilling a stereotype once again: typing away on my Mac at the VW dealership. The time is long overdue for an oil change and 10,000 mile maintenance. I made the mistake of scheduling an eye appointment before coming here. My eyes are dilated, I look like I'm tripping my ass off and it's hard to read the computer screen. There's a blurry aura around everything within 2 1/2 feet of my head. I was going to pick out a new pair of frames but am thoroughly disappointed with the selection - I told the woman I didn't want anything with "all that crap" on the sides. Good luck with that - she showed me a pair with the Coach C's all over them. At that point, I asked if I could look elsewhere and, if I found anything, could they order them. No sense wasting any more time - hers or mine. And what's up with shuffling you off to spend that kind of money on frames and, because you need glasses to begin with, you can't even properly see what they look like?! I did find out that I'm 1-4 years away from bifocals. That's just super.

Henry's been up at my parents place for the last several days. Grandma and Grandpa wanted him for an extended stay one last time before school started. Dad's on his way to meet them halfway and make the Boy swap. I missed the big turd.

Apparently, people actually read this blog, so I'm going to make an effort to keep up with it. We'll see what happens. I mean, really - I'm not that exciting. I get up late, go to work, come home, feed the dog, hang with the boys, play stupid games on my computer and listen to Wilco. That's about it. Ask my neighbors - I hardly even mow!

Oops

2009-05-28T17:05:00.002-05:00

Holy crap! I just realized I haven't wrote a dang thing since I went back to work! This is what happens when I try to blog...

2009-02-17T08:18:00.002-06:00

I hate being a prisoner to daycare.

I'm supposed to start back to work this Thursday. Technically, Friday is the official 12 week mark, but one of my coworkers is leaving on his honeymoon the 19th so I said I'd be there. Before I made the call to confirm with work, I spoke to our daycare provider to confirm Johnny's official start date and asked if we could sneak in another "practice" day before then. She wouldn't be able to watch him earlier in the week because she needed to get a few more things before he started full time, such as a video monitor and another changing table so she could change him on whatever floor the rest of the kids are. I wasn't sure why she couldn't get these items over the weekend, but, whatever.

Dave dropped Henry off this morning and she told him she didn't think she'd be able to watch John on Thursday, possibly not on Friday either, because she still needs to get these things.

What the hell?! What is so hard about this?

What frustrates me the most is that, technically, she works for us. We pay her for a service and we are both under contract. But good care is hard to find and the good providers know it - and will hold it over your head. She honestly does do a good job. Academically, Henry was well prepared for school. Part of that was his own smarts, part of that was superior parenting, and part of that was the fact that she does pre-school with her kids and she does it well. It's the attitude that if we don't like something, we can take our business elsewhere and she'll fill our spot, no problem, that pisses me off.

She's going to ruin it for the rest of the teachers

2009-02-04T14:17:00.004-06:00

Dave and I had a meeting with Henry's pediatrician yesterday to go over all the forms we completed for the ADHD evaluation. Her assessment? He's just a bit immature. Not to say that he may not develop the disorder down the line, as he does exhibit some of the symptoms, but right now, she's not convinced enough to make a diagnosis based on how well he's doing academically and socially, the fact that he is typically happy and his age. He's impulsive, but she thinks that with a little growing up and some behavior modification, he can learn to control this. She wants to keep an eye on him, however, and, if the problems persist through 1st and into 2nd grade or if he starts to have problems with school work, she would be willing to re-evaluate at that point. Having it on the radar enables us to nip it in the bud if it does rear its ugly head and he runs into problems with grades or social skills.

This was what Dave and I felt the problems were, but it was so good to hear a professional confirm it. His teacher was thrilled to hear it, as well, and we talked about some of the tricks our doctor gave (most of which she is already doing with him). I like Mrs. R so much - even though our boy is a bit challenging, she never ceases to go on about how much she loves having him in her class or about how funny and smart he is. She's been so good about communicating with us on how he's doing and so open to suggestions on how to keep him on task and happy - many teachers aren't willing to let parents tell them how to do their jobs. I'm afraid we've been spoiled already.

Poor Daddy

2009-02-04T13:52:00.005-06:00

One day, not long after Johnny was born, Dave gently cooed to the hungry, crying baby, "Don't get mad. Get Even." Johnny got even with him yesterday afternoon.

Daddy laid him on the changing table after hearing and feeling the telltale need to put on a new diaper. I'm sure the usual warning of "no funny stuff" escaped his lips before he exposed the little bum, thinking back to all the times he's been the victim of John's version of the Bellagio Casino's famous water fountains (sans music and light show). As Dave was reaching for a new diaper, John made "the face" and showed Daddy what projectile pooping is like. Dave said he went for distance, hitting the shelves at the end of the table (which is pretty long). Poop was everywhere.

Johnny smiled.

I was up at the school, talking to Henry's teacher while he gave Grandma and Grandpa Q the grand tour of his classroom. We got home to a sheepish looking Dave, explaining that there had been an incident and he relishes the times he's only been peed on. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.

I should be in sales

2009-01-31T10:10:00.003-06:00

I've convinced daycare to use the cloth diapers! Just a little excited here, maybe more so because I turned someone who is so incredibly set in her ways that I never thought it possible to get her outside the box.

Johnny just got a few Bumkins AIO's in the mail yesterday - the Dr. Seuss prints. I consider them wardrobe additions since he is happiest naked and I have a feeling all he'll be wearing are his diapers and maybe some knee pads once the weather gets warm...

My boob hurts.

2009-01-30T15:30:00.006-06:00

I had a long post written the other day about how I got into a fight with my brother and sister-in-law over the "Mom on Facebook" issue, but the feeling is gone and I deleted the long and exhausting rant. And that's a good thing. The gist? My aunt got on FB and they both became her friend and I threw a fit. My argument of how can you give every family member that's on FB access to pictures of your cute kids but not let grandma in on the adorableness (which, although she wouldn't admit it, obviously made her feel sad by the way she brought it up - see earlier post) and my need to come to her defense fell on deaf and feisty ears. Apparently, the sister-in-law felt that the FB etiquette of the "newbie" requesting friendship took precedence over just being a nice person. Oh, and she didn't have time to "stalk" people on FB - even though she knew Mom was out there and she seems to have time to let us all know what they are having for dinner each night (I just checked and it's pepper cream penne tonight). The dear brother is so popular that he doesn't request anyone's friendship - he just waits for the masses to flock to him. Then, the 24 year old (13 years younger than me) SAHM who has only held a job in high school began to lecture ME about life lessons, such as how she never defends anyone because they might not want you to do so. I said that it was nice to know who in my family has my back. She thinks very highly of herself for raising a family of 4 kids and likes to let me know about all the things I should be doing because Oprah and Dr. Phil and the internet say so. I'm not saying that being a SAHM is not hard work, especially when there are 4 little animals running around (and sometimes coloring in their testicles with blue marker), but working and raising kids is not a walk in the park either and I really don't need her to tell me how to raise my family or teach me life lessons. But that will be another argument some other day when she catches me in a not so willing to ignore her mood.

We had parent-teacher conferences last night and, I must say, I left a very happy mommy. I've been working closely with Henry's teacher on how to best make him successful and we seem to have found the right way to do it. During those times of day when he seems to have the most problems (typically transitions), he earns blocks for expected behavior (not being disruptive during the morning meeting, being quiet in the halls). His goal is to earn 5 blocks and, if he does, he gets to pick first during choice time. Ever since, he's been sitting much more still and has had only one day where he earned 3 - the rest have been 4 or 5 block days. His teacher is very pleased with how a little positive, rather than negative, reinforcement has modified his behavior. Even better, academically, he's already beyond what is expected of him by the end of the year, in reading, writing and math. He's pulling random books off the shelves and reading them to his teacher and has been given the 1st grade list of sight words, which he already knows half of. She loves having him in her class and doesn't foresee any more problems with his behavior now that she's got it figured out. YAY FOR HENRY!!!! I'm going to bite the bullet and let him get a Jonas Brothers cd with his Christmas money.

I've managed to develop mastitis in my left boob. After spending a few days trying to massage the blockage out, the throbbing extended into my armpit. John slept an astounding 6 hours last night - good for Mom and Dad's sleep, but it left me with a very angry breast. I started him on the sore side and, between my milk let down and John's need to push on it while he eats, I was in agony. I wound up heading to the doctor this morning - antibiotics are now on the menu every 6 hours. The challenge will be my other instructions: warm compresses for 15 minutes followed by 15 minutes of massage BEFORE I nurse Johnny. I wonder if I'll be able to get him to give me a half hour warning? "Mom, I'll be waking up at 4:30 this morning so if you could get up at 4:00 and start your thing, that would be great."

We have a weekend full of hockey ahead of us. Practice tonight. Practice tomorrow morning. Rematch of last weekend's game against the evil Red A Mites Sunday morning. The red team is the oldest group of A mites, ours being the youngest. These kids should have been moved up to one of the B mite teams judging by the way they were skating circles around our little guys (and our guys aren't bad skaters, mind you). Not only that, but they are rougher than they are supposed to be at this level, to the point that our coach was going to have a talk with the other coaches about it. They were pushing our kids around and there were even a couple skirmishes, which, although sort of funny and cute, have no place in mite hockey. One of our smallest players wound up pummeling one of their players after he got knocked down. Usually, the games go back and forth - we score, the other team scores and everybody feels good and has fun. We only got two goals last week and I know our kids were frustrated. Come on - it was preschool and kindergartners against the first graders - not fair at all! Coach Phil said there was no way he was going to let them get away with such physical play next time, so we'll see how it goes.

Night out on the town for us all!

2009-01-25T08:27:00.006-06:00

Last night marked a milestone at the ol' Highway 47 homestead! I ventured out in the cold on my own and went to a friend's 40th birthday party while Dave took BOTH boys to the high school hockey game. He's a brave, brave man!

I've been panicking about getting a supply of milk stored up for when I go back to work so I started on this "little" project yesterday. We procured a new, functioning dishwasher last weekend and, after a small leaky setback, Dave got it installed and running yesterday morning. This was pretty much essential due to the amount of bottles I would be going through and was a huge relief. I'm going to try to pump an hour after each feeding, which has me a bit nervous since John isn't all that regular. Sometimes he'll go for a few hours, sometimes I can't get him off for more than one. He's definitely more high maintenance than Henry was and less predictable. My first try yesterday produced 7oz. The second, only 3. I'm not too worried yet since between feeding and pumping, I'm going to turn into a milking machine with boobs that will transform into rocks every couple of hours if I don't do something about it.

So, I ventured off to the extreme northern suburbs while Dave took the guys to the game. He was nervous, but confident. One of Henry's teammates and his coach father went, as well, freeing Dave up to only have to entertain the little one who wound up sleeping most of the time. We really like that family. I was worried that I would have nothing in common with the other "hockey moms" but somehow, this kid's mom and I found each other and we have a blast in the stands. When I first met them, I excitedly told Dave that I found some people that looked like they might drive a VW and listen to Wilco like us. So Dave and Coach I got to hang out and Henry and A acted like a couple of rink rats in the stands.

After they got home, Johnny took his first ever bottle like a champ! Dave said at first, he refused to take it, like he often refuses a pacifier (he's turning into a thumb boy already). Dave squirted a little milk out to give him a taste and he quickly put two and two together and chowed down. He's just like his brother in this respect. Henry never cared where the food came from. We used to call him Hank the Tank since he packed on the pounds so easily. How he turned into a tall, skinny little thing that can hardly keep a pair of pants on his butt still baffles me. John is starting out exactly the same. I can't wait to see how much he weighs at his 2 month appointment (only a little over a week away)!

The cell was in my hands the whole time, but I had fun. I hadn't seen Kel's brother in quite a while and was glad to be able to make it to his big 4-0. Kel, Kasey and I wound up playing Wii much of the time. Right after I arrived I had one Stella and snuck out to the garage with a couple of guys for a little something something (wink, wink). Figured I'd get my kicks in early on so the system could wash out by the time I had to return to my role as human vending machine. Wound up staying for nearly 4 hours after I got word that everything was going so well at home. Yay for my boys!

What's new on Johnny's bum...

2009-01-21T21:01:00.006-06:00

We took the big step to cloth diapers for Johnny yesterday. Crazy Cousin Molly gave us a bumGenius pocket diaper and a couple inserts at our shower last summer and Dave and I have been looking at it with curiosity for the last 7 weeks. Will it fit him? Will it hold everything in? Will we be able to keep up with the laundry? I lugged out the overly full garbage bag loaded with used disposables to the trash the other night and announced that we were doing it, even if it meant a leaky diaper now and then. Besides, Pampers and Huggies can't keep up with his poop much of the time, anyway. The dang things aren't cheap, but I calculated we'd easily have them paid off by the end of the year with what we'd be saving by not buying disposables.

Cloth diapers are not easy to find in the metro unless you are willing to order them online and can follow the "easy" step-by-step instructions for putting them together and then on your wiggling baby - I needed someone to show me. So I drove 3/4 of the way across the metro down to Hopkins to what I discovered was a most dangerous store: Baby Grand. Got what I was looking for, some advice and more: a pair of peace sign Robeez that had fallen in the 20% off box (which they honored) and Rockabye Baby! Led Zeppelin (I just realized that they have a Pixies record and would LOVE to get my hands on that). Luckily, John started getting fussy so I didn't get sucked into the clothes, which were wicked cute (even more so if you have a little girl)! Maybe for his 6 month birthday, I'll wander back there and get him a little something-something.

I got home and tossed them into the wash to remove any residue remaining from production that would impede optimal pee/poop absorption. I swung by Target and picked up some biodegradable diapers to get us through the pre-washing (as usual, we waited until our supply was exhausted and procuring a diaper became an emergency situation) and I braced myself for what was next: calling daycare to present my case for cloth.

It pretty much went as I expected - she immediately said no. She did not have the time to rinse off poop with all the kids she has and she can't get poop on her hands (wtf - she wears rubber gloves when changing diapers and believes this is why she never gets sick). Besides, she's heard horror stories in her continuing education classes about cloth (I would like to know where she takes her classes and have a word with them). I asked if she'd seen cloth diapers lately and explained that they were like a disposable that gets washed (i.e. not your mother's old squares). I assured her that she wouldn't even have to remove any of the poop - we would bring them each morning, all put together, and she would just toss the dirties in a wet tote and we'd take care of the rest. I know it will get messier once he's on solid food, but I'm willing to work a little harder to clean them if she's willing to work with us. By the end of the conversation, I got her to agree to take a look at them, which, honestly, was the most I was hoping to get out of the phone call, so I'm calling it a success at this point. Getting her to go from a steadfast "no" to stepping out of her box just a bit is a herculean task and I'm patting myself on the back right now. Of course, she wanted to know why we were using cloth, asked using the tone of "why on earth would you want to do such a thing?", which, naturally, caused me to respond using the tone of "duh!" I explained the 2 tons of diapers a baby can put into our landfills, the biohazard of untreated human waste leaching into our water supply and the economic benefits. Nothing. Just a "huh". I hate being a slave to daycare. Technically, she works for us, but, due to demand for good care, they have you by the proverbial balls. If she decides to refuse, we're sticking with the biodegradable diapers and part of me hopes they leak baby shit all over her. I'd like to see her try to tell us what kind of disposables we have to buy.

I'd finished washing and was putting them together when Dave and Henry got home. Johnny promptly pooped and Dave took him upstairs to change him. I sent Henry chasing after him with one of the new diapers ("But it's not a real diaper, Mom"). Everything went fine until we were eating dinner and I got leaked on (pee only). Ok, not a good start. He pooped in the next diaper and it held it in. Dave put a new one on right before bed at 10:30 and, while I was nursing, he peed and it leaked again. Dad decided it was operator error and tried again. He stayed dry all night with one changing at 3:00 and up at 6:15. Dave said the key was to cinch them up tight, with the tabs almost touching. I nursed him when he got up and changed him when we were done. He loves being naked so I left him in just his diaper and put him in his bassinet while I took pictures of his cuteness. He peed and I watched it leak out the top. A second key is to aim his little bits down. I think we found that out with Henry, but we're discovering that many of the things we learned with Henry have fallen from memory. So far so good ever since!

America the Beautiful

2009-01-20T15:30:00.003-06:00

I snuggled my little baby close and watched history be made this morning and, even though I HATE crowds (except for those at small rock shows), I sort of wished I could have been in DC to witness the inauguration in person. What an amazing day for America this has been and I'm feeling good about our country and government for the first time in my life. I know Obama and Congress face the same old problems, none of which are easy, but there really is a feeling of hope in the air. I hope politics as usual doesn't rear it's ugly head. I love Barack Obama's smile and I hope it remains as genuine as it appears today. I hope he can lead us toward a better tomorrow.

Struggling in the deep freeze

2009-01-16T09:49:00.005-06:00

It's still incredibly cold out. If I were to do it again (and believe me, I'm not), I'd definitely plan a pregnancy to end in the spring or summer. At least with Henry, we could go outside for a walk and I didn't have to bundle the poor kid up like Randy from A Christmas Story to run to Target. The one good thing is that Willie the Dog doesn't mess around outside - he's perfectly fine with not barking at the neighbor dogs or giving me that challenging look that says, "I don't give a shit that you have to go somewhere or go to bed - there's a squirrel in this here tree and I need to keep an eye on it for the next hour or so just in case it accidently falls off the branch. Come on - it could happen!"

I've been perusing the website of a local Shambala meditation center this morning. I've been looking at this place for some time now, wondering if I have the time. I think I need to just make the time. I used to go to a different place occasionally and I really liked the practice and the environment, but it was a little too far away and there is another person that attends that, due to my business relationship with them, makes it a bit uncomfortable for both of us to be there at the same time. This other center has a monthly kids meeting that incorporates a little meditation, stories, art and music. I think Henry would benefit from learning to sit quietly for a few minutes and I know he would dig the rest of it, as well. I need to learn to relax and quiet my mind, especially with all that is going on in my life right now - the stress of my job, the school issues with Henry, being an overly tired mother of an infant, etc...

We've been working with the school on The Boy's behavior and have initiated the process for having him evaluated for ADHD with his doc. I'm not convinced he has it, but there definitely are issues we need to deal with. I worry so much about him and his future. It hurts to see my little guy so sad about himself and his ability to follow the rules at school. He's so bright and does well academically, but he struggles with just being able to settle into the routines, especially when he's bored. Maybe this isn't the right school for him. Maybe he needs to be somewhere where the classes are smaller and his mind is kept busy. My guess is that would involve tuition...

Johnny and I are off to have lunch with the Aunties today. I'm hoping one of them doesn't go off about how immature her daughter is. The daughter that graduated from college in 3 1/2 years, is going into the Peace Corps and is just getting back from building a school for AIDS orphans in Uganda. How horrible for her to have to deal with such a child. Considering I'm fearing my son will be held back from 1st grade, I may not be able to listen to it without putting in my two cents. Man, it would feel good, though.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-26T08:26:00.002-06:00

We're off to Osakis today for Christmas with my Mom's side of the family. The Boys and I are heading up soon and Dave will come up after work (poor Daddy has to work a full day today - he didn't realize he still had PTO otherwise we'd be together on this fine morning). I'm packing up for Johnny all by myself. I know this sounds as though I'm helpless, but please remember that the two adults living in this house need to make a list if they go to the store in search of more than 2 items. It's been a few years since I've packed up a baby and, considering they are so small, require a ton of shit! I hope there is enough room in the Jetta for all of it. Geesh!

Henry had a VERY good Christmas. Santa brought him the Zero Gravity Wall Racer he asked for. In blue, no less - Santa knew his favorite color! He also brought him a new Curious George, knowing that his previous George got puked on and the smell just never came out after several washings. Dave is pretty happy with his hockey gloves The Boys gave him, practicing throwing them down for a fight in the hallway. I got a sweet Billy Bragg shirt and a Mighty Muggs Han Solo in Hoth Battle Gear. Sweet!

NORAD Santa Tracker

2008-12-24T21:31:00.002-06:00

I am cursing Dave for bringing up the NORAD Santa Tracker tonight after we read The Night Before Christmas. Henry is taking things VERY seriously this year and keeps asking for location updates. He's not asking in an attempt to catch the big guy in red. He's far more concerned about the fact that Dave and I are not in bed yet and he's starting to get nervous.

I'm nervous that he might come out to lecture me and find green sugar sprinkles on my shirt from one of the cookies left out for Santa. There were only two Christmas cookies left in the house so there'd be no talking my way out of it.

Week #4, Day 2

2008-12-23T12:17:00.005-06:00

Three weeks postpartum and I catch a cold. Nine months and not a single bug or asthma attack and now I get sick. I suppose it was only fair since I was sick as hell with pregnancy related issues - a virus on top of that would have been the straw that broke the camel's back. I took some Tylenol last night to fight off the sore throat and Googled "maternal illness and newborns". I'm not supposed to touch John's hands or kiss him. Yeah, right. At least I breastfeed, so he's still getting all those good antibodies and, fingers crossed, he won't get much more than the snotty nose he's already appeared to develop. He's very co-operative with letting me shoot saline up his nose and then come at him with the nasal aspirator. I keep telling him Mommy knows best and he seems to be buying it. Now if he'd just listen to me when I tell him that burping would help his tummy, we'd be all set.

He officially got kicked out of our room on Saturday night. Of course, this was the day after the leg extensions for the co-sleeper arrived (to the tune of $9 shipping). He lasted about as long as Henry did. Dave and I couldn't deal with the grunting and groaning or the middle of the night or the over-tired snapping at each other any longer. He'd nurse, we'd swaddle him up, put him down and then listen to him make noise for a hour before he'd fall into a quite sleep. I can't sleep if my boys make any noises. Thunder storms, yes, but I wake up at the slightest cough from Henry behind two oak bedroom doors. I guess it's one of those mother things. We're all much happier this way. Mom and Dad are sleeping longer and Johnny the Noisy Sleeper isn't getting poked with a Nuk or picked up in an effort to quiet him down. We can hear him if he cries but not when he grunts. Again - sleep like a baby? Really? Puh-leeze!

After complaining about why schools squelch diversity rather than celebrate it, we find out just yesterday that Henry has a sort of holiday program at school today. Technically, it's an "all-school sing-a-long" and parents are invited. Dave is on his way home so we can all go. During the month of December, we saw via the weekly kindergarten schedule that he has been learning about winter holidays. Henry points out candles in windows and announces that they must be celebrating Kwanzaa. We also learned that Baby Cheese-us was born in a stable. Of course, the heathens that Dave and I are, we are now referring to Cheddar Cheese-us, Swiss Cheese-us and Monetary Jack Cheese-us.

I'm having mixed emotions about where Facebook has taken me. I've found a few old friends from high school but I've also found myself hooked up with the folks that are organizing the 20 year reunion. I bitched about not being invited to the 10 year reunion even though there was no way in hell I would have gone. I wasn't married yet, lived in the same metro area many of us wound up in and my parents lived in the same house they did when I graduated. To be honest, I figured the cliques had kept the party to themselves - that's just the way my high school was. Now I'm on the radar and I'm not sure what to think of it. I might consider it now if only because I'm more of what would be considered successful. Happily married with children and a job that would make many of them do a double-take rather than a full-time stoner who was angry at the world (I'm only part-time now and, even though I'm still full of angst, it's more productive at this point). That and the fact that, after looking at pictures of my fellow grads, I look way younger and far cuter than most of them (especially now that I've lost a ton of weight). Seriously, people - big bangs were so 1989. Put the ultra-hold away!!!

I had a conference call regarding my end of year bonus yesterday and I'm a pretty happy camper. After telling me I really turned things around the second half of the year, they gave me more than I got last December. I bit my tongue after that comment and said thank you. I got screwed on my mid-year bonus because of my hyperemesis with Johnny. The fact that I was at home, hooked up to IV's with daily nurse visits was considered poor job performance. The world of stock markets is still a stupid fucking boys club. Johnny was the first baby born to a female employee in over 10 years at my firm and they are pretty insensitive to complications. At least they gave him a gift - a Vermont Teddy Bear with his name and birthday on the bib. Part of me wishes they would have just given him a $70 gift card to Target with which we could have bought diapers. It is really cute, though. I'm sure Waylon the Cat will enjoy making love to it.

Poor Santa

2008-12-19T22:12:00.004-06:00

The other night I was lying in bed and could hear jingle bells down the hall. My initial guess was that one of the cats was playing with the Christmas "count-down" ribbon from Dave's childhood - a long piece of felt with 24 bow-tied strings on buttons, one for each December day before Christmas. At the very bottom is a single jingle bell that any cat would love. I eventually stopped worrying that it might get destroyed and fell asleep since sleep is really a big priority at my house these days.

The next morning, I wandered out of our room and down the hall, nearly tripping over a large stuffed Santa in the middle of the floor. It's one of those toys that has a "push me" circle on it's hand, enticing small boys to play the recorded holiday message over and over and over and over and over and over again. It also has a jingle bell on it's hat.

Now, this Santa was on a shelf in the living room when we went to bed the night before. You may be thinking to yourself, "Hmmm, sounds like Henry was busy after an overly tired set of parents went to bed." You are wrong. Santa was, instead, sexually assaulted by Waylon the Cat who has a fondness for anything stuffed. He doesn't care about the species of the stuffed creature - he is just fine with inter-species sex. His favorite is a pheasant dog toy, but he has also been known to drag Clifford the Big Red Dog (who is twice Waylon's size) out of Henry's bed to the other side of the house and then downstairs to have his way with him. Waylon is fixed and has been since we adopted him at the tender age of 8 weeks. He developed these "urges" after Elvis the Cat came to our home, possibly in an effort to exert some sort of dominance - just not over the new kitten. It is obvious that Waylon is a bit confused. He meows seductively to his victims, straddles and then humps them in a way that shows he really isn't sure of what to do with these feelings. On many occasions, Henry has come home from daycare inquiring how his "guys" have wound up scattered around the house. Someday, we'll tell him - maybe when he and Dave have the "birds and the bees" talk.

We are a bit concerned about the assault of Santa. Is our house off the list now? Will Santa bring Henry the Zero Gravity Wall Racer he asked for? Will we find coal in our stockings?

Just so Santa doesn't feel singled out, Dave has found the animatronic Christmas carol singing Snowbelly couple on the floor the past two mornings. Apparently, Waylon is now into threesomes.

Heaven forbid...

2008-12-17T14:36:00.004-06:00

The conversation with my 27 year old brother this morning:

Him: "Sorry - did I wake you up?"

Me: "Mmmm...yeah"

Him: "You can call me back when you can talk."

Me: "No. That's ok. I need to wake up."

Him: "Ok. Um, why is mom on Facebook? Did you put her up to it?"

Me: "Oh my god. Why? Don't you want her on there? She was going to do it anyway."

Him: "Not really. I thought she was kidding."

Me: "Then don't be her friend. It's not like you have anything to hide. Besides, she's bored. She'll have fun with it."

Him: "I suppose."

Now I'm curious. Why do you suppose my brother the financial planner who lives in a small town with his wife and 4 children would be up in arms about our retired (and bored stiff) mother who lives 4 hours away from him being on Facebook? He's never posted anything that someone wouldn't want their mother to see. This way, she can keep up with what her grandbabies are doing without having to call or drive 2 to 4 hours to see them. Ohhhhh, wait. Maybe it's the controlling wife that doesn't want her mother-in-law to see what they are up to. Like how she bailed out on Thanksgiving using the excuse that her parents were going to be alone (which was bull shit because her brother was going to be there), but really it was just so she could go shopping with her friend the next morning. Never mind that I was days away from my due date, lost my plug, was having lots of contractions and couldn't commit to driving 2 hours to eat turkey...which would mean that MY parents would be alone.

My brother and his wife are the only two that haven't accepted her as a friend. Nice.

Drum roll, please...

2008-12-16T21:16:00.004-06:00

I've officially asked if Henry is just more immature than his classmates or if there are some other issues at play. The answer is anticipated between 8:00 and 9:00 CST tomorrow. I'm just going to cry until then.

Update - his teacher didn't really answer the question. I'm now asking point blank.

Update - oh hell.

Sleeps like a baby??

2008-12-16T12:40:00.003-06:00

Would the person who coined the term "sleeps like a baby" please step forward. We need to talk. What kind of baby were you referring to? Obviously, not a human baby. Or, at least, not one of mine. Mine grunt and groan. Mine get pissed at having to sleep on their backs all by themselves. Mine are far more comfortable in Mommy or Daddy's arms and don't seem to feel the need to fart, poop or spit up while there.

Johnny hates his co-sleeper. I'm not sure if he just prefers the warmth of our arms or if lying on his back, all stretched out, messes with his GI tract. He seems to struggle with passing gas/pooping while there. I've been digging through the cobwebs of my memory and it seems to me that John is a clone of Henry at this age. They even look alike. I think we kicked Henry out of our room after a couple of weeks so we could sleep. As it is right now, we grab him at the first squawk and try to rock him back into a quiet slumber. If I remember correctly, we had to move Henry to his own room and found that he never really went into a full blown cry and would soothe himself back to sleep. It was just a bit quieter through an oak door.

I Miss Dave

2008-12-15T15:34:00.008-06:00

I'm all by myself today. Day one of maternity leave week #3. Dave had to rejoin the daily grind and I miss him horribly. Last week was so nice - it's been a long time since we had that much time alone together (well, sort of). John doesn't demand a lot of attention outside of just being held, changed and fed right now, so I am counting it as alone time. I really needed that time with him, what with the holidays being right around the corner, a touch of the baby blues and Henry having some issues at school. At least I know exactly where he gets his tender heart.

Sometimes I don't think I'm ready for my baby to grow up and maybe that's why he seems a little more immature than he should be. He's having a hard time adjusting to sitting for a full day of kindergarten and not being the center of attention. His report card came last week and, aside from doing just fine on the three R's (in fact, he was chosen for the enrichment program and is starting to pull books off his shelves and reading them to us), he is lacking in the life skills categories - he's overly wiggly and is disruptive in his efforts to be funny and get attention. Dave spoke to his teacher and, apparently, she's been working with the social worker to figure out ways to help him out but I'm not sure why this was the first we'd heard of it. They are getting him a Disc-O Sit for his chair and circle time and I am now having to trust that they know what they are doing and not setting him up to get picked on - especially since he was called "stupid" and got punched in the stomach by a couple kids from his class last Friday. I called my mom and balled my eyes out. I wondered aloud if it would be appropriate to teach him to say, "I'm the one in the enrichment program - you're not so fuck off." Or maybe, the next time I see one of the mothers (the one who comes to the elementary school with her bra purposely hanging out of her tops - yes, on more than one occasion), I might mention that if her kid lays another hand on mine, I'll have his ass kicked out of that school so fast her head would spin. The last thing I need is for stupid kids with bad parenting making his frustration with the first (and most fun) year worse. We put him in the all day class so he would get art and music thrown into his curriculum and have more opportunities for reading and writing. I know he loves his music class and he's been having fun playing floor hockey in phy-ed. I hope his teachers know what they are doing...