I apologize for all the depressing Dad and death talk on here, on Twitter, on Facebook. But I process things in print. Writing is my outlet. If I don’t write it down and share it I will keep speaking it to myself over and over again in my head. I have to get it out, no matter how repetitive and in a shambles it is. Please bear with me.
On the morning of Tuesday, February 15 Noah had gone to school and Lee had gone down for a nap. I was watching our neighbor Ella and she and Ray were playing in the toy room. I was in the boys room trying to fold some laundry. My cell phone rang. It was my brother Jim. He said “Nicole, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. Dad died this morning.” “WHAT?” And though he repeated himself and started with the details all I could think was “WHAT? HOW? WHY?” I was sobbing, in that kind of animal-like cry and I heard Ray tell Ella “Her Dad died. She is very sad. Let’s spy on her.”
Dad worked in a cold storage warehouse, meaning a giant freezer, using fork lifts to pick and load pallets of frozen foods on to trucks for delivery to grocery stores. He went to work at 4 am. He’d gotten up that morning presumably around 3. When what we presume was a stroke came on he must have gotten very light headed or lost his vision, which is what happened when he had the mini-stroke last year. It appears he walked into the edge of a cabinet and gashed his head which began bleeding a bit. He then went into the bathroom steps away to wash off the blood and collect himself. He sat down and died. My grandmother got up around 9 and when she came downstairs she saw the bathroom door was ajar a bit, she tried to push it closed but my father was in the way. She found him dead on the floor. She called 911 and my brother Jim who went right over and called me and my sisters on his way. We were all so shocked. Are so shocked. Will continue to be so hurt and shocked. We didn’t see this coming.
But then I tell myself Dad would have wanted it this way. If he had a major stroke and survived needing a lot of care he’d have been begging us to kill him. He was fiercely private about some things and very stubborn. He also would not have wanted to witness our suffering – sitting around knowing he was dying slowly, that his days were numbered. So for those reasons I guess we should be thankful – for him.
My Dad and I were in a really good place. I’d seen him a couple of weeks prior. Took the boys out to spend some time with him just because I tried to make sure we saw him and Oma once a month. He made a roasted chicken with carrots and potatoes that we all gobbled up. He played with the boys – watching Noah read and Ray write, even getting down on the floor to have fun with them. He seemed in good spirits. And it was an awesome visit. I called him a few days prior to his death and told him how much we’d enjoyed it. But the bulk of our conversation was about a TV. When I saw him I told him we bought a new TV and Dad said he’d been thinking about buying one and that if he could walk home from Walmart with one (Dad didn’t have a license) he’d have one by now. And since the visit I kept meaning to call and tell him that I’d help to get him a TV – watch for a good deal online and have it shipped free. But as always it took me awhile to call because the prime time to reach Dad was between 3 and 6 pm and that’s always the busiest with the kids. But Dad said he didn’t really need a TV yet but promised me he’d let me know if he changed his mind. It was a silly conversation but at least I know he knows I was thinking about him and what I could do for him. How I could help – though he didn’t really like being helped.
And yet I still have some regret about not calling him on Valentine’s Day. Worry that he didn’t feel loved. I meant to, but the day once again got away from me. I took some photos of the boys and doctored them up to make little silly Valentines and send them to a bunch of loved ones via text message. Dad’s phone was too old to see photos and I thought of posting one on his Facebook wall but he really checked it. So I thought “I’ll just give him a call.” And I didn’t. GOD I regret that. Not just that I would have had one more chance to talk to him but that maybe he would tell me he wasn’t feeling great and I could have persuaded him to go to the hospital. Of course that’s kind of a laugh since you couldn’t persuade him to do much, in fact he’d probably refrain from doing so until he was convinced it was his own idea. (Have I mentioned that Ray is my father?) But anyway – just to have heard his voice that one more time.
And yet I don’t feel like I have the right to feel that way. We didn’t have unfinished business. So many others did. My sister Elisha in Florida is wrecked that she hadn’t seen him in a year. My sister Jessica who hadn’t seen my Dad for 13 years was on the brink, after a year of Facebook contact, of finally re-meeting Dad when her mother once again forbade it. She never got to know him or really understand that though he wasn’t there for her like he should have been it wasn’t because he didn’t adore her. He was sad for not knowing her every day. And there is a lot of other family heartbreak.
There was a time I wasn’t speaking to my father, between my wedding and when Noah was born. I was so angry at him for not fixing the situation with Jessica. I knew it was hurting him every day and that he didn’t feel emotionally able to rectify it but I was so angry that he wasn’t there to be a father to her like he had been for me. Any one of us could go on and on about how messed up the situation was and why he felt the way he felt but when it comes right down to it I don’t believe there is any good reason to not be a part of your child’s life. And so I told him he had to fix his life and I couldn’t be a part of his until he did that. In retrospect I see that I really felt that this would push him to do something, but it didn’t and so it was more needless pain for us both. During that time period I would see my Dad everywhere. Every bald guy with facial hair appeared to be my Dad on the periphery. I just expected to have him show up.
And then he did. When I got pregnant with Noah I wrote a few letters to Dad. Too much time had passed and I missed him dearly. I knew that being a grandfather to my kids would mean so much to him. And that not having him in my child’s life would be a great loss. So I sent him information about my pregnancy and pictures from my ultrasounds. I didn’t hear back but without a word he showed up at the hospital the morning after Noah was born with a stuffed dog. And seeing him that morning was one of the happiest moments of my life. We didn’t really need to patch things up, he was just there. And he was at the hospital when I was in labor with Ray and the first visitor after Lee was born. And he was so thrilled with the boys. And they were really growing to love him and look forward to seeing him. It’s for them that I feel so robbed. They are too young to really know what they will be missing. But I know.
When I tell someone that my Dad had four children with four different mothers it sounds like my Dad was a womanizer. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He was really a failed romantic. His women left him, he’d fall into a total self destructive depression, swear off romance for 10 years and then somehow fall into a relationship kicking and screaming about women being trouble. When he was young all he wanted was a normal, stable family – to be the good, around all the time Dad and husband that he didn’t have. And he tried to be that three times and with each try he got more beat down and unable to get back up. Not to say the man was faultless - he was stubborn, emotional and had a weakness for drink. But he was well meaning. He loved too deeply. Felt too strongly. But that love, when you were on the receiving end, as I always was, was the best thing ever.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
The end of Dad's chapter
Whenever I’d ask Dad too many questions he’d joke “What? You writing a book? Leave my chapter out.”
After Christmas last year Dad had a mild stroke. At the time we took it very seriously. Dad would get so pissed as my sister and I tried to talk to his doctors. We wanted to know everything there was to know. What caused it? What could be done? Was this going to happen again? Within days he made a complete recovery. They told him first and foremost to quit smoking. And much to everyone’s surprise he did. They put him on medications and required regular checkups and blood work and I was amazed he actually kept up with it. And they told him to lose weight and get his blood pressure under control. I was pissed they sent him home with no information on exactly how to do that. I complained to Dad that the hospital really should give him an informative pamphlet on some simple things he could do to decrease his blood pressure and moderate his diet. I bought him a book on heart healthy eating and I’m pretty sure he shoved it in the drawer with the computer for dummies books I bought and he never used. And though he made great strides with some things, his weight increased instead of decreased. He said his medications drained his energy and he therefore got less exercise than he used to, and in quitting smoking he packed on some weight. When I’d ask what his doctors were saying he’d say they were still moving around his medication mix and that his blood pressure was still too high. But the disbelief, the relief that he’d stopped smoking was huge for us all. It made everything else seem like background noise.
And this is what makes me so mad. Blood pressure issues are so common, I never realized it was a real threat. High blood pressure and weight killed my father. Either the doctors never lead him to believe that it was this serious or he never passed that belief on to us. I’m so angry that less salt, more water, more exercise would mean he’d still be here with us. We should have had so many more years together.
And there is so much baggage. Unresolved issues in his own life, and huge issues about what is to happen now. There is a huge dispute rising up about what would be best for my Oma and I just have this heavy heart feeling that she’s going to be gone by the end of this year. I want so much to do the right thing by her, make sure she gets the care she needs but sadly it isn’t my decision. And I know how pissed my Dad would be with what is going to go on – how he’d spent the last year practically trapped in that house because he was afraid to leave Oma alone overnight and now she might end up shoved in some shabby apartment alone with no regular care. I’m at a loss about what to do.
The last two weeks I was in a tizzy of getting things done and taking care of others and now things are settling down and I’m feeling alone and insane. They say it takes a year to mourn and I can see now how that is true. Because at the moment I vacillate between disbelief, desperate sadness and anger. And trying to keep it all in check while taking care of the kids seems like an impossible task. I have problems taking care of myself under normal circumstances – and this, well HOW? I can’t even imagine how to do it.
My Dad had his flaws. He made mistakes in his life and he was often his own worst enemy – repeatedly shooting himself in the foot. But I can say without reservation that he was one of the most loving people. I’d seen him cry so many times – in happiness and sadness. He felt things so very deeply , too deeply in fact. And he hated to see us upset and would be devastated by all this suffering.
We went to a local park near my house on Saturday and scattered Dad's ashes in the Delaware River. It was me, my 2 sisters, my brother, his 18 year old daughter, and Noah. Noah was the only young family member who wanted to come. I asked Noah if he wanted to say anything to his PaJoe and he said "I hope he has a nice trip." And I know from further questioning that Noah meant that twofold - he was speaking of PAJoe's ashes traveling on the river but also of his spiritual journey. Noah is firm in his belief that PaJoe was going some place next and he hopes it is a grand adventure, one on which we can later accompany him. And I hope that too.
After Christmas last year Dad had a mild stroke. At the time we took it very seriously. Dad would get so pissed as my sister and I tried to talk to his doctors. We wanted to know everything there was to know. What caused it? What could be done? Was this going to happen again? Within days he made a complete recovery. They told him first and foremost to quit smoking. And much to everyone’s surprise he did. They put him on medications and required regular checkups and blood work and I was amazed he actually kept up with it. And they told him to lose weight and get his blood pressure under control. I was pissed they sent him home with no information on exactly how to do that. I complained to Dad that the hospital really should give him an informative pamphlet on some simple things he could do to decrease his blood pressure and moderate his diet. I bought him a book on heart healthy eating and I’m pretty sure he shoved it in the drawer with the computer for dummies books I bought and he never used. And though he made great strides with some things, his weight increased instead of decreased. He said his medications drained his energy and he therefore got less exercise than he used to, and in quitting smoking he packed on some weight. When I’d ask what his doctors were saying he’d say they were still moving around his medication mix and that his blood pressure was still too high. But the disbelief, the relief that he’d stopped smoking was huge for us all. It made everything else seem like background noise.
And this is what makes me so mad. Blood pressure issues are so common, I never realized it was a real threat. High blood pressure and weight killed my father. Either the doctors never lead him to believe that it was this serious or he never passed that belief on to us. I’m so angry that less salt, more water, more exercise would mean he’d still be here with us. We should have had so many more years together.
And there is so much baggage. Unresolved issues in his own life, and huge issues about what is to happen now. There is a huge dispute rising up about what would be best for my Oma and I just have this heavy heart feeling that she’s going to be gone by the end of this year. I want so much to do the right thing by her, make sure she gets the care she needs but sadly it isn’t my decision. And I know how pissed my Dad would be with what is going to go on – how he’d spent the last year practically trapped in that house because he was afraid to leave Oma alone overnight and now she might end up shoved in some shabby apartment alone with no regular care. I’m at a loss about what to do.
The last two weeks I was in a tizzy of getting things done and taking care of others and now things are settling down and I’m feeling alone and insane. They say it takes a year to mourn and I can see now how that is true. Because at the moment I vacillate between disbelief, desperate sadness and anger. And trying to keep it all in check while taking care of the kids seems like an impossible task. I have problems taking care of myself under normal circumstances – and this, well HOW? I can’t even imagine how to do it.
My Dad had his flaws. He made mistakes in his life and he was often his own worst enemy – repeatedly shooting himself in the foot. But I can say without reservation that he was one of the most loving people. I’d seen him cry so many times – in happiness and sadness. He felt things so very deeply , too deeply in fact. And he hated to see us upset and would be devastated by all this suffering.
We went to a local park near my house on Saturday and scattered Dad's ashes in the Delaware River. It was me, my 2 sisters, my brother, his 18 year old daughter, and Noah. Noah was the only young family member who wanted to come. I asked Noah if he wanted to say anything to his PaJoe and he said "I hope he has a nice trip." And I know from further questioning that Noah meant that twofold - he was speaking of PAJoe's ashes traveling on the river but also of his spiritual journey. Noah is firm in his belief that PaJoe was going some place next and he hopes it is a grand adventure, one on which we can later accompany him. And I hope that too.
Rage
I have come to realize I am angry. So very angry. At no one in particular. It's just bubbling under the surface and bits come spitting out in moments of frustration. I am not being very patient with the boys. I feel out of control.
Monday, February 28, 2011
I miss him dearly
My father is gone. It was sudden. It is horrible. I read this at his service.
There is no way to make sense of this. We should have had so much more time with Dad. But rather than focus on what we no longer have I need to talk about some of the wonderful things we did have, what he meant to us, who he was.
Dad wore his heart on his sleeve. And sadly it had been broken many times. And though he carried around a lot of pain with him Dad was really a jovial guy. He had so many things that brought him joy – sitting at the bar, chatting with a stranger, taking a walk and seeing new things, going out for a nice meal, taking us to zoos, amusement parks, movies, museums, circuses and boat trips. But most of all Dad loved his family – loved getting us all together, cooking us a meal and watching the children grow and play. He had a sweet tooth and he made sure all the grandchildren knew where the candy jar was. He loved to look at photos of us all – and his walls were covered with all of our faces. Everyone had photos on that wall that they weren’t pleased with – but Dad saw beauty in them all. And that was what was the most powerful thing about Dad. He could make you feel so incredibly loved and special – and that love was unconditional. It shaped me and healed me so many times in my life. But the thing that he would be most proud of, the thing for which I am most thankful for is that he brought us all together. We all have different mothers, and some of us different fathers – but that doesn’t matter. We are a family. And we will all get through this tragedy, this pain, and all its grief in exactly the way he would of wanted us to – together.
There is no way to make sense of this. We should have had so much more time with Dad. But rather than focus on what we no longer have I need to talk about some of the wonderful things we did have, what he meant to us, who he was.
Dad wore his heart on his sleeve. And sadly it had been broken many times. And though he carried around a lot of pain with him Dad was really a jovial guy. He had so many things that brought him joy – sitting at the bar, chatting with a stranger, taking a walk and seeing new things, going out for a nice meal, taking us to zoos, amusement parks, movies, museums, circuses and boat trips. But most of all Dad loved his family – loved getting us all together, cooking us a meal and watching the children grow and play. He had a sweet tooth and he made sure all the grandchildren knew where the candy jar was. He loved to look at photos of us all – and his walls were covered with all of our faces. Everyone had photos on that wall that they weren’t pleased with – but Dad saw beauty in them all. And that was what was the most powerful thing about Dad. He could make you feel so incredibly loved and special – and that love was unconditional. It shaped me and healed me so many times in my life. But the thing that he would be most proud of, the thing for which I am most thankful for is that he brought us all together. We all have different mothers, and some of us different fathers – but that doesn’t matter. We are a family. And we will all get through this tragedy, this pain, and all its grief in exactly the way he would of wanted us to – together.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Christmas to remember
Clearly blogging every day didn’t work out in the end. At first I just couldn’t get it done because I had too much Christmas wrapping and prepping to do. And then, well, I missed part of Christmas.
Lee had been sick all week. Fevers, congestion, coughing and not eating. He seemed better on Wednesday but then took a turn for the worse on Thursday. On Friday morning I was in a tizzy trying to decide if I should take him in to the doctors. He’d been in on Monday and was on antibiotics so I wasn’t sure what else the doctors could do for him but I thought it might be a good move to get him checked out before they closed for the holiday weekend because he wasn’t getting better. I decided to put him down for his morning nap and then see how he felt. When he woke up he seemed groggy and didn’t want to nurse so I called the doctors, left a message and jumped into the shower. I got out of the shower dripping wet to answer their return call. They told me to bring him in immediately as they were closing the office for the holiday in the next hour. So I got dressed, got him dressed and headed out the door and to the subway in a whirlwind.
While in the waiting room I noticed for the first time how chapped his lips were. I knew this wasn’t a good sign. And as soon as they weighed him I knew it wasn’t good news. He’d lost over a pound since we’d been in on Monday. The doctor came in and said he was clearly getting dehydrated and advised I take him right over to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia to get him fluids, unless I felt I could get a lot of fluids into him in the next few hours. I tried to nurse him and as soon as I started to get him into position he started gagging at the mere thought of it. And then he swatted my breast away. They called us a cab to CHOP.
At this point I really thought they’d hook him up to an IV, get some fluids into him and then we’d get home in time to go about our Christmas Eve business. On Christmas Eve my Mom and her husband, and my Father in law and his wife come to our house for dinner and then a gift exchange. Last year I was pregnant and put off by cooking, and particularly eating anything I had cooked, so we decided to have dinner at The Plough and the Stars. It was a huge success. The meal was great and the place was so beautifully decorated, my Mom said she wanted to go there again this year. We had a 5pm reservation.
At CHOP things did not go smoothly. Lee was admitted to the ER for dehydration and for fluids but they couldn’t get an IV in. He was so dehydrated that when they finally found a vein it would flatten out and be unusable. I took four tries, three people and about four hours to get his IV in. He’d be writing, crying and screaming as they poked at him, with me holding him down and after the attempt failed they’d give him 45 minutes to calm down. Also one of the first things they did was suction snot from his nose by shoving a really long thin tube down it. He really hated this and was inconsolable afterwards. The doctor who saw him for the first time then was so worried about him that she wanted to give a spinal tap to see if he had spiral meningitis. Luckily she came back later when I had got him calmed down listening to Pandora radio on my phone and reading a book. She said “I am SO thankful I got to see him like this. I was really worried with how upset he was before. That he wouldn’t even comfort with you.”
The nurse told me there was actually an argument going on between staff about whether to let us go home. I had explained that I had a 3 year old and 6 year old at home and I didn’t want to miss Christmas with them, and that if Lee wasn’t getting better after the fluids that I could bring him back. But Lee continued to not to want to nurse, not even to comfort himself and that was alarming to me. And once it took that long to get the IV in there wasn’t any way I wanted to have them unhook him and have to go through it again later. It was clear we were in for the night.
So I told Mom and Mark to just go about Christmas Eve as if everything was normal. They went out to dinner and did the gift exchange, sending me pictures on the phone while I sat on an ER bed holding sweet Lee, trying to nurse every half hour with no success. He was so listless that he didn’t even try to move around, just hung out in my arms, fretting and dozing. We watched White Christmas and talked to a million doctors and nurses. I'm told Noah was quite sad that I wasn't with them while Ray seemed unphased until bed time when he capped the night off with a 20 minute screaming fit for "Mama!"
At 11 I talked the doctor into taking him off the fluids after he said that being juiced up might prevent him from getting thirsty and wanting to nurse. He said I had 3 hours to get him to nurse and then he was going back on. Just before 2 I was successful! Of course he vomited up a bit of it and had some diarrhea but at least he was eating! They let us go home around 11. I missed putting the presents under the tree and watching the boys come down Christmas morning and react to all their gifts, but Lee was getting better and at least I was still home in the morning.
On Christmas day we go to my Dad’s place around noon and then to my Mom’s at 5 – where we sleep over. Mark suggested we stay home and take it easy. But I freaked. “I WANT TO HAVE A CHRISTMAS! I didn’t get to have a Christmas yet,” I cried. And so we ran around like chickens with our heads cut off, squawking and pecking at each other to pack up and get ready to drive out to Quakertown and spend the night. And then we got in the car after 1:30 and heard that a BLIZZARD was coming the next morning. I just about broke down. But after all the crying and craziness it was a fine Christmas afternoon and it was probably for the best to wake up in our own bed the next day. It certainly beat the bench in the ER.
The CHOP ER is someplace I hope to never to visit again. Especially on Christmas. Walking through the hall and wondering what all the other families were going through was heart wrenching. Sure it was horrible to put Lee through that and to not be home on Christmas but at least Lee was a well baby who had gotten badly sick. I wasn’t in fear of his life while we were there. Twice I have volunteered at St. Christopher’s hospital’s Ronald McDonald House to serve breakfast on Valentine’s Day to the families of long term patients. And the last two years I have donated Christmas gifts to medically fragile children at the Dooley House. But I think next Christmas I’d like to do more. Try to find some way to reach out. You can't take away that pain, that sadness but it's nice to try.
The worse part of the experience for me was the change in Lee. He has always been very friendly with strangers, almost too friendly. Smiling at check out ladies, at people over my shoulder in stores, restaurants, on the subway. Flirting with the doctors during his checkup. And during that night in the ER – with all the new people coming in and hurting him – he didn’t have any more smiles. When a new doctor would come in and just put his stethoscope on him to hear his breathe he would start to scream in horror. I hope that experience doesn’t stick with him. We have a follow up appt at our doctor’s office tomorrow morning. I am eager and scared to see his reaction to the checkup. My poor little guy. I’ll never forget looking in his sad eyes as I held him while they tried repeatedly to find a vein and feeling him say “Why are you letting them hurt me?”
Lee had been sick all week. Fevers, congestion, coughing and not eating. He seemed better on Wednesday but then took a turn for the worse on Thursday. On Friday morning I was in a tizzy trying to decide if I should take him in to the doctors. He’d been in on Monday and was on antibiotics so I wasn’t sure what else the doctors could do for him but I thought it might be a good move to get him checked out before they closed for the holiday weekend because he wasn’t getting better. I decided to put him down for his morning nap and then see how he felt. When he woke up he seemed groggy and didn’t want to nurse so I called the doctors, left a message and jumped into the shower. I got out of the shower dripping wet to answer their return call. They told me to bring him in immediately as they were closing the office for the holiday in the next hour. So I got dressed, got him dressed and headed out the door and to the subway in a whirlwind.
While in the waiting room I noticed for the first time how chapped his lips were. I knew this wasn’t a good sign. And as soon as they weighed him I knew it wasn’t good news. He’d lost over a pound since we’d been in on Monday. The doctor came in and said he was clearly getting dehydrated and advised I take him right over to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia to get him fluids, unless I felt I could get a lot of fluids into him in the next few hours. I tried to nurse him and as soon as I started to get him into position he started gagging at the mere thought of it. And then he swatted my breast away. They called us a cab to CHOP.
At this point I really thought they’d hook him up to an IV, get some fluids into him and then we’d get home in time to go about our Christmas Eve business. On Christmas Eve my Mom and her husband, and my Father in law and his wife come to our house for dinner and then a gift exchange. Last year I was pregnant and put off by cooking, and particularly eating anything I had cooked, so we decided to have dinner at The Plough and the Stars. It was a huge success. The meal was great and the place was so beautifully decorated, my Mom said she wanted to go there again this year. We had a 5pm reservation.
At CHOP things did not go smoothly. Lee was admitted to the ER for dehydration and for fluids but they couldn’t get an IV in. He was so dehydrated that when they finally found a vein it would flatten out and be unusable. I took four tries, three people and about four hours to get his IV in. He’d be writing, crying and screaming as they poked at him, with me holding him down and after the attempt failed they’d give him 45 minutes to calm down. Also one of the first things they did was suction snot from his nose by shoving a really long thin tube down it. He really hated this and was inconsolable afterwards. The doctor who saw him for the first time then was so worried about him that she wanted to give a spinal tap to see if he had spiral meningitis. Luckily she came back later when I had got him calmed down listening to Pandora radio on my phone and reading a book. She said “I am SO thankful I got to see him like this. I was really worried with how upset he was before. That he wouldn’t even comfort with you.”
The nurse told me there was actually an argument going on between staff about whether to let us go home. I had explained that I had a 3 year old and 6 year old at home and I didn’t want to miss Christmas with them, and that if Lee wasn’t getting better after the fluids that I could bring him back. But Lee continued to not to want to nurse, not even to comfort himself and that was alarming to me. And once it took that long to get the IV in there wasn’t any way I wanted to have them unhook him and have to go through it again later. It was clear we were in for the night.
So I told Mom and Mark to just go about Christmas Eve as if everything was normal. They went out to dinner and did the gift exchange, sending me pictures on the phone while I sat on an ER bed holding sweet Lee, trying to nurse every half hour with no success. He was so listless that he didn’t even try to move around, just hung out in my arms, fretting and dozing. We watched White Christmas and talked to a million doctors and nurses. I'm told Noah was quite sad that I wasn't with them while Ray seemed unphased until bed time when he capped the night off with a 20 minute screaming fit for "Mama!"
At 11 I talked the doctor into taking him off the fluids after he said that being juiced up might prevent him from getting thirsty and wanting to nurse. He said I had 3 hours to get him to nurse and then he was going back on. Just before 2 I was successful! Of course he vomited up a bit of it and had some diarrhea but at least he was eating! They let us go home around 11. I missed putting the presents under the tree and watching the boys come down Christmas morning and react to all their gifts, but Lee was getting better and at least I was still home in the morning.
On Christmas day we go to my Dad’s place around noon and then to my Mom’s at 5 – where we sleep over. Mark suggested we stay home and take it easy. But I freaked. “I WANT TO HAVE A CHRISTMAS! I didn’t get to have a Christmas yet,” I cried. And so we ran around like chickens with our heads cut off, squawking and pecking at each other to pack up and get ready to drive out to Quakertown and spend the night. And then we got in the car after 1:30 and heard that a BLIZZARD was coming the next morning. I just about broke down. But after all the crying and craziness it was a fine Christmas afternoon and it was probably for the best to wake up in our own bed the next day. It certainly beat the bench in the ER.
The CHOP ER is someplace I hope to never to visit again. Especially on Christmas. Walking through the hall and wondering what all the other families were going through was heart wrenching. Sure it was horrible to put Lee through that and to not be home on Christmas but at least Lee was a well baby who had gotten badly sick. I wasn’t in fear of his life while we were there. Twice I have volunteered at St. Christopher’s hospital’s Ronald McDonald House to serve breakfast on Valentine’s Day to the families of long term patients. And the last two years I have donated Christmas gifts to medically fragile children at the Dooley House. But I think next Christmas I’d like to do more. Try to find some way to reach out. You can't take away that pain, that sadness but it's nice to try.
The worse part of the experience for me was the change in Lee. He has always been very friendly with strangers, almost too friendly. Smiling at check out ladies, at people over my shoulder in stores, restaurants, on the subway. Flirting with the doctors during his checkup. And during that night in the ER – with all the new people coming in and hurting him – he didn’t have any more smiles. When a new doctor would come in and just put his stethoscope on him to hear his breathe he would start to scream in horror. I hope that experience doesn’t stick with him. We have a follow up appt at our doctor’s office tomorrow morning. I am eager and scared to see his reaction to the checkup. My poor little guy. I’ll never forget looking in his sad eyes as I held him while they tried repeatedly to find a vein and feeling him say “Why are you letting them hurt me?”
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Cards finally mailed. A mountain of packages to be wrapped. A sick baby still on the mend. A fun Christmas party for neighborhood friends successfully thrown. Some Christmas crafts made. This season of merriment is flying by.
Mark is off for the next week and a half. The best thing about having help is we can divide and conquer. Today Mark took Ray to his last tumbling class and while Lee took his first nap Noah and I painted some Christmas crafts. And then when Lee went down for an afternoon nap Mark and Ray played and built forts while Noah and I went downtown to finish up some Christmas shopping. Tomorrow I'm taking the big boys to see "The Borrowers" at the Arden in the morning while Mark mans wee Lee.
Sadly there is a downside to all of us being home fulltime for nearly two weeks - we will quickly get on each others nerves. One of my biggest flaws is difficulty delegating. I have a way I do things and how I want them done and often Mark tries to help and gets flak from both me and the boys for not doing it the way I would have. Many of his attempts to help are met with the boys whining "NO! I want Mama to do it." This is incredibly frustrating for him. Also being home 24-7 is an adjustment for him because he has a patience threshold that sometimes gets exceeded on weekends. He's going to miss his quiet office time. And then there is the boys getting on each others nerves since Noah is not in school.
But back to the positive - there will be movies, field trips, crafts, baking and leisurely mornings. I do savor our family togetherness, and I hope we all stay busy and in good spirits. Me threatening to assign the boys to seperate rooms for the duration of the day so they don't have to look at each other and Mark and I quarreling about whether he really intended to get up and get Ray some cough medicine despite him not answering me when I asked are not how I want to spend our Christmas vacation. Even though that is exactly how we spent this morning.
Mark is off for the next week and a half. The best thing about having help is we can divide and conquer. Today Mark took Ray to his last tumbling class and while Lee took his first nap Noah and I painted some Christmas crafts. And then when Lee went down for an afternoon nap Mark and Ray played and built forts while Noah and I went downtown to finish up some Christmas shopping. Tomorrow I'm taking the big boys to see "The Borrowers" at the Arden in the morning while Mark mans wee Lee.
Sadly there is a downside to all of us being home fulltime for nearly two weeks - we will quickly get on each others nerves. One of my biggest flaws is difficulty delegating. I have a way I do things and how I want them done and often Mark tries to help and gets flak from both me and the boys for not doing it the way I would have. Many of his attempts to help are met with the boys whining "NO! I want Mama to do it." This is incredibly frustrating for him. Also being home 24-7 is an adjustment for him because he has a patience threshold that sometimes gets exceeded on weekends. He's going to miss his quiet office time. And then there is the boys getting on each others nerves since Noah is not in school.
But back to the positive - there will be movies, field trips, crafts, baking and leisurely mornings. I do savor our family togetherness, and I hope we all stay busy and in good spirits. Me threatening to assign the boys to seperate rooms for the duration of the day so they don't have to look at each other and Mark and I quarreling about whether he really intended to get up and get Ray some cough medicine despite him not answering me when I asked are not how I want to spend our Christmas vacation. Even though that is exactly how we spent this morning.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sick-lee
I didn’t blog yesterday. So sue me. This blogging every day is a real challenge. I’m done kid duty around nine and then Mark and I might pick up a bit or get something done and then watch something on TV and next thing you know it’s 11 and I’m like “CRAP. I still didn’t blog.” Last night we were watching Dexter and working on Christmas cards when Lee woke up to be nursed (as he does most nights between 10 and 11) and because he’s been sick I couldn’t put him down without him fussing so I just went to sleep. Cards half done. Blog not blogged. Oh well.
Seems like Lee is endlessly sick. He’s going on antibiotics for ear infection for a third time. I think both Ray and Noah have been on antibiotics like once their whole lives. But with Lee there is always snot. The doctor says not to worry about it. That his brothers are bringing all their school germs home to him and it’s natural, not like he is abnormally sickly. At the momemt he has an ear infection and a virus causing high fevers, horrible congestion and conjuctivitis. He's so congested it's hard for him to sleep and he's even coughed until he vomited a couple of times. There are bags under his little shiny, gunky eyes. And yet with a 103 degree fever he still managed to smile for the doctor and play coy.
But damn, sleep deprivation is a killer. I’ve been up so much with Lee, he just keeps waking and fussing intermittently the night through. And then Ray shows up in the bed and I don’t even have any room. I’m starting to feel like I will never ever get a decent night’s sleep. And that doesn’t make for the most reasonable and patient mothering.
And I need serious patience. Noah is home from school for two weeks and he and Ray are CONSTANTLY at each other’s throats. Noah won’t let Ray contribute to any pretend play without telling him he’s doing it wrong. If Noah isn’t giving Ray his utmost attention then Ray will do things to bother Noah. Ray gets angry and Noah gets whiny and they are making me NUTS. I need to buy a damn sibling book – preferably one that comes with ear plugs.
There. I blogged. Thrilling, ain’t it?
Seems like Lee is endlessly sick. He’s going on antibiotics for ear infection for a third time. I think both Ray and Noah have been on antibiotics like once their whole lives. But with Lee there is always snot. The doctor says not to worry about it. That his brothers are bringing all their school germs home to him and it’s natural, not like he is abnormally sickly. At the momemt he has an ear infection and a virus causing high fevers, horrible congestion and conjuctivitis. He's so congested it's hard for him to sleep and he's even coughed until he vomited a couple of times. There are bags under his little shiny, gunky eyes. And yet with a 103 degree fever he still managed to smile for the doctor and play coy.
But damn, sleep deprivation is a killer. I’ve been up so much with Lee, he just keeps waking and fussing intermittently the night through. And then Ray shows up in the bed and I don’t even have any room. I’m starting to feel like I will never ever get a decent night’s sleep. And that doesn’t make for the most reasonable and patient mothering.
And I need serious patience. Noah is home from school for two weeks and he and Ray are CONSTANTLY at each other’s throats. Noah won’t let Ray contribute to any pretend play without telling him he’s doing it wrong. If Noah isn’t giving Ray his utmost attention then Ray will do things to bother Noah. Ray gets angry and Noah gets whiny and they are making me NUTS. I need to buy a damn sibling book – preferably one that comes with ear plugs.
There. I blogged. Thrilling, ain’t it?
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Besties
Noah and Ray have a really great corp group of neighborhood friends built up from playgroup and the local playgrounds. But because of the way the Philadelphia school system is and everyone scrambling to come up with their own plan for where to send their kid, none of Noah’s original neighborhood friends go to school with him. And therefore I try to make regular playdates and meetups with his old friends, and their parents who are also my friends, so that we stay close. Tomorrow we are having a kids Christmas party for his friends from the ‘hood. There will be Christmas crafts and a potluck dinner. Not including wee Lee there will be 13 kids here. Of those kids eight of them are school age – 2 are home schooled and the others go to five different schools. Two families have moved but seven remain here in the neighborhood.
As we age and lives take different paths we lose so many people who were once important and hopefully we gain new ones. I don’t see anyone now that I went to kindergarten with, of course we moved around quite a bit until I was in Junior High. But so far I’ve worked hard to keep all the very closest to Noah still close to him. I’ll be so sad for him when people that he really loves move away or drift apart. Every day I think how grateful I would be if my friend Janette returned from Maine and my sister Elisha moved north from Florida. I have holes in my life where they should be. Sure these days we have Facebook, blogging, tweeting, texting, photos and phone all at our fingertips as means to keep in touch. But when YOUR people, the people who you wouldn’t mind if they casually dropped by on a daily basis because you are so at home with them near, when they aren’t close it stinks.
Maia, Victor and Ella are Noah’s best bestest friends. I wonder if he’ll know them in 20 years. I guess it’s silly to hope so, but I’m awfully silly.
As we age and lives take different paths we lose so many people who were once important and hopefully we gain new ones. I don’t see anyone now that I went to kindergarten with, of course we moved around quite a bit until I was in Junior High. But so far I’ve worked hard to keep all the very closest to Noah still close to him. I’ll be so sad for him when people that he really loves move away or drift apart. Every day I think how grateful I would be if my friend Janette returned from Maine and my sister Elisha moved north from Florida. I have holes in my life where they should be. Sure these days we have Facebook, blogging, tweeting, texting, photos and phone all at our fingertips as means to keep in touch. But when YOUR people, the people who you wouldn’t mind if they casually dropped by on a daily basis because you are so at home with them near, when they aren’t close it stinks.
Maia, Victor and Ella are Noah’s best bestest friends. I wonder if he’ll know them in 20 years. I guess it’s silly to hope so, but I’m awfully silly.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Yawn.
Ray had his Christmas show today. He stood on stage and sang "Santa Claus is coming to town" and remembered to do all the little choreographed motions. Didn't look nervous at all. SO CUTE. And I bought some raffle tickets, one of which was called and I picked out a ridiculous moving set of Santa bears that hold candles - all because I knew the boys would adore their ridiculously tacky goodness. But now I have to live with them FOREVER.
My Mom came in on the train this morning to go to Ray's show after driving in to see Noah's show on Thursday. That's some good grandmom-ing. We are very lucky.
I had very little sleep, the conclusion of a sleepover, Ray's show which was long warm and crowded, and cookie day at Mom's house. To say I am exhausted is to put it mildly. Sleep little blog, I'll be back tomorrow. With a tree!
My Mom came in on the train this morning to go to Ray's show after driving in to see Noah's show on Thursday. That's some good grandmom-ing. We are very lucky.
I had very little sleep, the conclusion of a sleepover, Ray's show which was long warm and crowded, and cookie day at Mom's house. To say I am exhausted is to put it mildly. Sleep little blog, I'll be back tomorrow. With a tree!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Beds
I have no ideas for blogging tonight. And I am tired. I asked Mark what to blog about and he told me to blog about carpooling or bake sales. Whoopie! That's some exciting stuff right there. Just call me betty freakin crocker.
I should go to bed immediately. But I have a glass of wine and some potato chips and a netbook instead. Upstairs there are 5 children sleeping. At least 2 of whom are loaners and at least two of whom are sick, one mine and one not. Gabriel, Noah's best friend at school is the only boy in his class he had gone to school with previously. And Gabriel's little sister Maddie is in Ray's class at Bridesburg Rec. The two of them are sleeping over so their parents could go to a work Christmas party. Sadly both Maddie and Ray are under the weather, Miss Maddie more than Ray. I am just praying everyone sleeps until 5. Maddie is in Ray's bed, Noah and Gabe are sleeping together in Noah's bed, Ray is in my bed and Lee is in the crib next to my bed. Mark will be sleeping on the futon in the office and hopefully I'm not up with the infant and the preschoolers in the middle of the night.
If I could reverse one decision in my whole life it would probably be the decision to upgrade only to a Queen bed and not to a California King. Wouldn't life be grand if we could effortlessly fit everyone in one bed? Poor Mark. He's usually the one squeezed out. Of course he also gets to SLEEP.
Damn. Poor Maddie is coughing so much. I best try to get some rest. Fingers crossed that this isn't the longest night ever.
Edited to add: Between sickies and baby I got four inconsecutive hours of sleep. It's going to be a very long, very busy day.
I should go to bed immediately. But I have a glass of wine and some potato chips and a netbook instead. Upstairs there are 5 children sleeping. At least 2 of whom are loaners and at least two of whom are sick, one mine and one not. Gabriel, Noah's best friend at school is the only boy in his class he had gone to school with previously. And Gabriel's little sister Maddie is in Ray's class at Bridesburg Rec. The two of them are sleeping over so their parents could go to a work Christmas party. Sadly both Maddie and Ray are under the weather, Miss Maddie more than Ray. I am just praying everyone sleeps until 5. Maddie is in Ray's bed, Noah and Gabe are sleeping together in Noah's bed, Ray is in my bed and Lee is in the crib next to my bed. Mark will be sleeping on the futon in the office and hopefully I'm not up with the infant and the preschoolers in the middle of the night.
If I could reverse one decision in my whole life it would probably be the decision to upgrade only to a Queen bed and not to a California King. Wouldn't life be grand if we could effortlessly fit everyone in one bed? Poor Mark. He's usually the one squeezed out. Of course he also gets to SLEEP.
Damn. Poor Maddie is coughing so much. I best try to get some rest. Fingers crossed that this isn't the longest night ever.
Edited to add: Between sickies and baby I got four inconsecutive hours of sleep. It's going to be a very long, very busy day.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Limelight.
Noah is a showman. Ninety percent of his playtime is him putting on shows - dancing, singing, acting, tumbling, making music, doing magic tricks, telling jokes. Performing is who he is and who he has always been.
At Bridesburg Rec, Noah's first school they had a Christmas show in which he had to get on a stage and sing a couple of Christmas songs with his class. He was SO excited to be on the stage, to practice on the stage, to be in front of an audience. But both times he got up there he froze. Staring out at the audience in awe, not remembering the words or the motions.
He was excited for last years YCCA Christmas show, so excited to PERFORM. But that night he was just disappointed. They sat in a circle in the middle of the room and sang. There was no stage and therefore it was obviously not a show. He wanted to know when they were going to do it for real. But at graduation they had a big show. They sang like 8 songs - in the front of the room with assigned seats. This was more like it. And this time he didn't freeze. He knew all the songs, all the motions. I could HEAR him singing above the group. He was SO excited to be there and I cried.
Today Frankford Friends had their Winter concert. He hadn't told us anything about it. He practiced his songs in secret. And there he was again - doing the moves, singing loudly, beaming.
Not surprisingly Noah has always loved to see shows. Music, dance, plays, magic shows. And so does Ray, though he loves performing a bit less as he has to suffer Noah's directing. A couple of weeks ago we went to see The Rock School's version of The Nutcracker. We see The Nutcracker every year but this is the first ballet school version we saw. And now Noah is talking about taking ballet so he can be famous. I asked if he really wanted to do ballet or he just wanted to perform. He said perform, and then admitted he'd much prefer dancing to something much faster.
Noah is taking African drumming now. And he loves it. He's such a great student. But he's not a behind the drum kind of guy. I see many MANY acting, music and dance classes in his future. It's his spark.
At Bridesburg Rec, Noah's first school they had a Christmas show in which he had to get on a stage and sing a couple of Christmas songs with his class. He was SO excited to be on the stage, to practice on the stage, to be in front of an audience. But both times he got up there he froze. Staring out at the audience in awe, not remembering the words or the motions.
He was excited for last years YCCA Christmas show, so excited to PERFORM. But that night he was just disappointed. They sat in a circle in the middle of the room and sang. There was no stage and therefore it was obviously not a show. He wanted to know when they were going to do it for real. But at graduation they had a big show. They sang like 8 songs - in the front of the room with assigned seats. This was more like it. And this time he didn't freeze. He knew all the songs, all the motions. I could HEAR him singing above the group. He was SO excited to be there and I cried.
Today Frankford Friends had their Winter concert. He hadn't told us anything about it. He practiced his songs in secret. And there he was again - doing the moves, singing loudly, beaming.
Not surprisingly Noah has always loved to see shows. Music, dance, plays, magic shows. And so does Ray, though he loves performing a bit less as he has to suffer Noah's directing. A couple of weeks ago we went to see The Rock School's version of The Nutcracker. We see The Nutcracker every year but this is the first ballet school version we saw. And now Noah is talking about taking ballet so he can be famous. I asked if he really wanted to do ballet or he just wanted to perform. He said perform, and then admitted he'd much prefer dancing to something much faster.
Noah is taking African drumming now. And he loves it. He's such a great student. But he's not a behind the drum kind of guy. I see many MANY acting, music and dance classes in his future. It's his spark.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Mailer demon
I’m a somewhat creative person who doesn’t get a lot of time for creative things. I think that’s why I obsess about things like our Christmas card. Every year, months in advance I come up with a tag line for the card and then I photograph, design it and order it. And then I wait anxiously to receive them and even more anxiously for people to tell me what they thought . It’s the same for the boys birth announcements. When we were seriously considering Reed as a name for Lee I already planned on dressing him in a multitude of stripes on a striped background and using “Reed between the lines.” The cards are almost always based on puns or a plays on words. The last couple of cards have been based on Christmas songs, the first of which was the “Joyful and Triumphant” card with Ray as a clown and Noah as a knight – my personal favorite. But how am I going to keep it up? What if one year I can’t come up with anything? Or worse – I do a card and it’s just BAD.
Why do I do it? I kind of think of myself as a PR person for the kids. Cousins who see the boys once a year instantly remark on the Christmas cards or the birth announcements. They make them more memorable, create an instant bond in a way. I like that. And in a silly way it’s like my art and I want people to see it. Do I have your address?
Why do I do it? I kind of think of myself as a PR person for the kids. Cousins who see the boys once a year instantly remark on the Christmas cards or the birth announcements. They make them more memorable, create an instant bond in a way. I like that. And in a silly way it’s like my art and I want people to see it. Do I have your address?
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
goddamn it
It ain't easy coming up with something to write every day. And it isn't easy to make time for it. And I just wrote a whole post and the computer ate it. And I don't have it in me to write it again today.
So hmmm... Almost done Christmas shopping. Need to start wrapping. Next two weeks are filled to the brim with holiday activities which are awesome and daunting.
Glad we are healthy and all alive and enjoying each other, most of the time. Could do with a wee bit more sleep and a wee bit less yelling - from myself, Mark and the boys. And... that's all I got for now. You sure missed a hell of post. And by you I mean Mark. Hi Mark. I think part of the reason I stopped putting in the effort to blog was the feeling that the only person reading it was my husband and he has to listen to my crap all day anyway.
So hmmm... Almost done Christmas shopping. Need to start wrapping. Next two weeks are filled to the brim with holiday activities which are awesome and daunting.
Glad we are healthy and all alive and enjoying each other, most of the time. Could do with a wee bit more sleep and a wee bit less yelling - from myself, Mark and the boys. And... that's all I got for now. You sure missed a hell of post. And by you I mean Mark. Hi Mark. I think part of the reason I stopped putting in the effort to blog was the feeling that the only person reading it was my husband and he has to listen to my crap all day anyway.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Her doors are French so perhaps I should call her Antoinette
In April a very important new addition was made to our family. One I appreciate and fawn over almost daily. And it's my adoration of her that makes me feel thoroughly old and domesticated but with an air of thankfulness. It's my new refrigerator.
When we bought our house, almost exactly 10 years ago!, we had to get a fridge as well as a washer and dryer. And our tactic was to buy not the cheapest model but the second to the cheapest - because why would you need anything more. We were childless and things like big fridgest weren't a priority to us. But recently, three boys later, I found myself daydreaming about a new refrigerator. One with a freezer on the bottom - that you could open the french doors and SEE all your food. ALL of it. Dream big.
So I started pricing fridges. I found out that the almond color of our oven was soon to be discontinued in appliances and therefore it might be difficult to find in a fridge if I wanted to keep them matching. Nowadays its all white and chrome. But there in the aisles of the Sears Outlet at Franklin Mills I found a gigantic almond french door Kenmore Trio Elite. And it was seriously marked down since it was scratch and dent. Amazingly I didn't buy it immediately, I tend to be very spur of the moment when I find what I want with a deal. But I waited a few days, did some more comparisons and finally pulled the trigger.
And almost every day I have a wave of love pour over me for that fridge. It's just so amazing to see all the food in there without having to sit on the floor. I don't consider myself a materialistic person but a nice big fridge seems like a necessity for a woman who feeds four men. I often think of how much teen boys eat and ponder where I am going to put the chest freezer, which is funny since I don't really like to keep anything frozen aside from waffles and ice cream.
Feeding people is a constant script in my head. What we should be eating and how I can keep the kids eating healthy and interesting diets is a major part of my job. I swear I buy groceries every other day. Keeping us in fresh fruit is a full time job in and of itself. And so my greatest ally in keeping these boys fed is my pretty new fridge. If only she were self cleaning. And she did some meal planning. And she could keep Ray in his damn seat to eat a freakin meal.
When we bought our house, almost exactly 10 years ago!, we had to get a fridge as well as a washer and dryer. And our tactic was to buy not the cheapest model but the second to the cheapest - because why would you need anything more. We were childless and things like big fridgest weren't a priority to us. But recently, three boys later, I found myself daydreaming about a new refrigerator. One with a freezer on the bottom - that you could open the french doors and SEE all your food. ALL of it. Dream big.
So I started pricing fridges. I found out that the almond color of our oven was soon to be discontinued in appliances and therefore it might be difficult to find in a fridge if I wanted to keep them matching. Nowadays its all white and chrome. But there in the aisles of the Sears Outlet at Franklin Mills I found a gigantic almond french door Kenmore Trio Elite. And it was seriously marked down since it was scratch and dent. Amazingly I didn't buy it immediately, I tend to be very spur of the moment when I find what I want with a deal. But I waited a few days, did some more comparisons and finally pulled the trigger.
And almost every day I have a wave of love pour over me for that fridge. It's just so amazing to see all the food in there without having to sit on the floor. I don't consider myself a materialistic person but a nice big fridge seems like a necessity for a woman who feeds four men. I often think of how much teen boys eat and ponder where I am going to put the chest freezer, which is funny since I don't really like to keep anything frozen aside from waffles and ice cream.
Feeding people is a constant script in my head. What we should be eating and how I can keep the kids eating healthy and interesting diets is a major part of my job. I swear I buy groceries every other day. Keeping us in fresh fruit is a full time job in and of itself. And so my greatest ally in keeping these boys fed is my pretty new fridge. If only she were self cleaning. And she did some meal planning. And she could keep Ray in his damn seat to eat a freakin meal.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
We always get our tree late in December because trees don't last long when you can't remember to water them. But the kids have been itching to decorate so yesterday I pulled up the Christmas decorations from the basement. We have a little fake tree for their room which they love and were anxious to decorate but sadly I don't have that many decorations for the home. I'm not a holiday decorator by nature. However I try to pick up a few things every year - a singing tree, a Santa cookie jar, some snowmen statuettes. But the big hit at our house is the nutcrackers. We have a few different sizes and designs from each Christmas. Problem is they don't really decorate anything as they instantly become a beloved play thing. Sparked by their imaginations, the singing tree and seeing The Nutcracker ballet every year - the boys are far too busy staging dramatic productions to let them sit on a shelf and look festive.
After today's ornate mouse king battle scene I remembered that I had loaded a video on youtube of Noah and the nutcrackers a few years back. And there was Noah, approximately the age Ray is now, and Ray, almost the age Lee is now. And I was teary eyed. I can hardly remember tiny little Noah and his squeaky voice. But there he is asking me to babysit his nutcrackers for him while he goes out to buy them more nuts. God. Time is going so fast. And I should take more video.
Here is my sweet 3 year old Noah.
After today's ornate mouse king battle scene I remembered that I had loaded a video on youtube of Noah and the nutcrackers a few years back. And there was Noah, approximately the age Ray is now, and Ray, almost the age Lee is now. And I was teary eyed. I can hardly remember tiny little Noah and his squeaky voice. But there he is asking me to babysit his nutcrackers for him while he goes out to buy them more nuts. God. Time is going so fast. And I should take more video.
Here is my sweet 3 year old Noah.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
YOU face backward.
When Noah was an infant he HATED the car. At the time I thought part of the issue was that he wasn't in the car that often. I was home with him and when we went out we'd walk or take mass transportation or it'd be just a short trip in the car. And so he wasn't getting use to it.
But Lee HATES the car. And not because he has not gotten use to it. This poor boy is in the car SO much. I car pool for Noah's school so I only make 5 of the 10 trips per week - but it's still about 25 minutes with pickup and waitingand then the same back. And then there is Ray's school 2 days a week where we drop him off and have to pick him up in 2 and a half hours. And then Ray's tumbling class, not to mention the regular errands that just need to get done. So Lee is just riding around in the damn van all the time. So he is use to it, no question. Use to hating it. He starts to cry as soon as I set him in the seat. Noah and Ray and the car pool passengers can usually distract him for awhile but soon enough he'll be lik "Oh yeah... this sucks."
Ray wasn't car keen either and I have come to think that it's partially car sickness to blame as it seemed to get better with the older boys when they turned one and I turned their seat forward facing. I have been anxious to turn Lee's seat around as a result. Last month the pediatrician told me that they now recommend seats remain rear facing until the age of two. I pretty much told her "Um... Yeah. That isn't going to happen. His legs barely fit now." At which point she told me they were designing new car seats to accomodate that issue and that research proves that we'd all be better off in a crash if we were rear facing. At a future checkup I am totally expecting her to say "Research now says children are 305 percent less likely to have a car fatality if they never ride in a car so we are suggesting you stop driving."
But Lee HATES the car. And not because he has not gotten use to it. This poor boy is in the car SO much. I car pool for Noah's school so I only make 5 of the 10 trips per week - but it's still about 25 minutes with pickup and waitingand then the same back. And then there is Ray's school 2 days a week where we drop him off and have to pick him up in 2 and a half hours. And then Ray's tumbling class, not to mention the regular errands that just need to get done. So Lee is just riding around in the damn van all the time. So he is use to it, no question. Use to hating it. He starts to cry as soon as I set him in the seat. Noah and Ray and the car pool passengers can usually distract him for awhile but soon enough he'll be lik "Oh yeah... this sucks."
Ray wasn't car keen either and I have come to think that it's partially car sickness to blame as it seemed to get better with the older boys when they turned one and I turned their seat forward facing. I have been anxious to turn Lee's seat around as a result. Last month the pediatrician told me that they now recommend seats remain rear facing until the age of two. I pretty much told her "Um... Yeah. That isn't going to happen. His legs barely fit now." At which point she told me they were designing new car seats to accomodate that issue and that research proves that we'd all be better off in a crash if we were rear facing. At a future checkup I am totally expecting her to say "Research now says children are 305 percent less likely to have a car fatality if they never ride in a car so we are suggesting you stop driving."
Friday, December 10, 2010
Some general Lee
Our wee Lee is nine and a half months old. And he is fast becoming a person. It's so amazing to watch a being go from a sweet helpless, cuddly lump to an individual with wants, needs and a voice. Here are some of the details.
Lee seems a bit fearless. So many of the loud noises that would startle or frighten an infant don't phase him a bit. In fact the more hub bub the more interest. It may come from being born into a maelstrom of other boy activity but I also think it may be who he is.
Noah and Ray were always a bit shy with strangers. At the moment I can't say the same for Lee. It seems at times he's ready to sell us all away for the smile and recognition of a checkout girl. Many a stranger has accused him of being a flirt.
If Master Lee is feeling a bit cranky, or I need a distraction I ask Noah and Ray to put on a show. Usually some singing and clapping will do the trick. But honestly I think he loves watching them do anything.
He's in a pretty strong seperation anxiety phase at the moment. What strikes me odd is that sometimes I can leave the room and he's fine, but if he hears my voice in the distance or I come back in he starts crying hysterically. As if to say "I didn't know you were gone but now I realize I was in grave peril." The worst is if I then walk out of eye sight a second time. Forget breathing - there is too much to cry about.
Much like Ray did at an early age, Lee has tired of spoon feeding. He wants finger food all the way. And because I am no longer a timid mother of one I will feed the boy almost anything. Is he choking? No bother. I just shove my fingers in there thoughtlessly and swipe it out. He loves noodles, black beans and pieces of grape. But his favorite is chomping on an everything bagel. Well, aside from ice cream. He'll even let you feed him with a spoon if it's ice cream.
Without a doubt Lee's favorite place in the whole world is the bath tub. He could sit in there an hour. Moving things around in the water. Flapping his arms and splashing. He never wants to get out.
Lee is getting verbally expressive. Making different distinct noises for frustration, want, fear, sleepy and happy. And if you take something away from him you'll hear anger. Real hard.
He' really starting to get around. He can pull up and sit himself down. He can crawl and cruise around. He's really starting to get into stuff. And he's super interested in jamming things in his mouth unlike his brothers, which is great in a house with a million chokables. He plays with toys - paging through books, rolling balls, stacking and knocking over blocks. It's amazing stuff. Even the third time around.
He still wakes up a few times a night to nurse. After I go to bed the next time he wakes I just keep him there. I love a cuddly baby in the bed. This is only a problem when Ray joins us and then I'm squished and I can't get back to sleep. I often wish we just had all our mattresses on the floor of one room - like that crazy family I once saw on Wife Swap. Of course their kids were teens.
In short, Lee is awesome. And now I must get to bed and prepare for my next cuddling. Plus that boy almost always wakes up for the morning between five and six. Peace out. Zzzzz.
Lee seems a bit fearless. So many of the loud noises that would startle or frighten an infant don't phase him a bit. In fact the more hub bub the more interest. It may come from being born into a maelstrom of other boy activity but I also think it may be who he is.
Noah and Ray were always a bit shy with strangers. At the moment I can't say the same for Lee. It seems at times he's ready to sell us all away for the smile and recognition of a checkout girl. Many a stranger has accused him of being a flirt.
If Master Lee is feeling a bit cranky, or I need a distraction I ask Noah and Ray to put on a show. Usually some singing and clapping will do the trick. But honestly I think he loves watching them do anything.
He's in a pretty strong seperation anxiety phase at the moment. What strikes me odd is that sometimes I can leave the room and he's fine, but if he hears my voice in the distance or I come back in he starts crying hysterically. As if to say "I didn't know you were gone but now I realize I was in grave peril." The worst is if I then walk out of eye sight a second time. Forget breathing - there is too much to cry about.
Much like Ray did at an early age, Lee has tired of spoon feeding. He wants finger food all the way. And because I am no longer a timid mother of one I will feed the boy almost anything. Is he choking? No bother. I just shove my fingers in there thoughtlessly and swipe it out. He loves noodles, black beans and pieces of grape. But his favorite is chomping on an everything bagel. Well, aside from ice cream. He'll even let you feed him with a spoon if it's ice cream.
Without a doubt Lee's favorite place in the whole world is the bath tub. He could sit in there an hour. Moving things around in the water. Flapping his arms and splashing. He never wants to get out.
Lee is getting verbally expressive. Making different distinct noises for frustration, want, fear, sleepy and happy. And if you take something away from him you'll hear anger. Real hard.
He' really starting to get around. He can pull up and sit himself down. He can crawl and cruise around. He's really starting to get into stuff. And he's super interested in jamming things in his mouth unlike his brothers, which is great in a house with a million chokables. He plays with toys - paging through books, rolling balls, stacking and knocking over blocks. It's amazing stuff. Even the third time around.
He still wakes up a few times a night to nurse. After I go to bed the next time he wakes I just keep him there. I love a cuddly baby in the bed. This is only a problem when Ray joins us and then I'm squished and I can't get back to sleep. I often wish we just had all our mattresses on the floor of one room - like that crazy family I once saw on Wife Swap. Of course their kids were teens.
In short, Lee is awesome. And now I must get to bed and prepare for my next cuddling. Plus that boy almost always wakes up for the morning between five and six. Peace out. Zzzzz.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
More you say? Sure.
I have three kids. That's alot to some people. I often go out and people say "You have three boys? God bless you!" As if I'm suffering some sort of ailment and need a savior. Some folks look at me completely awestruck when I admit I might like to have one more. (Have I mentioned I overshare?)
I guess a former incarnation of myself thought three was alot of kids. I remember thinking "What in hell is she thinking?" when I heard my step sister was pregnant with a third. At the time I was befuddled by just one - and I still think that's the hardest. When it was just Noah I had only him to care for and so I was hyper focused on everthing - what should I be doing with him, what milestone should he be hitting, was this decision the best decision, what does the baby book say? Three makes me just sort of go with the flow. Well, as much as I am able.
Not only do I have three kids but I often have others. I'm constantly asking other parents to drop their kids off with us. I get alot of wide eyed befuddlement. Especially from people with just one kid. "But you have THREE. Already. How could you possibly want to care for my kid too? Clearly I can't leave him with an insane woman." But loaner kids are awesome! They come in and entertain my kids. When Noah and Ray have friends over they know they can't watch TV or play on the computer. It's PLAYTIME. And the two of them get along ALOT better when there are other kids here. They are too busy to just pick fights with one another. And too busy to be hanging on me asking me to entertain them. Sure the place is a wreck after a playdate but how is that any different than normal? And it's a very small price to pay for a moment to sit in the kitchen drinking tea in silence while little feet scamper playfully over head.
I guess a former incarnation of myself thought three was alot of kids. I remember thinking "What in hell is she thinking?" when I heard my step sister was pregnant with a third. At the time I was befuddled by just one - and I still think that's the hardest. When it was just Noah I had only him to care for and so I was hyper focused on everthing - what should I be doing with him, what milestone should he be hitting, was this decision the best decision, what does the baby book say? Three makes me just sort of go with the flow. Well, as much as I am able.
Not only do I have three kids but I often have others. I'm constantly asking other parents to drop their kids off with us. I get alot of wide eyed befuddlement. Especially from people with just one kid. "But you have THREE. Already. How could you possibly want to care for my kid too? Clearly I can't leave him with an insane woman." But loaner kids are awesome! They come in and entertain my kids. When Noah and Ray have friends over they know they can't watch TV or play on the computer. It's PLAYTIME. And the two of them get along ALOT better when there are other kids here. They are too busy to just pick fights with one another. And too busy to be hanging on me asking me to entertain them. Sure the place is a wreck after a playdate but how is that any different than normal? And it's a very small price to pay for a moment to sit in the kitchen drinking tea in silence while little feet scamper playfully over head.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
I overshare.
I am an over sharer. If something is going on with me, anything is going on with me, everyone will know it. And not just because I talk to much, I tweet too much and I status update too much. You can just tell by looking at me if something isn't quite right. I'm not an actor and I'm horrible at subtle.
I constantly have things happen to me and I think to myself "I shouldn't tell anyone that" or "I need to keep this to myself" and it doesn't happen. I just can't.
A few times in my life I have found out that something was going on with someone I cared about and they didn't share it with me. And every time it has blown me away. Because I can't NOT share. To a very serious fault. And so I can't get my head around someone staying silent. It feels painful to think about. Like I'd get physically ill if I didn't just let it all pour out all the time.
I wish I could shut the hell up. To have some privacy. Some restraint. Some mystery. Or just let sleeping dogs lie. But I can't manage it. I guess the upswing of that is you can't accuse me of being fake. Nope. I'm real. I real chatty pain in the ass.
I constantly have things happen to me and I think to myself "I shouldn't tell anyone that" or "I need to keep this to myself" and it doesn't happen. I just can't.
A few times in my life I have found out that something was going on with someone I cared about and they didn't share it with me. And every time it has blown me away. Because I can't NOT share. To a very serious fault. And so I can't get my head around someone staying silent. It feels painful to think about. Like I'd get physically ill if I didn't just let it all pour out all the time.
I wish I could shut the hell up. To have some privacy. Some restraint. Some mystery. Or just let sleeping dogs lie. But I can't manage it. I guess the upswing of that is you can't accuse me of being fake. Nope. I'm real. I real chatty pain in the ass.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Rev Bev
Before Mark and I got married we had a few pre-marital counseling sessions. The woman who married us wanted to know something about us before conducting our ceremony and she wanted to talk to us about marriage's challenges. Mark and I both came from broken homes and were approaching marriage with a very real sense of "We know it's hard. We mean forever and are willing to work hard for it." After talking to us about our families and our relationship Reverend Beverly had some concerns. She said that I had a very strong need to be a caretaker, a mother, and Mark had a need to be taken care of, mothered. And that while it worked great for us now that once we had children it might pose real problems. My maternal needs would be met by taking care of the kids but Mark would be left feeling neglected, with me resenting his need.
Reverend Beverly was dead on. Three hundred percent of me goes into taking care of the kids. I'm not complaining - I love it. I thrive on it. But I'm so wrapped up in it there isn't anything left for me or for Mark. And Mark works so hard at being a good husband. He wants nothing more to make me happy - to do what is necessary to make everything work. To him being a good husband makes him a good father. And he doesn't get alot back - at least not directly. I'm tough on him.I have high expectations, I'm particular about how I do things and I don't delegate well.
I am a good mom. It's who I am. I work hard at it. And I love it. But I can be a really sucky wife. I need to be better. Oddly enough I feel like I need to take more for myself in order to be a better wife. To give more to Mark. It needs work. But I meant forever and am willing to work harder at it.
Reverend Beverly was dead on. Three hundred percent of me goes into taking care of the kids. I'm not complaining - I love it. I thrive on it. But I'm so wrapped up in it there isn't anything left for me or for Mark. And Mark works so hard at being a good husband. He wants nothing more to make me happy - to do what is necessary to make everything work. To him being a good husband makes him a good father. And he doesn't get alot back - at least not directly. I'm tough on him.I have high expectations, I'm particular about how I do things and I don't delegate well.
I am a good mom. It's who I am. I work hard at it. And I love it. But I can be a really sucky wife. I need to be better. Oddly enough I feel like I need to take more for myself in order to be a better wife. To give more to Mark. It needs work. But I meant forever and am willing to work harder at it.
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