Open Letter to the Emergency Room Staff

To the Admitting Nurse: Now is not the time to tell me that my deductable for emergency services is the highest you have ever seen.

To the Triage Nurse: He is only five, and a child of the new millenium. He has never seen a thermometer that is meant to be held under his tongue. Please be patient.

To the Doctor who said, "I'll be right back." after examining Thing Two without sharing any thoughts about his condition or what the next step may be: "I'll be right back" does not mean the same thing as, "forty five minutes from now a nurse you have never seen will poke her head in and casually mention that the x-ray tech should be here any minute to take him down for a CAT scan."

To the X-Ray Tech: If you want him to stay completely still during the scan, perhaps you should warn him that the machine is going to make a godawful noise while he is in there.

To the Nurse Ginger and second doctor we saw (Dr. I'll Be Right Back, never came back.) you both rock! Thank you.


Thing Two went home with a huge bump on his head, a beautiful brain scan, a refillable ice pack and a great story about taking a ride on a bed with wheels.

Let's Party

Thing One to Thing Two this morning:

When someone says "let's party", it is like they are saying "Hang up the disco ball and bring out the popsicles!"

Thing Two Makes a Movie

Lately, Thing Two has taken to setting up elaborate scenes with his blocks and toys and then telling stories as if he were making a movie. His latest is "filled with magic, entertain and Disney." Starring "Hunter Gravy, Serena Avenue, Bob Lincoln and Miranda Teapot." The "Baby Who Talks" is played by "Cheeky." And the "Girl Doing Yoga" (shown above) is played by "Mrs. Pottentail."

The Conversation

Daily, for the last seven years, basically since Thing One could speak, we have been having a variation on the following conversation:

Mommy?
Yes?
(long pause as Thing One stares absently into the middle distance.)
What?
Oh. Nothing.

Perhaps an hour passes:

Mommy?
Yes?
(long pause as Thing One stares...)
What?
Huh? Oh. I forget.

Later in the day:

Mommy?
Yes?
(long pause as Thing One stares...)
What?
Hmmm. Nevermind.
(short pause as I gather my inner resources.)
Are you sure you do not have something you need to talk about?
No. I just like to say your name.

You can imagine how annoyed one might become by this.

Well, today I called my mother and we had this interchange:

Hello?
Hi, Mom.
(long pause)
(I giggle self-consciously)
Um, I don't really have anything to say. I just wanted to say "hi."

:)

Travel

As ridiculous as it is to think about travel plans when we have a leak in our roof, need to replace our siding, and need to regrade the backyard so that a pond does not form against the house, I have been thinking of the places I would love to take the kids before they grow up and decide they would rather travel with friends.

So here is a partial list (I will not include weekend trips - New York City, Jersey Shore, DC etc.):

Maine
Arizona
Colorado
Washington State
Hudson River Valley between NYC and Woodstock, NY

England
Ireland
Scotland
Spain
Italy
Germany
Norway or Sweden
Greece
Egypt
Belize
Peru
Japan
China

We only have 10 years to do this. And I have only been to a few of these places myself.

But, if you are going to dream, dream big, right?

The Artist's Way

My mother and I do not always agree about what makes a good book. She couldn't finish The Time Traveler's Wife; I couldn't finish Goldie Hawn's autobiography.

It was on her recommendation that I read Julia Cameron's memoir. It was slightly better than Goldie's. I did take the time to finish reading it, though I still get the two confused: who had a relationship with Scorsese? who witnessed one of her closest friends being hit by a car? The most interesting part of Cameron's book was when she wrote about the development of her program for writers, The Artist's Way. I was fascinated by the rigor of it, and the idea that if you just keep writing, a little bit every day, you will find you have something to say.

Lately, I have not felt that I had much to say, but I did not realize I missed writing until this weekend. Thing One was working on a school assignment. She had pulled a plot idea, a character and a setting out of a bag and had to make a story with them. Watching her writing in her little composition book, her hair tucked behind her ears and her pencil tapping her forehead, I thought "Hey, remember when you enjoyed writing? Remember when you would rewrite a sentence endlessly in your mind before sitting down to put your ideas on paper?"

Coincidentally (or not) this was also the weekend I received an e-mail from Karen Beth asking if I would be interested in taking part in a support/discussion group focused on The Artist's Way. We will read the book and then work through the workbook together, sharing our experiences on a blog. So, why not? I am going to give it a go and I will share my thoughts here.


And, proud mama that I am, I have to share the first couple of sentences of Thing One's story.

Hello, Reader, I'm finally talking again! I know you're surprised, but let me tell you the story.

Aren't you on the edge of your seat?!

The Little Nurse

I was sick with a fever and some tummy troubles on Friday and my darling children allowed me an entire day in bed. And no, amazingly, they were not watching TV all day. And I only sent them to seperate rooms once, due to a great amount of screaming at one another. I have no idea why they were screaming at one another, and even if I were feeling well, I would not have asked. I have no interest in being judge and jury - both of you are unhappy with one another? Off to your rooms you go. Don't bother telling me it was his fault. I do not care. Go calm down. This discipline method grew out of laziness on my part, but it works really well. After 15 minutes or so, I usually hear one or the other of them creeping down the hall to the other's room to apologize. Then I think maybe hugs are exchanged and she reads him a story. All I know is that they are quietly playing in the same place again.

But the stunning part of my day was when I was starting to feel a bit better and asked Thing One to bring me some crackers. Proudly she came with two saltines and a little napkin.

"I am only bringing two because, when I am sick, you bring me two crackers and tell me to eat them very slowly. Eat them slowly, Mommy."

Oh dear me! I thought, she is really paying close attention! To every little thing I do! Every little random choice I make! And, of course, I knew this - that I am her example of how to be a Mommy, a wife, a person. But I think maybe in the hustle and bustle of the everyday, I was not as conscious of it as I should be.

Am I living the way I want her to live? Am I valuing the things I want her to value? Is our home the kind of home I want her to conjur in her mind when she thinks of home?

More Cuteness

Thing Two and I were trying to think of words that begin with "N".

Thing Two: nardjana

Me: nardjana?

Thing Two: Yes, it a knife that bad guys use to cut bread.

"Mommy, I Wrote A Song and It Is Called - Kings Do Things That Are Royal"

Oooooooooh, Kings do things
that are royal!
That are royal!
They eat royal food,
and they (mumble,mumble)-ood.

The knights fight the dragons
for the kings.
For the kings!

And the princesses dance
for the queens.
For the queens!
For the queens!
For the queens!

[Wanders away, chanting "For the queens!"
The wandering takes a little more shape and becomes a march back to me, still chanting.
The chanting stops abruptly when he reaches me.]

"So, Mommy? What was your favorite part of my song?"

A Little Fantasy

Imagine that in that pretty tree at the curve of the stream, there lives a wee fairy. And this wee fairy grants WISHES.

Here is my wish (yes, after world peace, etc., etc.):

24 hours child free.

This is what I would do:

6:00AM to 8:30AM - Continue sleeping. When I wake up, the house is clean and there is not a bit of laundry to be seen. Thank's Wee Fairy.

8:30AM - snuggle with Geoff and a book and a bottomless cup of coffee on the front porch (um, it is a fantasy, so instead of the blue fold-up stadium chair on the front porch, there is a big wicker sofa with very soft fluffy pillows.)

10:30AM - make some jewelry

12:30PM - SLOWLY eat a tomato and basil sandwich on the patio with Geoff while enjoying the sights and sounds of our weed-free flower garden (Fairy, really, you have gone too far!)

1:00PM - Short hike along the Susquehanna River with Geoff

2:30PM - Browse Barnes and Noble (Geoff is there, too, but in the music section)

6:00PM - Dinner with Geoff at a restaurant that serves freshly, artfully prepared food, where one is encouraged to linger and have conversation

8:30PM - A movie with Geoff

*******

6:00AM - the next day - the two sweetest children in the world are AWAKE, but willing to climb in our bed and snuggle a bit before demanding breakfast.

The Book Fair Cometh

I am the Chairperson for the Scholastic Book Fair at Thing One's school. This is my third year, so it is kind of old hat. BUT, we have entered our 4 week countdown. I am about to be very, very busy.

And I am feeling a little passive aggressive about it.

Which leads to major procrastination on my part.

Which leads to late nights and panic.

Which leads to eating junk food and snarking at my family.

I predict that:

In four weeks I will be composing a post about why I am never chairing the Book Fair again.

In one year I will be referring ruefully to this post as I put off organizing my Book Fair materials.

They Inherit Our Bad Traits Too (or Why I Am In Love with the Montessori Teacher)

Geoff and I are both first born children: perfectionists, eager to please, not so interested in trying things that might lead to (gasp! horror of horrors!) failure. Growing up, if I wasn't guaranteed success on the first try at a new skill or activity, I was not all that interested in trying. Geoff was the same way.

It is not so surprising then, that we have two children who, though different in so many fabulous and interesting ways, are both completely paralyzed by a fear of failure in any new situation.

Thing Two turned four a month ago, still wearing pull-ups. He flat out refuses to get on a tricycle or anything with pedals. He won't draw more than straight lines and don't you even think of asking him if he wants to learn how to write his name. Most of his sentences start with "When I am bigger, I will ....."
Is this healthy? Of course not.
Does his fear of trying new things cause him anxiety and frustration that lead to angry outbursts? Yes.
Am I worried about him? Nope. Not a bit.

We had all these issues with his sister. And on her own time, she decided she could do all the things we feared she would never do.

So, when I got a note from Thing Two's preschool three weeks ago, stating that they were combining the younger and older four classrooms and adding a more academic focus, I called up the local Montessori School and asked for a tour. After the tour, I called up the old preschool and withdrew his enrollment.

In the Montessori school, he will direct his time, and no one will tell him what to draw or when. He will be engaged in activities that are as challenging as he wants them to be in an atmosphere of structured freedom that I know he will find comforting and reassuring.

I knew it was the right place for him when we went to meet the teachers last week and he had the following two encounters with Mr. Ben (yes! a male teacher! in preschool!):

Thing Two: What is this?
Mr. Ben explains the task and asks if Thing Two would like to try it.
Thing Two: I don't have that at home. I don't think I can do that.
Mr. Ben: But that's why we come to school, isn't it? To try new things?
Thing Two wanders away and Mr. Ben does not press the issue.

Thing Two, standing in front of the chalkboard easel: Can I draw here?
Mr. Ben: Sure.
Thing Two: I only know how to draw rain (he draws a vertical line) and grass (he draws a horizontal line).
Mr. Ben: I bet you can draw lots of other things.
Thing Two: Nope. I don't make them the right way.
Mr. Ben: But your way IS the right way, buddy.

Is it just a coincidence that today Thing Two brought me a drawing of a pig? Two circles! Connected! With a face! and legs!

Yes, Mr. Ben. Thing Two and I adore you now. And when you bring out your guitar on that first day, Thing Two's hero worship will be undeniable.

The Danger of Watching Other People's Children

Sometimes, while walking and swaying with my cousin's daughter, trying to help her settle down for a nap, she fits so perfectly along my torso, her head tucked under my chin, her bottom resting on my forearm, her hand curled in my hair, I think, "Maybe one more...."

Thing Two As He Pulled His Dessert out of a Quiznos Bag:

"Hello, cookie. I'm your Daddy."

The Adventures of Ducky and Bunny

Ducky and Bunny (so named by Things One and Two in a temporary lapse of creativity) traveled to us all the way from Germany and the gentle, talented hands of Eva. They arrived in pretty paper wrapping, sewn closed with thread and identified with beautiful hand stamped tags. The design and workmanship of their embroidery is breathtaking.

Ducky was created just for Thing One. Thing One is a little too imaginative for her own good and often thinks up some scary things to torment her in the night. Her sweet, brave Ducky has the word "Courage" embroidered on the back, just to help her out a little when the dark is too frightening.

Bunny was created for a little cousin who has not joined us yet, but when Thing Two saw him, his eyes lit up. "Is that MY Bunny?" he asked with hopeful excitement. Well, how do you say no?

The two of them ran off with Ducky and Bunny and immediately began telling stories with them. Ducky's and Bunny's lives have been filled with peril and miraculous rescues since they arrived in our home. But I am sure they do not mind, because they end each day snuggled in the arms of children who loved them from the moment they saw them.

Thank you Eva. You are generous and thoughtful. The beauty of your spirit shines through in your lovely handiwork.

The Boy Who Opened The Door

I am going to try to make a long story short. My aunt came to pick up the little girls we watch on Mondays (now to be known as Giggles and Smiley), and as she was walking in the door, Thing Two and I were rushing to the "potty." I usually help her get the girls into the car, so I gave Thing Two strict instructions to stay on the potty - "I will be right back. I am going outside to help Aunt Cathy. DO NOT get up until I come back." (Because he is still learning how to take care of the wiping, if you must know.)

Cathy followed me into the garage and as she closed the door, she said, "Uh Oh." The door was locked. Thing Two was inside on the potty alone, and I was locked out of the house. The neighbor with a key was at work. My mother was in Maryland.

So I freaked out.

I seriously was so panicked, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

After spending an eternity (maybe 2 and a half minutes) walking in circles around the driveway muttering "What am I going to do?" over and over, I thought I should check all the windows on the first floor on the off chance that we had neglected to lock one.

The most likely window was our bathroom window. I was standing there trying to figure a way to get to the window without destroying the screen, when I heard Thing Two singing to himself. We then had this conversation:

"Thing Two, can you hear me?
"Mommy? Where are you?"
"Outside."
"What are you doing?"
"Well, I am locked out."
"Hmm, Mommy, how are you going to help me when you are locked out?"

****LIGHTBULB****

"Thing Two, could you please get off the potty and go open the garage door?"
"Sure, Mommy."

Crisis averted.

When he opened the door, I said "You're my hero!"
He looked at me with frustration. "Mommy, superheroes save people from monsters. I am just the boy who opened the door."

Summer Fun

When you are three years old, does anything scream "Summer Fun" louder than an inflatable pool?

Nope.

In there all day, fueled by nothing more than popsicles and pure joy.

The First Grade Play

Oh, the cuteness!

I Am Becoming THAT Neighbor

So this morning while Thing One and I were out in the yard, I noticed the HS age neighbor slouching down the street toward his house with his backpack. We are not within walking distance of the school. Where did he come from? Why isn't he in school? Knowing that his mom was having some trouble getting him to go to school over the winter, you can imagine where my mind went for these answers.

So do you rat him out?

Feeling like the world's biggest busy-body, the world's oldest tattle-tale, I called his mom at work. Because I want to live in a neighborhood where we are all watching out for each other, where we pick up each other's slack, where the village is raising the child (oh, I tried so hard to avoid that last cliche!). And even though I am the last mom in the neighborhood who has not gone back to working outside the house, I am really hoping someone will be there to rat on MY kids when they are not where they are supposed to be.

Boy Did I Drop the Ball

I think, at the age of 7, Thing One should know better than to whine for crackers while I am mid-sentence on the telephone. Shouldn't she?

Where did I go wrong?