Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Mommy's First Cut
This is what his hair looked like after he woke up every morning...
so mommy decided to cut his hair.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Gray Skies are Gonna...
Is it still January? I lose track these days, and I try to post at least once a week, but lately it's been gloomy and rainy around here and I need a certain amount of sunlight to keep from feeling glum.
It reminds me of the winter I spent in the Santa Cruz Redwood Rainforest during an "El Nino" year. I was in my second year of college and having to get up at 7 in the morning to hike over to an early organic chemistry class. That was depressing enough, but then having to do it in the cold rain didn't help. Everyday I'd hike to class under gray skies, as the winds howled, and the incessant rain pittered and patterred. I carried an umbrella, but it only served to keep my hair dry. The rest of me would sit in class soaking wet and shivering until it was time to walk through the rain again. Even when it did stop raining, the water would continuously trickle from the trees. You would think that would be enough to keep me awake during class, but apparently not. I was under a constant rain cloud.
I slipped into a mild seasonal depression. All I wanted to do everyday is just sleep. I slept in my dorm room, and I slept in class when I did manage to convince myself that I cared enough about passing my classes, and would brave the weather to do so. I spent most of those days asleep and/or wet, so we can safely say that I didn't fare well that quarter in school. It was a good thing the skies started to clear by spring quarter, because if they hadn't, I probably wouldn't have been there the next two years to finish school.
These days I am not getting up early to brave the weather to make it to class, but twice a week, I have to pull myself out of bed, get dressed, dress the older boy, diaper the younger one as I put him to bed in sweats, grab their snacks and lunches, maneuver our too-wide bike trailer through our gate without knocking the bike over onto myself, throw their lunches and snacks prepared the night before in the back, put a jacket on both boys, place their helmets on and my own, and then try to handle them with all their puffy layers to place them in the trailer while I try to manipulate the straps and clips with cold, numb fingers - all of this to get Big Brother to preschool. Once this is all done, I have to then pedal two miles up a steady incline that might as well be Mount Mckinley as my out of shape body can handle little exercise. The wind is of course howling against me and the drizzle gently misting my hair. I get to his preschool and get off the bike to find my legs feeling heavy and tingly all over. I must then proceed to remove all the straps and gear with my frozen claw-like hands. Once the older boy is all signed in, I must then convince the younger Bee that we will have equally as much fun at home than Big Brother will have at school, and then rehelmet and restrap him into the trailer. At least, it's all downhill from his school.
My mom laughs at me when I tell her about my biking adventures. She just chuckles and brings up her own version of walking ten miles through the snow and back story. Her story about how she waded thought the Rio Grande while she was 7 months pregnant with my brother and then almost got run over by a border patrol lady in her jeep who was the person responsible for stripping her of her passport in the first place on orders from my grandmother (dad's mom) who she was friends with. Or the time she walked three miles in the snow to get to work at 3 am because my father wouldn't be bothered to get up and give her a ride. I apparently did not inherent my mom's brave soul.
At least the skies have cleared temporarily, so I must go and soak up some sun while it lasts.
It reminds me of the winter I spent in the Santa Cruz Redwood Rainforest during an "El Nino" year. I was in my second year of college and having to get up at 7 in the morning to hike over to an early organic chemistry class. That was depressing enough, but then having to do it in the cold rain didn't help. Everyday I'd hike to class under gray skies, as the winds howled, and the incessant rain pittered and patterred. I carried an umbrella, but it only served to keep my hair dry. The rest of me would sit in class soaking wet and shivering until it was time to walk through the rain again. Even when it did stop raining, the water would continuously trickle from the trees. You would think that would be enough to keep me awake during class, but apparently not. I was under a constant rain cloud.
I slipped into a mild seasonal depression. All I wanted to do everyday is just sleep. I slept in my dorm room, and I slept in class when I did manage to convince myself that I cared enough about passing my classes, and would brave the weather to do so. I spent most of those days asleep and/or wet, so we can safely say that I didn't fare well that quarter in school. It was a good thing the skies started to clear by spring quarter, because if they hadn't, I probably wouldn't have been there the next two years to finish school.
These days I am not getting up early to brave the weather to make it to class, but twice a week, I have to pull myself out of bed, get dressed, dress the older boy, diaper the younger one as I put him to bed in sweats, grab their snacks and lunches, maneuver our too-wide bike trailer through our gate without knocking the bike over onto myself, throw their lunches and snacks prepared the night before in the back, put a jacket on both boys, place their helmets on and my own, and then try to handle them with all their puffy layers to place them in the trailer while I try to manipulate the straps and clips with cold, numb fingers - all of this to get Big Brother to preschool. Once this is all done, I have to then pedal two miles up a steady incline that might as well be Mount Mckinley as my out of shape body can handle little exercise. The wind is of course howling against me and the drizzle gently misting my hair. I get to his preschool and get off the bike to find my legs feeling heavy and tingly all over. I must then proceed to remove all the straps and gear with my frozen claw-like hands. Once the older boy is all signed in, I must then convince the younger Bee that we will have equally as much fun at home than Big Brother will have at school, and then rehelmet and restrap him into the trailer. At least, it's all downhill from his school.
My mom laughs at me when I tell her about my biking adventures. She just chuckles and brings up her own version of walking ten miles through the snow and back story. Her story about how she waded thought the Rio Grande while she was 7 months pregnant with my brother and then almost got run over by a border patrol lady in her jeep who was the person responsible for stripping her of her passport in the first place on orders from my grandmother (dad's mom) who she was friends with. Or the time she walked three miles in the snow to get to work at 3 am because my father wouldn't be bothered to get up and give her a ride. I apparently did not inherent my mom's brave soul.
At least the skies have cleared temporarily, so I must go and soak up some sun while it lasts.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Belated DeLurk
Yes. Yes. I know it was last week, but I tend to be late at most things these days. No, my AF arrived on time thankfully. I know you just needed to know that. I can only go so many years without any sleep ya know. I think I'm going on five years now if you include pregnancy, and the Bee informed me it will be much MUCH longer before he settles into a tolerable sleep schedule. Last night he decided to wake every hour or so. No he's not a newborn. He's 16 months old in fact.
So delurk already. Just say hello, but preferably tell me a bit about yourself. What's your name? Blog? Where did you find out about me?
Come on. Delurk. It would be good for my self-esteem.
Monday, January 14, 2008
The Poo Poo Iniot Tribe
The Dada and I have reason to believe Big Brother thinks we are part of the Poo Poo Iniot Tribe. Whenever he is irate that he is not getting all that his little heart desires, he frequently responds by reminding us we are "Poo Poo Iniots".
Who are the Poo Poo Iniots? Is it possible that Big Brother wandered into my many dusty anthropology books and discovered something about our ancestral heritage that I missed reading about while in college? Probably not. This kid knows his alphabet, but that's a far cry from actually being able to read college level books. Huh? Maybe he has us confused with some tribe he heard about on PBS. He does watch a lot of Reading Rainbow and I know for a fact Levar Burton has done an episode on the Taos Pueblo. Are the Poo Poo Iniots somehow related? Maybe he means the Poo Poo Inuits?
Or is it possible that Big Brother is just a BRAT with an uncontrollable potty mouth. I think maybe the last choice is the most plausible answer, but it would have been cool to be a part of some exotic tribe called the Poo Poo Iniots.
Oh well, on another note. I LOVE Four! Sooooooooo Much better than 2 and 3. The tantrums are less frequent, the kid more self sufficient, more calm, more teachable, sleep more continuous and afar, more independent and creative play, increased ability for rational thought, more patient, more responsible, more cautious, and the things he says and does are just plain funny. So when four isn't spewing out naughty nonsense phrases, having some kind of meltdown, or ignoring my request to clean up or behave, he is quite tolerable. Now, if we could somehow get the Bee to skip all the wonders that are 2 and 3 and jump right into four we'd be in business.
Who are the Poo Poo Iniots? Is it possible that Big Brother wandered into my many dusty anthropology books and discovered something about our ancestral heritage that I missed reading about while in college? Probably not. This kid knows his alphabet, but that's a far cry from actually being able to read college level books. Huh? Maybe he has us confused with some tribe he heard about on PBS. He does watch a lot of Reading Rainbow and I know for a fact Levar Burton has done an episode on the Taos Pueblo. Are the Poo Poo Iniots somehow related? Maybe he means the Poo Poo Inuits?
Or is it possible that Big Brother is just a BRAT with an uncontrollable potty mouth. I think maybe the last choice is the most plausible answer, but it would have been cool to be a part of some exotic tribe called the Poo Poo Iniots.
Oh well, on another note. I LOVE Four! Sooooooooo Much better than 2 and 3. The tantrums are less frequent, the kid more self sufficient, more calm, more teachable, sleep more continuous and afar, more independent and creative play, increased ability for rational thought, more patient, more responsible, more cautious, and the things he says and does are just plain funny. So when four isn't spewing out naughty nonsense phrases, having some kind of meltdown, or ignoring my request to clean up or behave, he is quite tolerable. Now, if we could somehow get the Bee to skip all the wonders that are 2 and 3 and jump right into four we'd be in business.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
ER, CT Scans, and X-mas Eve
The E.R. - is there any better place to be on Christmas Eve? Sure it's very sterile, sure there are bunch of sick people, and sure there are plenty of things little boys like the Bee should not touch, but when you are looking for a place to go on Christmas Eve you should try your local medical center.
We opted for the more kid friendly version and went to the the brand new children's medical center here in Central Texas complete with playgrounds, family room housing dvds, books, and computers for all to use, multiple courtyards with wonderful water features, volunteers who on X-mas Eve are just looking for any excuse to give your kid a gift whether they are ill or not, ball machines, and other high tech devices like child friendly CT scans. So we thought while we were there with Big Brother who the previous night was up puking his brains out from a possible blow to the head with a wooden block courtesy of the Bee that we would try the much raved about open CT Scan.
We endured all the waiting that comes with all emergency room visits, all the yelling to the non-ill children not to touch anything because you don't want to break anything since this visit is already going to cost you a zillion bucks, and you don't want to acquire any new germs that will prompt you back to pay even more money you don't have.
Our visit went something like this
Sign in.
Wait. Yell at the Bee not to touch anything especially the toilet in the sooo conveniently placed bathrooms.
Wait. Listen to Big Brother whine that he wants juice, because juice must always be purchased wherever there is juice to be bought even if one is not really intending to drink it.
Wait. Visit with triage nurse. Explain puking and it's possible link to Bee's fit of rage. Yell at the Bee not to touch EVERYTHING.
Wait. Remove Bee from waiting room and explore the hospital because we are just such awful parents for not letting him play with the toilet seat.
Wait. Big Brother is sent to his posh ER room complete with an LCD TV with endless kid stations, his own private bathroom, reclinable and portable bed, and many other medical life saving devices and a trash can that would provide countless of hours of playtime fun for the Bee.
Wait. Sleeping Big Brother get transported for his scan where he eventually wakes up and manges a big grin for the picture the technician kept saying he was getting. Big brother gets two stuffed toy cows from chick fillet for being so cooperative.
Wait. Big Brother keeps asking when he will be getting his pictures.
Wait. Doctor comes in and visits, saying scan is okay and gives brother anti-puking drugs.
Big Brother pukes. Nurse comes in, and later brings Doc in to witness the aftermath of Big Brother's puking powers. Doc suggest IV.
Wait....
Nurse comes in to place IV with a helper and her countless of supposed distraction toys.
Boy is not distracted. Boy screams as the IV is being placed. Volunteer walks in with crayons and coloring books boy can't use because he has an IV placed in the hand he writes with. Boy Screams about this. Nurse brings in a blue stuffed animal.
Wait. Wait. Wait. Distract Bee. Bee naps. Bee wants to play with puke bucket and trash. Remove Bee from room and explore some more. Bee eats lunch. Mommy eats lunch. Bee naps. Wait.......................
Eventually, after two doses of IV fluids, four hours without any puking events, two more stuffed animals including a psychedilic frog, a toy motorcycle, a hospital bill and deductible we'd rather pay later, and an overly cranky Bee, we went home. If that is not what you call fun, I don't know what is. Maybe next year we'll try some place more fun like the fire station or something.
We opted for the more kid friendly version and went to the the brand new children's medical center here in Central Texas complete with playgrounds, family room housing dvds, books, and computers for all to use, multiple courtyards with wonderful water features, volunteers who on X-mas Eve are just looking for any excuse to give your kid a gift whether they are ill or not, ball machines, and other high tech devices like child friendly CT scans. So we thought while we were there with Big Brother who the previous night was up puking his brains out from a possible blow to the head with a wooden block courtesy of the Bee that we would try the much raved about open CT Scan.
We endured all the waiting that comes with all emergency room visits, all the yelling to the non-ill children not to touch anything because you don't want to break anything since this visit is already going to cost you a zillion bucks, and you don't want to acquire any new germs that will prompt you back to pay even more money you don't have.
Our visit went something like this
Sign in.
Wait. Yell at the Bee not to touch anything especially the toilet in the sooo conveniently placed bathrooms.
Wait. Listen to Big Brother whine that he wants juice, because juice must always be purchased wherever there is juice to be bought even if one is not really intending to drink it.
Wait. Visit with triage nurse. Explain puking and it's possible link to Bee's fit of rage. Yell at the Bee not to touch EVERYTHING.
Wait. Remove Bee from waiting room and explore the hospital because we are just such awful parents for not letting him play with the toilet seat.
Wait. Big Brother is sent to his posh ER room complete with an LCD TV with endless kid stations, his own private bathroom, reclinable and portable bed, and many other medical life saving devices and a trash can that would provide countless of hours of playtime fun for the Bee.
Wait. Sleeping Big Brother get transported for his scan where he eventually wakes up and manges a big grin for the picture the technician kept saying he was getting. Big brother gets two stuffed toy cows from chick fillet for being so cooperative.
Wait. Big Brother keeps asking when he will be getting his pictures.
Wait. Doctor comes in and visits, saying scan is okay and gives brother anti-puking drugs.
Big Brother pukes. Nurse comes in, and later brings Doc in to witness the aftermath of Big Brother's puking powers. Doc suggest IV.
Wait....
Nurse comes in to place IV with a helper and her countless of supposed distraction toys.
Boy is not distracted. Boy screams as the IV is being placed. Volunteer walks in with crayons and coloring books boy can't use because he has an IV placed in the hand he writes with. Boy Screams about this. Nurse brings in a blue stuffed animal.
Wait. Wait. Wait. Distract Bee. Bee naps. Bee wants to play with puke bucket and trash. Remove Bee from room and explore some more. Bee eats lunch. Mommy eats lunch. Bee naps. Wait.......................
Eventually, after two doses of IV fluids, four hours without any puking events, two more stuffed animals including a psychedilic frog, a toy motorcycle, a hospital bill and deductible we'd rather pay later, and an overly cranky Bee, we went home. If that is not what you call fun, I don't know what is. Maybe next year we'll try some place more fun like the fire station or something.
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