Way Awesomer

Wow...would you look at this...my blog is still here. 

I've dropped in to say, "Hi."  Many of you have been really sweet about missing me.  Though those of you who actually know me, and see me in person, (and by in person, I mean on Facebook, because let's be honest...I don't get out much), I know it is not me you are missing when there is no blog.  It is the blog.  Which is a way awesomer.  

But, I am rusty.  (I can barely type anymore!  I had to ask Hubband where to find that exclamation point.)  And, I feel like I need to catch everybody up before I just start posting again. 

So, let's catch up!  (Found it myself that time.) 

September to January is our busy season.  And this is why...

There's school.  I do that at home.  You might remember this big day back in mid-August.

Then in late September, we celebrated Sam's birthday.

If you think he has a blue smile, he does.

That used to be Cookie Monster.

Then, two days later, I left on vacation.  All alone.  [A hush falls over the room.]  Well, not completely alone.  My mom and I went on a whirl-wind cruise of New England and Eastern Canada.

It was awesome!  I finally got to meet Boston, and my friend Jane, and the Rockettes (yes, in Boston!), and my first Dunkin' Donut, and Canadian airport security.  I was nude-y scanned and they took my maple syrup.  There is a lot of story here.  But, I should save it for another day.

By the time I got home it was October, and we had to catch up on school.  This involved, baking an apple pie...

..."churning' our own butter...

...and, some "real" work.  Like building and using an anemometer. 

There was the annual apple picking trip...

 and the annual pumpkin patching trip...

and the annual Halloween.

In November, Cate turned three.



We celebrated by taking her to her first movie.

Yes, she look a little manic.  She's drinking a soda, and eating popcorn, and watching the biggest TV she's ever seen.  And, it's her birthday.

We had Hubbnad's family stay with us for Thanksgiving.  I cooked.  The turkey was dreadful, but the sides are always more interesting than the bird anyway.  My oven has never been so proud of itself.

After Thanksgiving things slowed down a bit.  There were only three more weeks of school until Christmas break, when there would be time to breathe.

So, we decided to move.  On the tenth of December, we decided to move on the nineteenth.  We could have waited until the first, but I thought I would rather spend my school break unpacking the new house than living half-in and half-out of boxes at the old house.  It sounded reasonable.  It would have worked too, if it weren't for that meddlesome Christmas.

We spent it at my mom's which made it easier.  And, Nana enjoyed having all of her grandkids under one roof, and they enjoyed being there, even if you can't tell from the best picture I could get of the four of them.

We rang in the new year with family, and more family.


Then Jonah turned 7.

Notice how there are no pictures of Jonah's birthday party or cake?  That's because he had neither.  We chucked him a new box of Legos, and told him we'd make it up to him next year.  Okay, so it wasn't quite that bad.  We did celebrate the way he wanted to.  And Hubband and I promised each other that next year, we will pace ourselves.

Well, that's it.  You're caught up.  

Also, I have widened my page to allow for bigger pictures.  I am interested in feedback.  Is it too wide to read?  Are the pictures too much?  If you have an opinion, please, don't keep it to yourself.

Miss Marple, Here I Come!

All that is left to be decided about my death is its manner.  I have chosen the time, and do not care about the place.

It started with a pair of jeans.  I went to the store to buy a pair of jeans.  Just a store.  Not a hipster store.  Not a store at the mall.  Just a store, where I have bought jeans before.  But, this time, the music was too loud, the lights too dim, the print too small.

I was uncomfortable, but I soldiered on.  I was a housewife without jeans.  What were my options really?

As I stood in line for the dressing room, with 47 pairs on jeans slung over my arm, I saw a woman trying on a pair of jeans, just like a pair I was holding.  She looked ridiculous.  Way too old to be in pants like that!  If she had any real friends, they would tell her.

"Tracey?" said the woman with unfortunate taste and no friends.  "Tracey, is that you?  O.M.G! (She actually said the letters, oh, em, gee.)  I don't think I have seen you since graduation."

She was an old classmate.  We were the same age.  Exactly.  Except that she was in better shape.  And looking ridiculous in a pair of over-priced jeans.  (Well, I assume that were over-priced.  Honestly, I couldn't read the tiny print on the tag.)

It was then and there that I decided.  I will die sometime in 2053.  In February 2053, I will be 84 years old.  In February 2011, I will be 42, and this is definitely my middle ages.

What? you say.  Forty-two is too young to be middle aged, you say?  Middle age does not hit until at least fifty, you say?

Maybet.  If you're Jennifer Aniston, or Salma Hayek, or Julia Roberts.  But, I am not.  I live in the real world, without the help of plastic surgeons, or personal trainers, or botox.  (Though, in all fairness, there is not enough help in the world to make me as hot as Salma Hayek.)

In the real world, gravity can not be defied.

In the real world, forty-two is not young, if you are in the same talent pool as twenty-five.  But, if you lump yourself in with the sixty year olds, as I choose to do, you just might be the hottest thing going.  (Again, I am not.  But my ranking goes up quite a bit.)

And lets face it.  I have no desire, and less than no chance, of living to be a hundred.  I would consider eighty-four to be a pretty good run.  Most of the people I know and love now, will already be dead.  My "baby" will be forty-five, so I will most likely have met all of my grandchildren.   And, Hubband will only be seventy-five, still young enough to find another wife among the widows at the "senior community."  Yup, a pretty good run.

So, you will excuse me while I embrace this new stage in my life.  Comfortable jeans, sensible shoes, and the inalienable right to say, "You call that music?"

What My Little Boy Lost

Yesterday was Jonah's birthday.  He turned six.  It was not a great day.

He hardly slept the night before.  Not out of excitement, but because of constant coughing and wheezing.  He had a cold.  We all have a cold, or a touch of one.  It is rather mild really.  To everyone but Jonah.

I called the advice nurse at two in the morning.  The advice nurses are very helpful.  Usually.  Michael, the registered nurse (he made a point of telling me), was not helpful.

"Does he have retracted breathing?"

"Uh, look, Michael, R.N., I realize that all of the questions you are suppose to ask, pop up on your computer screen, when you are supposed to ask them, but I have no bleeping idea what retracted breathing is.  It is two in the morning and I have not slept and my five year old, no wait.  He six.  Happy birthday, Honey.  My six year old has not slept and he is practically convulsing in my arms from coughing, which he has done for the last twelve hours without ceasing, so if you could tell me what you are talking about, that would be great."

Okay, I didn't say that.  "I don't know what that is," is what I said.

"Can you see his skin go between his ribs when he breathes?"

"I don't know.  He's wearing pajamas.  I don't think so."

Meanwhile, Jonah is having loud coughing fits right into the phone.

"I am going to consult with the doctor.  I'll be right back."

I wait.  Jonah does not die.  Micheal, R.N. returns.

"I don't suppose you have any honey?"

Honey?  Now, I am all for non-pharmaceutical treatment, but honey was not going to help this.

Honey, and follow up with his pediatrician in the morning, was the best Michael could do.  Better than the emergency room in the cold, dark night, I suppose.

Morning came.  The appointment center gave me an appointment at 4:30.  The flip side of the whole nurse-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing, is that I have no way to call my doctor, or even his office, directly and plead my case.  The girl at the call center just gives me the next available appointment.

Well, four thirty was too far away.  He was not going to make it.  So, after I dropped Sam at pre-school, I just kept driving, right on over to the doctor, to see if I could wiggle my way in.

I know the doctor's office reserves mornings for healthy kids.  Babies mostly.  Little itty bitty ones, who need to get check-ups, every third day it seems.  So, I walked to the edge of the waiting room and looked in to see wall to wall bucket-babies.  You know the ones.  Carried everywhere in their detachable car seats.  This was no place for my boy.  So, I sat him on a bench in the hall, got him a swine-flu mask, told him to look pathetic, and went to talk to someone, face to face.  Two lines of my story, and one glance at my poor boy, was enough to get us a golden ticket through the back door.

Three breathing treatments, one chest x-ray, and three prescriptions later, I was told that Jonah has viral asthma.  It turns out, asthma is not a disease, but a reaction to irritation.  Most kids get it in the spring with allergies.  Jonah-boy gets it in the winter, with a cold, however mild.  This is the third year.  The cold, damp air this week seems to be a contributing factor.  This is not good news, especially as we are planning on moving to Washington, where the state motto is, "Come for the cold, Stay for the damp."

I know what you are thinking.  This was the worst sixth birthday ever.  But wait.  It gets worse.

We had planned to take Jonah and his friend Asa (no siblings) to the Japanese place that slices and dices and lights your food right in front of you.  But, that was not going to work out.  I called and canceled the sitter.  I called and canceled Asa.  I called and canceled my sister and brother-in-law.  I didn't have to call and cancel Nana, because she was on her way to Tahiti.  Apparently, all of this escaped Jonah's notice.  Around five o'clock, he asked, "Is Asa going to be here soon?"

I forgot to cancel Jonah.

He was so sad.  Heartbroken really.

"I've lost my whole birthday!"

And, he's right.  He really did.  The whole thing.  Just gone.  But, we promised to make it up to him.  We will.  We promised.  No one will lose a birthday in this family!

The Week in Kids

This week...

Cate turned two.  Yay, Cate!

This is a birthday card I found.  The little girl is not Cate, but she looks just like her.

See?  They are identical.  Except that the parents of the child on the right, had the foresight to make their little girl start earning money for college early.  Why didn't we think of that?

There was little fan fare, as most of the family had been sick.  That is why she is still in her pajamas in the pictures.  But there was a small pumpkin spice cake, with two candles.

So small, Cate thought it was all hers.

Yum!

But, wait.  If you let me cut you piece, there is whipped  cream.

In honor of the big occasion, she got her own potty.  She seems very interested in the whole toileting process, so we think we might train her soon, much younger (and smaller) than we did the boys.  That will require a much smaller commode.  Two birds, one stone; she got a pink frog potty as a birthday present.

But now, I am having second thoughts.  Knowing my girl the way I do, I fear the potty, and her demands to use it, may just become one more way to manipulate me.  Am I ready to drop everything on the whims of my two year old and her bladder?  We'll see.

Also this week...

Jonah lost his first tooth.  Yay, Jonah!

I tried several times to get a good picture, that showed his face, and his gap-toothed smile, and wasn't blurry because he wiggles too much.

Until finally, he had had enough.

That is his genuine grumpy face.  When I see it, I know he has been pushed to the brink; it's serious.  But, he is just so darned cute, I can barely stop myself from grinning.

Also this week...

Samuel found my old guitar. 

He loves to see and hear people play the guitar.  Why don't I ever play any more?

See you next week!

The Week in Kids

This week...

...was a big one for Samuel.

He turned four.

There were even over-frosted cupcakes with Disney-Pixar characters on them to prove it.

And, plates to match.

You have to love black frosting, don't you?

I have to thank Samuel's teacher, Miss Regina, far salvaging these pictures for me after I left my memory card at home.  Teachers rock!  And, we have a family celebration planned for this weekend, so there should be more to come.

Also this week...

...was a big one for Catherine.

She did a little dance.

She found a way to sit on her bottom, yet still disobey her mother.

She embraced her maternal side, when straped her Elmo doll into her old high chair and fed him a snack.

She wore her first striped tights.  "Ty, ty."  She LOVED them.  This girl needs to move to a cooler climate.

She got her first pair of Levi's.

And, she took advantage of the fact that her mother was busy trying to get a picture of her, to do a little exploring.

Also this week...

Jonah was a good sport about not being the center of attention.

Breakfast presents.  Sam's new booster seat, that he got to ride to school in.

He helped Sam open presents, and he really helped.  He didn't just rip them open and then try to get to them before his brother could.

Before dinner presents.  Sam is so tired from a full day of school and cupcakes.

Jonah, also told me he wanted to build me a magic castle, where dinner would fix itself.  I love you, Jonah!

I hope you all had a festive week, too.

See you next week!

Happy Birthday, Samuel!!!

Four years ago today, I gave birth to the biggest baby I had even seen.

Ten pounds, eleven ounces.

Now, he's big enough for a booster seat.  

He is so proud of this.

Let the festivities begin!!!!!