Spinning Yellow

Happy Birthday, Honey!

Look, 40 isn't easy.  I know.  I'm almost 6 months older, remember?  You do remember, of course you do, you like to remind me that you are younger, if only by a few months.  But now we are both 40 years old.  It does take some time to get used to, I'll give you that.  So maybe you can't stay up as late, or drink as much, or ride your bike as far, but that's not all that important, really.

What matters is who you've become:  A wonderful father, a supportive husband, an accomplished professional.  I like how you've softened, not physically (although I know you think this is true, I don't agree) but in your demeanor.  It isn't all about rushing and stressing, getting something done.  You take the time to play with the kids, listen to my stories, share our lives.

It is freeing, really, being 40.  A true grown-up.  Perhaps not hip, but sophisticated, wise, comfortable.  You keep getting better, baby.  And here's another bit of advice:

Just remember, no matter how old you are, I'll always be older.

Love,

Your old lady

And the Star-Dazzle Award Goes to ....

*** Fair warning that there is going to be some serious mommy bragging in this post.

I might have been complaining in my last post about the monotony of raising kids, but truth be told, I love being a mom.  And more specifically, I love being a mom of two kids.  These two kids.  Two very different children.  They can be quite frustrating and they both have their individual issues.  Well, Scott much more so than Jane, but she's been having some tantrums (and will not, for the love of God, go to sleep tonight) and being a girl does present some inherent challenges.

So, while I have been somewhat discontented lately, this past weekend was really what all parents look forward to.  The good stuff.  The things that our parents think of when they say, "when you kids were young was the best time of our lives."  The things that we look back on as kids and feel proud of.  The stuff of happy memories.

I should now turn the award ceremony over to someone else, not their mom, who might be able to be a little more objective, but it is my blog, so you get my proud momma version:

The Tiny Dancer

First up for her Star-Dazzle award is Jane.  Jane performed in her first dance recital this weekend.  She went to dance lessons all year for this and mom and dad forked over huge amounts of money.  Delilah covered it well in her post yesterday.

I was a bit concerned about the recital after Jane turned into a diva-in-training before the rehearsal, demanding that her hair be done a certain way and that she wear her favorite bright purple, shimmering lipstick.  But she was all business (show business that is) for the recital.  She was prepared and she ate it up like any small girl who gets to dress-up in a tutu should.  She even donned her purple, polka dot sunglasses while strutting into the building as if she was entering her dressing room; posing for photos and asking for her make-up to be reapplied.

As I dropped her off in the cafeteria, which was the holding room for all the performers, she smiled brightly and blew me a kiss.  "Have fun, sweetie!"  "I will mom!" 

My mind raced:  Is she nervous?  Will she cry?  Be overwhelmed?  Pee her pants?  Isn't this developmentally inappropriate to ask a just turned 4 year old child to get up on a high school auditorium stage in front of a packed audience?

But I forgot all of that as the curtain opened and group after group of girls, from 3 year olds all the way up to high school age, danced their numbers.  Many of the children I knew.  And I really started to cry when I saw Kate, clearly enjoying herself doing her routine just like the other girls, as happy as can be.

These kids were super stars!  What a great chance to have the memory of performing in front of an audience.  And Jane?  She was simply perfect.  As cute as a button, following along, twirling in her elaborate get-up.  Smiling, waving and blowing kisses to her fans.  I wanted to run right up on stage with her and hug her to pieces.

I'll be signing her up for next year, when she gets to wear tap shoes and make a lot of noise.  I can't wait.

The All Star Player

Second up, to share the award, is her brother, Scott.  Scott is finishing up his baseball season which completes his second rotation of soccer/basketball/baseball playing team sports.  Even though Scott takes these games very seriously, the idea is to get the children's feet wet in the world of sports.  Basketball this year was the first time that an official score was kept although the coaches still played down winning or losing trying to get the kids to learn how to play and have fun.

But for Scott it is about winning.  And this has been an issue as far as these junior leagues are concerned.  When the basketball league decided to have an all star game, Scott was sure he'd be selected to play, but he wasn't.  Not because he wasn't one of the better players but because it was his first year in the league and the coaches decided to have the older kids participate.

This made Scott's head explode.  The injustice!  Why should he bother to play?  When would he ever be recognized for his talent?

Well, the time has come because he was just offered a spot on the All Star baseball team!  And he gets to play with some of his best buddies from class.  His group.  The ones that he is now asking for play dates with.  My boy!  Is finding his group.  I might start crying again.

Scott has really struggled this spring with anxiety and OCD.  He can be volatile and downright sullen.  But this world of sports?  It is his thing.  His place.  He needs it and he deserves it.

There will be "scouts" there for the 8 year old travel team which he could be invited to play on next spring.  A real, competitive, every game matters type of opportunity.  I know many people think that that is not appropriate for his age.  But I defy them to see him in action and question whose motive it is to play.  He wants this and has been waiting. 

Is it any different than having your little girl perform in a recital?

Scott is the youngest member of his team and he is going to represent them in an All Star game.  He is thrilled.

Rising to the occasion

Scott was not happy about having to attend Jane's recital, but we felt that he should support his sister.  Earlier in the day as he was teasing her, I scolded him saying, "this is her one day, don't ruin it for her."  So, of course, he had to pout and be mad at me.  Matt and I exchanged glances thinking he better not make this moment about him.  It is always about him.  Typical first child.

But he sat through the whole recital without any complaints.  And when it was all over and Jane came off the stage she was so happy to see him there.  He gave her a big hug and congratulated her on her performance.   "Thanks, brother!" she beamed.

Can you see my heart bursting?

For a closing note, your proud momma MC would like to also share this little story:

Matt came home from work late today and was going to mow the lawn.  I had already planned to have dinner at my mom's and the kids were not expecting to see their dad until after they got home.  But he surprised them by coming over as they were eating.

Matt brought over his and Scott's baseball gloves and, in a teasing tone, asked Scott, "Now that you are a big shot All Star player, do you still have time to have a catch with your dad?"

Scott smiled and responded, "I'll always have time for you, Daddy.  Always."

That moment. 

These moments. 

The good stuff.

The Roof, the Roof, the Roof is on Fire!

Since my husband is now working from home, he can do some things during the day that he would not ordinarily.  On Thursday it looked like this outside:

 (can you see the ice on the tree?)


So he decided to make a fire.  Typically on Thursday's, I have a good chunk of the day to myself.  Jane goes to preschool and then Delilah picks her up for a playdate with Annie.  I usually run errands and, you know, do stuff without any children.  I look forward to Thursdays, especially now, during the holidays, when I am busy, busy, busy.  It is a fabulous arrangement. 

Except when Jane refuses to go to school.

Jane didn't want to go to dance class the day before, either.  Since she hadn't missed any classes and had been sick the day before, I let her stay home.  I hate to push about classes.  Maybe it was just an off day.  But the little voice inside my head said don't let her get away with it. 

Then the school thing.  I always say that you have to go to school or go to the doctor.  She screamed and cried and pitched a royal fit.  I finally gave in when she said she'd take a nap.  I figured she must still be sick and put her back in bed.

Normally she loooovves dance and school.  Can't wait to go.  I am hoping it is just some phase.  A combination of being tired, the holiday frazzles, and knowing that Daddy is home.  Lately, she is vaguely aware of time, saying, "is that this year?" when I tell her it is time to go to school.  Or announcing, "it is 17 o'clock, time for dinner!" at 8am.  When I say we have to go to dance, she thinks, when I am ready the class will be there.

I was not happy considering the long list of things I needed to do during the time she was supposed to be occupied.  But so it goes in the world of small children and mothers who think they will actually accomplish something.

As best as I could, I tried not to panic (dance costs a fortune and school is only 5 hours per week for crying-out-loud, you'd think she could go) and attempted to make the day super boring.  Constantly mentioning how she could have been at school having fun, or making a project, or whatever else I could dream up.  Maybe today they went on the stage and it was super fun.  Or it was so-and-so's birthday, I wonder what kind of treat they brought in?

I think she was on to me because she didn't bite at all.  Just asked to lie down and watch TV.

Anyway, Matt saw that she was home and decided to make the fire.  So it would be all cozy at home (he wasn't aware of my no fun plan).  In fact he asked Jane why she didn't go to school and she replied, "it's complicated."  Really.  He was stoking up the fire right around lunchtime when I heard him say, "Oh No!" 

I looked over and there were huge flames in the fireplace, the smoke detectors went off and the room filled with smoke.  Matt told me to call 911, "there's a fire in the chimney!"

I grabbed Jane and rushed over to my neighbor's house.  She has three kids and is great in any kind of crisis.  We heard sirens right away and went to the windows. 

I was glad that I was dressed when this happened, because I am often still in my pj's or a bathrobe.  I kid you not.  If my husband and I ever got divorced, number one on his rather long list of reasons why he was leaving me would be, "does not get dressed all day".

I live in a small town, one where all three fire trucks and several other emergency vehicles show up when you call.  Jane was happy to be playing with the neighbors and all the kids were watching with excitement as the trucks pulled up.  She was rehashing the events to them, "I had to get low and go, just like on Elmo Visits the Firehouse!"

I went back to our house, got the dog and put her in the neighbor's yard, then went to see how bad the situation was.  Turns out there wasn't a fire in the chimney.  It was just a back draft caused by moisture and wind and putting dry, real wood on top of an artificial log (not recommended by fire-fighters, apparently).  They tromped around a bit more and told us to move our Christmas tree back and basically that was it.  My mother showed up at some point because she was a few doors down at a cookie exchange.  "All the ladies want to know what's going on," she said as she slipped in her high heeled dress boots.

Another neighbor, a very nice older lady, was outside shoveling ice off of her walk and came over.  I met her on the driveway and explained the situation.  "Well, good thing your husband is home," she said.  I couldn't help but point out that if he hadn't been there, then there wouldn't have been a fire made at all.

Back at my neighbor's house, Jane was having a ball.  "Did you get my babies from my room?  I hope they are OK!"  she asked excitedly.  Libby, our dog, was running around inside their house, also having a grand old time.  My neighbor told me that Jane might as well stay so I could air out and clean up the house.  Her kids weren't going to school because the afternoon Kindergarten classes had been canceled.

Matt felt badly for Scott that he missed all the excitement.  But it was probably just as well.  He tends to panic.  The next night, while out for dinner in town, we heard sirens and Scott stiffened, "what's that?"  Jane said happily, "it's the police and fire trucks, just like at our house!"  Scott said, "Are we in trouble?  Are they coming for us?"  Yeah, better that he wasn't there.

My husband is embarrassed that he overreacted.  But I don't care about that.  I am only mad because this week, when Jane says she doesn't want to go to school or dance, I can't say, "Why would you want to stay home, it is so boring." 

She knows better.

I Knew It Was Just a Matter of Time

I was upstairs putting things away this morning when I heard Matt's voice from behind the closed door to his office.

"Lori?  Could you come in here?"

"Sure," I said as I stopped making Jane's bed.

I opened the door and saw Matt working at his computer.  My eyes landed on the coffee mug next to him and I knew what he was going to say before the words came out.

I beat him to it.  "You want me to get you more coffee, right?"

"Would you?  With a little skim milk and Splenda, please."

"Sure, honey."

I figure it is the least I could do since I completely ignored his birthday.

I am not sure I want him to make a habit out of it, though!!

And that, my friends, is my last post of NaBloPoMo.  Yea!!  I should do a month in review, but for right now, I will be happy not to feel any more pressure to get something out by the end of the day.  I won't take any big break because I am in a routine now (and I have a long list of things I want to post), but I will relax a bit.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming along for this ride.  For reading, commenting, e-mailing, sympathizing, laughing, supporting. 

NoMoNaBloPoMo (No More National Blog Posting Month)!!

What I've Learned (by Matt)

I've been very busy today and even though I need to write 4 (yes, that's right!) memes and I have a few other posts I must. do. now., I am going to publish this guest blogger post by my husband (who offered to help me out with the whole NaBloPoMo thing by writing something).  Thanks, honey!

What I've Learned

Easy to say, right?  But every day when I get up and see Scott for the first time I am reminded of this simple phrase.  Scott teaches me something new everyday and he doesn’t even know this.  He has opened my mind and heart in so many ways that I never even thought were possible and yet he continues to do so every day without even knowing. 

When I look at Scott, I see myself.  Unsure.  Awkward.  Inquisitive.  Energetic.  Competitive.  Caring.  Sincere.  Loving.  Naïve.  Confident.  Analytical.  What we learn through our children can make us better persons and hopefully parents too.  We live in a world where we are quick to judge and draw conclusions about people, places, or just about anything.  Yet children see the world in a different way and their first instinct is to accept. 

What I don’t understand about the majority of the people we try to explain SPD to, is that at first, most are unwilling to accept Scott’s condition as anything more than behavioral or symptomatic of ADHD.  But why is this?  It is only now that I have come to realize it’s because we live in a society where, unless we really want to as individuals we stop learning.  Yes, we turn our brains off and something inside tells us we know better and we don’t need to learn any more. 

I’m exaggerating and taking this to an extreme but if you take the concept of history repeating itself and bring it down to an everyday level we can draw parallels of not wanting or being able to learn new things or learn from our mistakes.  Scott helps push me away from this syndrome every day and reminds me that I still have so much to learn about our family, myself, and most important, him. 

Thank you, Scott.

Updates

Several unrelated things that are going on:

Too close for comfort

Matt is starting his job at the new company tomorrow.  Although he will be traveling more, we do not need to move.  The upside (or downside) is that when he isn't out and about, he will be working from a home office.  Our house did not come with such a room so we have been fashioning one up this past week. 

First it was going to be downstairs in what is technically our living room but is currently used as an office/study.  It does not have a door and upon further investigation it proved to be too difficult to put one on it so the office has to go upstairs in the fourth bedroom.  Since we don't need this room for a baby anymore it does make sense.  It had been used as a playroom which was very convenient as the room opens up into our master bedroom and we could keep an eye on the kids while we got ready in the mornings.

I was sort of hoping this room would eventually become my writing and relaxing retreat.  No more. 

So Matt will be around more during the day which is great, really, except that we are supposed to pretend he is NOT actually there so that he can work.  I might be able to do this pretty well but I have a hunch that he won't be able to pretend he doesn't notice what I am, or am not, doing during the day.

Like if I am not dressed yet at 3pm.  Or I spend a good portion of the day on my computer and then have no proper dinner prepared.  Or if a friend calls and I talk instead of cleaning or some other purposeful, housewife type of activity.

I might need to get a job outside the home in order to save our marriage.

Tying up lose ends

I am pretty sure I forgot to say here that Scott learned how to tie his shoes.  I know this can be a rather difficult thing for a lot of children to master, so I really didn't even expect him to do it for awhile.  But those OTs, they are so good.  They kept him at it and worked on it step by step until it finally became routine.  About 6 months ago I tried to help him and couldn't even get him to make the first twisty-turny-put-one-lace-over-the-other part.  So I would say the credit goes to the OTs, but that's not fair to Scott who stuck with it even though it was pretty hard.  Now he ties his shoes every morning, but still asks for help at school when he is under pressure!

Fed up and fired up

I do not know who I am more mad at about the Aquadots situation, the manufacturer of the toy or myself.  When I brought these home for Jane as a congratulations-you-mastered-the-potty gift, Matt casually wondered what exactly were in those things to make them stick together.  I dismissed his comment because, well, I am a too-trusting idiot.  I prefer to believe that if a company makes a toy, it must be safe and if they market it in such a way that every kid in America wants it, well it is for sure, without a doubt, going to be cool and perfectly fine.

Moothergoosemouse said it better than I could in this post.

The Aquadots scandal came right on the heels of receiving this information from Jordan at The Wonderwheel, which Kristen at FromHereToThereAndBack wrote about here.

I am pissed, outraged, mad as hell and sick to my stomach.  My daughter had already been playing with the damn dots!  And we use that Johnson's Baby Wash every single day!  And it is everything else, too.

The preservatives in food and the pesticides and the chemicals on the lawn and in the plastic cups and plates we use and the cleaning products and the laundry soap and the hand soap and the pressed wood that our deck is made out of and the playground equipment and the waves from the cell phones and the stuff that is in immunizations and just about everything.  Everything. Damn.

So I typically choose to pretend things are OK.  But this time I am so seething mad and it is not just that I had bought multiple packages for birthday presents, it is that I feel that it is my own damn fault for not doing what I should have and refused to believe that this crap is safe.

Please no, not a cavity

Scott hates the dentist (another post in the making about the sensory nightmare that is at the dentist), but has learned to tolerate the twice a year trip.  Last week, as we were just about to leave the office and I was feeling so happy that it had gone well, the hygienist pulled me aside and told me Scott has a small cavity in one of his molars.  I calmly listened to what she was telling me while I silently screamed inside.  "We will take care of him, it won't hurt at all, I promise," she said.  I knew that.  What she didn't know was that Scott was going to freak out.

I waited until he came home from school to explain the situation.  He pitched a big fit.  Not only is he mad that he has to go in there again before his 6 month reprieve but he also feels that he it is his fault that he got the cavity.  "I didn't brush enough!  Daddy never had a cavity!  It's not fair!  I hate myself!" 

No amount of explaining will get him to stop blaming himself.  And I am annoyed that the hygienist didn't listen to my concerns about the unknowns for Scott.  What will the numbing gel taste like?  Will I hear anything scary?  How long will I have to sit there with my mouth open feeling like I am going to gag?  They don't get it either.  I know they won't hurt him, but he is anxious about more than the pain.

I will be calling tomorrow to discuss it with them again before our Tuesday appointment.  And I am going to get him a gift afterward, like another Wii remote.  Yep, you heard me right, I am going to get my kid a present for having a cavity.  Because I hate the dentist, too, and I want him to know that I understand how scary and uncomfortable it can be and that I am proud of him for dealing with it.  I am certain that buying him something will not encourage him to get another cavity. 

I'll let him decide what he wants, within reason, as long as it isn't Aquadots.

 

** Thanks again for all your kind words and thoughts about my miscarriage.  Today was much better than yesterday so I should be over the worst of it and able to move on.  It really is adding insult to injury to find out you are not going to have a baby and then to have to suffer the physical fall out.

It's All Coming Together

Or falling apart.

Depends on how you look at it.

Because, of course, we all create our own reality.  Make our own choices.  For good or for bad.  But who's good and who's bad?  What might be right for one is not for another. 

You know what I'm saying?

For a year and a half now, I have been struggling with the decision as to whether or not we should have another baby.  I have agonized.  I have nagged Matt. I have stared at people with 2 older children and a baby.  I looked at Jane and thought, are you a middle child instead of the baby?  I have analyzed Matt and I as parents asking, are we 2 kid people or 3?  I have tried to ignore it.  I have tried to move on and start new ventures.  To blog.  To run. 

And yet.  It was there.  Why?  I still have no idea, really.  But, in retrospect, I can't believe how much of my time and energy has gone into this decision.  Not that it should be taken lightly.  But that I didn't realize sooner that the very fact that I couldn't get past it was my answer screaming right back at me.  None of the above questions provided any clarity, it was just that crazy, unexplainable feeling you get sometimes.  That often doesn't even make any sense.

So here we are.

This past week has been a blur of feeling equal amounts of calm and panic.

Calm that I felt the deed was done, so to speak, and now I could move on.  Get ready.  Not have to think about it anymore.

Panic that I felt so crappy already and how in the world was I ever going to make it to June feeling like this.

Calm that I think the splitting headaches were really from caffeine withdrawal instead of some horrific 8 month long saga I was going to endure.

Panic that I am so short tempered that I will be the miserable mother I feared I might become because of this.

Calm that I will not be like the pregnant woman I saw at the doctor's office today with the 4 & 2 year old, who was dealing so poorly with her children, knowing that my kids will be in school when I visit the doctor (and that they are older).

Panic that Matt will have a nervous breakdown.

Calm that I will get to experience this all one last time and close each door as it finishes without holding it ajar for a possible future.  This includes the ability to get my tubes tied right after the baby is born!

Panic that the date for Jane's dance recital is one week prior to my due date and I will most likely miss it.  This led to the reality sinking in about not being able to go to all my kids' things and the sadness I felt when Jane was born and I missed Scott.

Calm that I can, finally, justify keeping all these boxes of kids clothes.

Panic that my mom will freak out.

Calm that Matt has had some very promising interviews and will, hopefully, be able to find a good job before the money runs out from his company.

Panic that the best job, so far, will require us to move.

To Boston.

Did I just say that?  Yep.  Move.  From here.  Where my mom lives down the street. 

Except that, maybe even this, is a good thing.  Maybe it is all part of it.  A fresh start.  A new beginning.  Change is good, right? 

Of all the places we could move, Boston is one of the few that consistently comes up.  I think we would like it there.  But, um, to get from here to there?  And the difference in how we live now.  Oh.  My.

For now I am trying (not very successfully) to keep myself from looking up towns near Boston.  Hey, in Walpole, Scott could take Dodgeball after school.  And in Milton, the lunch menu has nutrition information on it.

Last week was strange, too, what with this crazy hot weather and my caffeine withdrawal induced haze.  I finally emerged on Monday morning and got it together.  I hosted a playgroup, cleaned up the basement, started the big closet overhaul.

So, before it gets to be way too long since my last post (this may be the longest space yet between posts), I want to say thank-you to everyone for their supportive comments.  This includes the e-mails from people who do not like to comment (my brother, my cousin).  From people with 1 child to those with several already.  To some where they have had no trouble building the family they wanted to some who have had to make difficult choices or come to grips with things not being the way they would like.

It is an odd combination of things you can control and those you can't, this life.  We keep on doing the best we can.  Making the choices we think are right for us.  Good or bad. (I feel I should launch into, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, ....)

One more thing before I hit publish:

I am thrilled to introduce my first troll commenter, Rachel.  I would link in her e-mail, but, alas she did not leave one.  Ironically, she lives near Swapscott, MA, which, you guessed it, is north of Boston.  She did find the time to read my blog (for awhile) which makes me happy because it drove up my stats.  I feel I have arrived in the blogging world.  Someone I do not know spent time reading this little 'ol blog.  And, AND, she felt so compelled by what she read, at 12:30 am, that she left a comment.

So I would like to address what she said in the unlikely event that she comes back (please come back, Rachel, the more the merrier):

Rachel:  Are you nuts?

Spinning Yellow:  Yes, I am.

Rachel:  Your entire blog suggests that you are riddled with anxiety.

Spinning Yellow:  My entire blog?  I see you read some of it, but I am not quite sure you read all of it.  Yeah, there's plenty of anxiety here, you aren't going to get an argument on that.  The majority of anxiety about having another baby was surrounding the decision.  Anyway, a blog is what it is.  A diary.  Therapy.  I am not always what I appear to be here, because this is only what I choose to write about.  Have you seen some other blogs?  There's a pretty hefty amount of angst going on out there.

Rachel:  The logical trajectory is that you will have more of the same.

Spinning Yellow:  Reality bites.  I am what I am.  You must be anxiety free?

Rachel:  And to what end?

Spinning Yellow:  I guess another kid. 

Rachel:  And you expect what, exactly? Sorry, I just can't get all mushy about it.

Spinning Yellow:  Did I ask for something?  I am not really a mushy person, so, no, I don't want that.  No one forced you to read or expected anything from you.  Jeez, you'd think I told YOU to have another kid.

Rachel:  More isn't better.

Spinning Winning:  I couldn't agree more.  Because if there are twins growing in there, you'll really see high anxiety!

Who's on First?

An abbreviated version of the hour long conversation that took place yesterday after the Phillies lost:

Scott: Can they still win the division?

Me: Yes, if they win tomorrow, but the Mets have to lose their game.

Scott: What if they both win?

Me: Then they play a one game tie-breaker in Philly on Monday.

Scott: If the Phillies lose that game can they still be the wild card?

Me: Um, I don't know, Matt?

Matt: It's pretty complicated.  I don't really know.

Scott: I just want to know if they can still be the wild card.

Matt: Well, it depends on what the other teams do and there's just too many scenarios to go through it all.

Scott: Why can't you just tell me whether or not the Phillies still have a chance to be the wild card?

Me: I think we have to sit down and write out all the possible scenarios.

Matt: They pay people to do that, stop wasting your time.  Look, all you need to worry about is whether the Phillies win tomorrow.  If they lose, then they are out.

Scott: Not if the Mets lose, too.  Then they can still win the division if they win the playoff game.

Matt: OK, you're right. (big sigh).  Can't we just go to bed now.

Scott: I still want to know if the Phillies can win the wild card.

Matt: (totally exasperated) No more questions!!  I'm done!

Scott: Why can't you just tell me whether or not the Phillies still have a chance to be the wild card?

Me: Let's sit down and do the scenarios.  OK, let's see, if the Phillies win and the Mets win and Sand Diego loses and Colorado wins, then, OK, my head hurts, we are going to have to make up a spreadsheet.

Matt: Or just wait until tomorrow when the people who are paid to figure this out will have it all mapped out!

Me: (feeling like a failure for not doing the math problem with Scott) We can figure this out, really, I'm sure of it.  OK, let's start over, there are 4 teams so with a win or a loss for each that's like 16 different things that could happen....

Scott: Mommy?  What's wrong?  I'm waiting...

Me: This is going to take too long.

This morning before I even got out of bed:

Scott:  Mom?  I figured it out.  If the Phillies win today and the Mets win so they have to play the play off game for the division and the Phillies lose that game, then they play another playoff game against the Padres if they lose today and then they would get the wild card if they won that game.

Me: Huh? Really?

Scott: I think so, let's check the computer.

And we did and guess who was right?

How come when Bossy talks about the Phillies it's so much more fun?  And she even used the word "heiny" and made it seem cute (well, she did use it while referring to Chase Utley).

We Are Sick

Every fall we all get sick.  It usually happens at the end of September, but this year it is happening in the beginning.  It settled in right as school was starting.  I felt tired and achy and then the stuffed up nose and the cough.  And everyone else is the same. 

We've managed by taking lots of drugs and skipping things like going to playdates and running.  Jane is the one I worry about the most because for the past two years, her sickness has turned into something worse like bronchitis.  We have to really give her lots of meds and nebulizer treatments ("nebbie"s).

I think it has to do with the change in seasons and allergies.  The cough lingers on and makes people afraid to come near us.  But we are all getting better.  I went running on Friday and hope to be up to speed for my 10K race next Sunday.

Unfortunately, this ailment is not the only illness we have.  We each have some others:

Jane

She was bitten by the singing bug earlier in life, but has really been infected with the desire to perform.  I took her to her first dance class last week and it couldn't have been cuter.  The quintessential, straight backed teacher who had the girls dance around and at one point put on fairy wings.  Jane loved every minute of it.  If she could wear her leotard round the clock, she would.

She sings and dances constantly.  Mimicking movies and videos and also making up her own lyrics.  This is down right adorable but drives Scott crazy.  She likes to put on the same dress every day and then asks me to fix her hair with as many "prettys" as I can fit.  She looks at herself in the mirror, pleased, and announces, "I look bootiful."

I don't see her being cured any time soon (if ever).

She's also been inflicted with the "I need someone to help me fall asleep" sickness.  She likes to have her door open and call for us.  Over and over.  Matt usually gives in and lies down on the floor next to her bed and promptly falls asleep.

I think she'll get better on her own, although I know we can make her recovery faster by not giving in to her demands.

Scott

Right before school started he came down with the Peter Pan syndrome, complaining that he doesn't want to grow up.  He feels, now that he is away from home for more hours than he is awake here, that life is on a steady downhill slide.  He is upset about the lack of time he has to play outside, talk with me, watch tv, and generally do stuff at home.

"I'll never be little again and at home with you," he laments.  "I don't want to grow up.  Being an adult is bad!" 

"Will there ever be anything else that happens in my life that is as big as the first day of school?"

Yeah, I can think of a few, but I guess this is the biggest one for awhile.

In addition, he went quickly from being exhausted and overwhelmed by school to now having the disease known as over-confidence.  "School is easy.  I can do all the work already."

I think I might need to e-mail his teacher for a cure called "way harder school work."

Matt

He's been infected with the e-bay induced bike-swapping sickness.  This is a recurring, chronic illness for him.  One he generally gets when he is unhappy with his current bicycle for what ever reason and then starts trading out parts.  This time though he has it so bad that he bought a new bike that turned out not to be the right size, sold his current bike, sold the new bike, and now bought something similar to what he had to begin with.

This is a serious disorder that has no known cure.  It is not contagious, but does makes me completely crazy.

Me

I have Back to School Night-itis.  After two full weeks of the first day of school, the first day of soccer practice, the first soccer game, the first dance class, the first day at preschool and then back to back, back to school nights, I am totally spent.  Enough already. 

I have been waiting for the routine to begin so lets get on with it.  I like to know what my kids will be doing and find out their schedules but hours of meetings about it are not necessary.  Especially all at the same time.

Libby

The dog is almost 10 years old (70 in doggy years) and she sure is showing it.  A few weeks ago she was throwing up blood and we had to rush her to the vet.  She is sort of OK now, if you don't count the 4 times she needs to go out at night, the off and on bouts of stomach ailments, and the fact that she's never really, truly been well.  Oh, Libby, we love you, but you are one big needy, sickly, costly, pain in the ass.

Matt & I

This is the worst, most debilitating sickness of them all.  We both, at the same time, have caught the "let's throw caution to the wind, get liquored up, forget about birth control, and see if we end up with another baby" illness.

Yes, you read that right.

It is a sickness that causes you to lose your mind and neglect all the common sense you usually have.  You block out that the bread-winner is currently job-hunting, that the baby-carrier is almost 40, that we wanted to be able to afford to go to Disney World before 2015.

This is followed quickly by the sober reality that this was probably not a wise thing to do.

Primary symptom:  Nausea

And perhaps a little bit of excitement.

A Future In Sales?

Tonight, the kids were fighting, as usual.  The primary reason for their quarrels is that Scott must always win.  He wants to be right, to be first, to have more.  Always.  Over the past several months Jane has begun to fight back.  She's sick of it.  Who could blame her?

They were about to take a bath and Matt asked who wanted to go first.  We stopped giving them joint baths because it just gets crazy.  The way we do it here, whoever goes second gets the coveted longer bath.  But Scott has a hard time deciding which way he wins.  Is it going first or having a longer bath?  Tough decision.

Jane wanted to go first so then he screamed that he should go first and Matt let him (because he was already in the bathroom and all this jockeying is so exhausting).  While in the bath, which he requested first and won, Scott teased Jane that he got the better deal.

Matt flipped out, Scott had to get out, a big meltdown ensued.  I tried to reason with Scott and started in on the same lecture he's heard before:

"You can't always win and besides, beating your sister is ridiculous, of course you win she is 3 years younger, no more winning games with her.  No one wins."

Trying to be helpful after yelling at him, Matt chimed in, "You should try to find a game that, when you work together, you both win."

"No, I hate those "together" games."

"Well, it looks like you have a future in sales, my son"

Like father, like son.

* Update to add that, reading this now, I realize that this is kind of an inside joke.  Here's the background:  Matt likes individual activities, he races in triathlons, he is very efficient and hates working in groups.  Although he will tell me "we make a good team" when he refers to us as a family, truth be told, he prefers to work alone.  He is also a salesman who is very good at making and closing a deal, something that really requires a mostly individual effort.  I am the team player who is always asking for advice, contributions, "let's talk it through", "let's have a meeting", things that make Matt want to run to some basement guy refuge room where he can fix his bike and be alone.   

Scott is fiercely competitive and enjoys team sports because he likes the actual activity but not because he wants to play together.  He is the kid who will get in trouble with the coach for being a ball hog and when he is reprimanded will say, "but I am the best player."  Like, why would I let someone else mess up my chance of winning?

In this way, they are, my two boys, very much alike.

Matt followed up his sales joke by telling Scott that he doesn't like those "together" games either.  You know, win-win, it is not really their thing.