The Polar Express

As I mentioned in my last post, Nicholas has not wanted anything anywhere nearly as badly as he's wanted to ride on the Polar Express. he has asked every Santa, wished on every star and even prayed for a chance to ride on the magical train and head to the North pole. After much drama, we were able to score tickets for the Polar Express ride run by the Delaware River Railroad Excursion in Phillipsburg, New Jersey! We even managed to get a couple extra tickets so Nick could bring his girlfriend Brielle (and her mommy, of course) with us.

We decided not to tell Nick ahead of time about the ride. I was afraid that he would ask 9 million times a day until the day arrived. I think the anticipation of Christmas itself is about all my Nicholas can handle.

Saturday morning I sat Nick down (in front of my video camera) and told him that Santa has called me with some good news and some bad news. I told him that Santa had called to say that he knew Nicholas wanted to ride the Polar Express, but that, unfortunately, he would be far too busy on Christmas Eve to allow Nick to ride with him. Nick looked upset, so I didn't leave him hanging for too long. I then told him that the good news was that, if Nick were able to get into him jammies, Santa said he could ride the Polar Express TONIGHT! Nick slapped himself in the had and fell over in excitement. He then told me that that was, "awesome good news!"

After lunch and nap, Brielle and he mommy met us at the house. We let the kids exchange Christmas presents - Nick got a Battle Force 5 battle action Saber vehicle; Evan got a set of Dinosaur Train figures and Brielle got a ballerina jewelry box and a Hello Kitty necklace and bracelet to go in the jewelry box - loaded them all into my van and headed towards Phillipsburg.

Once we arrived in town - a long ride when you're traveling with 3 over-excited children under the age of 6 - we pulled into a parking lot along the Delaware River and loaded onto a trolley, which took us to the train station. Upon arriving at the train station, I turned in my confirmation e-mail for 6 shiny, golden tickets. Nick was just as excited about his golden ticket as he was about the pending ride. We boarded the train with little incident and immediately started searching for the bathroom. Brielle and I were waiting in line to use the bathroom when she asked the Conductor how long the train ride would be. The Conductor then showed me just how amazing this ride was going to be. She replied by taking a golden pocket watch out of her vest and telling Brielle that the ride would last approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes or as long as it took to reach the North Pole. She then looked more closely at her watch and shouted, "oh my, we're late! We can't be late! I've never been late!" She then pocketed her watch and took off towards the other end of the train in a mad hurry. I had been on the train less than 5 minutes and was already very impressed.

After potty break time was over and we were all seating, a loud "all aboard" echoed through the train car and we were off. It wasn't long before the Conductor was punching tickets. Nicholas and Brielle both got a "B" for believe (though Brielle thinks it was for her name) and Evan got a "L" for lead. Shortly thereafter, the kids were served hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies. I believe that's when a recording of the story, The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg, was played over the intercom. After the story was finished, the train unexpectedly jolted to a stop. The Conductor shouted that there was only one reason the train would stop - it must be caribou! Shortly after that, we reached the North Pole where Santa and his elves took a short break from their toy making to visit with us on the train. Santa and his elves visited with every family and posed for pictures with each child. Every child on board was given a bell - the first gift of Christmas. Brielle's mom and I visited the gift car and bought some goodies for the kids. Then Santa's elves walked through selling stuffed Santa's - of course we picked up a couple of those as well. A ride on the Polar Express wouldn't be complete without a visit from some Hobos, so after Santa returned to the North Pole, a couple Hobos climbed aboard and lead us in some Christmas carols. One of them had a guitar while the other played an accordion and trumpet (not at the same time). By the time they were finished we were nearly back at the station.

While the children were disappointed that they were not able to get off the train while we were at the North Pole, they accepted the explanation that nobody was allowed at the North Pole during Christmas time. I told them that we were lucky that Santa took a break to come and visit with us. When asked about the children in the story who were able to run amok at the North Pole, I explained that I thought that part of the story was made up.

The characters on board the train did a wonderful job entertaining us during the trip. During the lulls, Shawn was able to occupy the children by having them hunt for North Pole Monkeys by shining their flashlight out the train window into the passing woods.

While Evan and Brielle passed out in the car on the way home, Nick was wide awake the whole ride. He even continued to talk to Brielle long after she fell asleep.

This entry was written almost immediately after we rode the train, but an error with the website prevented me from publishing it right away. I then got super busy with the holiday, our annual visit from my in-laws and everyday life. Since I am finally (a month later) getting around to re-typing and publishing this story, I thought I'd ask Nick was his favorite part of the ride was. His answer - "when Santa came on the train with us!" Evan still hollers, "All Aboard" every time he sees a train. Proof that, at least so far, the kids are remembering their magical night!

A Call from Santa Clause

My son, Nicholas, has been wishing on every star he sees for the past several months for a chance to ride the Polar Express this year. He is absolutely obsessed with the movie and has been watching it year round for the past 2 years. Every time he wished for that special train ride I would have to explain that he couldn't ride the Polar Express because it's a special, magical train just for children who don't believe in Santa Clause. It broke my heart to tell him he couldn't do the one thing he was asking to do. Then, one day at work, I Googled 'Polar Express train ride' and just about had a stroke when I saw that, not only do they have a licensed Polar Express train ride, but that it departs from a fairly local train station! Tickets were very cheap and they had multiple rides every weekend from Thanksgiving through Christmas. I was so excited I called Shawn at work and told him that we could make Nick's dreams come true after all. He agreed and told me that we would get tickets. Since that was back in October, I saved the link to my favorites and went back to work.

Fast forward to mid-November. I pulled up the train station's website to order our tickets and, again, nearly had a stroke. They were sold out! Every ticket, every ride, every date. I nearly cried I was so broken hearted. I felt like parents did in 1983 when they couldn't get their hands on a Cabbage Patch Doll. I consulted sites like StubHub, Craigslist and Ebay in search of tickets. I came up empty handed. After days of desperate searches I finally found an add on Craigslist posted by someone who was selling tickets for 2 adults and 1 child. A call to the train station informed me that children under 2-years-old could ride on their parent's lap without a ticket for $1. I immediately contacted the seller telling him that I wanted his tickets, but I was too late. He had already sold them. At that point I posted my own add on Craigslist.

After nearly a week I was contacted by someone selling tickets. She had tickets for 2 adults and 3 children. I was willing to eat the cost of the extra ticket, so I told her that YES, I definitely wanted her tickets. She told me that she would like us to pay her via PayPal and that she would give us her confirmation number that the train station e-mailed her when she purchased the tickets. According to her, they do not issue actual tickets, rather, they e-mail confirmation numbers. At that point I was willing to risk being ripped off for a chance to get these tickets, so I chose to believe her. However, I am not completely naive. I also chose to call the train station to confirm that this was how they sold their tickets before completing the PayPal transaction.

As I was listening to the automated recording that you get when calling the train station my cell phone rang. I hung up the land line and checked my cell phone's caller ID for the incoming phone number. The caller withheld their number. I answered the phone and the conversation I had with the caller went like this:

me: "hello"
caller: "Jessica?"
me: "this is she."
caller: "hello, this is Santa, I'm about to make your dreams come true."

instead of asking when he was giving me a million dollars, I simply replied: "oh yeah?"
caller: "I heard you were looking for Polar Express tickets."
me: "uh huh." (said dripping with scepticism)
caller: "well, I have tickets, so how many do you need?"
me: "who is this really?"
caller: "I told you, it's Santa Clause."
me: "well Santa, I'm actually in the middle of buying tickets off a lady on the internet."
caller: "OK, well then you're all set"
me: "I do know other people who would be interested in your tickets. What do you have?"
caller: "I'm not really interested in other people. I saw your add on Craigslist and chose to help you"

I don't know why exactly, but at this point I was thinking this man had to be an employee at the train station. I guess that's easier to believe than thinking that Santa Clause would track me down at my desk. Anywho, the conversation continued:

me: "oh, well I was actually in the process of calling the train station when I answered your call. I have general ticketing questions. Does Santa know anything about ticketing?"
caller: "Santa knows everything about everything. What's your question?"
me: "the person I'm buying the tickets off of has 2 adult and 3 children's tickets. Would it be possible to upgrade one of those children's tickets to an adult ticket? And, if so, can we then also add in a lap sitter?"
caller: "which date and time are your tickets for?"
me: "December 18th at 6:00"
caller: "oh, you're buying Jan's* tickets."
me: "how'd you know that?!"
caller: "I told you, I'm Santa Clause. Jan bought her tickets over the summer and it turns out her daughter is in a play that day so they can't go." (this is all information that Jan did provide to me during our conversation the day prior)
me: "wow"
caller: "we should have no problem getting you on that train, just throw an donation in the donation jar and, if anyone questions you, tell them Santa said it was OK."

Before ending my conversation with Santa, I also confirmed that I only needed a confirmation number to get onto the train. I then hung up the phone and immediately called Shawn and told him to finalize the PayPal transaction. I explained that I just got a call from Santa himself and that we're apparently meant to be on this train.

The game plan is for us to give 2 of the tickets to my friend so she and her daughter (Nick's girlfriend) can join us. This works out perfectly because several days ago her daughter asked a teacher at her after school program if Santa was real or not. The idiot teacher told her that Santa was not real and that mommies and daddies buy all the Christmas presents. She was able to convince her daughter that the teacher was wrong - "I guess she thinks Santa's not real because she's on the naughty list and never gets presents from him!" - and that Santa is, in fact, real. I'm sure that this excursion will go a long way towards proving that he does exist for my friend's daughter. If the train ride doesn't prove it, I had a phone conversation that certainly proved his existence to me!

Empathy of a Four-Year-Old

This past Saturday, I noticed that our cat, Bullet, seemed to be quite sick. I will not go into too many details, but he had lost a significant amount of weight in a very short period of time. I made an emergency vet appointment and took him to see the doctor. During the examination, the vet found that Bullet was not only loosing weight rapidly, but he was also very jaundice and anemic. This most likely pointed towards his liver and/or kidneys not working properly. The vet explained that we had three options: put him to sleep then and there, run hundreds of dollars worth of diagnostic tests or take him home with medication and hope the meds helped. We chose to try the medication. We took him home with steroids, antibiotics, vitamins and an appetite stimulant. Unfortunately, Tuesday night, Bullet passed away in our laps.

Shawn and I decided that we were going to bury him in the woods behind our house like we had with our bearded dragons when they passed away. I think Evan's still too young to understand what was going on. It was after Nick was already asleep when Bullet passed, so we had to tell him today.

Bullet was Shawn's cat before we met, so, although he was OUR cat for the past 10 years, he was SHAWN'S cat even longer. As hard as this was on me, I believe it was harder on Shawn. I offered to be the one to tell Nick so that Shawn wouldn't have to. I wanted to be able to talk to him in the car on the way home, but I wanted to tell him face-to-face before we got into the car. When I went to pick him up from school, I pulled him aside and quickly explained what happened.

Nick was home with me when I noticed that Bullet was sick initially, so I asked if he remembered that Bullet had been sick. He said that he did. I told him that we were not able to get him better and that he died last night. Nick seemed taken back by the abruptness of my statement, but he didn't seem all that sad. That may sound harsh, but this made me happy. Of course I didn't want my son to be sad. I let him run off and play with his friends for a few minutes while I filled the teachers in so they would be prepared if/when Nick brought it up at school.

In the car on the way home Nick told me several times that he was very sad for Bullet. I explained to him that he didn't need to be sad for Bullet, that he was in a better place and no longer stuck inside a sick body. Nick and I have discussed souls before (in his words, a soul is the part that God puts in when a mommy and daddy are making a baby) so I thought he would understand that Bullet's soul went to heaven. He didn't have very many questions, but he did ask why he got sick and what kind of sick he had. The vet thought it might be cancer, but Nick's too young to know what cancer is or to understand the explanation. The last question that he asked me was, "mommy, do you know how you say goodbye to a cat?" I asked, "how?" He responded, "you just pet them on their backs and tell them goodbye." I told him that Bullet would like that very much.

When took Nick out with us for the burial. Nick said that he wanted to pet him and say goodbye. Shawn carried Bullet out to the woods with Nick following behind. We all pet him and I explained to Nick again that Bullet's soul was free to run and play as much as he wanted now and was not trapped inside a sick body anymore. When it came time to actually bury him Shawn and I were noticeably upset and started to cry. That's when my little boy said to Shawn, "Daddy, if you keep crying, you're going to make me cry too."

It melted my heart that Nick was so empathetic towards his daddy that simply hearing him cry would bring Nick to tears as well. I'm sure that Shawn and I will forever miss Bullet. I'm not sure if Nick will remember him in the years to come, but I am sure that the lessons he learned tonight will stay with him for life.

A Swarm of Bees

This year Shawn and I decided that it was high time we signed Nick up for a team sport. Neither of us ever played any sort of organized sport and thought it would be good for the kids if they had the chance to do so. We considered t-ball, but thought there was too much waiting involved for Nicholas. We would have loved football, but he's not old enough to play football in our town until next year. So, we settled on soccer.

Soccer is not really a favorite of ours. Honestly, Shawn and I don't participate in or watch any sports. However, since we figured at this age soccer would mostly be a gaggle of children running after a ball up and down a field, we thought this was perfect for our Nick.

We managed to figure out how to go about registering and even managed to request that Nick be on the same team as my girlfriend's son, but then we were left in the dark as to when the season would start, what the schedule would be like, what team he would be on... all sorts of things I thought would be important to know. All they told us was to sell this box of candy and to expect games to begin in September.

Sometime in the end of August, we got a phone call from a lovely man, Nick's Coach. Coach told us that practice would be on Thursdays and that games would be on Saturdays AND Sundays each week. WHAT?!?!? Nobody told us that we would have games on BOTH days of the weekends. We hardly have the time to get done what needs to get done as is, how are we going to handle throwing in games on both days of the weekend plus a weeknight? Coach also told us that we were playing for TSS Photography. Later I found out that our uniform shirts and socks were yellow and Nick was number 3. I managed to ask if my girlfriend's son was on our team and was so relieved to find out that she was and that I was not alone in this.

As much as we didn't like the schedule, we knew we did this for Nick, so we were going to hang in there for his sake. Unfortunately, since we didn't have the schedule ahead of time, we missed their first game. His first practice was too cute. Some of the kids were old enough that they played last year and/or last season and some of the kids were just as clueless as Nick. Coach had them playing games like "kick the coach" and running drills. Nick held his own. After practice we treated him to pizza and headed home. After running around for an hour, Nick actually seemed to be much more calm at home that night.

That weekend we were to attend our very first game. Division 7 teams play 5-on-5 with 3 offensive players and 2 full backs. Right, like any 4- or 5-year-old is really going to hold position. I was surprised to see that, for the most part, our team really did hold position. Our full backs didn't come far out of the goal and our offensive players did their best to get the ball into the other team's 'cookie jar' (Coach called their net a cookie jar because our objective was to get into their cookie jar - something all kids can understand wanting to do). Aside from holding their basic positions, this game really was 10 kids on a field and each of them wanting that ball. Since our boys were in yellow and black, it looked like a swarm of bees running around on the field. Kids were taking the ball from their own team mates without even realizing it. All they knew was that they wanted a chance to kick the ball.

By about half way through the season, the kids were showing a bit more control and patience. We won some games and we lost some games, but this is a non-competitive Division, so there were no official standings or anything. Nick did not score a goal during the season, but he did have a few really impressive plays.

During one of the games, Nick was able to get control of the ball and break away from the mob of children. He was headed straight toward the net with it. Since most of the other teams did not hold position, they had no defensive players anywhere near the net. It was a sure thing that he was about to score not only his very first goal, but the first goal of that game. I had become a soccer mom. I was jumping out of my folding camp chair, screaming at the top of my lungs and could feel my heart racing with excitement. All of a sudden, one of his own team mates must've misjudged how fast Nick was dribbling and accidentally ran over him. This boy did not simply trip Nick. He ran up his legs and across his back. Nick was laid out flat. Now, Nick may be overly dramatic (he was voted most dramatic in his class at this past year's graduation ceremony), but this time I don't think he was over reacting. Both teams took a knee and Coach ran over to check on Nick. As hard as it was to not run out on the field, I stood back and allowed Coach to do his job. Once I saw that he was checking Nick's wrist I could take no more. I ran out to the 20 yard line where my son was downed on his way toward his first goal. He had a couple bright red, cleat-shaped marks on his back, a pretty serious grass stain on his knee and tears in his eyes. After making him promise me that he would go back into the game for his turn during the 3rd quarter, I carried Nick off the field. Parents from both sides of the field applauded.

Nick really was OK, but still requested to play full back when he was called in for the third quarter. Coach allowed this and Nick was thrilled. He was doing a really good job blocking the shots on goal and didn't seem to mind that the other full back on his team was daydreaming more often that defending the net. The other team was able to make a shot on the net that was out of Nick's reach. Instead of just letting them score, my little Nick-Nick decided to jump up into the ball and block it with his chest. All you heard was the thunk of the ball hitting his ribcage. Silence from players and parents alike as we waited - what seemed like an eternity - to see if Nick was injured again or if he was proud of his awesome block. Nick simply looked down at his shirt, brushed the dirt off from where the ball hit and beamed this smile of pride that could be seen from the other end of the field. I was pretty sure he was not going to be too afraid to keep playing.

After getting run down, Nick was able to get the ball a couple other times, but as soon as he got up toward the other team's net and had to go head-to-head with their full back, he seemed to loose his steam. I'm not sure if it was fear because that's how he got hurt before, he didn't understand how to try to get around the other team, he really did get tired or just couldn't get the ball into the net. No matter, I was just thrilled that he was having a good time.

At one of the practices we actually got to have - most of our practices were rained out and we only wound up having 3 or 4 all season - Coach approached us and asked us which time slot we wanted for tag day. We had no idea what tag day was, but Shawn signed his name for a Saturday in front of a grocery store. Yes, we were to become those people who not only allow, but promote their children begging for money, with a tin can in hand, in front of a grocery store. Those people that I've always hated. Not because I have anything against them fundraising, but more because I don't usually have any cash on me and I hate the look of disappointment/hatred in the kids' eyes when I tell them that I would love to donate, but that I simply don't have any cash on me. Since we were not going to bring Evan along for the begging-for-money adventure, we left it up to Nick to decide which of us he wanted to bring him to tag day. Oh shucks, he chose Shawn. They were scheduled for the last hour-long shift of the day. Shawn tells me that Nick did fantastic. He spoke clearly and was polite to everyone. Everyone except the 2 people who flat out ignored him. To those individuals my son (yes, he's MY son here because I'm positive he learned this passive-aggressive behavior from me) shouted out, "hey, that's OK, thanks anyway" to their backs in a disgusted tone that had Shawn near hysterics. Nick was a natural. He would charm women by telling them he liked their purse and then follow up with asking for a donation. For the people who apologized but said they didn't have any money (hmmm, people like me) Nick was perfectly understanding and offered an honest, "thanks anyway". There was even a woman who claimed to not have money, Nick chatted her up and she wound up digging through her purse until she was able to find some change to give him. I was told that, during the full hour they were there, the only people that didn't appear to be absolutely taken with Nick were the two people who didn't acknowledge that he was even there. It's good to know that if our pro football dreams for Nick don't come to fruition, he has a great career of panhandling he can fall back on.

After all the complaining that I did about the schedule and the anxiety about starting up something new, turns out that we all seemed to really enjoy soccer. An old friend of mine once said to me when I first started dating Shawn that, if we were to get married and I were to take his last name, my married name would sound like a soccer mom's name. Here I am, 10-years later, driving a minivan and cheering on 10 little bumble bees while they play their hardest each weekend. I guess there is something in a name, huh?

Anyway, the season is over now and, I hate to admit it, but I sort of miss it. Coach tells us that there will be a post-season party at Chuck-E-Cheese in the coming weeks and that each player will be given a trophy for their participation. The parents will also get their children's pictures from the photo shoot half-way through the season.

Nick has decided that, instead of playing soccer again in the spring, he wants to give t-ball a try with my girlfriend's son. What the heck, we'll give it a try and hope that the schedule isn't as demanding. Then, if Nick wants to give it anther try, we'll go ahead and sign up for soccer again next fall.

I now understand why I was not involved in team sports. It is a big commitment, financially and time-wise. I do, however, believe that it's really good for the children and hope to be able to continue to allow Nick to play whatever sport he wants to play. I must admit though, I'm terrified for when Evan's big enough to play too. I have no idea how we'll manage the schedule then. I s'pose we'll figure it out somehow - other people manage and I'm sure we will too. I the mean time, I have the most adorable little bumble bee jersey with a number 3 on the back that I will hold onto forever as my Nick Nick's first every sports jersey. I may be a sentimental fool, but I'm a sentimental, proud, soccer mom fool!

Tootie Tattoos

First off, I must admit, I am one of those mothers who creates cutesy words for objects when the occasion calls for it. When Nick was a baby I started calling his feet tooties (footies but with a 't' instead of an 'f'). It caught on, with me anyway, and I've been calling my children's feet tooties ever since. I think, had it not been for daycare, Nick would still be calling his own feet tooties.

Anywho, when Nick was about 18-months-old, I decided to get a tattoo of his tooties. The hospital I delivered in does not do footprints when a baby is born, so I had to do them myself when he came home. They didn't turn out so well and I didn't want to get a tattoo of smeared ink, so I decided to do new prints and shrink them down. I thought I was being smart when I took my barefoot son into the office, stood him on the copier, set the machine to 40% and hit "copy". The image that spit out of the machine was perfect, but far from ink prints. At that point I realized that I really did have to get actual ink prints. Let me just tell you that inking the bottom of an 18-month-old's feet is not a good idea unless you're outside. Luckily I realized that pretty quickly and we moved out to the front porch. After many (and I do mean many) attempts, I finally got a set of prints I would be willing to have permanently tattooed to my body. Shawn was kind enough to pay for the tattoo for my birthday present that year. I decided to get the prints on the underside of my left wrist along with his first and middle names. Off to K&B we go and, walla, an adorable replica of Nick's little footprints imprinted on my wrist. Love it!

Now, I had decided prior to even getting the tattoo of Nick's feet that I would have to also get tattoos of the feet of any future children I might have. I even decided that, should my next child be a little girl, perhaps hand prints would be a great distinction between the two.

Well, Evan is nearly 2-years-old and I only just recently decided what and where I was getting tattooed in honor of my dear Evan. I did wind up getting his footprints as well, but decided against putting them next to Nick's or even on the other wrist. I decided to put Evan's on my back. Sort of symbolic of how much I allow this child to walk all over me. Not that Nick's not allowed, he just never did as much as Evan. Since my back if far larger than my wrist, I decided not to shrink down Evan's prints too much. They're pretty much true to size and positioned on my right shoulder blade. This time it was my brother who paid for the tattoo and, at his suggestion, we went to Mercury Tattoo. When I say this tattoo came out much, much better than the first it's like saying that the sun is hot. There is simply no comparison in the quality of work. It literally looks as if the tattoo artist dipped Evan's feet in ink and stamped them on my back with some magic ink that will never come off. It's simply amazing.

When we get home from the appointment I decided to show Nick. More so he didn't jump on my back and try to wrestle with me than anything else at that point. As soon as the bandage is taken off Nick asks, "how come Evan's are bigger than mine?" Luckily I thought he might notice/question that, so I was prepared to answer. I explained that, while Evan's are bigger, Nick's are more easily seen by everyone and that Nick's would have been true-to-size as well if my wrist was big enough for them to fit. He was happy with that explanation and hasn't given either tattoo another thought as far as I know.

Now, IF there's another baby and IF that baby is a girl, do I go with hand prints on the left shoulder blade, more footprints somewhere else or come up with another design all together? Since those questions do not need to be answered anytime soon I'm not going to worry too much about it, but I can tell you that I'm sure I will get more ink and I'm positive I will go back to Mercury Tattoo.

Happy Birthday to Me

I just recently celebrated my 32nd birthday. I honestly thought that I was well past caring for all the stereotypical birthday hoopla. I have to admit though, this year was lovely.

My anticipated plan for my birthday, which fell on a Friday, was go on Nick's annual school trip to the local farm for pumpkin picking, hay rides, making apple cider and playing with farm animals; heading back to the office after the post-farm preschool pizza party; rushing home from work for Nick's 6:00 soccer practice; grabbing dinner on the run; throwing the boys in the tub for a much needed bath and finally collapsing after a long day of running around. This is not, however, how I spent my birthday.

According to the local news channels, Friday we were expecting monsoon like conditions. By Thursday afternoon the school trip had been rescheduled and Nick's soccer practice had been cancelled. This freed up my day significantly.

When I came downstairs Friday morning Nick was already on the couch watching Battle Force 5. It seemed he had forgotten my birthday as he didn't offer happy birthday wishes. He didn't even smirk at me with that excited, knowing look he gets when he thinks he has a secret. Shawn prompted him to wish me a happy birthday. Nick then whispered his explanation to Shawn in his ear. From across the room I was able to hear clear as day Nick explaining that he could not wish me a happy birthday until we were ready to sing the song and we couldn't sing the song until after dinner when we wanted the cake to appear. Fair enough. At this point Shawn has a momentary look of panic cross his face. I guess this is when he realized he should pick up a cake - not as much for me as for the boys. After all, a birthday just isn't a birthday without a cake, right? Shawn left for work calling out his happy birthday wishes as he pulled the door shut behind him. I proceeded with my morning like normal.

I got the kids dressed, fed and off to school and even made it to my desk by 9:05! This is an accomplishment for me lately. I was greeted with home made chocolate chip cookies, donuts, philly soft pretzels, cupcakes and, best of all, a home made heath bar cake! I'm not one for birthday cake, but that cake was AMAZING! I forwent the Activia and banana in my lunch bag and dug into the goodies that were spread out in front of my desk. At lunch time I was even presented a Reese's peanut butter cake. I'm telling you, my co-workers really know my taste in sweets! Just after I finished eating my lunch a co-worker brings in a lovely bouquet of flowers that had been delivered for me. The card reads that the flowers were picked especially for me by Nick. When I called my husband to thank him for the flowers he explained that they really were totally Nick's idea. When asked what he wanted to get mommy for her birthday he told Shawn he wanted to get me flowers. Shawn allowed Nick to pick out the bouquet all by himself and Shawn ordered them for him. Shawn told me that Nick was really upset that he was not able to be there when they were delivered. This is one of the many, many times that having a daycare in your office comes in handy. My coworker took the flowers down to the daycare, signed Nick out (with my permission of course) and had him deliver them to me at my desk. I pretended that I had not yet seen them and allowed him the honor of bringing them to me himself. There are no words to explain how absolutely adorable my little Nick Nick was running down the hall, carrying a basket of flowers with a smile that wrapped all the way around his head plastered on his face. It was one of those moments that buys him forgiveness for some horrible thing he will inevitably do in the future. He was so proud of himself! He ran up to me, handed me the flowers and told me that he loved me "so much" and hoped I had a happy birthday. There were many hugs and I nearly cried - I honestly don't know how I managed to not cry. Then Nick saw the donuts and it was all down hill from there. He picked out a chocolate covered, tiger striped boston cream and chowed down. Half way through the donut I convinced him to save the rest for after dinner. I then delivered a newly sugared up Nick back to the daycare for his final hour of school. His teacher wasn't too happy, but informed me that Evan was about to have cupcakes for a party in the toddler room and that would be my revenge.

After getting home from work we didn't have to rush out the door to get to practice, so I was able to just sit on the couch and relax for a few minute. It was while I was sitting and relaxing that Nick informed me that he had to go upstairs to sign my card. Too cute! Shawn and the boys then presented me with lovely cards filled with love. They also got me a new camera to replace the one that Evan broke earlier this year. We were even able to go out to dinner since practice was cancelled. I choose a small little pizza place near Shawn's work, Cafe Dominico's, because I love their vodka rigatoni and they have the best home made bread. We took the boys with us and enjoyed a relatively uneventful dinner. Nick did however find out that pizza has TOMATO sauce on it. He declared that after the piece he was currently eating, he was never eating pizza again. I found this funny. After dinner mom came over to have some cake with us. I don't know if Shawn planned it all along, or if it was due to Nick's hint from earlier in the day, but he picked up a Reese's peanut butter pie - my favorite! Between that and the leftovers we had enough cake/pie to feed an army. Having young children in the house, they even had to sing 'happy birthday' to me. We did forget the candles though.

Don't get me wrong, I love my new camera, and I'm grateful to my mother for buying the kids' school pictures for me this year, but my very favorite birthday gift of all would have to be the memory I get to keep forever of my Nick Nick running up to me with an armful of flowers and that smile on his face. I can't be sure, but I believe it was equivalent to a parent watching their little girl walk down the aisle at their wedding. I was just filled with love and pride and I will carry that moment with me forever!

2005 Bath vs. 2010 Bath

In 2005 I was a happily married woman who had not yet experienced the joys of pregnancy or motherhood. My income exceeded my expenses (mostly); aside from my pack-a-day smoking habit, I was in relatively good health; I had a steady career; I had great, life-long friends - all in all, I had a wonderful life. However, I still needed to de-stress from time to time. In those days, when I found the time in my busy schedule for such extravagances, I would pamper myself by way of a relaxing bath. I would fill the tub with water as hot as I could stand it, dump in some bath salts, pour a glass of wine, grab a book and sink in for a nice relaxing soak. This was when I would allow all the stresses of my oh-so-complicated life to melt away. Oh how I loved those baths.

Fast forward to 2010, the word 'bath' has been replaced by the word 'tubby' and it's meaning has all together changed. For example, tonight's bath went something like this:

Mom - "It's tubby time"
Nick - "No! I wanna watch 'Battle Force 5'!"
Evan - "UBBY!!!" screamed while running towards the gate that blocks him from the stairs.

Mom - "come on Nick, you need a bath and Evan's waiting"
Nick - "I'm going up the stairs first!" - at which point he opens the gate that Evan is waiting at, hitting him in the face with it as swings open and then slams it shut, getting Evan's finger caught in it once it's latched closed
Evan - "BOO BOO" whimper "BOO BOO"

Mom - "Nicholas James, get upstairs and calmly wait for me while I take care of your brother!"
Nick - already up in his room using my large circular glass vase as a bowling ball
Evan - "BOO BOO"

Mom - "you got boo boo Evan, here let mommy kiss it better. There, is it better now?"
Evan - "yeah"
Nick - "mom, come look at the new game I invented"
Mom - silent prayers that the house is not somehow on fire

At this point I allow Evan to run up the stairs, he goes directly into the bathroom and tries jumping up over and over again in an attempt to reach the light switch. I'm happy that he's occupied by something other than toilet water. I quickly try to calculate how risky it is to let him jump on the tile floor and decide that his risk of slipping is very low since he's barefoot and let him continue because I don't want to hear the screams of protest. I peek into Nick's room to see the newly invented game involves bowling and the previously referred to circular glass vase. I compliment his creativity but remove the vase from his possession none-the-less and heard him towards the bathroom. I have a new found respect for sheepdogs.

Mom - "who's going to get naked first?"
Nick - already almost naked, "me!"
Evan - climbs into the tub fully dressed and turns on the water.

I get Evan undressed and get his ear plugs in place. Nick decided this is the perfect time to have to poop. Lovely. Nick finishes his business and climbs in.

Nick - "can we have bubbles tonight?"
Mom - "I don't think we have any left, but I'll check"
Evan - "BUBBAS BUBBAS BUBBAS!!!"
Mom - "you're in luck, we have just enough for one last tubby left.

Just as the tub is nearly full, bubbles perfectly spread around both children, I notice a piece of poop floating in the tub. Ugh. At least they haven't pulled out the bath toys yet. I drain the tub, clean the tub and then inform the children they now have to bathe without bubbles. This does not go over well. I try to compensate by giving them the hand pump of dial soap. This distracts them long enough for me to fill the empty bubble container with water, shake it and pour it into the tub. I get enough bubble to satisfy them.

They spend the next few minutes fighting for position in the tub. Apparently the best position in the tub is directly under the faucet. Nick pushes Evan, Evan falls and hits his face on the side of the tub, Evan now wants out of the tub and neither of them have been cleaned. I scoop up a hand full of bubbles and distract Evan from his throbbing cheek by blowing the bubbles out of my hand all over the two of them. They laugh hardily. I scoop up a second handful of bubbles and go to blow them at the kids again, however, Evan beats me to it and blows the bubbles all over my face. They laugh harder.

After I dry myself and the floor I get the soap and washcloth to clean the children. This is mostly uneventful. After they're cleaned I allow them to play (read this as saturate my entire bathroom with bath water) for a few minutes. Now it's time for their sinus rinses. I fill the squeeze bottle with the warm salt water and sneak up behind Evan, wrap my left arm around his head choker-hold style and, with my right hand, gently shoot the salt water up his left nostril. As he is not a fan of water boarding, he breaks free of the choker-hold and moves just enough that I squirt warm salt water into my own right eye. After I dry myself off again, I reverse the position and shoot some more salt water up his right nostril. He again moves. This time the warm salt water goes into my mouth. I don't know why, but knowing this water was meant for my son's nose makes it even more gross in my mouth. I refill the bottle and rinse Nick's sinuses. This is also fairly uneventful as he's been doing this for a while and knows that refusal is futile - best to just get it over with. I pull down the shower head and offer a final rinse off.

Tubby time is over. Both children climb, soaking wet, out of the tub and run into Nick's room. Nick's room is literally only like 5 steps from the bathtub. When I catch up with them Nick is happily, nakedly jumping on his brand new Little Tykes Race Car bed while Evan is down the other end peeing on it.

This is the point when I tell Shawn to pause his video game and get up here to help me. My husband was smart enough to have both children dry and dressed by the time I was done cleaning up the pee from the race car.

5 years later I am still a happily married woman; I have experienced the joys of pregnancy and motherhood; my income barely covers my expenses; I have quit smoking; I am in even better health, but can stand to shed some "baby" weight; my career is not as stable these days, but I feel lucky to still have a job in today's economy; I have far fewer friends, but I know that the ones I have left are the best friends a woman could ask for and I know that I still have an extremely wonderful life.

So, I can honestly say that, although the 2010 bath is far less relaxing and far more chaotic, it is most definitely favored in this house! I do have to admit thought that I would appreciate the 2005 bath much more these days than I ever did 5 years ago.

22 Things

This past weekend Shawn and I went to a wedding in Buffalo, New York. We suckered my parents into watching the boys for us for the weekend. I dropped them off at school Friday morning, packed the car and took off for Upstate New York. My parents picked up the kids Friday at 5:00. I think they regretted agreeing to babysit for us by 6:15.

Below is a word-for-word copy of an e-mail my mother sent me after we returned home...

Things I Have Learned in the Last 3 Days (written at random 'cause my brain does not work right now)

1. I will take a 800 pound black bear over a 16-month-old and a 4-year-old. The bear does not scare me as much as they do.

2. Nick feels like he weighs in at 200 pounds when he climbs in bed with you in the middle of the night. He insists on sleeping on top of you.

3. Evan hates waking up to anyone other then his momma.

4. Evan has broken Jessica's record of throwing a fit. He does not pass out. He just keeps screaming.

5. Nick "hears" only what Nick wants to hear.

6. You can survive on chicken McNuggets, bread with butter and cheese sandwiches.

7. You can watch the same tv shows over and over and NOT have a breakdown. At least I think I didn't. I am still hearing "voices" so I am not so sure.

8. Nick is a smooth talker. He can make you feel guilty like a pro.

9. Divide to conquer. You may survive if you split them up.

10. If Nick is playing with something Evan will want it. See number 4 above.

11. Outside or inside does not matter, you can ALWAYS find something to climb on to give Pop Pop a fit.

12. Four-year-olds have a very short memory.

13. Sixteen-month-olds know more then they let on.

14. If a tv show is on, and they are actually watching it, don't even try to ask a question.

15. Frank says if he keeps his eyes closed he can survive anything Nick does.

16. It helps to know where the clean clothes are stored.

17. The "mother's voice" still works when you finally loose your patience.

18. Babysitting is like an episode of Star Trek. Time slows down, but aging does not.

19. If there is a stick, broom or anything that can put an eye out, Evan will want to play with it. See number 4 above.

20. Our hearts are willing, but the bodies can't handle it.

21. If you want to keep Nick occupied, take him to a book store. He will ignore the books, but play with the Thomas the Tank display for hours.

22. Evan's "Damian Face" does not bother Nick at all. We on the other hand know what's coming. See number 4 above.

Glad you guys had a good time. Keep that memory alive as we will NEED an extended recovery time period. LOL

When we got home last night dad said, "do you hear that?" I said, "hear what?" He said, "exactly." The he asked me if I wanted to watch Wow Wow Wubsy or Hot Wheels Battle Force 5. Of course I passed on both, then we went right to BED. The Upside Down Show was in my dreams....

Disclaimer: No beating/spankings where handed out to children during this event. However, they spanked us good!

P.S. We have filed a copy of this for future reference in the event we are asked to do this again in the near future!

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Now, we did have an amazing time at the wedding, then we headed north to visit Niagra Falls for a couple hours before heading home. I don't know if my parents know just how much we needed and appreciated the weekend alone, but I do know that I'm never going to be able to thank them enough. Shawn and I were able to be 'just us' again for the first time in a very long time. We were able to remember how much we love each other and we were able to re-charge ourselves so we have a better chance at keeping up with our children.

Here's to Eric and Andrea - may they be as happy together and Shawn and I are! I'd also like to send some Best Wishes their way for the upcoming birth of their son, Cooper! If any two people I know deserve to find happiness, it's them!!!

So, what do you think the chances are I'll be able to convince my folks to watch the kids so we can go out for our anniversary next weekend? Yeah, I'm betting slim to none.

We're going to the chapel...

I have no idea why, but the other day I decided it was a good idea to ask Nicholas if mommy and daddy should have another baby. He said that we should. I asked if he would prefer this hypothetical baby be a boy or a girl. He said girl. I asked what he would like us to name her. He said 'B' (I'm keeping the full name out of this entry for the privacy of the little girl he's referring to). B is the name of his girlfriend in school. I asked him why he would want to name his sister B. He explains, "when I marry my B, Evan can marry the new B." Interesting way to keep your little brother from stealing your girlfriends, but I see an issue here. I explain to him that brothers and sisters cannot get married. He innocently asked me why. I tell him, "because we don't live in West Virginia." He says (and I'm going to have to spell phonetically here), "why does it matter if we're in Ver-jine-er or not?"

The conversation ended there as I was laughing too hard to respond at that point.

Pillow Talk

My nearly-20-month-old is at that stage where children start to mimic all kinds of words. I say, "Evan, say banana." He responds, "na-na." Nick says, "no Evan!" He responds, "no ni-na." Shawn says, "damn it!" He responds, "nah nit!" The only thing that he will not, under any circumstance, repeat is, "love you". I lie, he did say it once... to my mother! Therefore, I say it doesn't count and it was just a fluke. Otherwise, I really do enjoy this stage. He's becoming far less frustrated because he's able to communicate better. We're better able to know what he wants or needs. This is a win-win all around.

This past Saturday Shawn had to work and my folks were up in the mountains. I was home alone with the boys. We had a lovely morning out yard-sale hopping (my grandmother would have been so proud, I got a lovely picnic basket, red plaid blanket and all, for $2) and visiting with a friend and her baby. I stopped for happy meals on the way home and survived through lunch with no major melt downs. I really am getting good at this mommy stuff.

Anyway, lunch is over and we're preparing for nap time. This is when I'm braced for my worst battles of the day. Mommy vs. 2 over-tired children who are in denial about how tired they truly are. Mommy will win this battle, the question usually is, at what cost. I am a big fan of warning children prior to whatever horrible fate awaits them (ie, we're leaving the park in 5 minutes, yes you're getting a needle but it will only hurt for a second and the like). This particular Saturday I give them the 5 minute warning and get no response. I believe it's because they're far too engrossed in Hot Wheels Battle Force 5 to pay any attention to what I'm saying to them. A minute or so later, Evan wanders over to where I'm sitting on the couch and puts his arms up in the air in the typical 'pick-me-up' way all toddlers do. I picked him up and was shocked when he immediately wrapped his little arms around my neck and said, "ahhh ohhh" (which sounded a lot like Love You!!!!). My heart melted and I decided in that moment that the children deserved to stay up all afternoon with no nap, all the ice cream and cookies they wanted and we would move their beds out to under the swing set as soon as Shawn came home! My children were the bestest children in the whole world! My little guy just hugged me and told me he loved me!!! It was right after those decisions that I was smacked in the back of the head with the throw pillow that was on top of the couch behind me. Turns out he wasn't hugging me as much as reaching past me to grab the pillow. Also turns out that a nearly-20-month-old saying pillow (or many other 2 syllable phrases) can sound a lot like 'love you' to a mother who desperately wants to hear it.

I s'pose I learned that even a toddler knows he must be missing out on some magical world while sleeping during nap time and, once they learn how to better communicate their needs with their parents, they're also able to communicate how much they don't want to take a nap by smacking their mommy in the back of the head with a pillow. Of course, I changed my tune once I was fully aware of his intentions, decided ice cream and cookies were out of the question, no nap for them meant no relaxation for me and mattresses and swing sets do not mix under any circumstance.

At this point 5 minutes have passed, I straighten my back and announce that 5 minutes are up and it's naptime; catch the over-tired, hyper little men; wrangle them into bed; play relaxing music on their cd player and snuggle into bed myself for a much needed rest. Evan may not have verbally told me that he loved me that afternoon, but the way he rests his hand against my cheek just before passing out told me everything I needed to know.

Fear and Frustration

So, this story may be getting old, but my dear Evan is sick again. This time I got a call yesterday afternoon from the daycare informing me that he has a fever of 103. I run down to get him, call the pediatrician and head into their office. Both doctors look him over and, aside from the fever of 103.3, can't find a thing wrong with him. He's obviously suffering side effects from the fever and is in and out of delirium. As the second doctor came into the room I overheard her asking the first doctor, "... in room 2 is the one you're worried about?" We were in room 2. When she walked in, Evan was laying limp across my lap with his eyes rolling around in his head. It looked like he was trying not to fall asleep (or pass out). He was burning up and totally listless. He was also making this odd sound when he inhaled - like the noise your throat makes when you have a gas bubble stuck or something - and his belly was very distended. He almost looked pregnant. Needless to say, I was terrified. She spent a good deal of time listening to his chest and back and couldn't find any congestion in his lungs. She told me that his heart rate was increased, but that was a side effect from the fever. His eyes, nose, ears and throat were all clear. Basically, aside from the fever (and it's side effects) and a dry cough, he was perfectly healthy. I'm told to treat the fever aggressively and prescribed a cough medicine/decongestant. I explain how worried I am that he keeps getting sick, week after week it's something new. They decide to send him for some blood work.

I'm relieved that he doesn't have some horrible illness and that all the things I was worried about were brought on by the fever, but I'm frustrated that we don't know what's causing the fever or why his immune system seems to be so compromised.

This morning I took him to the lab to have his blood drawn. I tried to rope my mother into going with me so I wasn't alone, but she wasn't going to suffer with me. I did my very best at pretending not to be nervous so he wouldn't pick up on it. Since he's so out of it, it wasn't hard to pull one over on him. I have to say, Quest was wonderful today. I walked in, waited about 2 minutes to be able to sign in, waited another 2 minutes to hear Evan's name called and was immediately called back into a room. I spent more time waiting to sign in than I did having his blood drawn. Evan didn't fight and didn't shed one single tear. They drew 3 vials of blood I think. They're running a CBC, checking his lead count and running one other round of tests that I can't remember. They told me that our doctor should have the reports by Thursday.

Here it is, the end of the day on Tuesday. Another day or two to wait for results that may tell us nothing and no more clear on what's wrong with our little boy. The decongestant has caused a runny nose, but it's clear, so still no sign of infection. His cough is still present, but not as bad. However, it appears to hurt him when he does cough now. Aside from that, and the here and there spiking fever (Motrin and Tylonol seem to be keeping it mostly at bay) he's not acting as sick as yesterday. He is far from himself and very fussy and clingy, but he seems to be past the delirium at this point.

Fingers crossed that we figure this one out, that it's no big deal and that it's the last illness we have to face in this house for a long, long time!

To Sleep or Not To Sleep

So, my dear Nicholas seems to have absolutely no respect for sleep. He never seems to want any of his own - I used to swear he was solar powered as a baby, he never napped for more than 20 minutes - and he really wants to make sure that nobody else gets any.

Every night for the last week or so, he's been getting up about 10-15 minutes before Shawn's alarm goes off and about half an hour before I need to be up. He comes into our room and announces that he has to pee, is thirsty, is hungry, needs to cough, heard the dog having a nightmare, etc. We have tried telling him that he is not allowed to come out of his room until 7:00 or later, he waits for a 7 to appear anywhere on his digital clock (ex. 6:47) and then proceeds to wake us all up. We have explained over and over that he can simply pee, drink or cough as need be and he need not announce his need to. We have told him that, while Murphy may have had a nightmare, he is perfectly capable of going back to sleep without Nick's help. We've even gone as far as to threaten to put a baby gate across his doorway to keep him from waking us up during those last precious moments of sleep. He seems to be willing to go quietly back into his room after he's peed, drank, coughed, etc, but the problem is that, at this point, he's already woken Murphy up. Weather Murphy's had a nightmare or not, once woken up in the morning he does the pee-pee STOMP back and forth across our room. I have no idea how a 40-pound dog paces so loudly, but it could wake the dead - it's that loud. Anywho, no matter, the damage is already done. What's the point of Shawn falling back asleep when he has to be up in 10 minutes anyway. For me, I admit, I'm much like Murphy. Once I'm awake, I have to pee, and I have to do it right away. I'm capable of peeing without stomping though. However, once I'm up and out of bed, I'm awake enough to realize that I only have X amount of minutes before I have to get up. I cannot fall asleep normally, let alone under that kind of pressure. I usually just lay in bed pouting about my lost sleep. Our newest attempt is to not give Nick anything to drink before bed, keep the alarm clock in his room, have him let Murphy out in the morning and keep the threat of being gated into his room looming over his head. Hopefully this will keep him from waking us up. I fear this will only cause him to come into our room and stand silently next to my face waiting for me to feel his presence and wake up (startled) on my own.

He's also not respecting nap time at school anymore. Nicholas causes so much disruption at nap time that the teachers have tried "reward" charts for good behavior at nap time; moving him away from his closest friend; moving him away from all his friend and even moving him out of the room all together. Putting Nicholas in the toddler room for nap proved to do nothing but give him the opportunity to wake up his brother. I've considered that possibility that he's simply outgrown the need for a nap, but I don't think this is the case. He still naps at home on the weekends and, if he goes without, he's cranky all night. The teachers have also found that putting him on his mat under the science table away from his friends allows him to fall asleep almost immediately.

I have no idea how to teach him how important sleep is - if not for himself, then for those around him. I've taught him to eat veggies with little complaint, to use his manner and to share with his brother. He really is an amazingly well behaved (albeit very hyper) 4 1/2-year-old, he just can't grasp this one thing. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it's no big deal. Being somewhat of an insomniac, I just hate giving up those precious final 30 minutes of time I actually could be sleeping each day.

At least the baby seems to be sleeping better these day... now if only he could teach his big brother!

Cleaning up 30,000 pounds... of mashed bananas

The boys in my house were sick again this past week. We've literally had to deal with one sickness or another every week for the last 5 weeks. First, Evan and Nick were both sick with the virus written about in recent posts. Then, when Evan hit 18-months, I took him in for his well-baby check up and shots. The doctor informed me that he had a sinus infection and wouldn't give him his shots. She sent us on our way with a script for the pink stuff and told us to come back in 2 weeks for his shots. The day after he finished his antibiotics, he started with the green snot drip again, so I called the doctor, told her and got a new prescription for stronger antibiotics for him. Within a couple days of him finishing this round of medication, he developed a rash from head to toe. Back to the doctor we go. This time she says that he has a rash (thanks, I knew that, that's why I brought him in) and it's possibly viral. She still will not give him his shots. Tells me to come back in 2 weeks, after this possible virus has run it's course.

Last Sunday Shawn bought a bunch of bananas at the grocery store. Nothing new there, my kids love bananas.

Nick ate one that day. That night, while we're eating dinner, Nick throws up directly onto his dinner plate. Luckily the deeper wells of his Thomas the Tank plate caught the majority of it. It did, however, still put a damper on the rest of our appetites. We gave Nick a bath and cleaned up the table. Before long he was asking to go back downstairs to finish his dinner (I'm thinking he didn't realize where his vomit landed). He seemed fine the rest of the night. We put him to bed with a bucket and that was that. No more vomit, no more sick. Off to school he went the following morning.

Over the next couple of days Evan eats the rest of the bunch of bananas except for the last one.

At some point during the night - Wednesday night/Thursday morning, Shawn is woken up by Evan whimpering. Shawn goes in to check on him to find out that he's thrown up all over his crib. Shawn, being the WONDERFUL father/husband that he is, cleans up the baby, throws a towel over the crib mattress and puts Evan back to sleep. I know nothing of any of this until morning. I told you, Shawn really is wonderful. Evan proceeds to throw up and blow out diapers for the next several days. A call to the doctor informs me that he's probably caught another virus (gee, ya think?!) and to watch for signs of dehydration. By Friday we're getting concerned because he cannot even keep the pedialyte down. This is no good. Shawn's scheduled to work on Saturday and I'm going to be home with a bored-out-of-his-mind Nicholas and a puking-all-over-the-place Evan. My parents are in the mountains and I'm, again, on my own with all this vomiting.

This is where it gets entertaining - to me anyway...

Friday night Shawn comes home from work telling me that he thinks it's the bananas. There was 1 left and he ate it at lunch. "Now, if I get sick too, we know it's the bananas for sure." Yes, I know there are faults in his logic, like the fact that he lives in this germ ridden house right along with us, but I don't think it's worth arguing that fact. I'm too busy trying to plan out how I'm going to entertain Nick while cleaning up after Evan.

At approximately 12:32 a.m. on Saturday, Shawn bolts out of bed and runs to the bathroom. He spends the next couple hours trying to figure out which end should be pointed at the toilet. The rest of the night is spent laid out on the couch praying for sleep. By 7:30 a.m. Shawn has decided to call work and tell them he's going to be in late, he needs some more sleep. By 11:00 a.m. he has acknowledged that he simply cannot safely work, he can't even leave the house. Now, I've been with Shawn for 10 years. In those 10 years, he's only called out of work 3 times - this being the 3rd. I know he's feeling pretty badly to call out of work. He spends the rest of the day whimpering on the couch and sleeping upstairs.

At some point during the morning hours I called Evan's doctor again because I'm worried about dehydration. In the past 24 hours he's only peed 3 times and he's not making real tears. When I relay this information to the doctor, she tells me to take him directly to the emergency room for IV fluids. There is no way Nick can stay home with Shawn and I'm NOT taking both kids to the ER alone. It was bad enough with just Evan last time, I don't want to deal with both of them this time. I ask if there's anything else I can try given the situation. She calls in a prescription for a anti-nausea suppository.

I now believe the way to cure most ailments in most men is to threaten to shove some foreign object up their ass. Without utilizing a single bullet, Evan seems to be on the mend. I'm glad because the side-effects of the medicine seem dangerous (possible shallow breathing which could be fatal in children under 2-years-old).

By Sunday morning all my men seem to be feeling much better. Evan wound up having a bit of a set-back Sunday night. I'm thinking it was from the pizza he ate for lunch. He stayed home from school again Monday, but re-joined his friends yesterday.

The school was very concerned about him while he was sick and they were glad he was able to go back. My boss was just as happy since I was able to re-join the work force. His doctor is relieved he didn't have to go to the hospital. Oddly enough, the only one still complaining is my insurance company who keeps calling to yell at me for skipping his 18-month exam and shots!

Somehow, even though I was caring for and cleaning up after everyone in the house all week, I managed to not get sick this time. Interestingly enough, I was the only one who didn't eat any of the bananas.

Damn bananas!

Dear Monday, Eff You!!!

Now that we're safely towards the end of Tuesday, I can tell Monday, "F You, glad you're over and don't wanna see you ever again"!

After Shawn being out of town last week and the boys both having that horrible stomach virus, I was really looking forward to Monday. I was scheduled to have a furlough day on Monday. Though I was not looking forward to loosing my pay for the day, I was looking forward to having the day off to myself. Shawn was going to work and the boys were going to school. I was going to sit on my couch and listen to the silence of my man free house.

Notice the use of the word 'was' though that paragraph.

I scheduled Evan for his 18 month well baby visit for 9:00 a.m. on Monday. Thought it was a no-brainer. He needed his shots and I needed a reason for crawling out of bed before noon. Take Evan to the doctor, drop him off at school and get on with my doing of nothing. WRONG!

Sunday night, Evan starts with a runny nose, Nick with a pretty bad cough. By Monday morning, Nick's hacking bad enough that I decide to bring him with me to the doctor to have him checked out and Evan's snot has turned pale yellow. Yellow is even worse than green. How did we pass green without so much as a warning? The doctor refuses to give Evan his shots b/c, surprise, he has a sinus infection. Lovely. Here's 10 days worth of antibiotic, come back when he's done the full course and we'll give him his shots then. Yippee. Nick? He's got a cough, but nothing else that the doctor can find. They want him on the nebulizer. I explain that I can't find time to pee in the morning let alone 20 minutes to force medication. She agrees that he is old enough for an inhaler instead. Fun.

I'm able to drop the prescriptions off at the pharmacy and take Nick in to school. However, Evan is not allowed at school if he's shooting yellow snot out his nose. So much for my relaxing day. I'm now headed home with a sick baby - again. I'm tired of sick babies. Snot is better than puke, but I still don't want to be cleaning up any bodily fluids on my day of recovery. Oh well, gotta do what you gotta do. But first, I must call my husband and rant like a lunatic about how unfair it is that I lost my day off.

Back at home, antibiotics on board, Evan's in a far better mood than I expected and our day wasn't horrible. We were even brought a smile from the unexpected flower delivery from daddy (he really is a remarkable man, he should teach a class).

Now, it's the end of the day and Daddy is to pick up Nick from school. Sounds simple, right? It was right up until the truck wouldn't start. Now, half my family is stranded on the side of the road in Trenton outside my office. Shawn calls the battery truck for a jump, but that doesn't fix it. Shawn and battery guy are out in the street trying to fix the truck and, after a little over an hour, they succeed.

It's nearly 8:00 by the time Shawn and Nick are home with dinner. My 'day of recovery' was far from relaxing, but at the end of the day we were all safely in our house, curled up on the couch watching Sesame Street and laughing at how horrible the day was. At least it's over now and we're on to better days ahead.

I've been thinking lately about the difference between knowing something as an adult and knowing something as a child and how often the very same knowledge translates so differently between the two.

For example, at some point in my childhood, someone told me that the belly button was how pregnant mommies got food and oxygen to the babies growing in their tummies. This information is more or less accurate and I knew it. However, in my mind, it translated to mean that mommies literally passed air and food through their own belly buttons into their tummies for the child. Nobody ever explained an umbilical cord to me and I never really thought about it. Now, one may ask, why would boys/men have belly buttons then. To me, it was just like nipples on men. They were just there for show and had no use whatsoever.

Nick also knows things that are totally wrong, yet somehow correct. He has explained to Shawn and I on numerous occasions that everyone starts out as a girl and, after they learn everything, they get to be boys. He will explain this as if it's scientific fact and you cannot convince him that he is wrong. I find it interesting that, in a way, he actually is absolutely correct. [The early stages of embryonic development are identified by the mother's genotype for the first several weeks. this means all embryos start out as the Mother's gender, female. If no DNA changes take place, the embryo REMAINS female. For a female embryo to become male, the Mother's body promotes a protein called the H-Y antigen, changing the X chromosome to a Y chromosome. Thus, the male embryo is created from the female embryo. - www.forandagainst.com] Now, what he knows and what actual is are totally different, but completely the same. I can't help but wonder where he gets his info from. Fascinating.

I know that Nick seems to already be smarter than I am and I know that, once he is able to utilize those smarts, we're all in for one hell of a ride. I also know that I'm going to have a blast hearing all about all the things that my children know and, on occasion, teaching them how wrong they are about things they know are right.

I Survived!!!

Shawn is on his way home from his Vista testing and should be here within the next hour or two. I cannot wait for him to be here. We have missed him very much. Our final day without Daddy was far less eventful than the previous days. The children slept mostly through the night, Evan did wake up once, but it was before I got to bed, so I don't think that counts. They didn't wake me up until after 7:00 and were both in good moods this morning. We had a good day at school/ work and got home unscathed from our day at the office. I was able to cook dinner, clean up the living room, dining room and kitchen, feed the kids, take them for a walk/scooter ride, have an impromptu play date with dear friends, bathe the boys and get them off to bed. I'm currently sitting on my couch with a king size pack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and a Seagrams Escapes, Tuesday's General Hospital playing in the background, as a reward for surviving the week.

I believe that we managed to make it through the last couple of days without too many melt-downs caused by Shawn's absence. I totally expected Nick to have a hard time, but was unprepared for Evan to even really notice. Not because he doesn't love his Daddy, but because he's so young, I thought Shawn would fall victim to 'out of sight, out of mind' like before Evan learned of object permanence or something. I underestimated how much Evan would miss his Daddy. The last 2 nights, as we came in from work, Evan would call out, "Da Da, Da Da" while looking for Shawn. More moving than that, last night I was carrying Evan upstairs for one thing or another. As we walked past a picture of Nick and Shawn, Evan reached over and grabbed at it, nearly pulling it off the wall. I stopped and let him look at it for a minute. He leaned forward and kissed the picture of Shawn. Too cute!

My husband has returned home so I'm off to hear all about his trip (and to finish my drink). I've been told that he will not be going to Sweden and, I'll admit, a large part of me is glad he won't be leaving us again anytime soon! I have learned that I am perfectly capable of caring for the house, pets and kids on my own, but I also know that we're all cared for more when Shawn is home.

On a side note, for the first time since starting this blog, I feel like Doogie Houser - how odd! [backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace... interesting!]

His Loss... is my gain?

Being out of town Shawn has missed out on a few family 'moments' that I would like to memorialize for him. I will list them in the order in which they happened so that he (and you) can feel as though he experienced them with us as he reads through this post.

Tuesday

There were only really 2 things that happened on Tuesday that I feel are post-worthy. First, after school the boys and I were hanging out in our living room with Mom-Mom, who was gracious enough to come home from the mountains early (she claims for Pop-Pop's chiropractor appointment, but I believe it was really to help me with the boys), blowing bubbles and having a grand old time. When I put the bubbles away Evan protested the way that Evan typically does. He threw a temper tantrum. This was a minor tantrum, maybe a .5 on the Evan- Richter scale. I did as advised in every parenting article I've ever read - I ignored him. He sat on the floor giving me his best Undertaker impersonation saying "Bu Ba, Bu Ba" over and over again. I believe this is his way of saying bubble. After a couple minutes, I pay more attention to his 'tantrum' and notice that he's no longer looking like the Undertaker, but more like someone who's quite uncomfortable. He's sitting on the floor, grabbing his own crotch, and now I recognize that he's saying "Ba Ba, Ba Ba", which is his word for potty (don't ask me why, I have no idea). I'm thinking that there's no way he's telling me he has to go potty, but what the hell, let's give it a go. I grab the training potty that's in the living room, remove his pants but keep the diaper on (remember, this boy's had a terrible stomach virus, there's no telling when what might come out of where on him) and plop him on the potty. His facial expression changes to one of relief when he lets out an audible, horrific-smelling fart! Now, as an adult I sometimes fear that a simple fart may not be just a simple fart, so I can totally understand why my toddler could have been confused by the sensation. I'm just beyond excited that he had his wits about him enough to know to tell me he had to go 'ba ba' and waited until he was on the potty to do so. I will admit, as happy as I am that he's making progress towards potty training, I'm very relieved that he was content to go in his diaper when he finally did more than fart - it was horrendous!

After Evan was safely tucked into bed, it was time for me to get Nick ready for bed too. This is normally Shawn's job, so things are drawn out for Mommy because she doesn't know the routine as well as Daddy. I take him up to go potty, eat his vitamin, brush his teeth and get into bed. We then call Daddy so that he can read Nick 'Chicka Chicka Boom Boom' over the phone. They chat for a couple of minutes and then disconnect. I'm thinking this is going really smoothly until I notice the tears slowly streaming down Nick's cheek. You can tell he's trying to not cry, but the salty drops are betraying him. I ask him what's wrong and he tells me that he's upset because "he loves Daddy so much that he wishes he could be there next to him". I tell him that Daddy misses him too and that he'll be home in just a couple of days. Nick then tells me that if he misses Daddy this much now, it'll be so much worse when Daddy dies. WTF? Why is my 4-year-old thinking about his Daddy's death?!?!?! I tried to tell him that Mommy and Daddy will do everything they can to live for a very long time, that we both want to see him and his brother grow up and have children of their own and maybe even get to see his children have children. After a brief aside where Nick explained to me that he and Evan cannot 'have' children of their own because they're both boys (I swear, he did tell me that), he reiterated how sad he will be when either of us dies and that he wishes we could live forever. I told him that we can only live as long as our bodies will last us. I also told him that Mommy believes that, after she dies, her soul will be waiting for him in Heaven and that we'll meet up again. Of course this lead to a line of questioning about what a soul is. Trying to keep in mind that I'm talking to a 4-year-old, I tell him that a person's soul is the part of them that makes them who they are on the inside. He then confirms, "so the soul is the part that God puts into the baby when it's growing in the Mommy's tummy?" Wow, yeah Nick, that's pretty accurate. Where did he learn this stuff from? This, of course, lead into a brief conversation about babies growing in a Mommy's belly, how long they have to live in there for, when they start to be alive (why not ask me which came first, the chicken or the egg, might have been easier to discuss at this point) and what happens if a baby comes out too soon. I realize that he's just trying to delay going to sleep, so I give him the quickest, simplest answers to these questions. As I think we're finished and I'm about to get up and leave the room, he tells me he has one more question, "with Daddy out of town, who's going to protect us if bad guys get into our house?" Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I tell him that no bad guys are going to get into our house, but that if they do, the doggies will bark and scare them off, if that doesn't work, mommy will come in and protect him and his brother. I think it's best to not discuss the pistol I made Shawn leave for me when I thought of the same question that started this very conversation. Nick tells me that he wants me to protect them with Daddy's sword if I have to. I agreed, kiss him goodnight, wonder when he got so smart and leave the room. Moments later he's running downstairs telling me that he's scared still. I go back into his room, tuck him back into bed, hand him his toy sword from the circus and tell him that he can protect us all if he needs to. He smiles, closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

Wednesday
As if I haven't had enough of this by now, I wake up at 1:30 in the morning to Evan crying. I get up and go into his room. Out of habit after 5 days of virus in our home, I take him directly into the bathroom. Seconds after I get into the bathroom, Evan pukes all over my right shoulder, the floor, the bathmat that I just put back after washing it from the last time it got puked on, the towels and even the door. Ugh, this time I don't have Shawn to pass him off to. I clean him up, get him back to sleep and put him back into his crib. Clean myself up; change my clothes; pile the dirty clothes, bathmat and towels in the tub for laundering tomorrow; scrub the bathroom floor, hallway carpet and door and finally climb back into bed. It's now nearly 2:30 a.m. and I'm exhausted. I then lay in bed wondering what the chances are of someone breaking into the house and me getting the pistol and both kids into Nick's room where the escape ladder is stored and how likely it would be that I would need to shoot a burglar in front of my kids. Thanks Nick, I didn't need to think of such things while laying in bed alone.

Luckily, the day was pretty non-eventful, but I had another notable bed-time routine with Nick. We did the bathroom stuff without incident, talked to Daddy and had him read us out story and hung up without tears. The conversation tonight after hanging up with Daddy was much more positive than the previous night. Before I leave the room, I tell Nick that it's time for us to say our prayers. We recite 'Now I lay me' and I kiss Nick goodnight. He then tells me that he wants to say another prayer. I tell him to go ahead. I'm curious because I'm not aware of any other prayers he knows. He then simply says, "Thank you God for all the beautiful seasons. Your turn Mommy". I respond in turn, "Thank you God for my beautiful family". He continues to thank God for things he is thankful for and finishes with "Thank you God for loving us". I silently thank God for giving me such a wonderful son and ask that He help me to not screw him up too badly in my attempt at raising him.

Shawn is expected home in roughly 24-hours. I'm grateful that 8 of those hours will go by quickly because I'm swamped at work making up for 3 days of absence. I cannot wait to be woken up by the movement I'll feel as he sneaks into bed tomorrow night and just feel secure again knowing that my soul mate is back where he belongs - by my side.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Last Friday at 2:00 a.m. Shawn and I are awakened by the shrill screams of our youngest child. He may look nothing like me, but he sounds just like young Jessica. High pitched, loud screams that humans should not be capable of making. This was what startled us both out of bed on Friday morning. I go in to check on Evan to find that he has thrown up all over himself and his crib. Lovely! I scoop him up, change his clothes and hand him off to Shawn so that I can clean up his crib. By morning, we've run through all of the sheets that fit his crib mattress and I'm out of nightshirts.

I get Nick ready and off to school, but I must stay home with the baby. Luckily, it seems it was only a 12-hour virus, as he's done throwing up by mid-day. He's still not eating much, but he's acting more like himself. I find out that Evan is a super cuddle bug when he's not feeling well.

Saturday Evan is perfectly fine and starting to eat more. I'm feeling very lucky that we were able to keep the virus in check and that the kids will be healthy while Shawn's away for his Vista testing.

Sunday I realize I was overly confident in my abilities to kill a virus. While I was cooking dinner, Shawn was out in the yard playing with the boys. Out of the blue, Nick got sick. He really didn't seem any worse for wear, so I'm thinking he might have just gotten sick because he was running around out in the heat. We ate dinner without incident and even went for a family bike ride afterwards. On the way home from the bike ride, we stopped at the park. I knew something was up when Nick said he didn't want to play at the park, that he wanted to go home.

We got home and I sent the boys to the bathroom for their bath before bed. Evan was undressed and in the water already. I was getting Nick undressed when I noticed he took on an almost grayish color. I no sooner said to him, "If you're going to throw up, make sure to do it in the potty," when he threw up all over me!!! Well, at least we're in the bathroom - easy enough to clean up. Clean the baby, get him out of tub and send him downstairs with Shawn; strip my clothes off, Nick's clothes off, the bath mat and towels that were in the line of fire; then bathe me and Nick. Get us into clean clothes and set Nick up with a bucket. Thank God that Nick's old enough to know how to use a bucket.

Monday, 2:00 a.m. (again), Evan is back up and crying. I go in and hear this gurgle in his belly. I'm smart enough to go into the bathroom just in case. As I cross the threshold into the bathroom, Evan pukes all over me. Why, oh why, have I been puked on at least a dozen times in the last 3 days?!?!?! I call into Shawn and have him come and help with the middle of the night clean-up again.

Here it is Tuesday and both boys are back in school. I, however, am home because I've finally succumb to the nearly impossible to kill virus that has attacked my family. Though I'm home sick, I've taken the opportunity to scrub my house, open all the windows and do tons of laundry in an attempt to keep us from passing this on any further.

Hopefully our family is on the mend and will not suffer another round of vomiting, especially since Shawn's out of town until late Thursday night/Friday morning. Shawn seems to have lucked out - not only did he manage to not get the virus, he also go to leave prior to the post-virus house cleaning and will come home to a wife who must've lost at least 5 pounds from not eating in 2 days!

I, I will Survive

This week I am, more or less, flying solo. I will be on my own to feed, clothe, bathe, play with, transport, entertain and put to bed the children. I am looking at this as a test. A test of my parenting abilities as well as my patience. I'm sure I'll pass the parenting test, the patience test I'm not as sure about.

Shawn has gone out of town on a business trip. One would think there's no travel involved in automotive service, but one would be wrong - at least when it comes to Volvo techs. Shawn has been participating in Vista training/testing. I cannot remember what Vista stands for, but when Shawn first got hired at Volvo, they sent him for a week-long training seminar up in Rockly, New Jersey. He's gone back several times since then for continuing education and was recently invited to participate in the annual technician competition. Thus far, he's done really well. He is 1 of 48 techs across the country that made it to the finals! I'm very proud of him! The top ranked 19 techs win a free trip to Sweden to go to the Volvo Plant. As much as I wish him luck and hope he comes in number 1, I am going to miss the crap out of him while he's gone.

What's quite entertaining to me is that there is a dress code for some of the week's events. Shawn came home with an itinerary and a horrified look asking me what 'business casual' meant. Then he pointed out the part about the awards banquet where a jacket and tie are required. Shawn didn't even wear a tie to our wedding and doesn't own a suit. We purchased Shawn's first adult suit this past weekend. He looks great in it! I'm quite jealous that I will not be on his arm when he goes to this banquet. He left at about noon today and I was missing him by 12:15. There's a reception for all the competitors this evening. Then 2 days of testing before the awards banquet Thursday night. He won't be home until midnight or later on Thursday.

I planned a menu of simple to cook meals, did all the laundry and cleaned up as much as possible, so I'll only really have the bare minimum to do while home alone with the boys. I'm not worried about any of the week's tasks except for putting the boys to bed and being the only one to get up with Evan in the middle of the night. I will admit, I'm also a bit paranoid about being the only adult in the house. I'm jumpy when Shawn's here - in the last 3 hours I almost called the police on the Verizon guy who was sitting in a van outside for an extremely long time, took a Snapple bottle with me as a weapon to check out the noise in the playroom and jumped out of my skin when the wind blew the bedroom door shut upstairs. I cannot imagine how bad I'm going to be tonight after the kids go to bed.

Evan's too little to really know what's going on. I'm sure he'll notice that daddy's not here tonight, but telling him ahead of time means nothing to him. Nick, on the other hand, seems terrified of being home with only mommy. To make things more normal for him, Shawn took one of the 2 copies of 'Chicka Chicka Boom Boom' with him so he can read it to Nick over the phone tonight. Nick can flip through the copy here while Shawn reads from the other copy. I'm sure that after being allowed to stay up late tonight so I can get Evan to bed, he'll be more willing to enjoy parts of our special week together and less likely to freak out about Daddy being out of town.

It's been 3 hours since Shawn left, the boys are in school and I'm sitting on the couch missing Shawn already. I will be going to get the kids from school in about 2 hours and will then be too busy to miss him. In the mean time, I'm trying my best to enjoy the peace and quite of my empty house.

Nick's First Girlfriend

My 4-year-old has a girlfriend. I hear stories of other preschoolers having boy/girl friends all the time, but I honestly think it's different for Nick. He's had the same girlfriend, we'll refer to her as B, for over a year now! I find this fascinating. My preschooler is able to commit better than many adult men. I wonder if this is due to the lack of hormones at this age? It does require that he overcome the short attention span though. They, for whatever reason, have not grown bored with each other and seem to have a very strong (I hesitate to use the word, but I must) relationship.

Nick and B go to school together, for now anyway. She's a year older than he is and will be heading off to the big K in September, but for now, they see each other in school every weekday. I work directly across from her mother, so we are friends outside of school/work as well, which will come in handy should they remain as close as they currently are once they don't see each other every day.

I think this little romance is adorable! They hold hands as we leave the building and must hug and kiss (on the cheek only - at B's insistence) before we part ways in the parking lot. Nick's even gone as far as to demand that I call B from the car moments after we've parted ways because he forgot to tell her that he loved her. My little man even brought her a rose for her 5th birthday last month!

Even if this particular romance doesn't last forever, I'm very proud of the fact that my little man seems to have his heart in the right place when it comes to romantic relationships. So long as he continues to love with all he has and stays as loyal to those that he chooses to love as he is now, he will make someone very, very happy one day!

Until then, I will continue to enjoy the innocence of my son's first love and I pray that he is not heartbroken when she goes off to school in the fall.

The First Toy Boys Are Given

Being married to a boy and being the mother of 2 boys, I've learned just how obsessed boys are with their penises. I always knew that men were obsessed, I just didn't know how young the obsession started. This will be my post dedicated to the many penis stories. There is no pun intended here, but I'm sure this particular post will lengthen over time as, like I've said, boys are obsessed with their penises. Shawn explains this by saying that the penis is the first toy boys are given, the one that gets played with the most and the one they enjoy forever. Who am I to argue?


The first truly great penis story is from when Nick was about 2 years old. He has just gotten out of the bath and was running around naked. He climbed up and was standing in the bay window on the back of our couch. Not really a problem if he had clothes on, but I'm pretty sure the neighbors don't need to see naked Nick pressed up against the glass in all his naked glory. In an attempt to get Nick to come down without argument, Shawn thinks it's a good idea to say to Nick, "you better get out of that window before a bird thinks your penis is a worm and swoops down and eats it". Now I agree that this would persuade a little boy to climb out of the window. Unlike Shawn, I, however, posses the ability to realize that, in the very near future, we will regret him having said that. Said regret comes in the form of Nick, every time his penis is exposed (think diaper changes) shouting out, "don't eat my penis"! Shawn thought this was hysterical. Shawn was not the one who had to explain this to the teachers at Nick's daycare. Jessica was mortified.

I'm not sure how old Nick was when this one took place, but I would guess between 2 and 3 years old. Again, he was in the bath. I was sitting on the toilet reading a book while he played in the water. This was pretty much my down time for the evening. I heard Nick suck in air with such velocity I was surprised the shower curtain was still in tact. I look over and he has the most fascinated, excited facial expression. Then he speaks. Are you ready for it? It's a good one. He has his sack in his hand and proclaims, "mommy, I finally found it!!! I found my farts!!!" After I caught my breath and stopped laughing it dawned on me, this little discovery probably bought me another year or so before I have to explain what a scrotum really is and what it's for. Bonus!


About a year ago, Nick was taking a bath with another little boy. He was only 3 at the time and I didn't think this would be an issue. Nick is my older son and I'm learning, I really am. I now know that 3 years old is probably too old to bathe with other boys that are not your little brother. I know this because during the bath, Nick looks at the other boy's penis and says, "my penis is bigger than yours". I also now know that the competition starts much younger then I would have ever, ever imagined.


About a month ago Nick and I were hanging out in the playroom. Nick was climbing around on the metal futon that we have down there - something Shawn and I have repeatedly told him not to do. As he's climbing over the arm of the futon, he slips and falls. He falls hard. He smashes his mommy-daddy button right on the metal corner of the arm of the futon. After only a moment of surveying the damage, Nick seems to decide this incident is not worth crying over and goes back to playing (not climbing). I am astounded that he can breath let alone play, so I have to ask, "Nick, are you hurt honey?" He replies, "no mommy, I'm OK." I still cannot believe he's not at least speaking in a higher decibel, he fell really hard. I feel the need to ask outright, "Nick, did you hurt your penis?" He takes an almost superhero like stance, straight back, chest out, and replies, "no mommy, my penis is always prepared!" Prepared for what I'm not quite sure. However, I feel as though a large part of my parental responsibilities have been accomplished so long as it and he continue to be so well prepared!


Recently I was giving Nick and Evan a bath together. Nick pays no attention to Evan's penis, so I thought we were safe. We would have been had it not been for the fact that Evan finally realized that Nick also has a penis. As if in slow motion, I saw in Evan's face the realization that his penis was not the only one in existence. He looks at his, looks at Nick's and then reaches out, Nick unknowing, and grabs onto Nick's package and pulls. This was the first time I ever witnessed a reaction to the 'grab, twist & pull' method of self defense. Granted, Evan, so far as I know, was not defending anything. He seemed to be genuinely curious. Nick took it in stride and simply responded by saying, "don't pull on my penis, you have one of your own. Pull on yours"!

Evan's First Felony

My 18-month-old little boy has committed his first felony. He succeeded in car-jacking one of his friends at school! OK, maybe it's not considered car-jacking when it's a Little Tykes vehicle, but still, the act is the same.

My office is located on the 8th floor of our building. The windows near my desk look down over the playground that the children in the daycare play in. I am usually thrilled that I can sneak a peek out the window and catch a glimpse of my little men running around with their friends. It's very interesting to see how they behave when they have no idea you're watching them. I really do enjoy my ability to spy on them each afternoon.

So, yesterday, my boss calls me over to the window and tells me the children are out. I am in need of an afternoon pick-me-up, so I run over to fill myself with that sense of pride I normally get from watching them out there. However, I look down and notice that Evan has decided to play the part of playground bully. Evan has realized that he needs to be in the Cozy Coupe and he needs to be in it now! Never mind that it's already occupied by a 2-year-old little girl. He wants in. He calmly walks up to the driver side door and yanks it open. Though she appears to be caught off guard, she has her wits about her and pulls the door shut again. This does not put Evan off, he is nothing if not persistent. He again yanks the door open. She again pulls it shut. Open, closed, open, closed. Back and forth, back and forth. No more Mr. Nice Guy, Evan means business now. He calmly places both his hands on the door, pulls it open and holds his ground. She is unable to pull it closed again, but seems unwilling to exit on his side. I'm 8 floors up, so I'm not sure what he did/said at this point, but she is suddenly unwilling to fight any longer. She climbs across the seat and exits via the passenger side window (the door does not open on the passenger side). Evan calmly climbs in and off he drives.

I find myself grateful that he allowed her to exit before taking off. At least we're only looking at car-jacking instead of kidnapping!