left right left

When I was a child, I remember the first time my mom let me walk to town. It was one block away, and in my small rural hometown of Beach City, Ohio, it measured less than a football field in distance. I had to cross one major road to get there.
"You have to look left, right and LEFT again," my mom said as she sent me on my maiden solo voyage to the store.
"Left, right, left, right, left, right...." I chanted turning my head continuously as I crossed just in case a sneaky car sped up in an attempt to run me over. Back and forth, back and forth, just to be sure.

Recently while turning my motherly head back and forth while protecting each of my ducklings across the road, my gaze got stuck on the poopy 2- year-old kid with the speech problems.
While my eyes were fixed on him, my oldest K got struck by a seizure.

Life has a funny way of doing that.

So we checked into the ER with our frequent shopper card, CT scan and blood tests proved to be normal, ruling out the real scary stuff like tumors and watery brains. We will see a pediatric neurologist in a week for more tests.
He is fine. And has been ordered to rest for 2-3 days, and he is clearly not a child that wants to rest. And he has two brothers that do not want him to rest.
tbc

update on kc -- july 08

I have a shocking diagnosis from the pediatrician that I know is wrong. I can't even say what it is because, I swear it is just for insurance purposes. I swear it.
We will go to see a developmental pediatrician next month.
In the meantime, our silent baby appears to have turned a corner. He has picked up new words and phrases and has started to sing songs, kind of.
Upon the advice of a wise friend, I have changed his diet. Eliminating dairy, processed foods and white flour.
He has also started with an new oral-motor therapist who really gets in his face and makes him do all sorts of weird slobbery exercises.
He seems more connected and present. There really is a boy in there.

chaos

This house is slowly, OK, not so slowly, descending into chaos.
And hey, I'm the first one to say I thrive on the stuff, after building a career that gets it's jollies on the uncontrollable fast-paced uncertainty of breaking news.
The screaming baby just ran by chasing the dog. He was hollering about the injustice of it all and I could have sworn he mentioned the cat.
I had given the dog a small can of uneaten cat food that, Baka, the senior feline of the home had turned his nose up to.
Leo had taken off running with it in his mouth as the small prize of a life well lived in the house of pain. Forward to me trying to wipe up the small bits of fishy foulness that had become mashed in the fibers of our carpet.
The baby, who can hardly be the judge of all right and wrong in the world, has proven that diapers, clothing, sheets, mattress pads, stuffed animals...are ALL disposable. I shake with fear when I approach his room because due to his potty training efforts he has, let's just say, insisted on spreading the 'love' around. "When will the shit stop!?" I yell in a weary way that only moms can understand. As I pull more Lysol, vinegar and the steam vacuum from the corner of the room.
He also succeeded in pulling a branch I had hung from the ceiling....it was assembled ten years ago filled with multi-colored origami cranes with sweet wishes written by the guests at our wedding. "Many children and a long life," reads one. "Patience and kindness," implores another. This branch has hung in our home for TEN years. It has hung over the bed of two other children. But this two year old pooping tower of power has somehow managed to pull it from its perch -- 9 feet off the ground.
One child broke the other's light saber...the special one that lights up and changes color depending if you are a Sith Lord or a Jedi Master. The saber of power that makes the "whooshing" and clashing noise.
The grass in the backyard is so high, I'm never sure where the dog or smallest child is when they go out.
The baby thought the cd player in the van looked like a vending machine, and so everytime you start the car the player grinds through 89 cents of coins.
The middle child broke our garage door.
And the laundry, oh heck, did I mention I haven't showered in two days?
And yet....I will go upstairs and shower and read a book, because it is what I need to do. for now.

Shiny happy people

The universe is forcing me to look on the bright side of life. The message even comes through the eggs. Of course by the time I found the camera, my yolky friend had changed his expression into a smirk.

potty time

The baby has decided to potty train himself. I suppose he thought someone should get around to it.
more on this....later

What sells...

Say what you will about Hillary.
But this kind of stuff saddens me as a woman and sickens me as a mother.
My first reaction is...I suppose it is better that I don't have daughters.
But the reality is...My job is much bigger. I have the responsibilty to raise three men to be intelligent, respectful and advanced.

Math formulas

I have a mathmatical formula for the amount of time it takes to get out of the door.

Figure five minutes per person.
So from the time I say, "Let's go. Get in the car," it takes us about 25 minutes. By the time everyone finds his shoes, goes potty, gets a drink, sends an email, writes a novel....five minutes per person.

I think you will find my formula pretty solid.

Now throw in a trip to the YMCA outdoor pool, a workout and a packed lunch....the formula expands. It took us 55 minutes, and that was only with four of us. And I still forgot the lunch in a cooler in the garage.

I wish I could do it better. I wish the kids would listen to me the first 25 times I told them something. I wish I were the Zen mama I long to be.

Because you see i have another formula, it takes saying something THREE times, before it is understood. Sometimes I skip right to the end and put on my mean mommy voice and yell something three times....."PUT ON YOUR SHOES, PUT ON YOUR SHOES, PUT ON YOUR SHOES." I make sure I am dripping with evil venom and stink eye when I say it too.

Times my 3X formula times three kids and you have an idea where I am in the end.

I just finished reading "A New Earth" and listening to the podcasts by the author. It has really opened my mind to understanding. I get it, but the author Eckhart Tolle doesn't have children.

Jesus said, "Let the children come to me and do not hinder them." Again, Jesus wasn't around them all day, and he sure didn't try to get them all into the van in less than 30 minutes.

if i could bottle this stuff

...if i could bottle the crazy funny personalities in my life, I'd have a great SNL skit.
There is a woman that I talk to very little, in fact I try to avoid her at every turn. However I find myself cornered frequently. Even more unfortunate, K and Q are the same ages as two of her kids.
So I am amazed at what she can fit into any casual conversation to let you know how...."smart, talented, athletic" any one of her three geniuses are. Some people send those Christmas letters that detail every moment of their amazing year, well she sends that letter twice a year, Christmas and June because one letter a year couldn't cover it all. I wish I were kidding about this.
Today, we stood in the kindergarten hallway as our two boys sat coloring waiting for their screening tests to begin.
I asked her what she was going to do now that her youngest was off to kindergarten in the fall. "I'm thinking of more marathon training, since I'll have from 730 to 230 free. Or maybe I'll try a triathalon."
My eyes glazed as I slipped into a daydream about what I would do with all that new found time....after all children got on the bus, I would go back to bed, sleep until noon, watch some TV, order a pizza,...oh my options just are endless. Notice how training for a marathon, didn't even rank?
Now you should know that I am reading A New Earth, so I am on my way to enlightening living and was fully conscious that my ego may be challenged by this rascal of an earthling.

"Make sure you write first and last name," she coached her five-year-old, "upper AND lowercase."
She asked me about Q starting school and if I felt he was ready. I said he would do kindergarten again since he has his birthday a week before the cut off. (this is his first year in the public school) and I am doing this in hopes he will have an easier time with his school and social life over the next 13 years.
She then told me how her two older girls have summer birthdays, she sent them and they do fabulous. They are both in the TAG (Talented and Gifted) program, advanced math...there it was. I was wondering if she would be able to slip it in.
She hadn't heard a thing I said. What is that? my ego talking? why do I feel I must smack her.
Enlightenment is not easy to accomplish when you have kids...just look at Jesus and Buddha. Both dudes, very cool, peaceful, very enlighted....but no kids.

the baby

He can hear.
I love how I already was figuring out how to smash -- get fitted for hearing aids -- into our schedules.
I am really quite amazed how the panda playing the drums and elephants playing trumpet are ways to measure, but I think they have it down.
on to the next crisis.

hands in the air

I took the baby to the doctor today.
Just to follow up on his development.
The doctor asks if his hearing had been checked, which seemed odd seeing as how maybe she should know.
Then I find out TODAY that at his 2 year-old check up, he failed his hearing test, which was seven months ago.
He failed his hearing screening test again today.
Tomorrow we go to the audiologist for a full hearing test.
Believe it or not, when the nurse told me today that he failed the test, I was relieved. Maybe this will be the answer to why....
I'm no longer relieved.
Now I'm just sad, mad and worried.
More tomorrow....

a fishy tale

i'll admit it

There is a crazy little dude at this fishing place we take the boys. He's an interesting fellow, I love people like him: true characters.

He cleaned my fish (cleaned, with the heads on) and went ON and ON about second-generation Americans and their crazy idea of what food should be. Anyone second generation and later all want the fish heads chopped off, he says, then really all they want to eat are chickens and pigs. Two of the most disgusting, dirty animals around. Then they put cheese on everything.....

I really enjoy this guy. I can get him going on cooking tips, his mean 89 year-old mother and the US army corps of engineers. He's a redneck really (probably15th-generation American), but I haven't heard him say anything racist or rightie-tightie, yet.

So on this particular day, he was rattling on about the secret weapon the US military is using in Iraq....come here a little closer, so I can whisper it to you....it is the WMD we haven't heard of...we wouldn't want this information to get into the wrong hands.....it is...cinnamon.

He says the Iraqis can't stand the smell of it and that is how the military can clear a crowd. The just infuse the air with the sweet smells of cinnabon. And woah....the Iraqis are gone, man.

ahem. like i said, interesting.

So this little guy doesn't know who he is dealing with because, I'll admit it....I'm addicted to food. and really one mention of cinnamon, even if used as a weapon has put it on my brain for days. I made cinnamon and sugar toast last night but really that didn't do the trick. The warm gooeyness is what I craved.

Today....everyone I talked to (the poor unfortunate souls) had to listen to me yammer away about cinnamon and the delicious ways I wanted to eat it. I have children and obligations that kept me from getting my fix, but I cleared the schedule and voila.....
















My
Monkey Bread
2 Cans refrigerated biscuits (I used17.3 oz Grands reduced fat Golden Wheat)
1/3 C sugar
5 teaspoons cinnamon (frankly, I didn't measure. i was feeding my obsession for crying out loud)
1/2 C ground flax seeds
1/2 C chopped pecans
1/2 C butter, melted
1/2 C brown sugar
1/2 C apple sauce (use one of those individual kids servings cups)

1. preheat oven to 350 degrees. spray bundt pan with cooking spray.
2. Mix sugar, cinnamon and flax in 1 gal plastic ziploc bag.
3. cut the biscuits into pieces and shake in bag to cover.
4. sprinkle pecans on the bottom of the pan and place the dough inthe pan. add more pecans as you go along if you like. sprinkle the rest of the sugar mix on top.
5. mix melted butter with brown sugar and apple sauce. and pour evenly on top.
6. Bake for 45 minutes. invert on plate to cool.

a quiet bit of joy

My baby is two and a half years old....today.
He still doesn't really talk. He has a language that is all his own, and I only understand him sometimes.
He has made progress, don't get me wrong, but it is slow and arduous. He has picked up the sing-song sound of language and what the speech therapist calls "approximation."
telephone is ---- ((deh-deh-deh OHN))
His brothers are still lovingly called "Dah" and "Doo Doo"
People try to help....
"Have you let him play with Play-doh?"
"You need to get him a trampoline."
"You need to read him Dr. Suess books."
"He'll talk when he's ready."
As if any of those things would do....
It makes my heart hurt in a quiet heavy kind of way.

What a Cow!

K and Q feed a two-day old calf.

Our life returns to a state that I can only call normal, for lack of a better word.

We've had a week of spring break.

Since we stayed home this break, we did some work around the house and took some day trips around the area.

We took the kids to a dairy farm. Now I must say growing up in rural Ohio, I have very serious blockage paying to see cows. But alas, we are city folk nowadays, so $35 later here we go

But they make it as showbiz and educational as a dairy farm can be......

I continue to train for the 5K Race for the Cure which happens in May. Today I ran 3 miles...in a row, not stopping...I just may make it. I've instructed the fit people on our team to wait for me at the finish line with a defibrillator and a fresh Depends.

AWE-FULL!!!!

totally awesome

When you speak with a zany, wacky 5-year-old, you have to have a sense of humor or a very high level of patience.
Suffice it to day, Q's kindergarten teacher wrote in his progrees report a word that sums it all up......"goofY"
OK...that is your background....so as a family, when we would talk about how great something was we would say something like...."hey, that is cool.....awesome!!"
Then he would shout....."Awful!"
Once again....we say "up" he says "down." We say "black;" he says "white." It is just part of his silly banter.

Then one day he said to me,
Mama, why do you say it is just "AWE-SOME" when really it is "AWE-FULL?!"

QUESTIONS FROM THE BACK SEAT.....

"Mama, have you ever eaten a hot dog on the toilet?"

My five year-old threw me this question one morning on the way to kindergarten.

I thought for a moment....

and then asked...."do you mean, eaten a hot dog while sittting on the toilet? or eating a hot dog straight off of the seat of the toilet?"

because it is best to get the facts.

spring break

I have strep throat.
"We" are on spring break.
Must find something for everyone to do.....must find something....

The Jedi Master training, while the Wookie looks on.

moody

I'm in a weird crunchy mood.
I've been working on our household budget and am amazed at how we keep our heads above water. Money stuff just bums me out. I'm wondering if each kid could just take turns eating for the month.
The "W" is going to be sending me a check in a couple months. They just spent $42 million to tell me the "check is in the mail".....in several months. Talk about budget problems.
whatever, Next time, just send me an email. better yet, just send the check ....even better....instead of sending us all out out for retail therapy, why don't we use the money for stuff to run the country. never mind, just give me the damn check....i can't trust you people.
The first time the "W" sent me a check for $600, I bought a dishwasher. This time, it will just get us through.
and then today this little bit of joy...brightened my gloom.