I'm proud of my children.
We went on a weekend excursion to the state of Michigan, following last weekend's excursion to Maryland. Any sort of vacation with children involves a large amount of routine disruption for them and very little actual vacation for their grownups.
We have really worked hard to help the kids feel good about going to bed and just being responsive to us in general, and it has paid off handsomely. That's why last weekend, Little Bear was able to go to sleep with the disruption of the rest of his family in the room, with only a little reminding. Quite a change from the last few times we stayed in a hotel together. This weekend was similar. And even The Boy slept well.
When we returned home today after a long day, they were cranky. Really cranky. But the older ones were saying that they were tired and wanted to rest. Rather than fighting with us and being completely defiant (beyond their crankiness, that is), they did their bedtime things and went to bed, happy to be home.
I'm so glad that we have put our emotional connection with the kids at the forefront. We usually know why they are doing what they do (even if the reason is "because he is 2") and we have a good handle on pumpkin time. You know what that is, if you know kids. It's when the fairy tale ends for the afternoon/evening and you just get them out of there before they turn back into pumpkins.
We have boys. We love them. They're awesome. But they are WORK at this age. It's an investment, though. Mamas with boys--you do all this work now so that the teenage years are easier.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Someone calm me down
When The Boy was around the age that Ender is now, he started doing something strange and hilariously funny. Namely, he started crawling into the bathroom when he had to poo or if he already had and needed a change.
Today, Ender crawled into the bathroom and I joked that maybe he had to poo. Which he had.
But this whole time in The Boy's life led up to his diagnosis. And the similarities between my oldest and youngest are frightening enough. I hope and pray that The Boy's medical history remains unique to him in this family.
Which is why the bathroom visit was much less funny to me.
Ender is sick with a virus of some kind and some stubborn thrush to boot. And I am sure glad that the doctor made a point to note his nice soft belly.
Today, Ender crawled into the bathroom and I joked that maybe he had to poo. Which he had.
But this whole time in The Boy's life led up to his diagnosis. And the similarities between my oldest and youngest are frightening enough. I hope and pray that The Boy's medical history remains unique to him in this family.
Which is why the bathroom visit was much less funny to me.
Ender is sick with a virus of some kind and some stubborn thrush to boot. And I am sure glad that the doctor made a point to note his nice soft belly.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Aviv Higiyah, Pesach Bah
Transliterated Hebrew for everyone! That means that spring (Aviv) has been brought to us and Passover (Pesach) is coming. It's here, as of tonight, but right now we're in that neither-here-nor-there zone right before the holiday officially starts. All the cleaning has been done and the forbidden leavened bread and related products (as in, anything that doesn't bear the kosher-for-Passover seal, save for produce and eggs) are gone.
Passover observance really ends up being 9 days, counting this day, and the time at which the forbidden food is forbidden before the holiday starts could signify the journey. Once we get to the seder itself (and pluppel on for an hour or two) we eat the matzah that was baked on our backs as we left the land of Egypt without allowing the dough to rise.
Why is it that on this holiday, we talk about it saying that we were the ones that left Egypt? Other holidays have a story that we tell and rituals for recreation and celebration, but this one takes the extra step and there is a certain suspension of disbelief, where we are both modern technologically advanced people and also the people who escaped from slavery without anything better to do with their unrisen dough than to flatten it on their backs.
Have you ever tasted real Shmurah matzah? As in, the round hand-crafted stuff, not the large squares? It's strong stuff. The authentic Passover experience. One of our family jokes is that if we were the ones who left Egypt, this was the matzah that was on our backs those thousands of years.
In 2007, I was expecting child #1. He is now fully prepared to recite the Four Questions. In 2009, The Boy was in the middle of cancer treatment, I was expecting child #2, and, unbeknownst to me, I was about to be thrown into a months-long period of time where we were more in the hospital than out. In 2010, again unbeknownst to me, we attended the Passover Seder thinking that we needed to return quickly for chemotherapy for The Boy. Upon our return and hospital admission, we were freed from chemotherapy. It was bittersweet, as we still feared for The Boy's kidney function, but we were told to go be normal. Whatever that was.
In reading my Passover entries from previous years, they look an awful lot like this one. Or rather, they run like a performance of "The House that Jack Built."
So we've got 1, probably 2, boys ready to sing The Four Questions and say blessings, and a third who seems to like the sound of The Four Questions. And in case you're wondering, no, I don't plan on reenacting the "Four Sons" part of the Seder. I've got three. That's all.
To what will we come home after this Passover? Hope it's something good!
Passover observance really ends up being 9 days, counting this day, and the time at which the forbidden food is forbidden before the holiday starts could signify the journey. Once we get to the seder itself (and pluppel on for an hour or two) we eat the matzah that was baked on our backs as we left the land of Egypt without allowing the dough to rise.
Why is it that on this holiday, we talk about it saying that we were the ones that left Egypt? Other holidays have a story that we tell and rituals for recreation and celebration, but this one takes the extra step and there is a certain suspension of disbelief, where we are both modern technologically advanced people and also the people who escaped from slavery without anything better to do with their unrisen dough than to flatten it on their backs.
Have you ever tasted real Shmurah matzah? As in, the round hand-crafted stuff, not the large squares? It's strong stuff. The authentic Passover experience. One of our family jokes is that if we were the ones who left Egypt, this was the matzah that was on our backs those thousands of years.
In 2007, I was expecting child #1. He is now fully prepared to recite the Four Questions. In 2009, The Boy was in the middle of cancer treatment, I was expecting child #2, and, unbeknownst to me, I was about to be thrown into a months-long period of time where we were more in the hospital than out. In 2010, again unbeknownst to me, we attended the Passover Seder thinking that we needed to return quickly for chemotherapy for The Boy. Upon our return and hospital admission, we were freed from chemotherapy. It was bittersweet, as we still feared for The Boy's kidney function, but we were told to go be normal. Whatever that was.
In reading my Passover entries from previous years, they look an awful lot like this one. Or rather, they run like a performance of "The House that Jack Built."
So we've got 1, probably 2, boys ready to sing The Four Questions and say blessings, and a third who seems to like the sound of The Four Questions. And in case you're wondering, no, I don't plan on reenacting the "Four Sons" part of the Seder. I've got three. That's all.
To what will we come home after this Passover? Hope it's something good!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Little Bear by the numbers
Number of walls written on: 1
Number of times the Magic Eraser was thrown at me: 6
Number of #2 accidents: 2
Number of baths for Little Bear: 3
Number of plums eaten by Little Bear: 0
Number of water vessels dumped: 3
Number of cups spilled unintentionally: 1
Number of closed water bottles at the table up for grabs: 3
Number of times Little Bear hit me: 4
Number of times I hit back: 0
Number of times I said "I love you" to him: hopefully more than I said "no."
Number of times he said "I love you" to me: at least 10
Number of legs on a centipede: it's supposed to be 100?
Number of centipedes we looked at together: 5, I think
Number of times he had to say "centipede" to get it right: 2
Number of flowers in our yard that Little Bear can identify, both in the yard and in other locations: 4. Tulip, daffodil, dandelion, violet. 5 if you count pine cones.
I felt like I was run over by a truck today after dealing with all the drama. And no nap either, thanks to a 2pm appointment for The Boy, preceded by just enough sleeping in the car to negate the need for a midday snooze. I didn't make it to orchestra this evening, thanks in part to an unfortunate avocado injury. Don't ask. I'll be fine in a few days.
It's so stressful, trying to accomplish anything around the house with a two year old who thinks that he is six sometimes and wants to be a baby other times. And Passover is coming in just a few days, so we need to get ready.
Despite the feeling that Little Bear is working my nerves, I hope that he had enough positives today to make up for the negatives. Overall, I guess I did. And tomorrow's another day...tomorrow, this today will be a yesterday that's gone forever.
Not too soon for me.
Number of times the Magic Eraser was thrown at me: 6
Number of #2 accidents: 2
Number of baths for Little Bear: 3
Number of plums eaten by Little Bear: 0
Number of water vessels dumped: 3
Number of cups spilled unintentionally: 1
Number of closed water bottles at the table up for grabs: 3
Number of times Little Bear hit me: 4
Number of times I hit back: 0
Number of times I said "I love you" to him: hopefully more than I said "no."
Number of times he said "I love you" to me: at least 10
Number of legs on a centipede: it's supposed to be 100?
Number of centipedes we looked at together: 5, I think
Number of times he had to say "centipede" to get it right: 2
Number of flowers in our yard that Little Bear can identify, both in the yard and in other locations: 4. Tulip, daffodil, dandelion, violet. 5 if you count pine cones.
I felt like I was run over by a truck today after dealing with all the drama. And no nap either, thanks to a 2pm appointment for The Boy, preceded by just enough sleeping in the car to negate the need for a midday snooze. I didn't make it to orchestra this evening, thanks in part to an unfortunate avocado injury. Don't ask. I'll be fine in a few days.
It's so stressful, trying to accomplish anything around the house with a two year old who thinks that he is six sometimes and wants to be a baby other times. And Passover is coming in just a few days, so we need to get ready.
Despite the feeling that Little Bear is working my nerves, I hope that he had enough positives today to make up for the negatives. Overall, I guess I did. And tomorrow's another day...tomorrow, this today will be a yesterday that's gone forever.
Not too soon for me.
I got shoes...
The Boy's orthotics are in. They are inserts that go over the socks and in the shoes. He has flat feet and these are supposed to help with heel stabilization, to correct it.
Flat feet cannot be fixed after age 7. So, I'm glad we caught this now. His physical therapist was the one who figured it out.
Not a big problem. Really.
He picked out rainbow straps. They did not offer orange ones.
Flat feet cannot be fixed after age 7. So, I'm glad we caught this now. His physical therapist was the one who figured it out.
Not a big problem. Really.
He picked out rainbow straps. They did not offer orange ones.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)