Shoulder Work Ahead

Well, back in January, I slept funny one night shortly after weaning Bobo and woke up with excruciating pain in my left shoulder. I'm sure the next day I had to take Bobo to Urgent Care since that was our hobby back then. I took ibuprofen and Aleve every day for a week or two and the pain receded to a dull stabby sensation. I babied the shoulder. I didn't use it. I didn't hold Chuckles's hand with my left and I only carried Bobo on the right.

Now that my life is drama-free, I figured I should go to the doctor and have it checked out, since it's been, what?, 8 months...9? Who can keep track? I can't even close the liftgate at the back of my not-minivan. I can't close the refrigerator door with my left hand. You get the idea. It's very inconvenient.

So, I went to my primary care physician (who did not want me to take my pants off!) and who I had not seen in 18 months. When she walked in the room, before even saying hello, she asked me if I had been going to the dermatologist and had that looked at. It was on my mental list of things to do. Anyway, she checked out my shoulder, gave me a script for Mobic, an NSAID, sent me for an x-ray, referred me to physical therapy, scheduled a consult with an orthopedic surgeon, and is having me go to the derm to have that thing removed from my arm. I don't see how I will possibly be able to attend work at all for the next month.

Plus, a friend from high school just finished executive producing a movie and invited me to the premiere/screening in LA. I so want to figure out how to go, but I can't figure out any way that doesn't involve me taking a day or two off of work and flying out to LA. That would just be too weird. What would I even wear?

Oh, so right. I filled the Mobic script and for the first time in my life, I understand why people become drug addicts. Apparently, I had been living with chronic pain. After about 5 days on the mobic, I don't have chronic pain. I don't feel all stabby about the left side of my body. I can use my arm and not wince in pain. I can hold CHuckles's hand. They will not be able to pry these pills from my hands. No, they will not. I went to physical therapy today and he measured my range of motion, etc. I totally should have gone there before starting the drugs because I'm all like, "look at me lift my arms above my head without screaming!"

The x-ray shows that I am developing arthritis. Isn't that something that old people get? For the record, I am not old. I'm not even 34-2/3 yet. So, physical therapy. The PT determined that my should hurts from poor body mechanics. I'm a sloucher and it's giving me a hump back and shoulder pain. I have to learn how to stand up straight and keep my head over my spine. It's going to be a long road. But I'm a full 3" taller when I stand up straight (and look 15 pounds lighter).

On another note, I ran 3 miles the other night. Twas awesome. I was like a bullet train I was going so fast. The cooler weather has set in, so it's not as unpleasant now when I go out. I'm still not a fan, but I'm doing it. And it's OK. There is a 5k coming up that is literally going to run down my residential street in front of my house. I'm going to run that.

That is all.

Burning Question, Need Answers

So, in teaching Chuckles to tie his shoes, Mr. Long-Suffering and I seem to have come to a disagreement. He says I tie shoes backward. I say there's more than one way to tie a knot. (And also, he is wrong.)

Tying shoes involves making a loop and pinching it with one hand and then twirling the lace in the opposite hand around the loop and then pushing through the gap you just made.

Which hand makes and holds the first loop? Left? or Right?

You must tell me so I can be the winner, or I mean, of course, we don't keep score in our marriage, just let's clear this little situation up so we can move on to more important things.

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nej asked whether I gave any consideration to skipping Chuckles ahead to first grade. And, yes, of course, I did give that consideration and dismissed it almost immediately. (My consultation of Mr. Long-Suffering in these kinds of decisions is more a formality than anything. It's more like informing him of the decisions we made.)

Indiana has some crazy rules about birthday cut-offs. For many years recently, the birthday cut-off was as early as June 1st. As in, you had to be 5 by June 1st to start school in August, so there were kids with June, July, and early August birthdays who were fully 6 before starting kindergarten. The birthday cut-off day was slowly moved to August 1st, but that June date has left a legacy of people holding (boys mostly) back a year.

In fact, Chuckles's kindergarten teacher had a son with an April birthday who she thought about holding back but didn't (and it worked out well) and twin boys with July birthdays who she gave the gift of time (and that worked out well too). With a May birthday, if we moved Chuckles into first grade, he could wind up in class with kids who were born in 2002. That is a huge social and physical difference at this age. The classmates could be 1 to almost 3 years older than he is.

So reasons not to move Chuckles ahead:

1. He's just a little kid who still needs to learn impulse control.
2. I'm not ready for him to be in all-day school. (I know, it's not about me.)
3. I don't want my kids to be 5 school years apart in age (totally arbitrary reason).
4. I don't want to short-change any of Chuckles's childhood. He needs more time to kick around poking worms in the dirt.
5. I don't want to push him too hard. (And no one at the school has mentioned moving him ahead, so I really don't want to be that pushy mom.)
6. I would rather he be a stand-out in kindergarten than be middle-of-the-pack in 1st grade (because I think success here would set him up for success down the line).
7. I think our (suburban, well-funded) school district might handle this welll, and I want to see how it goes.
8. He might only be doing so well because he went to kindergarten with Mrs. Marie at his day care last year. I mean, it's not like he picked this knowledge up through osmosis of his superior somethings. He might be totally average as far as intellect goes and just have these specific skills because it's stuff he's learned already. Maybe he's not innately smart, just well-schooled.

More Kindergarten

So, Chuckles finished up a full week of kindergarten today.

They had a fire drill, and when he came home that day, he didn't even mention it.

They take six specials: music, art, gym, computers, library, and science lab. One each day except two on Mondays. Each are a half-hour long and they walk to them in single file with mouths shut and eyes forward.

Our PTO is crazy active and they have promised never to try to sell me over-priced wrapping paper. The only thing they ask that we sell is The Entertainment Book. They do have Market Day and there are some 50-50 raffles (more like 75-25, I think), but I'm cool with that.

Our PTO is crazy active and they begged for volunteers. I've asked Mrs. Marie to be Chuckles's room's Art and Music "Mom". It's some national program to bring fine art and music to schoolkids. I can't remember its real name, but she's excited to get back in a classroom in front of kids. They'll see real/hear art, hear about the artist/composer, and then do an art or music project. It's about a half hour once a month. Mrs. Marie is making lesson plans for Bobo. He's coming along nicely (slowly, but nicely...I think about him going to kindergarten in 4 years, and boy, am I glad he has a November/early birthday).

We did/do have an issue at school. I'm hesitant to talk about it, but here goes. The teacher is currently trying to assess the kids to assign reading groups, etc. I guess there is at least one kid in the class who cannot identify his or her letters. Chuckles is currently reading somwhere around a 2nd grade level (if the guided reading books from the library are accurate).

They are requried to do sight words (and they want me to drill him with flash cards). The first three sight words came home. I AM RED. No, really. The words were I, am, and red. The next day, the teacher asked the kids to raise their hands if they went over their sight words the previous night. Chuckles did not raise his hand and felt bad. Poor kid. So, the next night, I asked him to spell them instead of flash cards, but I, am, and red are a little bit too remedial for him.

We had a meet-the-teacher and curriculum night. I learned that they are doing handwriting from the Sunform method. It's not stick-and-ball. It's letters with tails. I'm not a fan because I feel like the kids never actually learn how to print. They do pre-cursive, but it will be fine.

So, after all the other parents left the meet-the-teacher night, I explained to her why he hadn't done the flashcards, but she had figured it out already. She got him the reading books from the end of the year. Which he read with ease. So, she is having the HA teacher come up with a lesson plan for him.

Reading is not his strength, though. Math is. Two engineer parents, no wonder. She was trying to do a pre-test to show how far the kids went by the end of the year. She asked him to count as high as he could. He asked whether he should count by ones, twos, fives, or tens. Then he counted to 147 and stopped. It only took us to 147 to get to day care, so we rarely practiced counting higher.

He can tell time and do greater than and less than. He can add two-digit numbers without carrying. He can do subtraction without borrowing.

He cannot tie his shoes. He's definitely not ready for first grade.

We mentioned that he's a bit, uhhh, willful (my word) and stubborn (Mr. Long-Suffering's word). So, they are going to come up with open-ended curriculum (no deadlines and due dates). He'll either love it and do it non-stop until it's all complete, or show no interest. He comes and goes. Right now, he is obsessed (just a little bit) with origami, paper airplanes, and building things out of crap in our recycling bin. I find myself saving toilet paper rolls from all over town so he can make more hamster tracks (I don't know if this is some knock-off Zhu-Zhu pet thing he has going on or what).

But, he's following the rules, which is good, because he's willfull. His behavior has been exemplary. He got to be line leader one day and hold the flag for the Pledge another. Every kid gets a chance at helping and jobs. Someone is snack leader, folder helper, etc.

This weekend, we're going to work on shoe tying. He gets a keychain of a tied shoe to hang off of his backpack once he joins the Tie Team. He's oddly motivated by this. I guess the school does a lot of backpack fobs for skills and rewards. It's cool.

We got a blank copy of the first semester report card (that that gave us since they are changing format/forms to align with state standards) so we would know what skills needed to be mastered. He has most of them now. He's not so good with the skipping, so we'll do some of that as we walk to school. He knows his full address but not his ZIP code and his phone number but no area code. And the shoe tying. Other than that, we're good (recognize letters and their sounds, write letters, count to 20, identify 12 colors, and a couple of other things that I would hope most pre-schoolers know).

At the Boo Hoo Breakfast today, the school nurse came in just to tell us how they do things, and I asked how they handle lice (just in case). Gross. I feel all itchy just typing it.

The social worker came in to tell us what she does (conflict resolution, mediation, Banana Splits (for kids of divorce), anti-bullying curriculum, and making good choices for kids with behavior issues).

The lunch lady came in to tell us how they've overhauled the menus. I'm not that impressed with the menus, but since we're half-day, I won't have to worry about it until next year (or I'll just pack lunches).

They do a modified stop light for behavior and starting in a week or two, his color will come home every day so we'll know whether he's green, yellow, or red. I hear that some parents give a prize if you're on green for the whole week. I'd say maybe a special activity (like a Thomas video or a trip to the far-away good park) with mom or dad for a month of green.

Chuckles is trying so hard to be good during the day at school that he's been a bit of a terror in the afternoons. But it seems to be dying down. The first half of this week was rough.

And kindergarten and the transitions, new vocab I need, and the new faces, routines, etc are kicking my arse. I haven't had any contact with grade school since I was in one, so I don't know all the new things. Indian Style is now Criss-Cross AppleSauce Hands in Your Lap. Show-and-Tell is now Show-and-Share. And the Power Parent Portal Password/PIN thing is all new, but there are broadcast emails to parents and twice weekly automated phone calls to update you on events at the school. I don't know how much of this they had when I was a kid (newsletters and whatnot), but I don't remember my parents ever having a clue what went on in school when I was a kid (possibly a combination of lesser communication and my parents' self-selected lower level of involvement).

So, in summation, Chuckles is doing great and I;m overwhelmed.

I'll keep you posted about whether they actually teach Chuckles anything. If we don't get anywhere with this, I might have to figure out whether he needs an IEP, and I really (really) ((Really)) don't want to go there. First grade does have a pull out gifted program, so maybe then. Who knows. Maybe his classmates will have caught up by then and he won't seem so out-of-synch.

Good Luck.

By Special Request

Jacquie asked for some details on kindergarten. Her oldest is about to start kindergarten too.

Here, by special request, is the first two days of kindergarten in detail.

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So, kindergarten. Well, where shall we begin? I think I should set the stage and the background.

At this time last year, Chuckles was enrolled in a 5 day/week day care center that offered a Pre-K curriculum. I did not care for the people in that room. I actually had thought about changing entire day care centers because I was just not comfortable with the situation. I then talked to someone who also had a 4 year old in that center, and she had her daughter moved into the accredited kindergarten classroom becaseu of some social issues. I absolutely LOVED one of the teachers in the kindergarten room.

I called the center director one day to talk about whether it was possible for Chuckles. She kind of tried to talk me out of it. She said that it was a rigorous program, there would be homework, and there would be no naps. I kind of laughed because Chuckles hadn’t reliably napped in years. Chuckles had been begging me to teach him to read. I don’t know how to teach a kid to read and I didn’t really have time to devote to it since Bobo was still small, still sick, and I was still nursing. In fact, I am pretty sure I made the call to the center director while Bobo had the chicken pox. I felt terrible that I didn’t have the time to give to Chuckles to help him learn to read (when he really wanted to, clearly would be able to, and was so motivated). I signed Chuckles up for kindergarten but I was a wreck (as I always am when I make a decision).

It turns out the homework was sent home on Monday and not due back until the following Monday. Sometimes we did it Sunday night and sometimes it was done by Tuesday. It just depended. It wasn’t bad at all. I found out later that only 2 kids in his class turned in every single homework packet that was given and there were only 4 or 5 out of 20 who returned any homework packets. They had popcorn words and spelling lessons, phonics, whole language, and after a few months, Chuckles could read with me. He started spotting words on billboards and at the grocery store. They did number lines and addition, subtraction, and greater than and less than. He can count by fives, by tens, by twos. He did some rudimentary multiplication and division. He started to tell time. They hatched butterflies from cocoons.

The decision to put him kindergarten at 4, could not have turned out any better. Mrs. Marie was his teacher.

Fast-forward through Bobo’s various illnesses and Chuckles is still chugging along with Mrs. Marie teaching him anything and everything he or she wanted. I think she taught specifically to him and his strengths since he paid attention and caught on quickly. We kept Chuckles in kindergarten until the graduation ceremony (the one during which Bobo spiked a fever) and a week after that too. It was a natural time for him to leave. He took it well (though the part where I went back to work after the month at home with Bobo was hard on him).

We had always planned on keeping both boys at our day care center because they offered before and after school care, fed the kids breakfast, and had a bus to drop them at school (plus would hold them on snow days and breaks). Mrs. Marie drove the bus. I had signed Chuckles up for all-day kindergarten at the public school as it was less expensive than full-day day care plus he was clearly ready for the academics of kindergarten. I was more worried about the social aspects (being responsible for his own potty, finding his classroom on his own, being independent, etc).

Once we had Mrs. Marie in place, though, we no longer needed all-day kindergarten. So, I fretted and ultimately switched him to half-day. I was not worried about separation for him at all. We’ve been apart a lot. I’m not worried about him getting the entire curriculum in kindergarten since he’s already gotten that and more. I still had concerns about his independence, but he’s a young 5 and coming along.

So, yesterday was his first day at Big School. Mrs. Marie, Bobo, and I walked Chuckles to his classroom. I took some photos. Mrs. Marie met the teacher. She left with Bobo and I stayed behind. Eventually, it was time for the parents to leave. It was a little after 10 am. I ran an errand, came home, made lunch for everyone (grumpily and so I would feel like I wsa doing something), and by then it was time to head back to the school. I watched Chuckles get on the bus, and then I took off running for home so I could greet the bus (all that running training has not been for naught), but I didn’t make it. I called Mrs. Marie and told her to head out and meet the bus. I ended up getting there just as the bus pulled up. I got some photos.

There is a little boy in his classroom who has some physical limitations. There is a paraprofessional working with him. That means there is an extra set of adult eyes and hands in the classroom. If there ever needs to be a sub, at least someone will know the routine.

Chuckles had a fine first day. They sang the R-E-D red song. They did not say the Pledge of Allegiance. He had art class in the art room and they walked single file there. They heard a story at circle time. It was someone’s birthday (and he didn’t know whether the girl was turning 5 or 6), so they had cookies (with nuts as it’s not a nut-free school, which is OK since no one in the class has a nut allergy and the cafeteria will give you PB&J if you forget your lunch or money). They colored a sheet and it was time to come home. Chuckles thinks they need to play more while at school. They have toys, and he wants to use them.

Because he’s half-day, there is no recess (but it’s less than 3 hours) and there isn’t as much time for play as there would be in the all-day program (but he can play all afternoon at home). The half-day kids get weekly homework packets. The state-mandated curriculum is the same for half-day and all-day students, so they have to cram the same amount of learning into a shorter time frame. I think that will help him because transitions aren’t his best suit (although I think it’s because he has a long attention span and isn’t ready to move on in 10 minutes). I talked to the teacher about play time, and she devised some ways to do the reading groups so that two groups of kids are playing in the areas while the third group is doing their reading lessons. Ingenious.

Today was good too. Mrs. Marie put him on the bus, then drove up to the school to make sure he got into his classroom OK (he did). Then she came home to wait for the bus. He got off happily and told her all about it (and me too…they called me). He had gym class. His jumping jacks were crooked. He forgot to change his shoes before gym class. He played with little legos and put bad guys on the legos and found a boat and put the bad guys on the boat. Today was bring-your-own-snack day so I sent a baggie of grapes and a juice box. When we talked on the phone, he begged me to come home right then. But I know he was having a nice time with Mrs. Marie, but he just loves me so much (it’s exhausting).

The morning bus is K-5 on the bus. He won’t take that all the time. But the after-school bus is just the one room of half-day kindergarteners. There are 15 kids in his class and only 7 of them take the bus. We’re the closest house to the school, so his own private charter basically just dropped him home. School lets out at 11:45 and he was home on the bus about 11:50 today (yesterday was closer to noon). I have no qualms about the noon-time bus. They open the door to the K classroom right to the bus and escort them and do name-to-face to check them out of class and onto the bus. I’m not as keen on the morning bus, but on Speech Therapy days it’s going to be necessary.

So, my panic is over (but I lost my Power Parent Portal Password, so I need to call and get it back). School has started. Yesterday was the first day of the rest of his life. Mrs. Marie and I both shed a couple of tears, but I wasn’t nearly as bad as I could’ve been (like if they’d read The Kissing Hand while I was present).

Oh, his teacher sent home a questionnaire asking about strengths and weaknesses and what we hoped to get out of kinergarten. I couldn't really think of anything other than independence and getting used to the school for 1st grade. I have very low expectations for what I want him to learn in kindergarten (though, truthfully, he went through kindergarten last year and learned a ton so he doesn't need much with respect to that).

Oh and he'd normally be considered a young 5 in kindergarten (with a May birthday and a mid-0summer cut-off), but there are at least 2 kids younger than he is, so I think he's just fine.

Takin' Care of Bidness

Sure, I could tell you all about how I'm hyperventilating about Chuckles starting kindergarten tomorrow (tomorrow!), but you don't need any more proof of my neuroses.

So, instead, I will tell you about an unexpected side effect of the running. Yes, yes, my cardio is improving, my muscles aren't getting sore any longer, my stamina is increasing. In a month, I'll be jogging that entire 5k (3.12 miles). Whatever! That is just not that interesting. What is interesting? I'm having a most unexpected, but not unwelcome, side effect from the exercise. Let's say I am (how to put this delicately?) libidinous. So, if you were wondering how I was finding the time to run, the answer is Mr. Long-Suffering is going above and beyond to carve out the time for me, to his benefit.

Couch.

I suppose I should fess up about the whole couch-to-5k thing.

I’m not doing it because I’m some kind of martyr or better than anyone else. In fact, I am doing it because I am not as good as everyone else.

I’ve never really been in particularly good shape…at least not since I gave up playing outside and riding my bike around my 6th grade boyfriend’s block just hoping he would come outside and “bump” into me. (If you “bump” into Dave tell him I said, “Hi.”)

In high school, we had to do the Presidential Fitness Test each year and Run The Mile. I was more likely to win the Presidential Academic Fitness Award than any physical fitness anything. I only ran a mile all the way through once without walking and that was after a 6-week track unit in gym class junior year. My time was like 12 minutes. This last Sunday, I ran an entire mile without walking (according to my GPS) in 12:30. My first mile in 18 years. And then I walked for one minute and subsequently ran another ¾ mile.

There are a lot of things going on, and I will list them in fancy numbered points for you.

1. I have weaned, but I still like to eat. To keep from turning from the milk cow into just a plain old cow, I need to do something to burn off the Breyer’s Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. I mean, it’s not like I am going to give up ice cream. Ergo, I have taken up running.

2. I don’t want to die, and I hear that cardiovascular exercise is good for you. I do not generally speaking do exercise. I wouldn’t say I’m sedentary, but well, butt.

3. I want to be a good role model to my kids, so I want them to see me being active, which is why I take them with me when I run (sometimes). I want them to see an adult exercising and having “fun” so that someday they will take up exercise or just stay active as they get older.

4. I want to be a good role model to my kids. I am not naturally good at athletics. I’m good at Sudoku. I’m good at math. I like puzzles and trivia. I don’t like sweat. But, I am running. And a little more each day, and with practice, I might get good at it. Chuckles has a bit of a perfectionist thing going on. He won’t do handwriting practice because his letters aren’t perfect. I am trying to teach Practice Makes Perfect by example (and directly stating it because sometimes kids are dense).

5. I want to be a good role model for my kids, and I am fitting this exercise (small time commitment, really…1.5 hours per week) into my already-full life. I guess I am making it a priority and getting it done.

6. My 35th birthday is fast-approaching, and I always told myself that I was young and didn’t need to worry. I would be fit when I needed to be like when I wanted to start a family or when I wasn’t pregnant or when I was done nursing or done having kids or when I was older and it was more important. Well, I guess, that time is now.

The couch-to-5k plan has been very forgiving. You’re supposed to run 3x per week for about a half hour each time (really more like 25 minutes in the beginning back when I was timing myself with a Shrek watch because it was the only thing I had with a digital second hand). I routinely take 8 days to get my 3 runs in, and that’s OK. It’s still working. I’m seeing improvement.

In the beginning, you’re only running for 60 seconds at a time. And by the 55-second mark, my lungs were begging me to STOP. They were on fire. They felt like I was running through a forest fire inhaling burning, acrid smoke. STOP already. My legs were like, “meh”. But here I am in week 5 or 6 and my lungs are A-OK and fine. But my muscles have gone all “WTF?” on me. My legs and hips would like it if I would just stop and stretch them for a minute now. They beg me to STOP and s-t-r-e-t-c-h, but I just keep going. Sometimes Chuckles can’t keep up and begs me to STOP, and for him, I will run in place until he catches up.

Last night, the PLAN told me to run 20 minutes non-stop or two miles. Now, I know from my mile time that 20 minutes is not equal to 2 miles. 2 miles would be more like 25 minutes or more. So, which do I do? Do I run for 20 minutes straight or do I go for the two miles? I went for the two miles and it took 29:00. Which is pretty slow, but I did it. I ran (jogged, really) the entire two miles without stopping to walk. I’m ridiculously proud because I am doing something I am not very good at, practicing, working hard, and getting better.

So, that’s what I’m doing….slowly.

Got Therapy?

So, would you like to talk about Bobo’s Speech Therapy?

Sure, we work on speech and say things really slooooowleeeeee and draw all the sounds out and repeat the same few key words and phrases over and over again. But, apparently, the parts of your brain that make speech can get developed doing other things, so we are to encourage crossing the midline (having the child reach across the body to get something…like using the right hand to pick up a ball on the left side). We are also to encourage using two hands to do a task like using the right hand to stabilize a shape sorter while the left hand puts the block in or using the left hand to hold the paper while the right hand scribbles with a marker. That sort of thing.

We’ve also been talking a lot about whether Bobo is sensory seeking or sensory defensive. He probably is neither although he does love to rub soft blankets across his face (but who doesn’t?).

It turns out through all of this we have discovered that I am a bit sensory defensive. I don’t think so, but my husband and the therapist keep laughing at me. I can’t help Bobo with all of his therapies because I cannot touch a Koosh Ball. I also, for the record, cannot touch peaches (so we eat a lot of nectarines instead). I can touch kiwi, but it is a challenge and they absolutely must be peeled (apparently, there are some people who eat the kiwi skin, but you have to be kidding me, right?). I have a thing about comfy shoes (and clothes and tags and ZOMG, ick, wool) and I like to rub soft blankets across my face too. So, there you go. And don't even get me started on velvet.

So, in conclusion, Bobo is doing fine, but his mother is a whackadoodle.

Big News from Big School

Yesterday was registration for Big School. I was pleasantly surprised that they had evening hours during which you could do this as I’ve been less-than-impressed about their accommodation of working parents on other things. I left work a few minutes early so we wouldn’t be rushed. Mrs. Marie was staying late so Mr. Long-Suffering could work late. The plan was that the kids and I would walk to the local school. It’s only about 2 or 3 blocks away (maybe 4 if you walk around to the front of the building to enter the main door) and do the registration then play on the playground. Mrs. Marie offered to stay with Bobo, but I assured her I was fine.

Well, just as we were getting ready, I realized I was out of checks. Like completely out. No more checks in the checkbook and no more in the box of replacement checks. How did that happen? I hardly ever write checks. Well, I had cash and a different account’s checkbook, so crisis averted.

We started to get shoes on. Bobo pooped. OK, shoes off, change diaper, “Chuckles go potty before we go”, etc. Chuckles went potty, so did I, we all washed our hands, then Chip took a tumble down the stairs and came up crying. He hit his legs on the ceramic tile floor. He might have bumped his head. He needed some special snuggly time with mommy, and he needed his blankie. “I want my DING.” He hasn’t cried for his ding in months.

At this point, I decided that maybe he was in no condition to walk to the school, so we drove. That’s right. I drove my SUV 3 blocks. I did.

Smartly, I had thrown the umbrella stroller in the back of my not-a-mini-van before we left so I’d have some way to contain the whirling dervish while I filled out paperwork. And boy, was there paperwork to complete. They had stations set up. You went to the first station and got a packet to complete, then on to the gym for stations 2 through 6. I had to sign a waiver of photography release, an acknowledgement of receiving the code of conduct book, I had to attend a 5-minute lecture on how to drop off and pick up students if I drive them with my car, sign up for bus, look at Spirit Wear, the PTO, review getting a cash back credit card that pays your school money, ability to purchase kits of school supplies, Boy Scouts, and go through a criminal background check in case I want to volunteer at the school. Then, on to the cafeteria to look at menus and talk about pre-paid lunch cards.

I am now a member of the PTA. Heaven help me, I hope it’s not clique-y. The meetings are at 9 am on Tuesdays once a month so I feel like maybe they don’t want my help, but I volunteered for a team already since they kind of encouraged you to do that. There were choices like 5th grade graduation something, talent show, DARE graduation, selling popcorn at something, Market Day coordinator, field day picnic, and others. I’m going to be sorting, counting, and bundling Box Tops for Education. I think I will be good at that. It seems like a solitary and math-oriented activity.

There will also be a lottery to see who gets to be room party mom. I did not volunteer for that. A party fee will be assessed for all students during the first month of school. OK, then. I also signed my living heart up to ride the bus. He won’t need it all the time, but there will be days he will have to take the bus. And WHAT AM I DOING? My baby! Ahem, anyway, are my neuroses showing?

They can’t tell me whether he gets half days, and they don’t know why I didn’t contact them sooner. Uhhhh, let’s see, I called every half hour all day for three days and no one ever answered the phone. I definitely have a tuition-paying spot in the all-day program though. I did not bother signing up for the lunch card thing though (apparently, there is no cash to be carried so they get these photo ID cards that you load with money...it's all very plastic, debit card carriers of the future...divorcing spending from actual cash that they can see seems like setting them up for huge credit card debt later).

Obviously, this was boring for the kids, so Chip was pushing Bobo around the gym in the stroller. He was being a little wild, but all was well. I told him to get all 4 wheels back on the ground. When we went into the school office to pay the bill (almost $200, all told), Chuckles couldn’t take the large turns with the stroller he had been, clipped a corner, and tipped the stroller over crushing my baby (all was fine…it was the umbrella stroller so it was more of a figurative crushing). If we’d have walked, we would have taken the good (heavy) stroller. Then I wouldn’t let him push any more (or made him push while I also held the handles because I am a mean mom who tries to rob fun from life). Meltdown ensued. We still had to drop forms at the school nurse.

Chuckles refused to look at anyone and when asked questions, turned his back on people. I have a hard time with this shyness thing. He is painfully shy and takes a LONG time to warm up to people. Even people like his grandparents (although, tellingly, he warms up to Mrs. Marie within 2 minutes of her being at our house). So, I want to give him the space to warm up to people on his own, but at the same time, turning around when asked a question is RUDE. I mean, that’s rude. I don’t want to force him to answer, but at some point, he’s going to need to speak to people.

On the way out, I distracted him with the playground. There were other kids there! They played, they ran, they climbed, stooped, and jumped. He ignored them and then complained that kids were talking to him.

Good news: the secretary from the school just called me and left a message. I returned the call (and she answered after one ring) and we got half-day and they’re refunding our $200 deposit for the all-day spot. Woo-Hoo.

Get Your Boobs Here

It’s (National? World?) Breastfeeding Awareness Week, and I’m here to say YAY BREASTFEEDING. I’m like a borderline lactivist. I don’t judge people who don’t nurse though (much). And I found Giselle’s comments distasteful, at best. I mean, because being a supermodel makes you an expert on how to hold your chin when posing for a cosmetics ad - not how to feed a baby so it grows and thrives. (And I really want someone to ask Christina Applegate why she's not going to nurse her baby...answer: because she had a double mastectomy now don't make her cry. I hope she comes out swinging if anybody gives her sass.) Ahem.


I nursed both of my kids, BUT I felt like a failure while nursing Chuckles. After infertility, I was strangely invested in nursing as a way to prove my womanhood.

It was never easy, he woke up to eat a lot, I had trouble keeping up with his bottles for day care while pumping at work, I let the hospital nursery give him 3 ounces of formula when he was a day old (why couldn’t I resist?…I mean I had just spent 13 hours in labor, 3 hours pushing, and had a c-section…why would I let them do that to him?), and by 7 months, I was near a full-on raving lunatic.

I hadn’t slept more than 4 or 5 hours in almost a year. I was like little shards of glass held together with piano wire. I was nuts. But if someone had said to me that I needed sleep and why don’t I let someone give the baby a bottle overnight (not that anyone offered or that I knew to ask), I would have freaked out. Don’t you think I can feed my own baby? What I really needed was for someone to acknowledge that it was hard and offer to bring the baby to me to nurse so I could stay horizontal and possibly only marginally disturb my sleep. And my goal was to nurse him a year. I failed. I nursed 05-05-05 to 04-12-06. Not that I’m counting or anything (and that was not exclusive by the end…there was some formula started right around that fragile 7 month mark).


Fast-Forward. Anyway, by the time Bobo came along, I had resolved that I would make it a year. They tried to give him formula in the hospital but being a seasoned pro (who had a c-section without the labor and pushing and thus had more mental and physical energy), I resisted.

And they didn’t badger me about it since I was a second-time mom and had some very good arguments, which I had practiced in advance knowing that the nurses would push formula in the wee hours when no one was watching them guilt new moms. I ended up nursing Bobo for 13.5 months (pretty much exclusively, possibly exclusively, I don’t actually remember because the stakes seemed lower after a year). I nursed him 11-16-08 to 01-01-10.

I figure if I had a third baby, I would do like I did with Bobo. I have very few regrets about how things went with him and the nursing. I would have like to have kept nursing a little (maybe once a day) until 18 months, but he was ready and biting, so it doesn’t feel important.

And sure, it might seem like I’m pro-breastfeeding because I was ‘successful’. My kids knew how to latch (eventually), and I made milk (eventually). With PCOS, this is not always the case.


I would like to mention that post-c-section with Chuckles (who lost 11% of his birth weight), the only time I took narcotics was before nursing because the pain was excruciating (literally toe curling and eye-closing), but by 3 weeks it had mostly dissipated. For the first 3 weeks, I would curl my toes and press my eyes closed and just wait for the piranha to latch. I would have Mr. Long-Suffering double check to make sure the latch was good because I couldn’t open my eyes right away.

A few times I had cracked and bleeding nipples and wound up pumping blood. Nothing says love like milk tainted with blood (it separates out in the refrigerator into a blood layer on the bottom, then the clear-ish milk part, and the cream on top). I always had a fear he would wind up part-vampire after that.

And I had none of that with Bobo. There were a few days of discomfort in the beginning, but my body kind of remembered what it knew from Chuckles and toughened up quickly. The milk came more quickly, I pumped early and often and froze a lot of milk to take the pressure off when I went back to work (and supercharge the supply). It was like awesome wrapped in chocolate.


So, if you nursed the first time and it wasn’t great (or couldn’t nurse at all), Keep the Faith and know that things can be unicorns pooping rainbows the second time around.

And if you're a nurse, lay off the new moms, OK?

I did not actually fall off of the face of the earth

Life has just been...calm.


So, Mr. L-S is perfectly healthy. Apparently, all the wonky test results in the world are just wonky and there is no fatty liver, no cancer. Which is good. He's being retested a few times this week.


Only 4 days until I go to the Bon Jovi concert. I’m going with another mom. When I bought the tickets at the beginning of December, it seemed so far away and here we are. We are staying up past our bedtimes. When we bought the tickets, we both had babies. Now, we have toddlers. Little walking people. ( I wrote this last week. Since then, we went to the concert, screamed our little hearts out to Livin' on a Prayer and noticed that the entire concert looked like Moms Night Out. Good times. We were up way too late and the kids didn't get the memo about letting us sleep in the next morning, but when you play, you have to pay.)


I’ve been doing Couch-to-5k. I’m training training training. I take the kids. Bobo in the stroller, Chuckles on his Big Wheel. It’s not ideal, but it gives Mr. L-S some breathing room. I also sometimes go out in the morning before they wake up or in the twilight hours after they go to bed. I am now lusting after a Baby Trend double jogging stroller with disc brakes, air shocks, pneumatic tires, and a hand brake. But my kids are probably too old for that now and I’m not a serious enough runner for it to matter. I may search the interwebs for an ad for a used one. Nothing wrong with used. Oh, I found a couple of ads, but still a wee bit out of my budget…really a hundred bucks for a USED stroller!

We’ve decided on the kindergarten thing. If I am allowed to change him, I am going to change Chuckles to half-day kindergarten. And I'm signing him up for the bus because of law changes in Indiana. They aren't allowed to charge for bus service any longer. So, even if we only need it occasionally, he'll be signed up for it.

PCOS be damned…I fear I might be ovulating right now because having a third baby sounds like a simply fantabulous idea. And it is not a brilliant idea at all. My life is full and busy and delightful and complicated, but I don’t need a third baby. A third bonus baby would be great, but let’s not go out looking for trouble. Fortunately, the mirena is up to the task. My long-term appreciation for it is great. It’s been everything I ever dreamed it would be since I weaned. (It wasn’t terrible while I was nursing, it just was kind of a bummer.) It’s convenient, no hassle, no fuss, no remembering, no bleeding – ever, and cost-effective. (And I wrote this last week too. The ovulation must be past since it no longer seems like a great idea to have a baby.)

A Bunch of Random Stuff in Search of a Uniting Theme and a Post

Well, we're not going to get that uniting theme. Not gonna get it here. Not gonna get it today.

I'm a whole lot less interesting when my life is swimming along. All the angst makes for good blogging. Oh well. I'll take happy and boring over stressed and interesting any day.

So, Mr. Long-Suffering did not have Lyme Disease nor did he have Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Whatever he had was knocked out by the antibiotics though, so that is good. However, he had some wonky test results come back, so he had more blood tests done, additional wonky results, and just had a liver ultrasound today. Results back next week while we're on "vacation". With today's modern conveniences like answering machines and cell phones, we'll get the results on Monday, I imagine. I don't anticipate there being anything wrong, but am intrigued by the idea that I have a designated driver while on "vacation" since he is forbidden from drinking while awaiting test results.

====

Let's talk about Pop Songs About Infertility: I come up with 3, no 4.
Ace of Base "All That She Wants (is another baby)"
"All I Want to Do (is make love to you)" by uhhh, whoever that was back in the totally 80s...Heart
Dixie Chicks had one or two songs about infertility and the post-baby body. can't remember the songs, but you get the drift.
Oh, and Kellie Coffey "I Would Die For That" (a song a don't know but read about on Celebrity Baby Blog and the title alone tells me that it must be partly true)

Anyway, I think there should be more and we should come up with titles like "I've Been Working on the Transfer" and "This Little Piggie Went to Cornell" or "One Little, Two Little, Three-Celled Embryos".

==

The nanny thing is going nicely. She was on vacation this week but we had a fill-in nanny. We got Mrs. Marie's sister, Mrs. Ginger to be our fill-in, and it was great.

Except both Mrs. Marie and Mrs. Ginger are not engineers. And load the dishwasher like not engineers. Which is totally a nitpicky thing and I would never ever mention it to either of them. But Mr. Long-Suffering and I are engineers, and my superpower is loading the dishwasher to maximum capacity for greater efficiency and water savings. Mr. Long-Suffering actually asked me yesterday if this is what living with normal people is like and then told me that he WAS SO GLAD HE MARRIED ME. Because of my dishwasher loading abilities. It was oddly the sweetest thing he has said to me - ever.

==

During the high fevers, Mr. L-S broke out with 8 cold sores on one half of his upper lip. He's prone to them ayway (Chuckles and I do not get them). Wednesday, Bobo woke up with one giant cold sore. Ick. Poor baby. Destined to be like his father...intolerant of the heat, burns in the sun, and gets cold sores.

==

Right now, I am trying to decide whether to send my 5-year old, Chuckles, to all-day Kindergarten in the fall or half-day (and homeschool in the afternoon with Mrs. Marie while Bobo is napping). He just finished a year of all-day kindergarten at a private school (where he was apparently at the top of his class despite being a year younger than most kids). He's on the young side of 5 for kindergarten this fall anyway with a May birthday and a cut-off at the end of June, so skipping ahead to first grade is competely out of the question (plus new school, transitions, etc...I'm just not ready for it). The decision feels both make-or-break and completley inconsequential in the grand scheme at the same time. And to complicate matters, all-day kindergarten at the public school costs $1800 but I already put a $200 deposit on it before I had the nanny thing lined up.

So, in summation, I have a nanny who I will pay regardless of the number of children she watches. I have the opportunity for full-day kindergarten for which I must pay. My kid reads and already did a year of full-day kindergarten. And he's only a kid once. My guess is that the kids in the half-day kindergarten class have at least one stay-at-home parent (or maybe a grandparent). There are four K-classes: one half-day class and three full-day. Discuss pros and cons.
==

Kids know when they’re hungry and when they are full.

They will eat as much as they need (barring any sort of feeding issue, which your kids probably does not have if he or she is growing and thriving).

For obesity prevention: we need to teach kids to listen to their bodies and only eat as much as they need and only eat when they are truly hungry. So, we don’t force them to sit at the table and eat, we don’t say you have to eat three more bites before you can go (until they are 5 and say they have room for ice cream but not peas), you don’t have to finish this plate of food or this jar of baby food. Our job as parents is to offer healthy meals and snacks. Their job is to eat it (or not).

Over the course of a single day, a child’s diet may not be complete, but over the course of a week, if you keep offering healthy meals and snacks, a child will consume the nutrients he needs.

Just as you have hungry days and days when food just doesn’t sound good, so do children. A child in a growth spurt may eat an entire can of green beans and three plates of pasta with meatballs. A child in a low growing pattern might only eat three rotini, no green beans, and two bites of peach. And that’s OK. Kids know when they’re hungry and as long as they are given healthy choices and a chance to sit quietly and eat, they’ll do it. Kids, of course, won’t necessarily come right to the table to eat if they are interested in what they’re doing (playing) but if you can break them away and get them to a quiet table, if they are hungry, they will eat.

Children might not eat when teething or sick. When sick, it can become difficult to eat because of a sore throat or because chewing and swallowing requires that they close their mouths (which if stuffy, they might be using to breathe). When teething, they might just want to mouth or chew on the food and not swallow it. Post nasal drip might leave their stomachs a little upset so food doesn’t sound good.

Children are naturally afraid of new foods. It’s a defense mechanism against being poisoned from when we were cavemen. A child may need to see the same food (asparagus) 10x or more before he’ll eat it. Sometimes, a child will just put the food in his mouth and then spit it out. Sometimes, a child will love it one day, and the next notsomuch.

Offer veggies first at the meal on the tray before offering the carbs to increase veggie consumption. If they are hungry, they’ll eat the veggies since they are present. Then, you can offer the meats and carbs. Give foods fun names so kids will like they like “Super Eye Carrots” and “Baby Trees” or “Power Peas” or “Big Muscles Meat”.

Offer dip and ketchup to increase healthy food consumption and make it fun. You might not like tartar sauce on salmon, but a kid might (and yes, my kids like salmon burgers from Costco). You might not like an organic Angus beef hot dog with ranch dressing, but a kid might. You might not like a soy hot dog, but my kids do. I don’t care for ketchup on my broccoli, but I know someone who does. And I know someone else who can’t live without mustard.

If a child never knows that white bread exists, he won’t resist wheat bread.

Super

If I had a super-power (and I'm not saying I don't because, you know, superheroes have to keep their identities secret) it would be to load the dishwasher freakishly full of dishes and still have them come out clean.

We should have a contest to decide what my superheroine name would be with this power. Maytag Mom. Bosch Beauty. SarcasticHero.

++++

You know what else is super (or, you know, not)? Mr. Long-Suffering spiked a 104-degree fever and they are testing him for Lyme Disease and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. I kind of hope it's RMSF (as opposed to Lyme Disease if he must have one of those) because the name just sounds so dang exotic. Supposedly, it's endemic in the ticks of Missouri (Mr. L-S did find a tick on himself when we were in the woods at the Science Museum in Camdenton).

An Anecdote and A Product Review

There were big purple blobs on the radar last night with evidence of rotation. We spent the evening below ground in the family room. Chuckles was getting a wee bit frightened by the thunder, so I threw the kids in the shower in the downstairs bathroom...the better to drown out the noise and be away from windows while getting clean. And Mythbusters says you don't really need to worry about showering during an electrical storm.

Then, the power went out for hours and hours. I ended up calling the police because Rowdy Teens were out joyriding and knocking on doors at midnight during a power outage (and we have many elderly neighbors and a history of looting in Chicagoland). I ended up sitting in the front window (in the dark) and waited for them to come back up to our front door and then right when they were ready to knock and run: blinded them with a 20 million candle power flashlight. That was really funny. Mr. Long-Suffering had no idea what I was doing and then BAM…teens scrambling away.

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First things first: I received nothing bought or sold nor did I buy anything sold or bought. Anything bought was bought with my own money at retail prices without a coupon.

I'd like to give two hearty thumbs up to Glad Press and Seal Wrap. I purchased a roll of this at Lo*Mart. I planned to use it on our recent vacation for the following things:

1. Cover restaurant tables where Bobo would be eating directly off of the table (although, in reality, he is using plates more and more frequently now, but I didn't know the extent of any immune issues when I made this plan).
2. Use it in lieu of Tupperware on vacation. I didn't want to pack a bunch of containers and regular cling wrap does not work. Aluminum foil was an option but since I was already packing this for #1 above, I thought this could do double duty.
3. Use it in lieu of sandwich and zipper bags on vacation.

It did all three things well. It stuck to bowls, it stuck to tables, and I was able to fashion sandwich and snack bags from it for an impromptu picnic we took on the boat. Price-wise, I don't know where it falls relative to other plastic wraps as I generally avoid them (since they don't work), but I would say this was a good buy since it worked so well and did triple-duty.

For the record, I am not signed up for any kind of amazon referral either. I just provided a link so you could see the product if you never have before.

Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose

Well, huh. Here we are. On the other side.

Lisa the Loud came home from the kitty hospital yesterday as a dope fiend. I guess she meows non-stop and displays some neurotic behavior when not on painkillers. They hope it's temporary until the pain recedes as she heals. I sure hope so. I don't need to send he to kitty rehab. Maybe she'll bump into Lindsey Lohan's puppy there though. They'd be fast friends.

OK, we went away for a week's vacation. And it was lovely. Simply lovely. We did Julia's I-Spy list. The whole family enjoyed it. We even wrote down unusual things we saw that weren't on the list (Car on Fire, Parasailers).

We went to the Ozarks in Missouri. We took the boat to restaurants for dinner. We swam, we went to the pool, played tennis, hiked the hills pushing 100-pounds of child(ren)+stroller, played dime skee-ball, went to a children's museum with a Zip Line, rode bumper cars and go-karts. It was fun in a way that taking your kids on vacation where you went as a child is. Things, of course, have changed some since I was a kid and I told everyone all about how it was when I was young.

We went with my father, the kids' grandfather. I used to go there with my grandparents when I was a kid (though we went with my mother's side of the family back then). It was relaxing, which is odd considering it was still a vacation with our kids. In 3 weeks, we are going away again with my in-laws.

I am a totally logical, scientific person whose life is based on reason and fact. So, I haven't mentioned my nanny search much lately for fear of jinxing myself.

When I went back to work when Chuckles was 2.5 (August 2007), he went to the same day care he started at when he was 11 weeks old. From August 2007-May 2010, Chuckles had the same teacher for all but 10 weeks. Mrs. Marie. Other teachers used to tell me about how well Mrs. Marie and Chuckles got along. In fact, when I was on maternity leave, Mrs. Marie would save certain activities for the entire class until a day when Chuckles would be at school because she knew he would find the activities especially amusing. She would save certain stories with subtle humor for Chuckles days. If he was out sick, she always inquired after him. One time, Chuckles actually turned to me and called me Mrs. Marie. I found it funny (I'm sure there are some moms out there who would not find it amusing, btu I took it to mean he had a bond and loving relationship with her). When Mrs. Marie found out that I was pulling the kids from day care (and interviewing teenagers to be our new nanny), she started crying. And from there, we hired her away from the day care. She had been there 18 years. She started with us yesterday morning.

We had a kid in that day care for almost 5 years. During that time, our entire extended family had come to know Mrs. Marie. And it turns out her mother was my mother-in-law's Avon Lady back when that was the thing. Her brother went to HS with my sister-in-law. These things came out over time, since she is married and had a different last name. Mrs. Marie's sister is going to be our back-up, fill-in nanny for when Mrs. Marie is on vacation or sick (unless they want to go on vacation together, then I'll just take a vacay day). We know Mrs. Marie's sister too since she used to work at our day care as well and also went to HS with my husband.

I told a few men at work with whom I was in a meeting, that I am living their reality now: I have a SAH wife. I am so happy. Relieved. It's like one giant pool of relief the last two weeks after the previous 3 weeks or month of total chaos. I trust Mrs. Marie. Priceless.

My shoulders are now 6" lower

And I didn't even stop wearing shoulder pads.

We got all of Bobo's blood test results back. With the exception of the elevated liver enzymes (which were most likely caused by Nystatin), he is fine. La-de-Dah. Fine fine fine. Did I mention fine? He has no IgE allergy responses at all to anything (not milk, not cats, not peanuts, not shellfish, not soy, not wheat, not mild, nothing). None. Nada.

His IgA, IgE, IgG, and IgM levels were all normal. His titers for diphtheria and tetanus were good. Hios M-CHAT score was ZERO on Tuesday. ZERO! ZERO! He is healthy and fever-free. He's making great strides in speaking ("buh", "Cah", "MAMA"). He's running. And climbing, and throwing temper tantrums. He's an almost-perfect 19-month old. We've lost 8 months of his life to illness, but now that he's out of day care, he's making up for lost time. Between the one-on-one attention with one of his parents and the (stunning) lack of illness, he's like an entirely different person. Speech therapy should commence this week. In six months, I hope this will all be a distant memory. The FMLA paperwork should be completed and turned in right around the time that this ends. Yippee.


Lisa the Loud, however, has a bladder stone. She's in the kitty hospital. She needs $1500 worth of work. Before Bobo's test results were back, I had been working on finding her a new home. If Bobo had been allergic, we probably would have put her to sleep (since we couldn't find anyone to take a healthy cat, I doubt they'd take a sick cat). But, since Bobo is fine. Fine fine. Lisa gets a reprieve. I called the vet hospital this morning to schedule the surgery. She's staying there for 10 days as a border since we are slated to be en vacances next week and I can't have cone-head cat walking around our house unsupervised and peeing. Stanley Steemer was out last week and cleaned the carpets only to have Lisa soil them on Monday.

The vet tells me that Lisa is spitting and hissing. Lisa is the most docile cat I have ever seen. A little skittish maybe, but gentle. So either she is in a lot of pain or she really doesn't like being in a kitty condo. They say it's not a cage, but they did have to put a blanket over her to calm her the eff down. I just hope when she comes home all fixed and healthy that she's not mean. I can't have that (nor can I have a cat who uses our house as her personal litter box).

In Which I Blog Like a 90-year Old Woman

So, did you hear? Did you hear? DID YOU HEAR? Myrtle got a new hip. MYRTLE GOT A NEW HIP. (That was me blogging like you were old too and couldn't hear me the first time...not funny, you say. OK, but I'm laughing.)

So, I will now recount my various encounters with medical professionals from the last 2 days. Tuesday morning the ENT's office called and there was a cancellation. There was no time for me to leave work and get home for it, so Mr. Long-Suffering took both kids with him to the ENT (and the blood draw lab). As an aside, I told MR. L-S where I have been hiding the Leapster for the last 4 months so he could use it to "bribe" Chip into being quiet during the visits.

The ENT said Bobo's ears looked clear and fine right now. Some of the blood work results were back (they have computerized medical records so she could view the results as can our pediatrician). Everything that had been run to that point looked within normal ranges except for liver enzymes (and I don't know which tests had already been run). Since Bobo has been on a variety of various and sundry medications in the last...oh let's say 3-6 months, I'm not that surprised. I'm sure something clears through the liver. Though, for the record, we never ever ever use Tylenol (or acetominophen). So, we'll repeat that at some point.

The ENT thinks Bobo is suffering from allergies and has recommended that we do the asthma treatment to our house (get rid of blinds, clean the carpet, put stuffed friends in the dryer for 30 minutes on high every couple of days). We'll see. Turns out the ENT takes her newborn to the same day care we just left. Hee hee. Anyway, the allergy panel blood draw is being sent to a special lab and those results aren't in yet (and we don't yet know whether they got enough blood to run the tests). We'll do the easy part of the allergy and asthma stuff (like putting munker in the dryer...munker is the name of Bobo's sutffed monkey), but I don't really know how you clean blinds. I understand the concept of dusting them (and do dust them). But the blinds in the kitchen need to be degreased and cleaned beyond dusting. Is there someone I can hire? Does Servicemaster handle this? I mean, if they can clean up a burst sewage line, they can clean blinds, right?

All-in-all, I'm not totally heck-bent on discovering why Bobo has been so uncommonly sick if taking him out of day care makes him better. If you know how to treat the problem, do you really need to know the root cause?

So, I spent the day today being a SAHM with both kids. They were good (although active and hell bent on injury and destruction). I gave each child one time-out (Bobo doesn't get it but I thought that it might make Chip realize that I dole out corrections to both of them). And I said, "Sit down" and "Put your bottom in the chair" and "No standing" at least six-thousand seven-hundred nineteen times. Standing on the couch (or in the chair or on the arm of the couch) is super huge big fun.

Cute child story and then I am going to bed: Chip can do math. He can add and subtract (no borrowing). So,8+8 is 16. And when asked what 80 plus 80 was, he answered, "Sixteeny." Bu-dum-dum.

Hippos, Rhinos and this title has little to do with the content of the post

I bumped in to our Speech/Developmental Therapist at the park near our house when I was out chatting with other mothers while the kids frolicked and played. After everyone else was out of earshot, our therapist said, "I will never tell anyone where we know each other from unless you say so first." And I was all like, "What?! Why?!? There's not supposed to be any stigma." I'm just going to assume it's like HIPAA, and she took some oath.

Which reminds me...in the last week or so, several people have said some variation of "When you have a child with special needs...not that Bobo has special needs or anything..." WTF? Really? Oh, OK then. Don't all children have their own special needs? Aren't all children special? Aren't all children different from every other chld? If it means Bobo gets extra special attention, I will take any label anyone has to throw at him (much like I'll take labels for Chuckles if it means he gets special attention at school).


Follow-up: Do you remember when I said they took totally gross cultures from Bobo's ears? Did I ever tell you what the result was? No, I did not. So, ear cultures. He has a lot of drainage. Not all the time but probably half of the time (you know, like when he has an active infection). The standard treatment for ear drainage in kids with tubes is antibiotic ear drops or steroid ear drops w/ antibiotics. Bobo got his ear tubes 3/3/10. By May 19th, he had been on ear drops 4 times. He had a lot of drainage that day, but we hadn't been using the drops. I wanted to see whether he would fight it off on his own. So, cultures were taken and drops were started after we left. The cultures came back positive for something rather odd. Something that would not be helped by antibiotic drops: yeast. Bobo had a yeast infection in his ear. He had not been on antibiotics immediately prior to that. But his ears are warm, moist, and dark. It ended up clearing up on its own, but ewwww. I'm thinking of renting him out to artisinal bread makers. Once the cultures were back we discontinued the antibiotic drops and every thing sort of worked itself out. (Typical treatment for yeast in the ear is white vinegar drops but our ped wasn't sure whether that was OK with ear tubes. A call to the ENT and it is OK, but we did not end up doing it.) Chalk another one up to opportunistic infection. Oh, and he developed thrush again, but it resolved on its own (and thank goodness because the Nystatin made Bobo vomit which was un-fun.)


By the way, to the poster who recommended Dr. Raoul Wolf... three more people have recommended him to me. We might end up seeing him depending on what these blood draws show. However, Children's Memorial Hospital has a pediatric immunologist with office hours in Northwest Indiana one day per week, so that would be convenient. I'm not sure what we'll do about that when the time comes, and I don't have the head space to worry about it before we know anything, so I am inclined to ignore it for now. Head meet sand. Although, I will say that I know the back way to U of C and it's only a half hour away so we're not talking about driving to Milwaukee or anything. I will probably end up calling two or three and seeing who has the earliest appointment availability if it comes to that.


We need a palate cleansing laugh. I want to share one of the applications I got to my job on SitterCity. I will change key details (and name) to protect the "innocent". I hope this makes you laugh as much as it made me cringe. The email is paraphrased in blue with my comments in black:

Dear C (I just used my first initial in the posting so this seemed perfectly acceptable and normal to me): My name is Uhlitia (pronounced like Alicia) (alrighty then, I will call you NotAlicia). I'm 22 years old and have a lot of childcare experience. My dad left my mom when I was 12 to have an affair with another woman. It was really hard on all of us (OK, I fell I should tell you that childcare experience is good, but you could leave some of the details out about how you got that experience...says the woman who tells the entire internet about her nether regions). My mom had to work all the time so I pretty much raised my younger brother and sister . Children are my passion, and I really enjoy them. Your ad asked for a non-smoker, but I want to be honest with you (which is a good, good thing, but you might want to quit smoking because it is bad for you, and I care about you, NotAlicia.). I am a smoker, but never in the house and never around the children (well, that is considerate but the pediatrician has said no to first-hand smoke, obviously, second hand smoke, and third hand smoke for Bobo). I always make sure the kids are asleep or my friends are watching them before I go outside to smoke (OMG, were you planning on letting your friends in to my house when I wasn't home and leaving my kids with them while you went out to smoke or went to the store to buy a pack of cigs?). I hope you will consider me for the position. Uhlitia

I appreciate the honesty. It makes it easier to dismiss your application. I will now contrast this with another nanny application we received so you can see how different they are.

Replying to the Nanny Position. I Love caring for and teaching children, am CPR and First Aid Certified. Own Transportation.I live close by as I also live in [redacted]. I am nurturing, dependable and have excellent references. I work in the church nursery along with my husband. We are foster parents and host foreign exchange students during the school year. (We also train butterflies to do our yardwork and have a fleet of speech therapists on speed dial...all of whom owe us a favor.) Experience Includes:Worked in a NICU caring for Premature Babies, and Nanny for 14 years for a wonderful family. Looking forward to hearing from you. Thank You. Mary Poppins at (219) 555-1234

What Mary Poppins left out is that I would need to sell approximately one kidney and 15 of my eggs every year to afford her. Perhaps in this down economy she would take less, but her profile tells me she is looking for about $20/hour. That works out to one Acura TL plus one Nissan Versa every year (or one fully loaded Buick Enclave if you prefer an American auto counterpart).

New Hair-Do

So, I got that bikini wax. And to whoever you people in the computer were who said it was great or it didn't hurt at all, I say, "Liars!" and also "Damn Liars". I went quite conservative (as in my nether parts did not go to South America), and still...OMFG!!!!! What is wrong with you people? Really? What is wrong with you? Are you like masochists?

The part where she waxed areas that are properly called my legs went fine. But anything that was a little, ahem, more private revolted against the wax. It was revolting. The bikini areas kind of, uhhhh, bled a little everywhere the hairs were yanked from their follicles. It's a good thing I took a couple of ibuprofen before I went.

I did that Saturday. It's late on Monday and I still cringe every time I go to the bathroom and my undies are stuck to my body with the little bits of unsexy ooze coming from my newly smooth skin. This was probably one of the worst grooming incidents of my life (and I once waxed most of an eyebrow off...at least it didn't bleed).

So, I told my new waxing friend (her name is Holli) as I was nearly crying that I really am not usually such a big baby because I did the whole natural childbirth thing and it wasn't that bad. Then, I started with my lamaze breathing.

She said that "where you are in the month can affect how much it hurts" and then she told me a story about getting waxed right before she had her daughter because people were going to be looking down there and so on. So, we started chatting (as women who are naked from the waist down often do) about how many kids we have and so on. And of course, she asked me about my c-sections as she ripped the hair from the scar.

Anyway, it turns out that Holli's first born was a 23-weeker and didn't make it. Having been faced with this line of conversation before, I think I said all the right things. I truly was sorry but I know she has probably made some kind of peace with it after 9 years and she certainly doesn't want my pity. So, I told her that I was sorry to hear it but very happy that she is able to talk about it now. She went on to have two children at full term (with cerclage and a take-it-easy approach during pregnancy, in case you were wondering how she did it).

In summation, bikini wax = bad idea jeans.

==Abrupt topic change==

Bobo is having the basic immunology panel done. He's getting a CBC, IgA, IgG, IgM, IgE, titers for diphteria and tetanus (to see whether he put up an immune response to his vaccines), environmental and food allergy panel, HIV test (we had to sign a special paper authorizing that), and one other thing I can't think of. All-in-all it works out to 9 tubes of blood. He's been poked 5 times so far and he's only given up 3 or 4 tubes of blood-total. That was Friday and Saturday. The lab is ordering a special blood draw kit for Tuesday. If anything comes back unusual, I am getting the referral to a pediatric specialist because I bet they'll have some better set up for blood tests on kids. I feel like they've done the right things (warmers to bring the veins to the surface, butterfly needle of tiny gauge, etc) but this lab can't (by their license) draw from leg or scalp veins which I think might be better/bigger. Bobo is my pin cushion.

Bobo was basically on house arrest/quarantine from May 19th to the 28th. On the 28th, I took him to Meijer (where I disinfected the cart with spray and wipes and we bought cupcakes for Chuckles's last day at day care), the doctor's office, and another lab. Saturday, we went to the outdoor plant store and the lab again. Sunday we visited with family and went to IHOP (where I disinfected the table and high chair). Today, Bobo has disgusting ear drainage indicating to me that he caught a cold somewhere. ((Sigh)) I'm waiting for the fever so I know what level of high alert I should be on. Right now, I am not on alert...just on fire watch. We'll see.

I turned in the FMLA paperwork to the doctor's office because Bobo needs to be home (obviously) since routine errands apparently are too much for him. He was doing really well. In fact, he's still doing pretty well. He's making more sounds that resemble words. He's added a word for bye, one for car, and my MIL thinks he said "Gecko" but I'm not so sure. He says "guh" but I think it means "dog". So, progress. Which is something we hadn't seen on the language front in a long time.

Tomorrow, Mr. Long-Suffering is taking Bobo for the blood draw with the special syringe kit. I'll let you know how it goes. I'll also let you know if my lady bidness heals up.

A New Blog Record

So, 8 comments! Wow. Nothing brings you guys out of hiding like my own existential crisis.

We interviewed 3 potential nannies over the weekend. All of whom we would hire (if their references and background checks pass muster). We have a one last nanny candidate coming today. I think maybe 30 people responded to the ad. I give SitterCity a thumbs up from that perspective.

So, we are thisclose to hiring ourselves a nanny. And now Mr. Long-Suffering is having second thoughts. He wants to stay home. I fowarded his call to HR. Giant Industrial Manufcaturing Company can sometimes be remarkably caring and accomodating to parents in crisis. He wants to take June off of work. (and do what? I don't know.) I think he wants to show the nanny how to take care of our kids. Make sure she's not a deranged criminal. We're thinking of interviewing her neighbors (just kidding, kind of).

So, things are looking up. I should have someone by the middle of the week.

We're getting rid of Lisa the Loud. She's still at the vet. They gave her an antibiotic shot for whatever it is she had that caused her to eliminate on Mr. Long-Suffering. I need to find her a new home because there is some concern (not mine...but other caring, intrusive individuals to whom we are related) that Bobo has cat issues/allergies. I haven't googled it, but do cats carry strep? Some people in teh extended family have suggested as much. (Google confirms they can/do.) So, we'll have to find out what it is Lisa had while she spent the weekend at the vet. I think I found a nice family who will keep her for the summer. If Bobo gets better, we might try taking Lisa back. We'll see. This is still quite tentative.

We're having the carpeting and duct work cleaned. I spent the weekend rearranging the furniture and vacuuming under and around everything, and I moved everything about. The new arrangement turns part of the living room into a preschool playland. I am not ashamed to say that I love it. My living room is a romper room and that's OK.

So, that's where I am today.

A New Day Brings Clarity

I did not cry once all day. Score one for me.

I took the morning at home (working from home due to sick kid). I logged in to the work computer at 6:30 am. I had Chuckles sitting on my lap typing out my emails. Then, we ate a leisurely breakfast together at the kitchen table. Bobo didn't get up until 7:30. Then we did our morning routine, I dropped Chuckles at school (where everyone was very mellow since they had all been up after bedtime) and came home and called my mom.

Mimi came over for a couple of hours and I joined SitterCity. I called 3 or four nannies on the phone, emailed 7 or 8 more, and posted a job online. I felt (feel) empowered. And if I don't have a nanny by Monday, it's OK. Bobo and I can suffer through another week of day care if it means we get good quality child care at the end of the rainbow. A lot of teachers and aides will be available in a couple of weeks.

I called the pediatrician's office back because Bobo developed sores on his mouth this morning. I had no idea what they are, but the office said it's probably impetigo. A quick google image search confirms. Bobo has impetigo. The good news just keeps coming.

Now, a few posts ago, I declared that sick blogging was boring. I still fundamentally agree that this is true, but I've decided to do it anyway. I'm crazy like that. I laugh in the face of boredom. And I'm a hypocrite. But that's OK. I'm in good company.

So, impetigo. According to Google Health: [Impetigo] is most common in children, particularly those in unhealthy living conditions. Now, I know I have mentioned that my housekeeping skills are not necessarily June Cleaver-y, but squalor is more of a colorfully descriptive word than an accurate description of my domesticity. The kitchen counter is a little sticky in that one spot, but overall, it's not too bad. I wouldn't eat off of the floor (after the 5 second rule expires) but that's mostly because Lisa The Loudest Cat Ever lives here. And the county early intervention people have been visiting this last month (plus we had company at Chuckles's birthday party) so I've been doing Company-Is-Coming Panic Cleaning lately (and I got that new vaccum). So overall, it's not the house.

Bobo has a pretty varied diet, although the quantities of food he eats fluctuate wildly. I am going to guess that his throat has been a little sore for at least the last month (since the pediatrician declared his throat raw at the last few visits and he has had strep throat for probably the last 3 weeks). He drinks 12-16 ounces of formula a day (still in a bottle), so I don't think he's missing out on any key nutrients.

Oh, about that bottle. He only takes it at night and nap. I had Chuckles off of the bottle by this age, but Bobo is not Chuckles. As with so many things with Bobo (like bottles, pacifiers, sleep training, potty training, etc), I keep saying, "We need to wait until he's healthy to do [fill in the blank]." Well, healthy has not been forthcoming.

So, now that we're at a crossroads and a crisis point. And I'm trying to put the pieces together. Let's assume it's all related, OK?

A couple of days after birth, we noticed scabs on Bobo's feet/toes. Is this significant? I don't know.
At 6 weeks old, he started sleeping through the night. That ended at age 3 months and has not been back regularly since then.
At 3.5 months, despite parents and sibling being vaccinated and not attending child care and still being in the baby bucket car seat (so not touching shopping carts or public high chairs), Bobo developed influenza.
At 4.5 months, I went back to work. Then the fun really began. Ear infections, colds, chicken pox, allergic reactions, antibiotics, strep pneumo, ear infections, I weaned, pink eye, ear tubes, a nosebleed that didn't stop and needed to be packed (after a minor fall), more ear infections, more pink eye, strep throat, thrush, impetigo.

So, that is not exactly a picture of health, but it's not exactly a smiley face with Xs for eyes either. So, maybe he's just a sickly kid. Nothing wrong with that. I just keep thinking that if he were healthy, he might be talking. We've spent so much time and energy managing his various illnesses. Maybe we haven't had the energy to play the sound mimic game. I'm tapping a well of undiscovered maternal strength and energy and vowing to manage illness and enjoy playful times as well. I've decided to scale my sleep back from 8 hours per night to 7. I know that sounds luxurious, but it's not like it's continuous hours of sleep.

OMG: this just in: Lisa the Loudest Cat Ever just peed on Mr. Long-Suffering. I guess Lisa is sick and needs to go to the vet. Yay. It's been 48 hours since I visited with a medical professional. I was starting to get jittery. Good thing I tapped that well.

Anyway, where was I? It turns out that our families have been avoiding us because they are all afraid they are going to catch whatever it is that Bobo has as the illness du jour. This is sad. It's very sad. Chuckles has an excellent relationship with his grandparents. And they won't go near Bobo for fear of contracting whatever it is he has on any given day. They don't want to get sick and be unable to visit their other grandchildren. But Chuckles suffers as well because they don't visit with us as a family. (And I personally, think they could visit without getting sick as Chuckles, Mr. Long-Suffering, and I have remained reasonably healthy throughout this and adults are pretty good about washing hands and not touching their eyes/noses/mouths.) We've stopped going places as a family. Chuckles and the parent of choice go to parties and visits and errands. Bobo stays home with the other parent. I didn't really notice it happening. It was gradual enough. But now, it's quite clear. Bobo is usually sick enough that he needs to stay home (to make sure he gets a good nap in his crib). I can't tell you the last time our family went somewhere together and Bobo didn't spend the whole time looking pitiful in my arms. I can't believe I didn't see all of this sooner. Oh, and I know he will be fine some day. Of this, I have no doubt. I'm more up-in-arms because I didn't see it sooner, didn't pull him from day care sooner, and still don't have a nanny lined up. It's the second guessing coupled with the fear of the unknown.

So, this has been kind of a downer post, but I'm sorting through my feelings in real time here.

If asked what I need from you, my 3 faithful readers, the answer is I need you to listen and validate my feelings. And if you have any insights, I'll take those too. Stories of how you missed your own child's illness or even stories of how you caught it early and then the kid puked in the waiting room are also good.

Oh, and I still feel very lucky. Very, very lucky. I am acutely aware that if we were in a different economic position, a chronic illness (or speech therapy) could very well bankrupt us (do you have any idea how much unicorns charge for their services?). If we were in a different time, some of these illnesses could have proved fatal to Bobo (if he had even survived birth with the whole placenta previa thing). So, yes, I am going to play the lottery again tomorrow. Somebody's gonna Lotto...might as well be me.

Unicorns, Water Sprites, and Speech-Language Pathologists with Openings

What are things that don't exist, Alex?

Anyway, I couldn't get Bobo a speech therapist. I am on the waiting list. I ended up getting him a developmental therapist with some experience with speech issues. I am on 7 waiting lists. The earliest opening is in 2-3 months.

Chuckles graduated from kindergarten tonight. It was cute and disorganized, and I did not cry one single tear the entire time. Even though I had cried intermittently the entire day.

Because Bobo is sick. Again. And badly. He just got over thrush. For gosh sake's my 18 month old contracted thrush, an opportunistic infection if ever there was one. He has subacute strep bacteria in his throat. They took a variety of cultures from him (ear cultures are pretty gross, for the record). He's sick. Again and we're going to do antibody studies because it sounds like Bobo has primary immunodeficiency. Which I am not googling. Any more. He gets sick with opportunistic infections. Ear tubes have meant that instead of being on oral antibiotics constantly, he's now on antibiotic ear drops and eye drops every other week. Our pediatrician told us in no uncertain terms that Bobo needs to leave day care for at least 6 weeks so he can be healthy enough for some of the tests. It's hard to do antibody studies when you have an active infection.

I'm a wreck. I had made my peace with our day care. I liked it plenty. Chuckles flourished there. But Bobo is not Chuckles. Every child is different. Don't compare your kids. And CHuckles just graduated. So, we're getting a nanny. On Monday. Mind you, I don't have a nanny picked out, but Bobo can't go back, so I don't know what I am doing. The grandparents are not willing to be stop-gap childcare for us. I could take vacation or something. I don't know. The pediatrician said he can't write us out on FMLA for this. We just need a week. TOmorrow, I am calling nannies and interviewing them this weekend with a Target Date of June 1st.

So, I'm crying and I think I totally missed all of Chuckles's graduation because unbeknownst (is that spelled right?) to me, Bobo had a 102-deg fever during the graduation. He's on antibiotics. Why did he spike a fever? And now he's in bed coughing. ANd I'm weeping and blogging. And crying. And not cute Bachelorette-style tears but the big snotty, puffy faced kind.

I have to go to bed now. I'm sure I'll get sleep...not. Good night.

Other Important News

I forgot to mention that my new vacuum cleaner is a Hoover WindTunnel Bagged (not self-propelled). This thing drags you around the room so I am really glad we opted to save the 50 bucks and not ge the self-propelled version.

Also, I am really sorry that I have been spelling vacuum wrong in these posts. I just like the double-c next to the double-u.

The deal at amazon is better than I got. I had to pay sales tax because I shopped at a store. So a 7% mark-up for the government. With free shipping and no tax, I'd say buy it from amazon (and buy it because it works)!

It does have some drawbacks like a dorky cord winding area that interferes with the on-board cleaning attachments, but if I need to access the attachments, chances are that it is plugged in anyway, so that's not a big deal.

I had the hose cover part C issue that some reviewers at amazon mentioned. It has not been a big deal yet but I haven't used the attachments much (should vacuum couch...need to find spare change).

All-in-all, a good vacuum so far. My previous Hoover is still going strong at 12 years old, but I don't vacuum often so it's lightly used. I bought a new one because the technology has gotten better and we have a multi-floor house so I moved out old vacuum to the lower level and the Panasonic we were using there can go to the garage for the cars (instead of dragging the Shop Vac out there from the basement).

The Evaluation

We had our evaluation with the county early intervention people yesterday. They looked at Bobo as a whole child. They evealuated fine and gross motor skills, social/emotional Bobo, and silent Bob.

So, some nuggets:

Bobo thinks, "This is the best thing EVER! Two, 2, TWO pretty ladies came to my house with the express purpose of playing with me. Me! Not my brother but me! And I got to eat cinnamon goldsifh crackers to show up my pincer grip. They played with me! I got to throw a balloon and kick and smile and charm. Uninterrupted attention. Yippee. What else can I mess up to get more of this?"

Dina and Kate were wonderful with him. One of them was a behavioral therapist and the other was a speech-language pathologist. They banged a drum and played a mimicking game (wherein he did not mimic any sounds). They read him a story. They stacked blocks, watched him eat, played Duplos, rolled cars, etc. He got to point to body parts and do the hand motions to "The Wheels on the Bus".

He screamed like a pteradactyl. He said, "oh oh", which is like "uh oh" but even less. He said, "Muh" while signing for more. He said, "Gah" while pointing at a wooden cat. He smiled. He charmed. He was delighted. He failed his expressive language portion of the exam. Pretty spectacularly.

Our Wednesday meeting has not been canceled which means Bobo qualifies for services, so today, like the good little mommy I am, I started calling speech-language pathologists and getting put on fricken waiting lists because OMG, there are no SLPs with openings. There are a few who work in the schools and have summer openings, but then I am right back here in August. Two of the SLPs told me they have kids in their programs turning 3 in September or October and I can get in then. I even tried going to the self-pay play clinic. They have no openings, and we're on their waiting list. So, then I started calling behavioral therapists with bachelors degrees in speech/language (and Masters Degrees in whatever). I left several messages. I called 7 SLPs/BTs and no one has any openings. I guess I will keep calling because it is that important. Note to all of you: get training and certification in SLP...you'll never be unemployed.

I don't think I have anything else to say except Chuckles is graduating from kindergarten on Thursday and his Jostens cap and gown came home yesterday and I started tearing up. Stupid mom.

Fun New Game

Fun New Game: Let's play "Stomach Virus or Food Poisoning"?

Let's see. There were items to indicate that it was either food poisoning or a tummy bug. I'm not sure which, but I did spend 7 hours on the couch with intermittent consciousness. Which sounds like fun. Until you realize there was vomit involved. Good news? Children unaffected.


What else?
I would like to tell you the crazy that this Early Intervention is, but I don’t think I can fully capture it. Here goes:

We are doing the eval on Monday, but they won’t tell us then whether Bobo needs therapy. We need to wait for Wednesday’s review meeting. But the review meeting won’t take place if he doesn’t qualify for services. (So if you're real smart like me...like I, you can figure out what it means if your meeting isn't cancelled.)

So, if he doesn’t need therapy, they will cancel the Wed mtg after the Mon mtg. On Wednesday at the review meeting, we need to name the person we want to do the therapies (that we don't know until the meeting he needs).

So she told me to interview the therapists and have one (them?) picked out by Wednesday. So I am going through their resumes online right now. How do you pick someone? She told me to call and interview them. Most of them only work 9:30-3 M-F, so do I pick one who does evenings and weekends or someone with a lot of experience who might not be current on latest info or not energetic or someone young and inexperienced but playful?

Moving on....

Chuckles turned 5, and I did not die. I cannot believe I am the mother of a 5-year old. A 4-year sounds like a big toddler, a preschooler perhaps. But a 5-year old is a kid. A real-live person.

We threw a birthday party for him. 53 people came. There was a giant, inflatable thing in my backyard with a slide and obstacles and jumping areas. And it was awesome. We got 3 out of 6 grandparents to go into it. There was some rain. We had a campfire. And S'mores! There was my version of a pinata (a Trader Joe's bag on a pulley system in the front yard). There were kids and cake. And leftovers (which have been discarded, see also Food Poisoning, possible). How awesome would it be to give your entire family and all your friends food poisoning? The answer is not awesome at all. Only Mr. Long-Suffering, my dad, and I were sickened, so I think maybe we all just caught a bug.

Chuckles received too many toys, a gaggle of books, and enough clothes to rival any sorority sister. And, of course, he wants more. But he's being parented firmly but lovingly back into reality ("Are you kidding me? You cannot get a new toy/book. You just got a million new Zhu-Zhu pets/Transformers/cars/sprinklers.")

Bobo had the gall to smile at me the other night while awake at 1 am. Dang him! Dang him to heck! He and I spent a lovely lightning-filled evening together from 11 pm until 2am where every time I set him down he cried like the crib was made of lava. Then, in an act of quiet desperation, I called my husband (who was at work) and demanded to know where I had left the ibuprofen (sure, that sentence reads funny, but it was the middle of the night and when upright, the child was smiling at me. There is nothing more infuriating than that.) So, ibuprofen was administered and he was kept upright for the requisiste 15 minutes for it to kick in, and then, I laid him down. And I slept. Sweet baby Bobo, sleep is a glorious thing (especially when recovering from Vomit-Fest 2010).

Squish Squish, Moo

I am deciding whether we should teach Bobo some sign language so he can tell us deep thoughts like: "I hate you for not feeding me chocolate teddy grahams and in protest, I will hurl this binky at your head." Actually, he doesn't need sign language for that. That one is pretty clear.

Anyway, while trying to find a print out chart of some easy signs I could teach him, I found a video thing and discovered that the sign for "milk" is the motion one would make while milking a cow with one hand. I find this disturbing. Probably because I used to be the cow.

Mommy's Video Game

On Saturday morning, we arrived at Sears Appliance before they opened. When the clock struck 10 am, we entered and proceeded to spend money. We got a new vaccuum cleaner. I know! I am so excited because I am boring and a mom. But a new vaccuum.

On Sunday afternoon, it was all assembled and ready to go, so I vaccuumed the whole house. It has a little red light that shows you it's dirty, and the light turns green when the air being sucked in is no longer filthy. It's Mommy's New Video Game. Big Fun.


Also, I signed up for a cheap trial of XM radio, so I have video games and all the best of Hair Nation radio. Woo Woo!

Home Alone

Last Friday, I came home from work early for the Early Intervention meeting (some day, I'll probably be all like "EI this" and "ST that" but for now, I'm not down with the abbreviations like I am in TTC world). Anyway, I came home early for the EI intake appointment.

And Mr. Long-Suffering was already at home picking up and straightening so we wouldn't be embarrassed by our sloth. I got home before Linda the intake worker arrived, so we were home alone. We haven't been in our house sans enfants since January. It's a weird feeling. A free feeling. So, Mr. Long-Suffering comes out of the kitchen holding a Keebler Fudge Stripe cookie in one hand and a can of Redi-Whip in the other and makes an appetizer out of those two things and asks me if I want one. No KIDS. No KIDS. We can eat junk and not share and not pass down bad habits involving canned whipping cream.

Adventures in E*Bay

I don't know how much of my biographical information I have given you, so here goes: I cannot gamble. Well, I can. I could. I did. But, you know I am so frugal. So, when I lose, I get angry with myself.

When I was in college, I got a summer internship in Michigan (shout out to my Tri-County area peeps who have flown in or out of MBS Airport). Anyway, this caused me to live near an Indian Reservation and Casino. I enjoyed it much. Until I realized I had been sitting at the same blackjack table for 17 consecturive hours with nothing to eat and only little tiny juice glasses of non-alcoholic beverage served by entirely too-clad Native American women. I was up $40. I was always up. I never walked out of that casino with less money than I had going in, but it took all fricken day to earn $40. You see, I couldn't see my way to gamble more than $3 on any single hand of blackjack (splitting and doubling down, excepted). And time is money. But I was, perhaps, a wee bit compulsive.

Fast-forward to now. I work 90 yards from a casino into which I have never stepped foot (except the rare luncheon at the restaurant with coworkers). I've never gone into the casino part. Because I don't know whether I would be able to leave.

Did I also mention that I am a competitive jerk with a perfectionist complex? Oh yes, it's great fun to be seated at the table with me as I stack my chips into completely neat and symmetrical piles of only matching (or patterns!) colors.

So, it should not surprise you that I cannot go on ebay.

It all started on Easter. We had dinner here at our house. Mr. Long-Suffering washed dishes and broke one of my Waterford crystal flutes (two swans in the shape of a heart on the side). Anyway, I told him not to worry and I went to replacements.com Well, they wanted over a hundred dollars for one stinking flute. I am way too cheap for that, so I went to e*bay and they had a ton. I bid on a few and lost. Once I saw a price pattern developing, I realized I could win some. So I ended up bidding on something like 34 Waterford crystal champagne flutes. I won 3 pairs (6 glasses). None of which are the actual glass Mr. L-S broke. I say I had been planning on getting a few more flutes anyway. Which is true. But I was not going to do it this year. Oh well. It's done.

And that all would have been fine because I realized I now have enough crystal and I stopped bidding (because I have super self-control). But then I went back to leave feedback for my sellers. I can't believe I gave 5 stars to the guy who wrapped the glasses in scrap from his papershredder tainted with glitter, but I did. The glasses didn't break in transit but I nearly drove to the return address and dropped glitter all over his living room.

Anway, while leaving all this positive feedback lovefest, I noticed that there are people selling "Envelopes". Why in the world would you buy an envelope on e*bay? Because the people fill the envelopes with formula checks and coupons. Of course, you aren't allowed to sell those, so the people put the envelopes up on e*bay and send the coupons in the envelope as a free gift. Anyway, Bobo is 17-months old and still on formula (and soy milk) so I looked into it and turned into a competitive jerk. So, I closed the browser down and decided to come here and tell all. That is all. I have already spent an unholy amount of money this month and I don't need to be hanging out on e*bay wasting my time and money any longer.

Today was the intake appointment with the Early Intervention people. The date of the evaluation has been set as has the day for the review of the Action Plan. Those two meetings are 36 hours apart. The assessment was scheduled close to the deadline, so we're having the review on the deadline date. It's all so strange and weird. They want to know whether you'd like to apply for assistance. You get subsidized services if you make under $228,000 per year. So, uhhh, yes, I would like to apply for that but isn't that just my tax dollars coming back to me? Anyway, that's what is going on here.

I am a compulsive, competitive jerk. And Bobo still doesn't talk.

And Chuckles is turning into a master manipulator. Master. "Mommy, if I be your good helper all week, could I have a treat like a toy?"