Worst Christmas Ever

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.

There are Christmas decorations up and carols playing downtown.

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.

Conferences

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

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.

Power Plants Grow on Volcanos

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:

1. It's the nurse's office. There's been a terrible accident.
2. It's the school office. Henry missed the bus and he's bawling his eyes out and afraid he's in trouble.
3. 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!

Hi again!

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!

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

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.       

My boob hurts.

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!

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!     

Struggling in the deep freeze

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.    

NORAD Santa Tracker

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.  

Drum roll, please...

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.

I Miss Dave

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...