Everyday Miracles

Every now and then you witness a little miracle.  I really thought I was witnessing one this morning.  I woke up at 6:30 to The Sound of My Alarm.  This might not strike anyone as notable, but it's been a long, long time since I heard it.  I typically wake up to Michael's morning moans, and I occasionally wake up a few minutes before the morning fun begins.  But the most remarkable parts of my waking, and what I thought was miraculous, was that not only was no one moaning, but it wasn't raining.  After a LONG dry spell, it started raining last night.  (Jeff finally got out the hose and soaked the azaleas yesterday afternoon.  After that, the rain was inevitable.)  It rained all night, and it was a really, really hard rain.  But when I woke up, it was silent.  I had just enough time to process this and think, "Wow!  I'm going to get to work on time, and maybe a little early," when Michael started crying.  And the rain started again.  Doh.

But this afternoon, I did witness a miracle, at least one based on my very low and desperate standards.  I stayed home from work due to both Jeff and me having a mild stomach bug, which was probably the result of Ree bringing home germies from school and the stress of last week.  Jeff and I decided to nap in shifts, and while he was napping, Ree asked me to play in her room.  Again, this doesn't sound like a big deal, but I was holding Michael at the time she asked.  The boys are NOT ALLOWED in her room.  Last year she requested a baby gate for her door to keep the boys out when we told her she was not allowed to play behind closed doors.  She frequently runs in there and slams the gate to ensure her toys go unharmed (unless she happens to step on them since she always has every toy she owns out at once). Her room is sacred.  And, besides, she has never really liked her brothers.

I told her that I could only play if Michael could come in too.  I also gave her the option of bringing her paper dolls out to the living room where Michael could play too.  She shocked me by saying that Michael could come in, and she even suggested activities for him.  We all played in there for awhile, and then Leon woke up from his nap.  I figured the fun was over.  Without his brother's influence, Michael is a pretty calm child.  Plus he was respectful so that he didn't get kicked out of his sister's Mecca.  But Leon is a whole other story.  So I asked if Leon could play too, and Ree said yes, and I said that I would have to go if things got too crazy.

It turns out, Leon was respectful too, and the boys magically did not encourage each other to do crazy things.  Leon was delighted to "cook" with all of Ree's play food (the boys have a much more limited selection with their toys).  Michael was bug-eyed at the thought of all the books in her closet.  Both Leon and Michael enjoyed playing with all her musical instruments.  All three kids managed to play together for an hour and a half, and they only stopped them when I offered them snacks.  In the end, the room was trashed, but the 90 minutes of peace was miraculous.

Monday

So I am surviving life without children.  For the first day I definitely felt...naked.  There were no little monkeys clinging to me.  I also felt a bit lonely.  As Ree pointed out the other night, we have seven people in our family (dogs included).  And we have an eighth member on the way.  It was weird being (almost) alone in my hotel room the other night.  I did tell the little bambina goodnight, just in case she was listening.  She has been super hyper during most of my training sessions.  I don't know if she is that fascinated by auditing or begging me to find her something more interesting to eavesdrop on. 

The weirdest part of this experience for me was figuring out where to sleep.  I have my own hotel room, and it has two double beds.  For the past four years, I've never traveled alone.  So when I've traveled, one bed has been the changing table and luggage storage rack.  I sleep in the other bed on the side closest to the pack-and-play(s).  It was weird to actually CHOOSE a place to sleep.  The pressure!  I settled for a spot directly in front of the massive flat-screen TV, just in case I got the urge to watch a little late-night TLC.  (My only vice channel they have in the hotel cable lineup.)

In case you are curious as to what I am doing, I am at the annual conference for the Association of College and University Auditors.  No wonder the bambina is bored!  In case you were wondering what a room full of said nerds looks like, here is a picture of us listening to a motivational speaker.  Do we look like we are energized and ready to take on the world or what?  Bonus points if you can find me.  (Hint:  It's not that hard.)

So, um, yeah.  The three of us from my office were some of the last to arrive for this session, so we were stuck sitting in the front.  We were late because we were talking. (For those of you who know me well, I know you are shocked!)  My boss and I got caught by the group photographer gossiping a bit later during the speech.

This group is actually pretty fun.  And like any good group of accountants, they keep the alcohol flowing at social events to ensure all members are, um, fun.  One of these years I am going to remember to not be pregnant or nursing.  One of these years!  Last night we took a dinner cruise along the harbor here in Baltimore.  Here's our lovely vessel.

 

Just kidding.  But I had to throw in a cell phone pic somewhere (the other pics are all from the group photographer and are far too high quality in my opinion).  And wouldn't it be cool to eat dinner on a sailboat like that?  After we took our cruise for our honeymoon, I found out there are actually cruises for small groups on sailboats like that.  I think that would be amazing.  I will also add that to my "Someday, really!" list.

So anyways, this is the ship we were actually on.  

It was a dinner cruise, and we ate dinner and, well, we cruised.  It was fun.  And the alcohol flowed.  I stuck to being the crazy dancing (sober) pregnant girl.  Sorry that there are no photos of that.  But we have a dinner dance tomorrow night.  Plenty of time for someone to capture the madness.

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

I will never understand the boys' relationship.  How could I?  I will never be a twin anymore than either of them will ever know life as a singleton.  Not to mention I will never be a boy any more than they will ever be a girl (well, most likely...).  But they are certainly fun to watch, if challenging at times. 

For lack of comparison, watching them is like watching any set of brothers, except they are shrunken down to 21-month-old size.

They have always been jealous of each other.  Back when they were only four or five months old (or less, it's hard to remember since that was a LONG time and a lot of brain cells ago), they were already getting upset when I held the other.  At that point it was just, "But that's MY mom."  It didn't take long, however, for them to get jealous of each other.  The two redefine FAIR.  By golly, everything has to be fair from the number of beans on each plate to the time spent hugging them.

And, of course, since life isn't completely fair, they spent lots of time beating each other up.  On more than one occasion, Leon has come to us, tears streaming down his face, bite marks in his arm.  And sadly our first question is usually, "And what did you do to make Michael bite you?"  Almost every time it turns out that Leon has stolen whatever Michael was playing with, and Michael defended himself by fighting dirty since he is not as fierce as his freakishly strong, big little brother.

There is also the unintentional comedy.  Tonight before their baths, Michael was wandering around the bathroom in his diaper while I was getting Leon undressed.  Poor Leon was laying their innocently on his back when Michael got an urge to practice his words for body parts.  He walked right up to Leon, announced, "Eyes!" and proceeded to jab his brother in both eyes.  I suppose I should've calmly told Michael that yes, those are eyes, but perhaps we shouldn't gouge other people's, but I was really concentrating on not laughing hysterically.  It was such classic Stooges.

In the end, though, they have each other's backs.  Whenever Leon wants juice, he goes to the cabinet, takes out two cups, and brings them to me.  Once they are filled, he gives one to Michael, whether Michael wants it or not.  And Michael looks out for Leon too.  The other day while they were coloring, I told Michael he was doing a good job.  Rather than beaming at the praise, he immediately started pointing to Leon's page and saying "Leon!  Leon!"  He wanted to make sure I recognized Leon's hard work too.  If that's not love, at least from a toddler boy, I don't know what is.

Last Week

Sunday night always creeps up on me.  One minute it's Thursday night or Friday morning, and the next thing I know, it's Sunday night, the kids are in bed, I have a ton to do to get ready for Monday, and my to-do list for the weekend is virtually untouched.  This weekend was no exception.  So really, right now, I should be sleeping.  And if I stay up, I should be studying for a certification exam I'm taking for work in December because it's not cheap to take and it's all new material that I need to learn.  Or I should be ironing my clothes for work because I know my coworkers are already sick of seeing me in the same wrinkled maternity clothes week after week.  But I really don't feel like it.

And plus, this weekend wasn't a total loss.  I cleaned our bathroom, at least to the point that it no longer looks like it belongs in a house inhabited by a sizable number of college-aged males.  I even showered, which doesn't always happen, especially on the weekends.  And most importantly, to use a phrase from the first year or so of the boys' life, we managed to sustain life.  As far as I know, we took care of everyone's nutritional and bathroom needs this weekend, and we even threw in a few hugs for good measure.  Is that fabulous parenting, or what?  (Don't answer.) 

So that being said, instead of getting all those things done, I'm doing something I shouldn't do.  I'm sitting on the couch, farting around on the computer.  And to make it worse, I'm going to take it a step further and post some pictures of the week, even though I know better than to put both my children's pictures and names out there for the world to see.  Here's hoping I don't get caught.

Last weekend we made blueberry muffins.  My baking staff has grown.

I have no idea what they were watching, but those are some serious TV zombies.  The kids were having a bad morning today, and at some point I caught each of them chanting "TV, TV, TV."  It was both amusing and creepy.

Ree headed back to preschool this week.  It was her first week at her new preschool.  I like the new school because it is Montessori-style, they get to eat real food for snacks and lunch (her preschool last year was heavy on packaged food due to convenience and food allergies), and they make authentic, child-created art (last year was also heavy on the teacher-prepared, kids-glue-it-together-just-like-the- example art).  The verdict is still out whether Ree agrees with me that this is better.

Ree did get to bring home Blackie Midnite this week.  This stuffed animal is the class "pet" and the kids get to take turns caring for him for the night.  Each child also takes home a journal where they record what they did with Blackie Midnite.  At our house, he had a sleepover with some of the other "pets," but Ree's journal entry was mostly about Abby Cadabby.  Poor Blackie was a total afterthought.

Michael joined us in making banana muffins this weekend.  Although he looks halfway engaged in the picture, he was not much of a fan of the whole cooking process.

I caught all three kids playing together (well, sorta) in the sandbox.

Ree may have been born in Athens, but Leon definitely looks the most like a crazy, hippie kid.  Check out the hair and the sandals with knit pants.

I found a recipe for edible homemade Play-Doh.  You would never guess it from this photo, but Michael HATED the whole process.  Except for maybe eating the dough.  The other two really liked making it and playing with the dough.  And they thankfully didn't eat much of it.

Pru was an unfortunate victim of the Play-Doh making mayhem.  She was covered in flour by the end of the process, and not very happy with that fact.

A Big Sister's Perspective

I am enjoying Ree's perspective on pregnancy.  Her initial reaction to the pregnancy was relief.  We hadn't yet told her I was pregnant, and after my first ultrasound Jeff told her that we were having a baby.  Just one.  She didn't care at that point if it was a boy or a girl, as long as there was just one baby.  However, it wasn't long before she started telling everyone that she was having a little sister.  Uh-oh.

Thankfully last week we did find out (with about 90%) certainty, that we are having another girl.  It was a fairly early ultrasound, so the technician wasn't completely confident, but she and I were both in agreement that it definitely looked like a girl.  Ree was happy to hear that she really is (probably) getting a baby sister.  What Ree doesn't know yet is this means she will be sharing a room by this time next year.  We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

We've had some other enjoyable moments with Ree.  One day last week I was wearing a fairly tight tank top when I felt the baby move.  I looked down, and sure enough, my shirt was moving all over the place.  I pointed this out to Ree and she asked in awe, "Is the baby crawling?"  I said that yes, maybe she was practicing her crawling.

On Saturday afternoon, Ree and I were sitting under a blanket on the couch watching Jungle Book.  We must've been at a boring part, because she suddenly pulled up the blanket, stared at my stomach and said, "Make the baby crawl again!"  I tried to gently explain it doesn't work like that.  Babies don't do things on command.  Neither do kids, for that matter.  Or most grown ups.

The whole baby crawling thing has stayed with her.  One day this week she and Jeff were looking at photos and he came across this photo and ask who was in it.

Without missing a beat, she said it was Mommy and Michael.  She was not happy to be corrected and learn that she was actually the one sitting on my lap.  Jeff also explained that on her birthday when she turned 2, Leon and Michael were still in my belly.  Relieved for a reason to change subjects, she immediately asked, "Did they crawl too?" 

I have a feeling she will soon be asking strangers about the crawling habits of the babies in their bellies.  Those should be some interesting conversations.

My Name is Earl

For those who are curious, yes, Earl really should pretty much leave us alone unless it drastically changes course over the next few hours.  We live at the southern tip of North Carolina in the area that is currently blue on the National Hurricane Center map.

http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/graphics_at2.shtml?5-daynl?large#contents

Right now the winds on shore are still calm, and the trees outside my building at work aren't moving any more than usual.  However, based on my headache, I think the pressure is dropping fairly rapidly.  (That or I am just tired, hungry, and cranky.)  The last I heard, we weren't even supposed to have horrible winds or much rain.  We shall see.

The closest beach to us is Wrightsville Beach.  It's a mile from the back of campus at UNCW and about 5 miles from our house.  I'm sure the surfers were disappointed when they woke up this morning.  When I checked the beach cam, waves were only waist high.  Here's the most recent surf report.

Thursday Surf Report:
8:20 am
Building hurricane surf today. Not that big early on. Waist-head high but inconsistent. That will change as the storm draws closer today. Increasing NE wind. Be safe. Earl Satellite

Wind:
NE-ENE 15-40+ mph
(next 6 hours)

If you get bored, keep checking the surf cam.  There should be plenty of surf action late this afternoon and into the evening.

p.s.  Based on the current hurricane/tropical storm names, does anyone else feel the need for a Disney movie and TV marathon???

Immunizations

I hate immunizations, vaccinations, shots, whatever you want to call them.  I don't like getting them and I hate watching my kids get them.  Not only is it not fun to get jabbed, there's something that just doesn't feel right about taking a perfectly healthy kid and loading them up with germs.

It doesn't help that now there is so much guilt.  You are a bad parent if you don't immunize - think of what would happen if your poor child actually got the disease.  But you are a bad parent if you do immunize - why increase your child's risk of autism and other side effects for diseases that have virtually been eradicated?  (The current official word is that there is no correlation between immunizations and autism, but that doesn't stop the guilt trip that comes from other parents...)

I know parents who cry every time they take their baby in for shots.  While I certainly understand where they are coming from, it never bothered me that much.  Maybe it's because everything makes them cry at that age.  Or, as another dad whose child lived in the NICU put it to me, once you've seen your child with an IV in his head, what's a little pinprick shot?  Or maybe I'm just insensitive.  I don't know.

Last week I took Ree to the doctor for her four-year-old check up.  We had previously been told that she was good on immunizations until she was 5 and got loaded up to get ready for kindergarten.  Little did we know, North Carolina laws have changed, and now they administer all those shots at age 4 since most kids go to pre-K programs.  So the poor girl got 4 shots plus a the flu shot mist up her nose.  I was not as okay with this.

Ree is a tough kid, and she was okay with just holding my hands while the nurse did her thing.  First shot, no problem.  Second shot, though, she arched her back and her whole body clenched with pain.  Her eyese immediately welled up with tears.  Yikes.  Although the other two shots were relatively uneventful, t that was just the beginning.

She was sick all weekend.  Really run down, awful sick.  By Friday night she said her legs hurt, but we figured she was just sore from where she had been jabbed.  By Saturday morning, she wasn't walking right and you could tell she muscles and joints were actually achy.  She also ran a fever that didn't want to break.  Of course we had a family work day at her preschool that day, so all of us were out the door at 7:40 in the morning for a day of family "fun."  The poor girl just sat at preschool not wanting to play with any of the other kids whose parents were busy working.  (At least the boys had a great time.  Michael followed around the older girls trying to get their attention and Leon spent over and hour and a half at one point playing in the pretend kitchen area.)

She did feel a bit better on Sunday night, but then she woke up on Monday covered in a rash.  By Tuesday she was starting to feel better, and yesterday she seemed to finally really be on the mend.  It's a good thing she is done with shots until 2017, because it may take me that long to accept that this way is "better."