Perspective

Fortunately for me, one of the happiest moments of my life was captured in a photograph. The moment Sam and Jake met Abby my mom snapped a picture and to me, it represents happiness. I am sitting near a window in the hospital room, Abby is nursing and Sam and Jake have just entered and crossed the room to meet her. Without a thought, Jake kissed her head and Sam stroked her hand. The look on my face is pure joy and excitement and pride. I'll remember that moment all my life - it was exactly the way you'd hope your older kids would greet the new baby - but having the photograph solidifies the memory. And on days when things don't seem to be going smoothly I have the photo as a reminder that once there was peace. And, most likely, there will be again.

I was looking at that photograph last night when I realized Jake was just about Abby's age now when she was born. And it caught me off guard. Maybe I'm a little more protective of Abby than I was of Sam or Jake at her age, but I don't see that she would be at all ready for a baby - like it would be unfair to divert the spotlight from her. She seems so much like a baby herself.

But apparently I didn't feel that way about Jake. To be honest he probably never had the spotlight. I remember being very pregnant and still trying to rock him to sleep at nap time. But I don't remember much rocking after Abby came along. We scooted him out of his crib so Abby could have it. It's as if he went from 2 to 4 overnight.

So once again I'm vowing to be more patient, more sensitive with Jake. I need to remember he's not Sam and he's not Abby. And that, above all else, he's only 4.

Curse You Target!

I may've already told this story. If so, bear with me.

Years ago, when SuperTargets first emerged here, I resisted. Mainly because the first time I visited one I checked out behind a handsome, 20-something man who bought a package of underwear (the tighty whitey kind), an answering machine and a big package of hamburger meat. To me, there was something grossly wrong about buying your underwear where you buy your beef.

But SuperTarget prevailed. It bewitched me with its charming selection of housewares, clothes and holiday decor. Soon I was hooked.

Today I couldn't help but think of that first visit to SuperTarget because I went in for a birthday present for one of Sam's friends and came out with:

- 2 shirts for Abby (each on sale for $4)
- a sports bra for me (of course for me. Who else would it be for?)
- a pair of workout shorts (you see where this is going?)
- a workout t-shirt (yep, exercise)
- a Star Wars Clone Wars video ("the gift")
- an apple (goes along with the exercise initiative)
- a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (can't have them at home)
- a Diet Orange Crush (that or Pepsi. I hate Pepsi.)
- a single roman shade to replace the one Abby and Jake broke
- a 3-cup measuring cup (we're helping furnish an apartment at Family Gateway)
- a casserole dish (not for me)
- a knife set (definitely not for me)
- a dog bone (mesquite flavored, on sale)
- cat food (when they decide to return home)

It's not quite beef and briefs but I think I came close. If I would've just added a lawn chair and a douche, I think I would've made it.

Tummy Troubles

Abby was futzing during the night and when I reached over to soothe her she was burning up. Not to give too much information, but she'd had a day of diarhhea, after which her teacher told me there was a stomach virus going around her school. Sure enough, after some tossing and turning, she threw up. Until the Tylenol kicked in and she got settled we rocked and swayed on the couch. Most of the morning she was in good sprits but because of the remodel and other cable problems we didn't have TV or Internet so she and I read lots of board books and she pretended I was the patient, dispensing medicine, wiping my nose, taking my temperature. It was all very calm and sweet... until I realized the thermometer she'd been practicing on me with was actually an oft-used rectal thermometer. Now I'm the one who's queasy.

Breezy

When I was a kid I used to rearrange my room every spring so my bed was near a window. I liked to be able to sleep with the window open. To this day that is one of my favorite things - sleeping near an open window with a summer breeze blowing in.

Last year when our house was painted the painters painted our windows shut and I have to admit, I panicked a little. Eventually they came back and pried them all open. And in the past few weeks I've taken advantage. Soon it will be too hot to have them open. Truthfully I would sleep with an open window when it's 20 degrees outside as long as I have lots of covers, but Bryon (and our heating bill) prohibits it.

This morning Abby, Bryon and I were all waking at about the same time. A wonderful breeze was blowing in. Abby sat up in bed and lifted both hands toward the window, like she was warming her hands near a fire, and said "Outside tickle me!" What I'd like to think she meant was "I love an open breezy window as much as you do!"

Happy Freakin' Monday

On this beautiful sunny spring Monday, what is one of the first things I see? An email from a company called As We Change (one of the worst company names EVER) and its enticing invitation to visit its Web site:

"The As We Change catalog was launched in 1996 by three San Diego businesswomen aged 40-50+. The catalog was an outgrowth of their own age-related interest in changes that can occur at midlife - including those surrounding perimenopause and menopause - and of numerous conversations they had with women across America about the need for information and products to help women understand and manage changes associated with the normal aging process."

You know what would make women across America feel better about aging? Not getting emails from As We Change.

Random Observations of a Remodel

1. I am amazed you can remove an old hot water heater and install a new tankless one in less than one day. I am equally amazed that doesn't mean you'll have hot water.

2. I am humbled that when pressed, I can get ready for work using 2 cups of lukewarm water. And I look the same as if I'd taken a 20-minute shower.

3. I now understand how one renovation leads to another. Case in point, the kitchen demolition left a fine, grimy dust all over the house. Even though I dusted, swiffed and wet swiffed, it's still there. I guess we'll repaint next.

4. The renovation makes Tag the Dog very nervous. Hopefully not that animal premonition sort of nervous. But yesterday when I got back from picking Sam up at school he was laying as close as possible to Demolition Man Jose, while chunks of drywall, chicken wire and wood were falling from the ceiling. I think I could hear Jose, under his breath, cursing me and my perro loco.

5. Apparently our upstairs bathroom is about to fall through the kitchen ceiling because the joists are sagging (so are mine but I'm not about to get a major renovation). And since we have to replace the joists, why not replace the tub. And while we're replacing the tub, let's re-tile. See observation #3.

6. Despite the huge increase in our carbon footprint and the just plain laziness of it, it is really convenient to have one of those industrial garbage bins outside your front door. Milk jug empty? Dirty diaper stinking up the garbage can? Toss them in the front yard.

7. Lastly, it is disconcerting to hear BANG BANG BANG CRACK CRASH followed by peals of laughter.

Upgrade

So what do Bryon and I do in these trying economic times? We take out a big loan and redo our kitchen. Actually we've been planning it for nearly a year, but, like so many other things we PLAN to do, we put it off or put it on the back burner and the next thing we know it's a year later. So after weeks of planning and negotiating and meeting with contractors, we began demolition today.

Now this should be lots of fun. You see ... I hate untidy. (I've nearly given up on clean but I can still do tidy.) And things are NOT going to be tidy here for quite awhile - four to eight weeks at least. And I'm a glass-half-empty type of person. I've already called Bryon to complain 'this isn't going to work' because apparently the demolition flipped two outlets - two of the most important outlets in the house - one that keeps our Internet, cable and phone working and one that filters the fish tank that sustains our 60 fish.

I regret that we didn't take some better photos of the kitchen pre-demo. But I did snap a few when the workers left today. Apparently 80 years (yes, 80 ... our house was built in 1926) of tile, wallpaper, wood and chicken wire went into our kitchen.





The night before the demo we let the kids draw on the walls and floors. Actually we only let Jake and Sam. We weren't sure Abby would know the difference between coloring on pre-upgrade kitchen cabinets and post-upgrade kitchen cabinets. But she did know who was responsible. This morning before they demolished the kitchen cabinets, Abby pointed at them and said, "Whaaaa happen? JACOB!!!"

Hair Don't

Sam was watching a cartoon called 6Teen in which a girl mistakenly gets a mullet haircut. When she freaked out and wouldn't let her friends or boyfriend see her, Sam asked why.

"Because girls worry about their hair," I told him.

"You don't," he replied.

Over the River

This past Friday and Saturday Grandma Fran and Grandpa Larry took all three kids so Bryon and I could have a night out with friends and some time alone to celebrate our 14th wedding anniversary.

It was my first night away from Abby, and since I have such fond memories of my weekend visits to my grandma's house, I went a little overboard. I searched etsy and eBay and online and in stores for a little suitcase for her. I'm not sure why no one seems to make those cute, round, hat-box style suitcases anymore, but I was on a quest to find one. I ended up finding a ... well, suitable .... alternative - a 3-piece butterfly-patterned set.

When I went to my grandmother's I always took dolls and Barbies. Abby's not into Barbies but she loves her dolls so I packed several doll babies and their blankets, her favorite books, a couple of new t-shirts and dresses, a new pair of pink Chuck Taylors and of course, her diapers, wipes and bottle.

I know no one cared or noticed but I was excited to send her off on her visit with her pretty little suitcase.

Superman's Words of Wisdom

Yesterday Sam and I took our first long bike ride together. At one point we had to cross a busy intersection. As we were running our bikes across the road, I was babbling about the weather and some other nonsense, when Sam looked back at me and yelled, "There is a time for words and a time for action. THIS is a time for action."

Apparently this is a common theme on Justice League.

And they say kids don't learn anything from television.

Hit Me Baby One More Time

When Sam got in the car today he told me he'd had the 'worst day ever.'

"Why is that?"

"Well, there are at least 10 reasons why. I can only remember three."

"OK. Start with the first one."

"My friend Eberto gave me a quarter and at lunch I passed the pencil machine and when you pass the pencil machine you can't go back."

"Can you get a pencil tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Then let's consider that one solved. Second reason?"

"I forgot my Chapstick and my lips are really chapped."

"OK. We'll be sure to pack extra in your backpack. Next?"

"I got an orange today and couldn't go outside for recess." (Each day he gets a green, yellow, orange or red to indicate what kind of day he had - I think you can guess what orange means.)

"And why did you get an orange?"

"During Gym I almost punched Joseph in the batteries."

As boys might do, Sam and Jake spend a lot of time trying to kick each other in the testicles. And they spend almost as much time creating new words for testicles. This is where my sarcastic, flippant sense of humor doesn't help. Case in point, one day last week someone kicked a soccer ball into Sam's groin, accidentally, during recess. His response? "Oh, my cubes!"

His teacher's response? "Sam, where did you hear that?"

Sam's reply? "My mom!!!"