A month ago, I received a summons to appear for jury duty on December 2nd. This has been hanging on my neck, dragging me down for quite some time. I wasn't sure exactly how this was going to work out. I have no sitter. My littlest guy would have a really hard time being left with a stranger (as hard a time as I would have leaving them with a stranger). The director of Parent's Day Out did offer to allow them to come extra days, but that would only provide morning supervision.
At first, my mother-in-law planned to come for the first day of the jury selection. Then, she wasn't able to come until Wednesday afternoon. My husband spoke with his employer and managed to switch his normal day off (Monday) to Tuesday this week, so that he would be home with them for at least the first day, until we learned if I would be selected for the jury.
Next, we realized that my ES was scheduled for a follow-up appointment regarding his stomach issues this morning at 8 a.m. This meant that I would have to drive all three boys to the appointment. A mother of one of ES's friends did offer to keep them this morning, but that would again mean leaving them with a stranger. Finally, my husband called his supervisor and asked if he could come in late this morning. Thankfully, she agreed.
I was thrilled my husband took ES, since the roads were snowy and quite slick this morning. In fact, last night ES heard sirens racing by our house and he looked out his window to see a burst of flames down the road. We don't know all of the details yet, but think that a car slid off the road, hit a telephone pole and exploded. At first, ES thought it was cool, to see a car on fire out his window. Then, it began to dawn on him that someone may have died in this accident. The thought that it could be one of his friends really hit him. I think he had a hard time falling asleep last night.
The nurse-practitioner who checked on ES this morning said that the biopsy results came back negative for a lot of things: celiac, lactose intolerance, even H. Pylori. However, this doesn't mean that he doesn't have H. Pylori, because it could have been that the particular spot which was biopsied merely didn't have bacteria located there. At this point, his official diagnosis is chronic gastritis and esophagealitis. He is to continue with the Prevacid and eating more frequent small meals (thankfully, he has put on almost 4 pounds) and check back again in two months. Since he continues to experience headaches and have stomach upsets in the mornings, this conflict seems still unresolved.
Thankfully, the court issue has resolved. Over the Thanksgiving weekend, several people had re-assured us that all I needed to do was call the court and explain our situation and I would probably be relieved from the jury duty. My husband's sister had been excused twice when she was home with their twins. So, first thing this morning, I called the court.
Unfortunately, I was told that I would not be excused. However, they were waiting to hear if the case would actually go to court. The woman agreed to give me a call to let me know if the case went to court.
I now feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. She called moments ago to say that the case was settled out of court and I will NOT need to appear tomorrow morning. Of course, when I called to break the good news to hubby, he did say that his employers were willing to let him off to care for the boys, if need be.
Although he might have been allowed to stay home with them, would he really have been ABLE to stay home with them?? We already find that weekends get quite stressful. Their constant demands and endless messes tend to get on his nerves. He admits he's often glad to get back to work. Thankfully, we won't have to test his limits this time around. Whew!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Book Review: The Christmas Child
As we headed out the door for our drive to my in-laws' house for Thanksgiving, I scanned my shelves for a quick, pleasant read. At first, I was tempted to bring Maigret's Christmas, a collection of short stories in the mystery genre (a book I won in a library contest). However, I knew I wanted an absorbing read (in case I needed to block out the noise from my boys in the van), so I slid it back onto the shelf and grabbed another little Christmas book which I had picked up at the thrift store. The book was appealing because of the glossy photo on the front cover. It looks like a coffee table book: one I would proudly display ... if only I had a coffee table.
This book, The Christmas Child, by Max Lucado, is apparently a repackaged version of an earlier story called "The Christmas Cross." Apparently, it was such a big hit that it was turned into a movie (which I noticed is available at http://www.christianbook.com/ for only $5.99). The book I purchased bears photos from the movie and the text was large enough for me to read without reading glasses (fortunate, since I haven't managed to pick up a pair yet). It would make a lovely gift book.
Jack is a reporter from Chicago whose marriage is faltering. His wife requests some space, so he adds extra time onto a trip for work and heads to a small town in Texas to visit a church there. His father had received a black and white photo of the church in the mail mysteriously and Jack intends to investigate. What he finds is an inspiring tale of loss and redemption (you know me, I'm a sucker for redemption stories!). This was a beautiful, easy read. I might just have to rent the movie, if my husband and I can finagle a date night sometime this month. I'm guessing the book was a condensed version of the movie. I could use a good heart-warming tale these days!
Of course, if you are looking for quick, heart-warming Christmas tales, I must also recommend Karen Kingsbury's Red Gloves books. Each of these books follows a Christmas theme and have only 12 short chapters. At her site, they even recommend reading one chapter aloud over the 12 days of Christmas (an interesting idea I might just attempt in a few years when the little ones would be old enough to stick with the story). I've only read two of the four books, but my favorite so far is Gideon's Gift.
When I read Gideon's Gift, I was working at ES's elementary school and would often read during my 15 minute breaks. I sat in the school library crying as I read this book on the couch and the librarian just had to know what I was reading. I hope she went on to read the book, too. Leave a comment if have any other quick, inspiring Christmas reads to recommend.
This book, The Christmas Child, by Max Lucado, is apparently a repackaged version of an earlier story called "The Christmas Cross." Apparently, it was such a big hit that it was turned into a movie (which I noticed is available at http://www.christianbook.com/ for only $5.99). The book I purchased bears photos from the movie and the text was large enough for me to read without reading glasses (fortunate, since I haven't managed to pick up a pair yet). It would make a lovely gift book.
Jack is a reporter from Chicago whose marriage is faltering. His wife requests some space, so he adds extra time onto a trip for work and heads to a small town in Texas to visit a church there. His father had received a black and white photo of the church in the mail mysteriously and Jack intends to investigate. What he finds is an inspiring tale of loss and redemption (you know me, I'm a sucker for redemption stories!). This was a beautiful, easy read. I might just have to rent the movie, if my husband and I can finagle a date night sometime this month. I'm guessing the book was a condensed version of the movie. I could use a good heart-warming tale these days!
Of course, if you are looking for quick, heart-warming Christmas tales, I must also recommend Karen Kingsbury's Red Gloves books. Each of these books follows a Christmas theme and have only 12 short chapters. At her site, they even recommend reading one chapter aloud over the 12 days of Christmas (an interesting idea I might just attempt in a few years when the little ones would be old enough to stick with the story). I've only read two of the four books, but my favorite so far is Gideon's Gift.
When I read Gideon's Gift, I was working at ES's elementary school and would often read during my 15 minute breaks. I sat in the school library crying as I read this book on the couch and the librarian just had to know what I was reading. I hope she went on to read the book, too. Leave a comment if have any other quick, inspiring Christmas reads to recommend.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Book Review: Never Let Me Go
I wish I had the energy to write a better review for this book. Alas, I have been totally drained the last two days. I spent most of Sunday in bed, sleeping. Tonight, logged on to read my mail and write this brief review, but did note that Coleman Larson needs further prayers. He is now unable to walk on his own. Thankfully, they are home and will enjoy a Thanksgiving with family.
On to the book - Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, was quite interesting to listen to. Despite the Asian sounding name, Ishiguro is British and does a remarkable job of painting life (and speculative life) in England. The book tells the story from the perspective of Kathy H., a student who grew up at Hailsham school. At the outset, Kathy explains that she has spent most of her time recently being a "carer" for many "donors." But, then she begins to outline her background a bit more and you come to understand more and more of the nature of the boarding school where she was raised. Without giving away too much of the book, Ishiguro does a splendid job of drawing interesting characters and intertwining them in an ever-unfolding story with suspense and intrigue. The premise is one which could set you thinking anyway, since it opens up a few ethical worm-cans.
It is definitely a good read and if you want a great British tale to listen to, do check out the audio version. It reminded me a bit of an adult version of a story like Lois Lowery's The Giver. My only criticism, is that the entire story could have been achieved just as well without any of the discussions or allusions to sexual situations. Still, a very good read.
On to the book - Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, was quite interesting to listen to. Despite the Asian sounding name, Ishiguro is British and does a remarkable job of painting life (and speculative life) in England. The book tells the story from the perspective of Kathy H., a student who grew up at Hailsham school. At the outset, Kathy explains that she has spent most of her time recently being a "carer" for many "donors." But, then she begins to outline her background a bit more and you come to understand more and more of the nature of the boarding school where she was raised. Without giving away too much of the book, Ishiguro does a splendid job of drawing interesting characters and intertwining them in an ever-unfolding story with suspense and intrigue. The premise is one which could set you thinking anyway, since it opens up a few ethical worm-cans.
It is definitely a good read and if you want a great British tale to listen to, do check out the audio version. It reminded me a bit of an adult version of a story like Lois Lowery's The Giver. My only criticism, is that the entire story could have been achieved just as well without any of the discussions or allusions to sexual situations. Still, a very good read.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Apparently He Supports the Death Penalty
Today was a full day. I know that I mentioned last month that my reading might taper off because I was in love with my niece's song. However, I have to confess that my reading was also affected by that blasted thief, the aging process.
I had an eye exam this morning. Lately, my eyes hurt when I try to read. I can no longer read the expiration date on coupons (and my husband, who wears glasses, laughs at this one). Things begin to blur. Of course, I had visions of coke-bottle glasses and yet another tally mark on the list of things sabotaging my self-image (other items on the list include a mid-section ruined by two c-sections in my 40's, graying hair that refuses to be pulled into the stylist's highlighting cap holes, and, of course, the ubiquitous toe-nail tragedy). It didn't help that my ES said "Neeee - you have to get glasses!" when he heard I was going in for an exam.
Now, I am breathing a sigh of relief for two reasons. First, the fuzzy sensation from the eye dilation wore off before I had to drive my MS to a birthday party. Second, the optometrist said my eyes looked very "young" and "healthy." I don't have to purchase prescription glasses (without insurance coverage). Instead, I can select a cheapo pair of reading glasses (a plus one was suggested - and if you don't know what I'm talking about, then you are obviously not over 40!). Knowing my track record with sunglasses, I'm guessing Santa just might bring me an extra pair in my stocking!
I insisted on an afternoon nap for MS (in fact, maybe he'll have a nap every day for the rest of the week, thanks to Wednesday's escapade). From the moment he woke, he was ablaze with enthusiasm for his first official birthday party invitation. The birthday boy is in his class at pre-school and the party was held at a Chuck E. Cheese's two towns away.
He and I both had a wonderful time. He received a cup with 20 tokens and managed to snag enough tickets to select two snakes, three frogs, a dinosaur, and a multi-colored pen. The birthday boy loved his Diego game (at first when I petitioned MS to ask the birthday boy what he wanted, MS kept telling me "All Joe wants is a birthday cake. Could you make him a birthday cake?" - finally, he came up with "Joe likes Diego"). I had wonderful, easy conversation with another preschool mother (this woman is amazing - she has 3 daughters, ages 7, 4 and 2 - and is attending law school ... in Michigan ... every weekend ... for the past 3 years - and I can't keep my house clean????).
During the drive home, I was explaining to MS that I am hoping to get the house cleaned and the Christmas decorations up this weekend. We had been planning on putting them up after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, I was called for jury duty beginning December 2nd. Thankfully, my sister-in-law, who is a nurse, had already planned on staying an extra week at my in-laws. For now, the plan is for my mother-in-law to head over to Indiana on December 1st to watch the kids Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. (There is literally no way she could come without someone to care for my father-in-law). Hubby will be off Friday and Monday. At the one week point, if I am selected for the jury and the case is still in session, I am "up a creek without a paddle," or at least without a babysitter in the canoe.
Of course, the little guy didn't understand what a jury is and why Mom might have to spend her days in court. Thus began another teachable moment. I explained that sometimes people do things that are bad, like punching other people or stealing things, and the police have to arrest them. Then, they go to court and the judge and jury decide whether the person did the bad thing and should be sent to jail or not.
At first, he was very concerned. He said, "Mom, I don't want you to have to go to jail."
I could have replied, "Mom will only have to go to jail if I leave you home alone while I go to fulfill my civic duty." Instead, I sweetly answered, "No, buddy! Mom hasn't done anything bad. I have to help decide if the accused person has done something bad and then say if I think he should go to jail or pay a fine or something."
Then, he came up with this all on his own (although, I do know that the preschool recently visited the police department - hmmm??):
"Sometimes bad guys steal someone's house. I think if a bad guy steals someone's house, the police should put those handcuffs on him and then put him in a tank of water until he has no breath in him and then he will die."
Good thing he doesn't have to worry about jury duty yet! He's not too cut up about the Christmas decorations going up early either. He said he wants to push the button and make the Grinch's heart light up on that Grinch Christmas ornament we have! The only way I see the Grinch's heart lighting up these days, is if they fail to select me for the jury and send me home to my excessively needy children.
I had an eye exam this morning. Lately, my eyes hurt when I try to read. I can no longer read the expiration date on coupons (and my husband, who wears glasses, laughs at this one). Things begin to blur. Of course, I had visions of coke-bottle glasses and yet another tally mark on the list of things sabotaging my self-image (other items on the list include a mid-section ruined by two c-sections in my 40's, graying hair that refuses to be pulled into the stylist's highlighting cap holes, and, of course, the ubiquitous toe-nail tragedy). It didn't help that my ES said "Neeee - you have to get glasses!" when he heard I was going in for an exam.
Now, I am breathing a sigh of relief for two reasons. First, the fuzzy sensation from the eye dilation wore off before I had to drive my MS to a birthday party. Second, the optometrist said my eyes looked very "young" and "healthy." I don't have to purchase prescription glasses (without insurance coverage). Instead, I can select a cheapo pair of reading glasses (a plus one was suggested - and if you don't know what I'm talking about, then you are obviously not over 40!). Knowing my track record with sunglasses, I'm guessing Santa just might bring me an extra pair in my stocking!
I insisted on an afternoon nap for MS (in fact, maybe he'll have a nap every day for the rest of the week, thanks to Wednesday's escapade). From the moment he woke, he was ablaze with enthusiasm for his first official birthday party invitation. The birthday boy is in his class at pre-school and the party was held at a Chuck E. Cheese's two towns away.
He and I both had a wonderful time. He received a cup with 20 tokens and managed to snag enough tickets to select two snakes, three frogs, a dinosaur, and a multi-colored pen. The birthday boy loved his Diego game (at first when I petitioned MS to ask the birthday boy what he wanted, MS kept telling me "All Joe wants is a birthday cake. Could you make him a birthday cake?" - finally, he came up with "Joe likes Diego"). I had wonderful, easy conversation with another preschool mother (this woman is amazing - she has 3 daughters, ages 7, 4 and 2 - and is attending law school ... in Michigan ... every weekend ... for the past 3 years - and I can't keep my house clean????).
During the drive home, I was explaining to MS that I am hoping to get the house cleaned and the Christmas decorations up this weekend. We had been planning on putting them up after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, I was called for jury duty beginning December 2nd. Thankfully, my sister-in-law, who is a nurse, had already planned on staying an extra week at my in-laws. For now, the plan is for my mother-in-law to head over to Indiana on December 1st to watch the kids Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. (There is literally no way she could come without someone to care for my father-in-law). Hubby will be off Friday and Monday. At the one week point, if I am selected for the jury and the case is still in session, I am "up a creek without a paddle," or at least without a babysitter in the canoe.
Of course, the little guy didn't understand what a jury is and why Mom might have to spend her days in court. Thus began another teachable moment. I explained that sometimes people do things that are bad, like punching other people or stealing things, and the police have to arrest them. Then, they go to court and the judge and jury decide whether the person did the bad thing and should be sent to jail or not.
At first, he was very concerned. He said, "Mom, I don't want you to have to go to jail."
I could have replied, "Mom will only have to go to jail if I leave you home alone while I go to fulfill my civic duty." Instead, I sweetly answered, "No, buddy! Mom hasn't done anything bad. I have to help decide if the accused person has done something bad and then say if I think he should go to jail or pay a fine or something."
Then, he came up with this all on his own (although, I do know that the preschool recently visited the police department - hmmm??):
"Sometimes bad guys steal someone's house. I think if a bad guy steals someone's house, the police should put those handcuffs on him and then put him in a tank of water until he has no breath in him and then he will die."
Good thing he doesn't have to worry about jury duty yet! He's not too cut up about the Christmas decorations going up early either. He said he wants to push the button and make the Grinch's heart light up on that Grinch Christmas ornament we have! The only way I see the Grinch's heart lighting up these days, is if they fail to select me for the jury and send me home to my excessively needy children.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
I Lost ... My Mind!
I really can't complain about my morning routine. My husband rises at 5 a.m. every day. Being the wonderful, loving husband that he is (and knowing that I come to bed around 1 - he catches me every. single. time - groan), he usually gets my ES up and out the door to catch his 7:30 a.m. bus each morning. This allows me to sleep until YS or MS wake me.
Thanks to the little bug he has been fighting, and the meds he is now taking, ES often feels ill in the morning or needs to use the restroom just when the bus is about to arrive. Such was the case this morning. At 7:40, my hubby gently woke me and explained that I would have to take ES to school because nature called at an inopportune time.
This was a good thing, really. By the time I returned home, I was wide awake and didn't spend my normal half hour trying to rouse myself from the couch. I was even feeling quite productive ... this morning. So productive, I decided to take the boys to the library (they've been begging for the Max and Ruby video - even YS, who says those names with such enunciation).
As I bent down to put on YS's coat, I had to coax him into letting go of sleepy bear in order to get his arms in the sleeves. From the moment we got in the car, it seemed like mayhem descended. YS didn't want to listen to the Cam Jensen book, while MS was adamant that it stay on. As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a mom who had recently walked the trail with us at the park. MS seemed eager to greet her son, so I hurried to get them out.
I think he was really excited to be with a "friend." Can I blame him? His already loud voice went up about 15 decibels, despite constant shushing. He ran right out of his shoes on his way to the junior department. He wanted to show Tyler how fast he could run. He headed with Tyler to the Halloween videos (surprise, surprise) and I went off to find Max and Ruby.
It seemed like every minute that went by, their behavior deteriorated another notch. MS was monopolizing the large stuffed puppy back in the board book area. YS was throwing Lego's. MS then walked up to a girl and grabbed a book out of her hand. I began to sense those furtive, yet-not-so-furtive looks from other mothers. You know those looks. The, "my, here come the rabble-rousers" looks!
After a time out on the couch for jerking an Elmo doll away from his brother, MS crossed the line by crawling right behind the head of another mother who was seated on the climbing shelves reading to her daughter. I had to whisk on coats, grab our two items (I don't think we've ever managed to leave a library with only two paltry items!), and head for the self-check-out machine. Thankfully, MS loves to check out and didn't cause any further furtive (or not) looks.
We arrived home, ate lunch and prepared for afternoon quiet time. Thus began our daily activity of searching for sleepy bear so YS can nap. The last thing I remembered was wrenching it from his hands to put on the coat. I couldn't remember if we had it at the library or not. I couldn't remember if YS had it when I took him out of the car seat. I do know we didn't take it home from the library, because I distinctly remembered every moment of the whisking on the coats, hanging heads in shame exit.
After thoroughly scouring the entire house, I had to put YS down without sleepy bear. He whimpered, but did fall asleep. MS was supposed to be having quiet reading time in his room. He asked if he could come out to help me look for sleepy bear. I looked and looked. I checked every crazy place the thing has ever shown up before (mixed in the costume boxes, inside the cardboard play house, in my husband's closet, under our bed, etc. ad nauseam). I checked the van and the garage.
(Warning: Lengthy side-note!) I have always loved reading Dawn's blog and hearing of the many food discoveries that go on at her house. Up until this point, I have chuckled over these tales. Then, I looked under the curio cabinet in the spare bedroom (which leads to the garage - this is where coats are usually put on). I noticed this box and pulled it out. What?!
I remembered buying it last week. I don't remember putting it away. Lovely, what was inside, eh? Good thing I found that. But, where, oh where, was sleepy bear?
I began to really feel frantic. I called the library to see if anyone had turned it in. No such luck. I called my husband and my mother-in-law to ask them to pray for sleepy bear's safe return. MS happily talked with his grandmother.
When ES arrived home, I left him in charge of MS and sleeping YS and drove back to the library to see if it had been dropped in the parking lot. Still no bear. I began the search all over again, MS trailing behind me.
As I entered the spare bedroom, I decided to look behind the bed (I had already looked under it, but who knows). Next, I lifted the comforter and, there, stuffed between the two pillows, was sleepy bear. Suddenly I hear a quiet, "I thought you would never find it!"
I turned to face MS. "Are you saying that you put sleepy bear there?"
"Yeah. I didn't think you were gonna find it."
I burst out, "You are in your room, in quiet time, until dinner. In fact, probably AFTER dinner, too!"
Two and a half hours of my afternoon wasted. Fretful emotions roused. Unnecessary prayers invoked. MS's quiet time interrupted (ah, this was the goal all along). Sleepy bear FOUND. Now, I'm signing off and heading to bed. Maybe I'll even make it before one. Then again, I still have to straighten the upstairs, load the dishwasher, and brush my teeth. Darn it all, late again! It's no wonder I've lost my mind.
Thanks to the little bug he has been fighting, and the meds he is now taking, ES often feels ill in the morning or needs to use the restroom just when the bus is about to arrive. Such was the case this morning. At 7:40, my hubby gently woke me and explained that I would have to take ES to school because nature called at an inopportune time.
This was a good thing, really. By the time I returned home, I was wide awake and didn't spend my normal half hour trying to rouse myself from the couch. I was even feeling quite productive ... this morning. So productive, I decided to take the boys to the library (they've been begging for the Max and Ruby video - even YS, who says those names with such enunciation).
As I bent down to put on YS's coat, I had to coax him into letting go of sleepy bear in order to get his arms in the sleeves. From the moment we got in the car, it seemed like mayhem descended. YS didn't want to listen to the Cam Jensen book, while MS was adamant that it stay on. As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a mom who had recently walked the trail with us at the park. MS seemed eager to greet her son, so I hurried to get them out.
I think he was really excited to be with a "friend." Can I blame him? His already loud voice went up about 15 decibels, despite constant shushing. He ran right out of his shoes on his way to the junior department. He wanted to show Tyler how fast he could run. He headed with Tyler to the Halloween videos (surprise, surprise) and I went off to find Max and Ruby.
It seemed like every minute that went by, their behavior deteriorated another notch. MS was monopolizing the large stuffed puppy back in the board book area. YS was throwing Lego's. MS then walked up to a girl and grabbed a book out of her hand. I began to sense those furtive, yet-not-so-furtive looks from other mothers. You know those looks. The, "my, here come the rabble-rousers" looks!
After a time out on the couch for jerking an Elmo doll away from his brother, MS crossed the line by crawling right behind the head of another mother who was seated on the climbing shelves reading to her daughter. I had to whisk on coats, grab our two items (I don't think we've ever managed to leave a library with only two paltry items!), and head for the self-check-out machine. Thankfully, MS loves to check out and didn't cause any further furtive (or not) looks.
We arrived home, ate lunch and prepared for afternoon quiet time. Thus began our daily activity of searching for sleepy bear so YS can nap. The last thing I remembered was wrenching it from his hands to put on the coat. I couldn't remember if we had it at the library or not. I couldn't remember if YS had it when I took him out of the car seat. I do know we didn't take it home from the library, because I distinctly remembered every moment of the whisking on the coats, hanging heads in shame exit.
After thoroughly scouring the entire house, I had to put YS down without sleepy bear. He whimpered, but did fall asleep. MS was supposed to be having quiet reading time in his room. He asked if he could come out to help me look for sleepy bear. I looked and looked. I checked every crazy place the thing has ever shown up before (mixed in the costume boxes, inside the cardboard play house, in my husband's closet, under our bed, etc. ad nauseam). I checked the van and the garage.
(Warning: Lengthy side-note!) I have always loved reading Dawn's blog and hearing of the many food discoveries that go on at her house. Up until this point, I have chuckled over these tales. Then, I looked under the curio cabinet in the spare bedroom (which leads to the garage - this is where coats are usually put on). I noticed this box and pulled it out. What?!
I remembered buying it last week. I don't remember putting it away. Lovely, what was inside, eh? Good thing I found that. But, where, oh where, was sleepy bear?
I began to really feel frantic. I called the library to see if anyone had turned it in. No such luck. I called my husband and my mother-in-law to ask them to pray for sleepy bear's safe return. MS happily talked with his grandmother.
When ES arrived home, I left him in charge of MS and sleeping YS and drove back to the library to see if it had been dropped in the parking lot. Still no bear. I began the search all over again, MS trailing behind me.
As I entered the spare bedroom, I decided to look behind the bed (I had already looked under it, but who knows). Next, I lifted the comforter and, there, stuffed between the two pillows, was sleepy bear. Suddenly I hear a quiet, "I thought you would never find it!"
I turned to face MS. "Are you saying that you put sleepy bear there?"
"Yeah. I didn't think you were gonna find it."
I burst out, "You are in your room, in quiet time, until dinner. In fact, probably AFTER dinner, too!"
Two and a half hours of my afternoon wasted. Fretful emotions roused. Unnecessary prayers invoked. MS's quiet time interrupted (ah, this was the goal all along). Sleepy bear FOUND. Now, I'm signing off and heading to bed. Maybe I'll even make it before one. Then again, I still have to straighten the upstairs, load the dishwasher, and brush my teeth. Darn it all, late again! It's no wonder I've lost my mind.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Christmas in November
As a kid, the worst thing that could happen on a Christmas morning would be to open up presents of clothing. I can remember a few such Christmases, when my sister and I received matching knit vests or matching glove, hat and scarf sets or sweaters from my grandmother. If the disappointment of the discovery of clothing instead of toys wasn't bad enough, we also often ended up swapping because she liked the color I received and I liked hers better.
Now, I know that my MS would be heartbroken if every present he opened ended up being clothes. However, I am pretty sure if his grandmother bought him clothes in his favorite themes (or better yet, costume pajamas), he would jump for joy. This is just a personality quirk of my middle son.
Today, my husband decided to bring down the bins of clothes we have in storage in the attic. I have been searching for boots to fit the little boys. I know I will have to purchase a pair for ES. He went the whole of last winter wearing MY boots every time he went out the door to snowboard or sled. He had boots, but always complained that his Velcro came loose. Thankfully mine were a basic zip-up black and not too feminine.
Perhaps climbing that ladder and entering the distasteful environment of the attic is a complete pain. Something prompted my husband to make the decision that, from now on, all the clothing storage bins will be stored in the basement. He did give valid reasons: the changes in temperature from extreme heat to extreme cold and the presence of mice. I'm still thinking it was more of a hassle-induced decision.
You would have thought it was Christmas. My husband opened one of the bins and found a train t-shirt lying on the top. He brought it triumphantly in to present it to YS, even though it is probably a tad bit too big still. YS was thrilled and MS decided he had to investigate.
Within minutes he was pulling the lids off of boxes and experiencing a high akin to Christmas morning. Oh, the bounty! He found a power ranger pajama set with an accompanying cape, power ranger and Yu-Gi-Oh shirts, and Scooby-Doo underwear. He was even thrilled with a pair of dalmatian slippers.
My MS loves clothes! He loves changing clothes. Unfortunately, he doesn't love folding them or putting them away (nor is he very good at it, even when he tries). I'm seriously contemplating getting him three or four crates and merely letting him toss all of his shirts, pants, and sweats into the appropriate bins. Then he can dig through to find that elusive shirt he wants (oh, the number of times I have scoured through his drawers looking for "the Spiderman shirt that is kind of sparkly and has the Hulk on it" or something like that).
My husband brought down about 12 or 13 Rubbermaid boxes (everything boy from sizes 5 - 12). He did mention that there were two boxes up there marked "girl clothes." I suppose it is finally safe to get rid of those clothes now (wink). Hubby said he would happily lug them down next time I'm heading towards the town where there is a Crisis Pregnancy Center. I'm sure he would tell me to convey to grandma that our boys don't need ANY clothes! It may take me clear until Christmas to reorganize the boys' clothes and figure out where to store these in the basement. At least, in the meantime, I have some very happy little boys.
Now, I know that my MS would be heartbroken if every present he opened ended up being clothes. However, I am pretty sure if his grandmother bought him clothes in his favorite themes (or better yet, costume pajamas), he would jump for joy. This is just a personality quirk of my middle son.
Today, my husband decided to bring down the bins of clothes we have in storage in the attic. I have been searching for boots to fit the little boys. I know I will have to purchase a pair for ES. He went the whole of last winter wearing MY boots every time he went out the door to snowboard or sled. He had boots, but always complained that his Velcro came loose. Thankfully mine were a basic zip-up black and not too feminine.
Perhaps climbing that ladder and entering the distasteful environment of the attic is a complete pain. Something prompted my husband to make the decision that, from now on, all the clothing storage bins will be stored in the basement. He did give valid reasons: the changes in temperature from extreme heat to extreme cold and the presence of mice. I'm still thinking it was more of a hassle-induced decision.
You would have thought it was Christmas. My husband opened one of the bins and found a train t-shirt lying on the top. He brought it triumphantly in to present it to YS, even though it is probably a tad bit too big still. YS was thrilled and MS decided he had to investigate.
Within minutes he was pulling the lids off of boxes and experiencing a high akin to Christmas morning. Oh, the bounty! He found a power ranger pajama set with an accompanying cape, power ranger and Yu-Gi-Oh shirts, and Scooby-Doo underwear. He was even thrilled with a pair of dalmatian slippers.
My MS loves clothes! He loves changing clothes. Unfortunately, he doesn't love folding them or putting them away (nor is he very good at it, even when he tries). I'm seriously contemplating getting him three or four crates and merely letting him toss all of his shirts, pants, and sweats into the appropriate bins. Then he can dig through to find that elusive shirt he wants (oh, the number of times I have scoured through his drawers looking for "the Spiderman shirt that is kind of sparkly and has the Hulk on it" or something like that).
My husband brought down about 12 or 13 Rubbermaid boxes (everything boy from sizes 5 - 12). He did mention that there were two boxes up there marked "girl clothes." I suppose it is finally safe to get rid of those clothes now (wink). Hubby said he would happily lug them down next time I'm heading towards the town where there is a Crisis Pregnancy Center. I'm sure he would tell me to convey to grandma that our boys don't need ANY clothes! It may take me clear until Christmas to reorganize the boys' clothes and figure out where to store these in the basement. At least, in the meantime, I have some very happy little boys.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Looking Back
Is it wrong to admit that sometimes I find myself longing for the good old days when it was just my hubby, myself and our one son. Originally, I had wanted five children. These days, I think I would be dead if we had five children. I know plenty of other people who do fine with those larger numbers. In fact, I'm blown away by how many other people do fine with those larger numbers. It can make a mother think, "what's wrong with me? why can't I handle the demands of three children, for goodness sakes?!"
Then, I find myself wondering if my PARTICULAR children present more demands than the average kids. Do other children find quiet things to occupy their time and remain contentedly focused on what they are doing? I can remember my parents taking us to work (they were Salvation Army officers and we spent a large portion of our days at the church building). They would pull out a small mattress for the floor and we would lie on our bellies with a large plastic bin of crayons in the middle and a stack of coloring books. We colored for hours on end. We listened to records with stories. We played games with one another. I don't remember hounding my own parents every two minutes to come and see what I had drawn or come and set up a different game or come and watch me play a song on Guitar Hero or come and rescue me from my brother.
Then again, probably the problem lies within. Is it my age? Am I just too old for this gig? My husband has a theory (and one I'm none too happy to admit, because I can see it rings of truth) that I would find things to be unhappy about no matter how many children I had. Perhaps that is what sets these other mothers apart. Those mothers whose faces glow with love and enthusiasm for their broods of small children. Those mothers who admit to being a bit out of sorts when their youngest one is no longer a baby.
Today was one of those days where I was wishing for a less complicated, less chaotic home. From the moment the boys awoke, it seemed my name was being yelled from every direction of the house. I literally think my MS managed to say "Mom" over a thousand times today.
My ES was gone for the morning, and I kept hoping to find a brief window of time where I could get the little boys busy with something and manage to slip into the shower for ten minutes. Finally, when I picked up ES at noon, I explained that when we arrived home he was not playing Guitar Hero (Rock Band is out, since his foot pedal broke in half last weekend), he was not going on the computer, he was not even cleaning his room (that would have been first on my hubby's agenda for him). He would be taking the little boys downstairs to play in the play room (I had already straightened the upstairs rooms three or four times only to discover them pulling whole buckets of toys out - just for the pleasure of seeing everything on the floor, I think) while I took a shower!
At least when my husband returned home from his half day of work, I was clean and presentable. However, it didn't take long for more damage to be assessed. Apparently, YS pulled a whole shelf of books off the bookshelf downstairs (these are MY books, not children's books). Plus, someone (????) toppled a small pile on my desk, knocking off a double frame with my twin nieces' pictures. The glass in the frames shattered. The little boys were ushered upstairs.
These photos of the play room show that one end is theirs and the other end is, supposedly, mine. Ha!
After a nice nap for YS and myself, I went down to clean up the mess. I keep my books - at least my fiction - in alphabetical order (see, I'm not a complete messy!), so I began to put them in order on the shelf. As I did so, I was noting several books which I had started but never finished. One was a book that has recently been buzzed about because a movie was made (The Secret Life of Bees). Another was Stones from the River. I opened this one to find a makeshift bookmark (another messy habit).
It was a stapled set of Amtrak ticket stubs from a trip I had taken with my ES in June of 2000. He was four and still loved trains. We decided to take an Amtrak train from Naperville, Illinois out to Kansas City, Missouri to visit my parents. What fun we had taking that train. During our visit, we visited another train somewhere nearby, and the conductor even let my son go up into the engine and pretend to drive it. It was no effort at all to pour all of my energies into seeking out adventures according to his interests. He, and his favorite things, had my undivided attention. I seem to recall having much more energy then, too.
Well, something tells me I better end this nostalgic look back to the days of our family of three. They are all quiet right now, sleeping soundly. This is my favorite time of the evening. But perhaps I love it a little too much. Perhaps I wouldn't be wishing for the simpler times of a family of three, if I would put myself in bed the minute they go to sleep. Perhaps the problem isn't the kids and isn't me. Perhaps, I just need to give up this whole blogging experiment. There is a strong likelihood I would have enjoyed my family of five a bit more if I had gone to bed before 2 a.m. this morning. Then, rising at 8 to meet their demands might not have seemed so overwhelming.
Then, I find myself wondering if my PARTICULAR children present more demands than the average kids. Do other children find quiet things to occupy their time and remain contentedly focused on what they are doing? I can remember my parents taking us to work (they were Salvation Army officers and we spent a large portion of our days at the church building). They would pull out a small mattress for the floor and we would lie on our bellies with a large plastic bin of crayons in the middle and a stack of coloring books. We colored for hours on end. We listened to records with stories. We played games with one another. I don't remember hounding my own parents every two minutes to come and see what I had drawn or come and set up a different game or come and watch me play a song on Guitar Hero or come and rescue me from my brother.
Then again, probably the problem lies within. Is it my age? Am I just too old for this gig? My husband has a theory (and one I'm none too happy to admit, because I can see it rings of truth) that I would find things to be unhappy about no matter how many children I had. Perhaps that is what sets these other mothers apart. Those mothers whose faces glow with love and enthusiasm for their broods of small children. Those mothers who admit to being a bit out of sorts when their youngest one is no longer a baby.
Today was one of those days where I was wishing for a less complicated, less chaotic home. From the moment the boys awoke, it seemed my name was being yelled from every direction of the house. I literally think my MS managed to say "Mom" over a thousand times today.
My ES was gone for the morning, and I kept hoping to find a brief window of time where I could get the little boys busy with something and manage to slip into the shower for ten minutes. Finally, when I picked up ES at noon, I explained that when we arrived home he was not playing Guitar Hero (Rock Band is out, since his foot pedal broke in half last weekend), he was not going on the computer, he was not even cleaning his room (that would have been first on my hubby's agenda for him). He would be taking the little boys downstairs to play in the play room (I had already straightened the upstairs rooms three or four times only to discover them pulling whole buckets of toys out - just for the pleasure of seeing everything on the floor, I think) while I took a shower!
At least when my husband returned home from his half day of work, I was clean and presentable. However, it didn't take long for more damage to be assessed. Apparently, YS pulled a whole shelf of books off the bookshelf downstairs (these are MY books, not children's books). Plus, someone (????) toppled a small pile on my desk, knocking off a double frame with my twin nieces' pictures. The glass in the frames shattered. The little boys were ushered upstairs.
These photos of the play room show that one end is theirs and the other end is, supposedly, mine. Ha!
After a nice nap for YS and myself, I went down to clean up the mess. I keep my books - at least my fiction - in alphabetical order (see, I'm not a complete messy!), so I began to put them in order on the shelf. As I did so, I was noting several books which I had started but never finished. One was a book that has recently been buzzed about because a movie was made (The Secret Life of Bees). Another was Stones from the River. I opened this one to find a makeshift bookmark (another messy habit).
It was a stapled set of Amtrak ticket stubs from a trip I had taken with my ES in June of 2000. He was four and still loved trains. We decided to take an Amtrak train from Naperville, Illinois out to Kansas City, Missouri to visit my parents. What fun we had taking that train. During our visit, we visited another train somewhere nearby, and the conductor even let my son go up into the engine and pretend to drive it. It was no effort at all to pour all of my energies into seeking out adventures according to his interests. He, and his favorite things, had my undivided attention. I seem to recall having much more energy then, too.
Well, something tells me I better end this nostalgic look back to the days of our family of three. They are all quiet right now, sleeping soundly. This is my favorite time of the evening. But perhaps I love it a little too much. Perhaps I wouldn't be wishing for the simpler times of a family of three, if I would put myself in bed the minute they go to sleep. Perhaps the problem isn't the kids and isn't me. Perhaps, I just need to give up this whole blogging experiment. There is a strong likelihood I would have enjoyed my family of five a bit more if I had gone to bed before 2 a.m. this morning. Then, rising at 8 to meet their demands might not have seemed so overwhelming.
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