Point of Purchase

You know how as you are checking out of the grocery store you may impulsively pick up a chap stick or a candy bar or a Tide pen? Me too. Except I get this:



This is Phineas.

Abby, Jake and I went to PetSmart for a new fish tank filter and came out with a new fish tank filter - and Phineas. Jake named him after the title character on Phineas and Ferb, one of his favorite cartoons.

"But when are we going to get Ferb?" Jake asked.

As my sister said, "The 'ferb' is going to the hit the fan" when Bryon comes home from a camping trip and realizes I've added another member to our already large, patchwork family.

Abby loves the new kitty. Imagine every "little girl meets kitten" cliche and I've seen it played out in the past 24 hours. She has swaddled the kitty, tried to bottle feed him, carried him around like a sack of potatoes. Very soon I expect to see him in a pink dress and hat.

Jake also loves the kitty, but he was a little disillusioned when he realized the kitty loves everyone else too.

Tag the Dog was the first to run and greet the kitten, and he was rewarded with a swipe to the nose. He has kept his distance, but every once in awhile he flashes me that, "You've GOT to be kidding" look.

As you may know it has taken about one year for Black Cat and Felix, our other two cats, to get used to Tag the Dog. While neither of them rushed over and hugged the new addition, they haven't packed their bags either.

And then there's me who loves the little guy and how portable and affectionate and loyal he is. But, if I've learned anything (and apparently I haven't or I wouldn't have adopted the cat), it's that no good deed goes unpunished.

Blame It On the Rain

I'm not sure why, but this has been a crazy week for us. And by crazy, I don't mean the fun, zany Barnum & Bailey type crazy. I mean rabid, bipolar dog with PMS whose boyfriend broke up with her on Valentine's Day crazy. Since Monday we have been on a rollercoaster of temper tantrums, crying jags and timeouts that has me really looking forward to the weekend. Even Abby - dear, sweet Abby - has contributed now that she realizes Rice Krispies is not one of the five food groups.

Last night was the apex of the week when Sam was crying because his two front teeth wouldn't let him eat corn on the cob. Jake was crying because well, it's Jake. And Abby was upset about the aforementioned Rice Krispies. We solved Sam's problem by shaving the corn off the cob. We solved Abby's problem by putting her in the tub. (Like a lot of us, many of Abby's ills are cured with a nice soak.) But Jake wasn't having it. From 7-9 we chased, chided, pleaded and disciplined. After a couple of hours, when he finally calmed down, I asked him what had him so upset.

Turns out, it's the tornadoes. Yes, thanks to the Wizard of Oz or Coraline or an emergency drill at school, Jake is worried about the tornadoes. And where we'll go when one comes. And what will happen to Bryon and me. And, thanks to Sam, what will happen to Jake when he gets sucked up into a tornado because that's what happens, you know.

I tried to assure Jake that we would be warned if a tornado was coming and we would make him safe. And that we have an awesome tornado house because of a large closet smack in the middle of the house. We would get the cats and the dog and the family and we would hunker down in that closet until the tornado was gone. And he would be safe.

Now I don't think ultimately it's really the tornadoes. But I do think it's akin to Bryon asking me why I'm so stressed and my response being, "the economy, President Obama, spring break, the dog, our garage, my teeth, my gray hair, health insurance, Haiti."

And ... tornadoes.

What a Girl Wants

In fifth grade my "boyfriend" gave me a heart-shaped pendant necklace for Valentine's Day. I was so embarrassed that I had to open it alone in the girl's bathroom. (Maybe that jump started my lifelong gawkiness with jewelry.) I'm sure his mom picked it out at the local SuperRX, and he was probably as mortified to give it to me as I was to get it. I don't think he was my boyfriend after that.

So I had to laugh the other day when Sam asked me what he should get his girlfriend for Valentine's Day. He then informed me, matter of factly, that Mia has been his girlfriend for two years. I knew they were friends, and I actually have teased him about her - the way they giggle and wave at each other - but boyfriend and girlfriend. Hmm.

So now I'm the perplexed mom at SuperRX (Target in my case) trying to figure out what would be appropriate for an 8-year-old girl.

I settled on three things - not that he'll give her all three - but I thought he could pick. Since they've been dating for one quarter of their lives, he should know her well.

First, you can't go wrong with a heart-shaped box of candy - except in public school where they don't allow candy. Second, a sweet little bird notebook and matching pencils. Third, a little flowery, hippy coin purse. I don't care which one he picks. Heck, I'd eat the chocolate, carry the coin purse or use the notebook for grocery lists.

My only hope is she doesn't open it alone in the girl's bathroom.

PDA

All my kids have gone through clingy stages. Off and on for 8 years our morning drop offs have included crying, outstretched arms, heartbreaking wails. But what's different about Abby, right now anyway, is that she is very attached to me all the time. She wants to sit in my lap, touch my cheek, intertwine arms and legs. In most cases, if she and I are in the same room, we are attached.

Jake is affectionate too, but mostly when someone else wants to be. He is happy sitting in my lap because it means no one else is.

Dining has become quite an exercise because we have to find ways that I can sit next to both Jake and Abby without Jake and Abby sitting near each other. This morning we 'solved' the problem by letting Abby sit on my lap facing me and Jake sitting on my lap, back to back with Abby. All the while Abby was eating Rice Krispies, Jake was eating pancakes and I was trying to sip tea.

Sam was visibly bothered by the whole endeavor.

"I don't even get to sit NEXT to you," Sam complained.

By lunch he was whistling a different tune however.

At lunch I had to return two school library books that were woefully overdue. I promised Jake I would stop in and see him. By the time we visited, returned the library books and re-joined his friends for recess, Sam was eating his lunch. I stopped to talk to him, deep in boy conversation with three of his friends, and although he was courteous to me, he was distracted by his friends. After a couple of minutes I told him I was going to leave.

"OK, bye," he said, mindlessly waving me off.

I got down close to his face and mussed his hair. "Oh come on Sam. Don't you want a hug and a moochie?" I asked him. (Moochie is Abby's nickname for a kiss.)

"Uh, no," he said. And although I laughed it off, I know the day is coming when he won't want moochies. He won't want me to even SAY the word moochie. And that's probably when I'll want them the most.

The Tooth Is Out There

Although Sam is 8, he has only lost one tooth. Well, two as of this weekend. The first one came out quite unexpectedly during some roughhousing with a friend. We never found that tooth.

But this second one, one of his incisors I think, had been loose for some time. So loose, in fact, that we made up a new Tooth Fairy rule. Several weeks ago, we told Sam that we heard a front tooth was worth $20 to the Tooth Fairy, but from that day on, the value went down one dollar per day, and if the tooth didn't come out soon - well, he'd owe the Tooth Fairy.

As last count, he owed more than $30.

But finally on Friday night, he admitted he'd had enough and he was up for anything (anything!) to get the tooth out. It was so loose it was hanging over the other incisor, almost at a 45-degree angle.

I admit I didn't participate. Although I can tolerate all sorts of snot, vomit and poop, loose teeth and the gummy, stringy, grisly wiggling that comes with them grosses me out.



They tried tweezers, pliers and good, old-fashioned tugging. In the end I'm not sure what finally freed the tooth. I heard a cheer from the bathroom and Sam came to show me the new gap and the extracted tooth. It looked awfully tiny outside his mouth.



In the end, the tooth fairy didn't charge Sam. In fact, she left him $4.

Perspective

Sam came home from school today with two frowns in his backpack - one on incomplete homework and the second on a note from one of his "specials" teachers who dismissed him from class because he was misbehaving. After my lecture about how important his "specials" classes are, I made him finish the incomplete homework.

"This is the worst day EVER!" he told me, clenching his teeth, dragging his feet.

"You want to hear worst day ever," I told him. "Then come here." I dragged him to my computer and pulled up cnn.com.

"This is Haiti. It is one of the poorest, most hopeless countries on Earth. The people who live there have next to nothing. Little food, little clean drinking water. Not much more than the clothes on their backs. And yesterday, there was an earthquake in Haiti. Tens of thousands of people died."

I clicked through a slideshow of photos, nothing too graphic, except for one, dozens of bodies in a makeshift morgue in the street.

"Are they sleeping in the streets?" Sam asked.

"No Sam. Those people are dead. So many people died they don't have anywhere to put the bodies."

And whether it was wise or not, I told him, "So Sam, the next time we think we've had a bad day because we burned dinner or we broke a toy, maybe we should think about these people. Because they had very little and now they have even less."

And it's true. Woe is me and my boring commute, my expensive health care, my dirty car or piles of laundry. One victim in the morgue photo was holding an infant. An infant. We look at the photos and cry and pray and make our donations and most of us (save those in 9/11 or Katrina) have not lost our families, our churches, our schools, our infrastructure.

I pray we never do. And I pray that the money and aid Haiti is receiving will make a difference.

Breathing Lessons

I know a lot of people who are paying more for health care this year. I won't pretend to know the solution to the health care pickle this country is in. I couldn't even begin to tell you what my opinion is. But after yesterday I'm certain the system needs a reboot.

You see, Jake has asthma. Even though my sister has asthma, I didn't know much about asthma until Jake had an attack that required hospitalization last year. Turns out, his asthma is often prompted by a virus. You get a stomach virus and get diarrhea. He gets a stomach virus and gets diarrhea ... and asthma.

Yesterday Jake's school nurse called to tell me he had a fever and needed to go home. I called the doctor because I needed to know if his fever indicated an infection (hence antibiotics) or a virus (hence, a possible asthma attack). I won't go into the diagnosis. In non-medical terms, it happened to be one part infection, one part asthma. So once again, the doctor prescribed Xopenex breathing treatments several times a day and an antibiotic. For good measure, he prescribed a skin cream for a bad case of eczema.

So, next stop, the pharmacy. Our pharmacy is notoriously slow. Painfully so. But this time, when it was taking longer than usual, I suspected the cause might be my new insurance. And it was. Turns out, my insurance won't cover the breathing treatments. That means $500 out of pocket, if I NEED the breathing treatments. Because, well, breathing is optional, I guess. There's a generic brand of breathing, I suppose. But the skin cream, that's covered. Can't have itchy skin.

I understand all the subtleties that went into this. I'm being sarcastic to make a point. But if this is what I get with decent health care, God help those who have no coverage. And I do mean God help them. I'm not sure anyone else is.

In the end I called the doctor, asked if we could use a different inhalation solution that we happened to have extras of at home and he said yes.

So Jakey and I are home today. Taking breathing treatments, playing Battle and watching a lot of Star Wars. A pretty good day, even if you are sick.

My Sweet and My Sweet Tooth

For Abby's birthday I bought those oh-so-convenient, individually sized ice creams so everyone could have their favorite flavor. Chocolate for Bryon and Jake. Strawberry for Abby. Sam and I share a love for Mint Chocolate Chip (and Cookie Dough and Cookies & Cream but that is a different story). There was one left over so tonight while he took his bath, I sat on a stool next to the tub and shared it with him.

It was a nice quiet moment, the two of us sharing ice cream, talking about his latest loose tooth, giggling about hiding the ice cream from Dad and Abby.

"Remember those mint cookies I made at Christmas?" I asked him. (I tried the Dallas Morning News' cookie contest winner this year and they were good - like Thin Mints but better.)

"What if you crushed those up in a bowl, covered them with Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, and then drizzled hot fudge over the top? Wouldn't that be good?"

He smiled and nodded. "I think that would be paradise," he said.

You'll Never Know Dear

Thanks to our family and friends Abby now has a kitchen well stocked enough to start her own bakery and rival Starbucks. Her favorite past time is serving cookies, cupcakes and coffee - to me, her dad, her brothers, Felix the Cat, Tag the Dog, her dolls, anyone who will partake.

Although she wasn't convinced it was her birthday - I think she thought Christmas was her birthday - she said she enjoyed her day. An early morning grocery run where we bought a stuffed monkey that sings Happy Birthday, a lazy afternoon nap with me, spaghetti and meatballs, presents and cake. Strawberry cake, strawberry ice cream. Cake so sweet it tasted like crunch berries.


Notice the spaghetti in her hair. And on her face. And her dress.

So Abby, here is where I try to convey how much I love you. I'm amazed at how sweet and tender you are, how you wake up in a good mood every day with a smile on your face. I'm tickled by how girly you are and how maternal you try to be with your babies. I love how I'd rather have a conversation with you than most any adult and how your sweet spirit pulls me through my days. I cherish this time we have - the hugging, the face pats, the cuddling, the playtime. Last night when I was putting on your pajamas you told me "I love your hands," and you made me cry. This morning at breakfast, you told me "I love you love you love you." Right back at you, baby. You are indeed my sunshine.

Cold

Clearly Old Man Winter dislikes us as much as we dislike him. So far, in just over 24 hours, he has broken my car windshield, flattened Bryon's tire and frozen our hot water heater. (Nothing like a cold shower on a cold winter's morning.)

Accidentally On Purpose

You know that John Lennon song that says "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans."? While I completely agree, I would also add that life is what happens to you when those plans don't pan out.

As I write this I'm sitting in bed with Abby while she watches Olivia. I'm not sure our bedtime ritual would get the American Academy of Pediatrics stamp of approval, but it works nicely for us and has evolved to become my favorite part of the day.

You see, we tried every recognized and regarded technique for getting Sam and Jake to bed when they were toddlers. Sam would stay in his bed, but he wanted you to lie on the floor next to him. And then he'd sleep with one eye open to make sure you didn't leave. Jake just wouldn't stay in his bed. By the time we needed to establish a good bedtime routine with Abby, suffice it to say we were too tired and too defeated.

But what we have come up with accomplishes three important things. First, it gets Abby in bed at a reasonable time. Second, it allows us to spend some quality, quiet time together. And lastly, it indulges one of my favorite pastimes, lounging in bed. We watch TV, we snuggle, we read. And eventually she turns to me and says "Goodnight Mom" and voluntarily turns over on her tummy or crawls onto my chest and goes to sleep. I get to hold her, quiet and heavy and still.

Despite all our early issues getting Sam and Jake to bed, they go to bed easily now. A book, a kiss, a hug and a tuck in is all it takes. Some day soon it will be the same for Abby.

Not too soon I hope.

Keeping Up With the Resolutions

I'm working on two of my resolutions. First, writing more. To do that I am vowing to post every day this month.

Secondly, I made this torte last night. And while I am proud to say my torte looked just like this, my photo did not.

But back to the torte ... Sunday afternoon I was reading Pinkalicious to Abby before her nap. And much like the little girl in the book, Abby wanted cupcakes. Pink cupcakes. Now. So I promised her I would make (buy) pink cupcakes while she napped. Her nap didn't last long enough, however. So yesterday I made the cake. When Bryon picked her up at daycare he told her there was a cake at home for her.

The first thing she did was run to the fridge, fling it open and stand on her tiptoes to see the cake. Even if it wouldn't have been good, her compliment would've made it worth my time. "WOW!" was all she said.

That said, it was AWESOME. Really. One of the best things I've tasted. I started thinking how I could make it again in pink this weekend for her birthday, but I think it's the kind of thing you should only have once or twice a year.

So Saturday Abby will get her pink cupcakes.

The Dreaded Resolution

I would like to say I'm not making resolutions this year, but since the new year is a good time to take inventory, examine, adjust ... I am.

My resolution is more about a change of attitude that I hope will result in a change of lifestyle. I am resolving to live with more quality than quantity. I am hoping to cook, read books, play with kids, get fresh air, take pictures, write and pay attention. I want to fill my house with a little more compassion, a little more patience.

You know that softness, that touch that turns an impersonal house into a comfortable home. It's elusive, I think. But that, in a nutshell, is my resolution. And if I can capture it, I think 2010 will be a banner year.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like January

You know the line in the ubiquitous Christmas carol, "It's Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas" that goes "and mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again."?

I completely understand.

It's not that we haven't had a good vacation. Week one we celebrated Sam's 8th birthday. We baked, caroled, wassailed, trimmed the tree, played games, drank tea.

But somewhere around the day after the day after Christmas things started to crumble. Each morning started with promise - the kids woke, well rested, ruddy cheeked. Breakfast was leisurely and usually interrupted with a game of Uno. But just about the time breakfast was over, once everyone was fortified, the bickering began. It would start with something being thrown or someone shoved, followed by heated chases through the house that usually ended up with someone pinned on the couch. All the couch cushions would be removed. Voices were raised. Jumping began. Soon there would be a thud ... and a pause ... and then crying.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say I think we are all ready to get back to a routine. But ask me again in March.