I need a life-event narration conglomerator. If I could get a smart device to capture all the stories I recount by mouth, by text, by email, by Facebook status update, and by Blogger, and jam them all into one place, I'd be ecstatic. I want to include the boys' funnies, my favorite recipes and baby gadgets, our adventures and all other sorts of life bits. I'd love this to be my spot. I think. I'm mostly consumed by the thought: Will my boys care to know about themselves (and other parts of my life) some day, and where can they be assured to find this information?
I have them set up with emails that I send stories to, on occasion, so if they all have links to this, or perhaps an exported file of these ramblings, maybe that will work. Who knows where technology will be by then. Is this like saving them an 8-track mix tape? I love the feel and process of writing in paper journals, but they aren't searchable and heaven knows they would need to pay a cryptologist to decipher my handwriting.
This takes so much discipline and perseverance, and a compatible baby, who currently is enjoying a repetitive loop of nursing for 4 minutes, then playing for 2 minutes, before clawing back at me with his teary demands. Now I need to go write to the Facebook people for a log of all my posts that I can paste into this. Oh, that was a good laugh. I'll go find 'em myself.
It looks like I have another 2 minutes to scramble. Even Ian has figured out Elijah's favorite pastime. He observed: There goes Elijah looking for more paper to eat.
p.s. I will now go *grunkle into my new life-changing device. You do not know this, but I have the power of retro-inventing. I invent things in my mind and they appear as someone else's recent-past invention. I stomp my foot that I won't get paid for it, but move on to the pre-fabricated solution, resigned to the fact that I'd have been too lazy to figure out how to make it exist.
p.p.s. This particular instance of retro-inventing might involve the use of a time machine and a brain implant that has allowed me to download selective bits of memory and Oculartography and convert them into the 2010 HTML text version.
*You will have to search my blog for the meaning of this word, if it is not apparent.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Girls can't rock?
So, the story starts with me dancing to a song in the car. Ian says, "You're not a rock star, mom." I asked who, then, could be a rock star. He replied, "Boys are rock stars. Girls sing slow songs." As soon as I got home, I was set on shifting his cute little paradigm with some good ol' Joan Jett. See if you can catch his words at the end:
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Galoshes Have Other Uses Too.
Here is a comic strip that really nailed it and I have been giggling at it for a while now. It is Baby Blues from May 30, 2010.
This has been the story of most of the last 3.5 years of my life and counting. Elijah has entered the "acrobatic nursing" stage, now that he's big stuff and can crawl and is starting to cruise. He has 2 top teeth and is cutting a third on the top left. I think there are two cutting on the bottom, but it looks a little odd, so who knows what will show up. He's saying "Dada" and "Hi Dad" and has finally started saying "Mom," though I've been consoling myself with the fact that he often says "Da" from my arms, so, really, I win. I'm straining to find baby genius here, but he was making short "ha" sounds (as in hat), and he grabbed my hair and it changed to a long "ha," like "hair." If I work hard enough, I could probably decode a secret message in his floor pounding, too.
Isaac is enjoying another bout of teething too. Every now and then he pitifully whimpers, "I need mecine for my teef." Teething tablets are great! He is on the verge of being potty trained. I didn't think it was going to stick, but I stuck underwear on him again. If I had asked him if he wanted them, he would say no, but when I brought them to his feet, he stepped in without complaint. That was after leaving his diaper off for a few days and letting him watch lots of TV on his training potty. When he woke up with a start the other morning yelling, "I want big boy underwear on!!" in protest to his night time diaper, I figured we were getting somewhere. We've even ventured out with just our brave little undies on and only filled our rain boots with urine once. The training process has caused, of course, a bit of a fixation on all things potty, above what already existed. Isaac came into the living room and looked at his dump truck that had some mud on it and blared, "My truck has yucky poop on it! I can smell it!" He and Ian play the I'm Pee, You're Poop game and battle it out. Or, on evening walks, they squat every hundred feet or so blasting, "Toooooooot!"
Ian has been practicing defiant refusals, negotiations and fake crying. Sometimes he's baby dad to his little brothers, correcting their "dangerous" behaviors. Last night, he had asked for a bath, but ran off playing and when it was time to crawl in bed, he again asked Brian for a bath. Brian said no and had him lay back down in bed, igniting a grand fit from Ian. After wailing for a while, Ian recounted the situation, "I asked Dad for a bath and he said no, and I cried and cried and Dad pushed me on the bed and said bucket-dipping words and my feelings went down the bathtub drain." Boy, he can lay it on.
This has been the story of most of the last 3.5 years of my life and counting. Elijah has entered the "acrobatic nursing" stage, now that he's big stuff and can crawl and is starting to cruise. He has 2 top teeth and is cutting a third on the top left. I think there are two cutting on the bottom, but it looks a little odd, so who knows what will show up. He's saying "Dada" and "Hi Dad" and has finally started saying "Mom," though I've been consoling myself with the fact that he often says "Da" from my arms, so, really, I win. I'm straining to find baby genius here, but he was making short "ha" sounds (as in hat), and he grabbed my hair and it changed to a long "ha," like "hair." If I work hard enough, I could probably decode a secret message in his floor pounding, too.
Isaac is enjoying another bout of teething too. Every now and then he pitifully whimpers, "I need mecine for my teef." Teething tablets are great! He is on the verge of being potty trained. I didn't think it was going to stick, but I stuck underwear on him again. If I had asked him if he wanted them, he would say no, but when I brought them to his feet, he stepped in without complaint. That was after leaving his diaper off for a few days and letting him watch lots of TV on his training potty. When he woke up with a start the other morning yelling, "I want big boy underwear on!!" in protest to his night time diaper, I figured we were getting somewhere. We've even ventured out with just our brave little undies on and only filled our rain boots with urine once. The training process has caused, of course, a bit of a fixation on all things potty, above what already existed. Isaac came into the living room and looked at his dump truck that had some mud on it and blared, "My truck has yucky poop on it! I can smell it!" He and Ian play the I'm Pee, You're Poop game and battle it out. Or, on evening walks, they squat every hundred feet or so blasting, "Toooooooot!"
Ian has been practicing defiant refusals, negotiations and fake crying. Sometimes he's baby dad to his little brothers, correcting their "dangerous" behaviors. Last night, he had asked for a bath, but ran off playing and when it was time to crawl in bed, he again asked Brian for a bath. Brian said no and had him lay back down in bed, igniting a grand fit from Ian. After wailing for a while, Ian recounted the situation, "I asked Dad for a bath and he said no, and I cried and cried and Dad pushed me on the bed and said bucket-dipping words and my feelings went down the bathtub drain." Boy, he can lay it on.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Maybe if We Dropped a Megaton of Cheese
I've not been all that smooth myself. The first time we enjoyed a Greek Dinner at Mykonos, Brian's dad introduced me to their Sagnaki, or more specifically an appetizer of flaming, pan-seared cheese and tomato, doused with a squirt of lemon juice, to a cheer of "oooooooooOO-PA!" While awaiting our snack, I started pondering aloud how insensitive it seemed to set a dish on fire and name it after a tragic piece of history,when Brian interrupted with, "No, Amy, that was Nagasaki." The last mix up like that I can remember was when I was about 8 and thought people were constantly saying rude things about the elderly, when mom corrected me that the word I was thinking of was retarded, not retired. I also recall having an interesting moment, thinking people dipped rodents in fudge when I saw a recipe for Chocolate Mousse.
We had Greek for lunch again the other day and ever since then, Ian has celebrated various daily activities with shouts of, "ooooOOO-BAY!"
Yesterday, we set out to go to Fernbank, the museum of natural history. It all actually starts the night before, when I ensured that we had chosen a place to go and that it would be open on Labor Day. So, Brian wakes me up in the morning, we eat breakfast, and Brian claims he can do a quick project for his dad in about 3 minutes. Brian's Dad had stated that the two places he wanted to go for food while he was here were Thumbs Up and Flying Biscuit, so I planned that we would go there for lunch and dinner, respectively. After all sorts of bumbling, we ended up at a Mediterranean place for lunch. It was after 3 and at the end of the nearby Dragoncon and they had no pita, so they had gone out to buy hamburger buns(?!?!). Yes, why not pita? It seems there weren't many places open. By the time we finished, there was no reasonable amount of time to visit Fernbank, so we bumbled some more and went on a short quest to find Indian candy. When that didn't work, we headed for the Perimeter Mall.
On our way out of Nordstrom, a lady working there commented on Ian's boots. They ended up sitting on the floor trying to trade shoes. I was too busy admiring the scene to snap a shot of the good part.
Ultimately, we all agreed we had a good time, and I tried to be chilled about the absolute plan fail. Brian's dad made a comment about how sometimes we can over-plan and I sarcastically replied something along the lines of, "Yeah, like picking ONE place to go." The Cheesecake Factory dinner made it all better.
I've started trying to be very anal about putting things where they belong, and our counter in particular. We have a tendency to pile up a mountain of objects on it. Every night, particularly if Brian works the next day, I try to do a last-minute pick-up on the way to bed. I passed the counter and saw a pile of quarters. As I was taking them to the change dish, I noticed there were some state design quarters I didn't have in my collection book. My bedraggled Brian comes in and sees me hunched over my collection and nearly has a Zebu. I don't know why, but around 8 or 9 p.m., no matter how tired I am, I get a house-cleaning, project-starting buzz. It drives him crazy.
I need to formulate a new workout plan. I get an awful, Pavlovian response to taking the kids to the gym, because I know Elijah cries in child care until he's hot and puffy, and I can't do that anymore. It takes twice as long for Brian and I to switch off with the kids, so maybe I can put my membership on vacation hold or something. Or maybe I'll try a few more times at a different time of day. Or maybe I'll see if I can earn another Bad Parent Award and wear him in the Bjorn on the elliptical? Or maybe I'll simply keep trying to lug three bugs to the grocery store. Plenty of cardio there.
We had Greek for lunch again the other day and ever since then, Ian has celebrated various daily activities with shouts of, "ooooOOO-BAY!"
Yesterday, we set out to go to Fernbank, the museum of natural history. It all actually starts the night before, when I ensured that we had chosen a place to go and that it would be open on Labor Day. So, Brian wakes me up in the morning, we eat breakfast, and Brian claims he can do a quick project for his dad in about 3 minutes. Brian's Dad had stated that the two places he wanted to go for food while he was here were Thumbs Up and Flying Biscuit, so I planned that we would go there for lunch and dinner, respectively. After all sorts of bumbling, we ended up at a Mediterranean place for lunch. It was after 3 and at the end of the nearby Dragoncon and they had no pita, so they had gone out to buy hamburger buns(?!?!). Yes, why not pita? It seems there weren't many places open. By the time we finished, there was no reasonable amount of time to visit Fernbank, so we bumbled some more and went on a short quest to find Indian candy. When that didn't work, we headed for the Perimeter Mall.
On our way out of Nordstrom, a lady working there commented on Ian's boots. They ended up sitting on the floor trying to trade shoes. I was too busy admiring the scene to snap a shot of the good part.
Ultimately, we all agreed we had a good time, and I tried to be chilled about the absolute plan fail. Brian's dad made a comment about how sometimes we can over-plan and I sarcastically replied something along the lines of, "Yeah, like picking ONE place to go." The Cheesecake Factory dinner made it all better.
I've started trying to be very anal about putting things where they belong, and our counter in particular. We have a tendency to pile up a mountain of objects on it. Every night, particularly if Brian works the next day, I try to do a last-minute pick-up on the way to bed. I passed the counter and saw a pile of quarters. As I was taking them to the change dish, I noticed there were some state design quarters I didn't have in my collection book. My bedraggled Brian comes in and sees me hunched over my collection and nearly has a Zebu. I don't know why, but around 8 or 9 p.m., no matter how tired I am, I get a house-cleaning, project-starting buzz. It drives him crazy.
I need to formulate a new workout plan. I get an awful, Pavlovian response to taking the kids to the gym, because I know Elijah cries in child care until he's hot and puffy, and I can't do that anymore. It takes twice as long for Brian and I to switch off with the kids, so maybe I can put my membership on vacation hold or something. Or maybe I'll try a few more times at a different time of day. Or maybe I'll see if I can earn another Bad Parent Award and wear him in the Bjorn on the elliptical? Or maybe I'll simply keep trying to lug three bugs to the grocery store. Plenty of cardio there.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Rock Away Owie
In the car the other day, I heard Isaac singing a sweet little tune. Curious, I listened closer to hear him singing, "Stomp on the baby, stomp on the babyyy." Ian followed suit later that day crooning, "Destroy all the books! Destroy all the books!" My house has become Decimation: The Musical.
Last night Ian was riding his bike around the house and he crashed into a wall. Brian tried to consoling as Ian yelped in pain. Brian asked, "Would you like me to kiss your knee?" "No." "Would you like Mom to kiss your knee?" "No," Ian replied as he walked across the room to his toy guitar. "I just need rock 'n roll." [Proceeds to jam]
We're having a blast this weekend. Aunt Ashley is visiting for a couple days before she goes to her NASCAR race. She's the first person they've voluntarily spent the night with. She is Isaac's buddy now. Isaac cries about nap time and says pitifully, "I want Ashwee." That was strange to have enough room to sleep. We drove up to Atlanta and met an out-of-town friend and his bride for lunch, as they were in town for DragonCon. Next I took Ashley and the boys to the new World of Coke, since she hadn't been to the new location. We frightened the boys with 4-D movie experiences and drank ourselves sick on carbonated sugar from around the world. And just for the record, Beverly is not the strangest drink on the list. A number of times I said "ew" more passionately with other flavors.
In the car that evening, Isaac pitifully stated, "I'm nerbous." We asked if it was the movie and he said it was, but he also said it was about dinner and about his sandals, so I think he was just feeling agreeable. He wouldn't take his eyes of the movie earlier, though I did have to surgically excise him from my arm when it was over. I think it was the loud hissing of air that bothered him most.
We tried to take some cute/silly pictures today before Ashley leaves. I'm getting less effective at getting the boys to look at the camera or to smile, not to mention both at the same time. So, we have a collage of shots with Elijah flashing his best GQ and Ian tasting grass, while Isaac showed his lack of amusement.
Actually, we did get a few really cute shots.
Last night Ian was riding his bike around the house and he crashed into a wall. Brian tried to consoling as Ian yelped in pain. Brian asked, "Would you like me to kiss your knee?" "No." "Would you like Mom to kiss your knee?" "No," Ian replied as he walked across the room to his toy guitar. "I just need rock 'n roll." [Proceeds to jam]
We're having a blast this weekend. Aunt Ashley is visiting for a couple days before she goes to her NASCAR race. She's the first person they've voluntarily spent the night with. She is Isaac's buddy now. Isaac cries about nap time and says pitifully, "I want Ashwee." That was strange to have enough room to sleep. We drove up to Atlanta and met an out-of-town friend and his bride for lunch, as they were in town for DragonCon. Next I took Ashley and the boys to the new World of Coke, since she hadn't been to the new location. We frightened the boys with 4-D movie experiences and drank ourselves sick on carbonated sugar from around the world. And just for the record, Beverly is not the strangest drink on the list. A number of times I said "ew" more passionately with other flavors.
In the car that evening, Isaac pitifully stated, "I'm nerbous." We asked if it was the movie and he said it was, but he also said it was about dinner and about his sandals, so I think he was just feeling agreeable. He wouldn't take his eyes of the movie earlier, though I did have to surgically excise him from my arm when it was over. I think it was the loud hissing of air that bothered him most.
We tried to take some cute/silly pictures today before Ashley leaves. I'm getting less effective at getting the boys to look at the camera or to smile, not to mention both at the same time. So, we have a collage of shots with Elijah flashing his best GQ and Ian tasting grass, while Isaac showed his lack of amusement.
Actually, we did get a few really cute shots.
Monday, August 30, 2010
I'll Be in the Powder Room
He's crawling! I would probably call it official since Friday. I'm in for it now. They can officially take off in three different directions. Prior to Friday, Elijah was "migrating." By lunging and turning and sitting, he would get around a little bit.
His last chemo visit went well. His blood counts were basically normal and he had another dose of IVIG. The doctor said his levels were rising enough that he might not need it again.
You'd think I was intentionally averting my attention from my 2 and 3 year old, just to see what interesting thing they'd do, based on the stuff they accomplish. That's tempting on some level, but, no. They have plans ready to execute, the moment I nurse a baby or take a shower. The other day, while I was holding Elijah and folding laundry (doing neither very effectively), Isaac got the baby powder out of the changing table pocket, and powdered the entire kitchen and himself. I sent him upstairs to play and, planning to clean the kitchen when Brian came in from mowing, I sat down to nurse the poor, famished baby. Ian sneaked in, and thinking Isaac's project hilarious, he snitched the baby oil and painted over top of the powder. I only caught him when he poured the oil all the way to the living room and started shaking it on Elijah's head.
Usually, I'm good about waiting until the last minute to mention plans to the boys, but this time, my mixture of excitement about Disney and wondering if it will thrill or terrify them, has weakened my resolve. Now, every time we pull into a parking lot, Ian asks, "Is this Disney?" Last week, he put on a Handy Manny costume from 2 years ago and vowed to wear it to Disney. After two straight days, I was starting to think he was really going to leave it on until our trip. It wasn't until I got him pirate and fireman pajamas that I convinced him to take it off.
I'd like to take the boys to the Bodies exhibit. I went before and it was really amazing. Since Ian has been asking all about bones and muscles and all, I think he'd really get into it. I tried to get Brian to go last weekend, but he came up with lots of reasons not to. It turns out he just doesn't share my fascination.
His last chemo visit went well. His blood counts were basically normal and he had another dose of IVIG. The doctor said his levels were rising enough that he might not need it again.
You'd think I was intentionally averting my attention from my 2 and 3 year old, just to see what interesting thing they'd do, based on the stuff they accomplish. That's tempting on some level, but, no. They have plans ready to execute, the moment I nurse a baby or take a shower. The other day, while I was holding Elijah and folding laundry (doing neither very effectively), Isaac got the baby powder out of the changing table pocket, and powdered the entire kitchen and himself. I sent him upstairs to play and, planning to clean the kitchen when Brian came in from mowing, I sat down to nurse the poor, famished baby. Ian sneaked in, and thinking Isaac's project hilarious, he snitched the baby oil and painted over top of the powder. I only caught him when he poured the oil all the way to the living room and started shaking it on Elijah's head.
Usually, I'm good about waiting until the last minute to mention plans to the boys, but this time, my mixture of excitement about Disney and wondering if it will thrill or terrify them, has weakened my resolve. Now, every time we pull into a parking lot, Ian asks, "Is this Disney?" Last week, he put on a Handy Manny costume from 2 years ago and vowed to wear it to Disney. After two straight days, I was starting to think he was really going to leave it on until our trip. It wasn't until I got him pirate and fireman pajamas that I convinced him to take it off.
I'd like to take the boys to the Bodies exhibit. I went before and it was really amazing. Since Ian has been asking all about bones and muscles and all, I think he'd really get into it. I tried to get Brian to go last weekend, but he came up with lots of reasons not to. It turns out he just doesn't share my fascination.
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