Ramona, Willa, the blanket, and a little panic attack

Willa and I have been sailing through the Ramona books at night. We're on the third book now. The one that Ramona's mom gets a job and Beezus says, "now you get to be liberated!" and Mrs. Quimby smirks. Willa and I love Ramona and her antics. She can't wait to find out what happens next, and I can't wait to be reminded.

We were reading tonight when Jim came up to make sure I hadn't fallen asleep. It had been a particularly long (and exciting chapter - Ramona had to apologize to Susan with the boing curls for smashing her owl) and Willa's room is my favorite in the house.

So cozy.*

Anyhow, the night before Jim had given Willa an additional blanket for her bed. It happened to be the afghan that my dad had a woman make for me. It was a present for my high school graduation and had the Grand Valley logo stitched into it.

And our dogs have taken to sleeping with Willa at night. On the bed. I don't mind them sleeping with her, but dude... not on that special blanket.

So, Jim switched it for me while I was lying next to Willa in her bed - right before the Quimby's returned from Parents Night at school. He tucked us in and kissed both of our foreheads and left.

She asked why that blanket was special to me. I told her that my dad had it made for me before I moved out of their house when I was 18. That number caught in my throat. I looked at her with wide eyes. She's four. I have 14 more years. Phew... Wait! She's four and a half! Ohmygosh, she's practically gone!

I pulled her closer, kissed her forehead, and continued the rest of the chapter, getting some deep breaths in between paragraphs.

*Cozy can be yours... house on the market for 2 months. No buyer interest at all. Not worried. More later.

Family retreatlet.

November has already been a "hang onto your hat, and keep your arms in the car at all times" kind of month.
Jim is finishing his last class for his degree. On top of that, he's also completing his thesis. This means he'll be absolutely. completely. done with his Master's degree by Christmas. Ye-haw! The thesis is very time consuming. Even when he's able to spend some time away from it, his head can't quite give up a dedicated percentage. So, well... a teeny bit of strife.
We will all be very glad when he's finished. And that's not even touching on the parade throwing aspect of how awesome Jim is for getting an advanced degree.
To lessen the impact of time away, Jim brought us all with him when he had meetings in Traverse City earlier this week. We were gone all of 20 hours, but it was so nice to be away from the house. To swim with the kids. To watch them enjoy waffles with cherries and whipped cream. To not have to do the dishes from that meal. Best of all for me was the ninety minutes that Jim and I got to really talk to each other in the car while the kids slept.
But a close second was a moment in the pool.
Henry was standing at the top step, splashing the water.
"No splashing, please Henry," Jim said.
"I not splash! I am trying to get the water off of this step!"
He spent a few minutes picking water up with his hands (with great care and sincerity), pivoting, and dropping it behind him.

His self-appointed chore is a great metaphor for how our November is. I'm trying to focus on enjoying the beauty in the chaos over trying to control it.

Halloweenies

My mom made Henry's lion costume, isn't it great?!

I made Willa's parrot costume. Dear 2011 Jim: please don't forget our pact that you'll take me directly to a store if you see me heading to the sewing machine.

Fifth Year

Five years ago, Jim and I promised each other - in front of friends and family and God and everyone - to love each other forever. To celebrate each other, and encourage each other, and just be...
And since then, there's been nothing but big ole hearts dancing in our eyes. This one goes out to you, sweetie.

defines precocious

Henry and I were hanging out, and making small talk at the Meijer Gardens turtle tank earlier this week.
"I think he poked his head outta his shell. He wants to see us, mama?"
A volunteer came out of one of the classrooms to talk to him.
"Hi, sweet little boy. Are you here to see the turtles?"
He rolled his eyes and gave her the teeniest of nods.
"How old are you?"
He laid down on his belly on the step in front of the tank.
"What's your name?"
He covered his eyes.
"Are you shy, sweetie?"
"No," he replied, "I. don't. want. to. talk. to. you."

I blushed.

Fall Photos

Jim took these today. Great photos, sweetie.

Feeling a little teeny bit guilty for sharing the last post. Even though he's still laughing.

Night and Day

I'm in the kitchen, frosting the cakes for today's co-birthday party for Henry and his cousin, Kenzie. I'm listening to my James Brown channel on Pandora* and Ray Charles' "Night Time is the Right Time" comes up.
Jim is in the living room, wrapping Kenzie's present, and singing along. The "BABY" part of the song happens and my darling husband says, "is that little Michael Jackson you're listening to?"
Pals, Jim is normally very musically astute,** so my eyebrows flew up and then right past my hairline. "WHAT?!"
He repeated his question.
"No, dude. The "BABY" woman was the one Ray was sleeping with in the movie, remember?"
And then said, "huh, I thought I saw Michael Jackson do that on tv once with Ray Charles."
"Uh... I think you're thinking of Rudy Huxtable."
Yup, he sure was.
We're still laughing.
Just because it's an awesome moment in my television history memory, go ahead and take 2 minutes to watch Rudy and the Huxtables .

*Pandora, an internet based "do-it-yourself" music site. Totally cool.
** Except for once when we were dating and he quoted the Paul Simon lyric as, "she brushed her hair back, and farted."

Two years old

I call him Buddy and Righty and little Fella. Yesterday I called him the birthday boy.

It is such a joy to spend my days with Henry. He is such a joyful child. Everything is "awesome" or "beautiful" or "great!!" He tells jokes and loves dance parties at home. He loves singing along with Van Morrison when he sings "Domino." He counts to 23, and is quite happy surrounded by a stack of books (the Harold and the Purple Crayon books and Frog and Toad are his favorites right now). He has a temper but (lately) is willing to let us talk him down. He remembers everything, and calls the kid in his church nursery "Uncle Sam." He is a marvel.

He loves his dogs, and his sister, and his daddy.

It's been a strange year for me: not working, looking for a job, and making the most of the time I have with the kids right now. Spending that year with Henry has been a gift to me. I haven't figured out if he's my sidekick or if I'm his...

ps - note the blue guitar birthday cake: his request and the green drum set behind it.

hot and cold

Most sinks these days have one faucet. Water pressure and temperature is controlled by knobs, or a lever, or motion detection magic, but it all comes out of the same faucet.

I don't know if most sinks in the "olden days" were made like this, or if there was just one really dumb sink manufacturer a long time ago, but there are some sinks with both hot and cold knobs. And separate faucets too. Got that? Here's a visual for you:



I've found myself at one of these sinks before. I stood before it, befuddled. "How can I comfortably wash my hands here?!" Because "hot" is melt-my-skin-hot, and "cold" is ice-cubes-in-my-bloodstream cold. I kind of moved my soapy hands all over the place, sending my nervous system into input overload.

Living with a (near) two year old is much like this experience. There is no middle ground; there is no ability to mix hot and cold. The extreme nature of the two year old takes the sink metaphor and knocks it off of the wall, creating high pressured jets of water, aimed right at your face. And, yup, you've called the emergency plumber, but he can only seem to get one stream turned off at a time, and he can't help which one:
" You're the best mama. Ever." said with fluttery eyelashes, a smile, and a hug.
OR
"I do NOT love you anymore," screamed at ear piercing volume and pitch.


... and can you live like this for oh, say... 6 or so months? Or maybe a few more years?



Thanks to Maribeth and Mia for inspiring this post. Ms. Mia just turned 2 yesterday, and her mom shared a honest and sweet little testimony of Mia's personality that got me thinking about this. Thanks also to my own crazy sink. And thanks to Microsoft Paint for allowing me to encourage the graphic artist in me.

I am you...

Late Night hosts, editorials, and media outlets are having fun with Christine O'Donnell. And yes! This TV ad is odd. Um... really odd. "I'm not a witch, and no one is perfect" doesn't seem like a really winning campaign slogan, does it?
It seems that this isn't a relevant point to make in O'Donnell's case, but, Wicca is a religion, and I'm pretty sure part of the Rules of America is that people can practice whatever dang nab religion they wish. You know... if she were in fact a witch.
O'Donnell, it seems, has lost the Wiccan vote. Look at this. (Damned if you witch, damnded if you don't, eh, Christine?).
In the end, I hope O'Donnell is just a footnote is political campaign weirdness. Because I don't want our Country to have a Senator who doesn't pay her taxes, and threatens women's rights and advancement in science and medicine. O'Donnell swears she'll follow the Constitution and not her beliefs, if elected. Hm.
Also, I'd like someone who can talk for 30 seconds and make sense. I'm not a witch... I'm you. Haven't we hand enough of the wink, smile politicians?

Spiders and oranges

This was our craft o' the week at Camp Sinki. Thanks JoAnn Fabrics for the 40% off kit. The finished spiders are cute, and the kids love 'em.

This is very locally grown produce. My little orange tree is in production mode. The orange is the size of ornamental orange sized hail. Actually, the only thing I can think of is that it's the size of an eyeball. But that's not very appealing. Oh no! That was an unintended pun, but I'm leaving it.

Escape from the crib

Henry has learned how to climb out of his crib.
This has little impact on us at night or in the morning. He goes down for the night just fine, and doesn't get out of bed until he wakes up for the morning.
But naptime - the time that used to be the hour or sometimes 3 hours that I could count on for some quieter time - doesn't exist right now. Yesterday I scooped him and and put him in his bed approximately 482 times. It lasted 90 minutes. As a last resort, I spanked him (I am not a spanker, and was affirmed in this belief when after I spanked, he looked at me and hit me back. I had it coming). I tried snuggling, I tried firmness, I tried ignoring. There was some yelling....
Finally, he spent some quite time in mom and dad's bed watching Bear in the Big Blue house.
In the meantime, Willa was waiting for some quality mom time. I promised her I would play princesses with her after Henry was asleep. We never played.
Today we were on track for a repeat when I chose to not let it get to me. Instead, after 20 minutes, I closed his door and put both of our baby gates up on his door, one stacked on top of the other. I had essentially created a non-opening screen door for him. And then I went to do dishes.
After he played on the floor for about 10 minutes, I heard him open his door. He yelled, "NOOOOOOOOO!"
I stood at the sink giggling. Victory(ish).
He stayed in his room quietly, and I got some chores done.
I'm hoping the excitement of his new trick wears off soon, and he's back to his nap.

The end.

Sad to see the end.
Of summer.

4.5 year old humor

Willa: Mom, where's Greta?
Me: Uh... I think she was tired of you and Henry yelling at each other, and she ran away.
Willa: [eye roll. sigh. pause] I think I'll go look for her upstairs.

10 minutes later...
Willa: Mom? Did we get a new dog?
Me: What?! No.
Willa: Come look.
Greta is laying on the floor in the living room, asleep.
Willa: Is that our new dog?
Me: huh?
Willa: You said old Greta ran away, and there's a new dog. This... [arm flourish] is new Greta.

5 minutes later...
Willa: Mom, I think we're going to call new Greta "GretB"
Me: sigh, was that Dad's idea?
Jim: cackling

She carried this on for so long with with such sincerity, I had to ask her if she knew we were just kidding. She giggled and said, "of course."

Lesson learned

Hm... so, Jim read my last blog entry over my shoulder soon after I wrote it, and he chuckled and said I was taunting fate. I rolled my eyes.

The next day I was at the doctors with an UTI. I do not get those. Ever. No problem (except the OWOWOWOWOW. OW.), I left the office with a prescription in hand, and several before class. I took the first dose just before class, and felt relief before the (awesome, exciting, informative) class was done. But what's with all the sneezes?

By the time I got home, I was in full-on cold mode, and my stomach was all goofy.

Keeping score?

Urinary Tract Infection
Cold
Probable reaction to the medicine to clear up the UTI
Midterm the next morning

Jim was right.

But the next morning Jim, the kids and I all woke up before the sun. I helped them get ready to go to a Special Olympics soccer tournament for the morning, and then got ready myself. I went to class. I was the boss of that midterm. And then I came home and slept for many, many hours.

... and I shall receive

Ha, ha, ha... oh universe... you crafty, wacky lil' thing...

So, yesterday's post was a confession of anxiety. I recorded it here so that in three years when I'm done and have a masters and a license, I can come back here and read how I was feeling right at the start. I was nervous and scared and very much in love with the idea of starting this. Hi 2013 Amy: Good job. Hi 7 and 5 year old kids (woah...) thanks for your patience. Hi supportive, encouraging, super awesome Jim: thanks for being a partner in all of the chaos.

Anyhow today Willa was at preschool, Henry was taking his nap. I had just finished the textbook chapter on Carl Jung, and the phone rang. I then had a very exciting 30 minute phone interview for a job that was pretty much invented for me. Just when I was wrapping up, Henry woke up (very happy), and it was time to pick Willa up from school.

I've got this handled.

Back to School

Two weeks ago, I was worried.
How was I going to handle going back to school? Would it be too much stress on the family? How was I going to read a textbook that was out of print and didn't seem to really exist in the universe?
And then a friend who had this very class from the same professor lent me her book (thanks again and again, Lisa).
And then - how the heck am I going to read the assigned 12 chapters before class (in 2 days)?! And then, oh. my. gosh. how I am even going to get through this one page of this somewhat dry textbook?
Two Fridays ago, I was home with the kids. It was a beautiful day. They were full of energy, and wanted to DO SOMETHING. But I had this assignment... So, I set up painting on their picnic table on the front porch and slogged through the reading, but it seemed like they "needed" me more than usual.
I was nearly in tears. How was I going to balance home and school. And - work?! Someday I'll get a job again - how was that going to work? Suddenly I felt like I was reading a textbook from my undergraduate classes about modern women who spread themselves too thin. And then I did cry a little, but laughed too.

Then I went to class.

I'm pretty sure I love it.

Because of the difficulty of obtaining the book, nearly no one had read the assignment. Many students, including me, emailed the prof ahead of time to let him know, and he adjusted his plan for class accordingly.

It's going to be a lot to handle, but it's going to be worth it. In the future not all profs will assign 12 chapters before the class starts. And books will be easier to find. And they won't be so heavy on theory. And I can read while the kids are in the bath, and while Willa's at school and Henry's napping. When I'm back to work, I'll get lunch times. Jim gives me the extra time I need, though he's got a whopping plate too (friends, send him your "finishing your thesis" thoughts, please).

I can do this.

More importantly, I want to.

Up, and now back down

All four of us sat around a fire last night. Willa ate marshmallows. Henry played with marshmallows (hypothetical question: what's the best way to remove marshmallow from clothing?).
Jim and I caught each other eyes and smiled. There was something so serene and satisfying about watching the sycamore branches burn and offer us warmth (we needed it, it was a cold weekend up north!). It was even better to watch Henry and Willa becoming hypnotized by the flames.
Because of the cold and often wet weather, we did not do a lot of outdoor activity. But we played Memory, and cooked good meals, and read - alone and to each other. We took naps.
This afternoon, I was getting Henry down for a nap. I read him a story from our Frog and Toad anthology. He turned his back to me, backed up, snuggling in to me, and sighed. He reached up and pet my hair, and then fell asleep. Later, I woke up with our cheeks and foreheads touching, and our eyelashes intertwined (he's like his mama in eyelash length). I listened to him breathe, and watched the rain fall.
The weekend also included a small walk in the Hartwick Pines, and several jokes about how loud Willa snored on the drive up:
So loud that deer were frightened that a giant bear was coming for them.
So loud that airplanes had to land.
So loud that her body turned inside out.
So loud that whales in the bottom of the ocean thought their daddy was calling to them.

It was a lovely little getaway. The cold and rain made us all focus more on each other, rather than what else we could be doing. And I think we needed that.

Territories

When all television went from analog to digital, our digital TV sported channel 3.1 and channel 3. They were the same show, but one looked prettier and the other was about a 3 second delay. Which is annoying when scrolling through the channels. One sees the same scene twice, same dialog, same goofy expression, just a bit delayed.
Lately, Henry was been a parrot. He is the channel 3 to Willa's 3.1.
"I don't want to go home yet."
"I don't want to go home yet."
"Mom? Are we going home?"
"Mom? Are we going home?"
"Because - Henry! Cut it out! - because I don't want to."
"I don't want to."
Tonight they were setting forth their agenda of not going home while Jim had the car decidedly pointed to home.
"Too bad. You don't get a vote. We're going home."
"I getta zote, Mama?"
"Nope, you don't either, Henry. You guys are like Guam and Puerto Rico. We'll protect and defend you, we'll provide for you, we'll take care of you. But no votes."
"I vote we go somewhere that isn't home."
"Just for that, Willa, you're Guam."
"..... isn't home!"
"And you, buddy, are Puerto Rico."

The next four minutes of driving were the kids calling each other Dwawm.

day dreaming

So there's this house... I mentioned it a few posts back. It's an updated farm house, though it's still in city limits (but in a great school district). There's a pond wayyyy down the hill. There are abandoned apple trees to the east. There's a barn.
Jim could invite his band friends there to play in the band.
The lot is big enough that we could have a few hens.
Imagine the vegetable garden! And we could plant more fruit trees. It's on 2 acres.
The inside... yup, I could see us there.

But, it's a teeny bit more than what we'd like to pay, and even though it's updated, it would likely still need some extra time, attention, and money. So, I'm telling myself awful things about the place:

-the grass isn't actually plant material, it's little green spikes of lead.
-the fireplace is full of rabid raccoons.
-the pond has a zombie graveyard nearby
-the barn is full of vipers
-the house's well is full of poison and septic backs up every 8th of the month