The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Giggling

The afternoon of my birthday, Cody asked if we could walk up to the school and sled down the big hill—something they hear about but have never tried. I almost said no, but then thought, what the hell? You only turn 35 once. 

So up we trudged, with E in my arms (which almost fell off by the end of this excursion) because she is both too little to sled and too bundled to fit in the backpack.

And down they went! It was a big hill for Cordelia's little legs. She kept sliding, falling, then whine/crying, so Cody manfully slung her sled over his shoulder and pulled it up…then pulled her up, too.

Here they are, using tomato stakes from the garden as ski poles. 

Here's our SnowBatman!

 And here is next year's Christmas card.

These are just fun. :) 

Notice anything different?

Between a Rock and A Heart Place

One of the things I love most about Cody is his odd, and often long-running, obsessions with things that don't completely make sense to me. Planets and Jupiter? Very normal. The William Tell overture? Why not? Snakes? Well, not sure, but I kind of get it. Same with the Polar Express, which is perhaps starting to run its course, but not before I got him the best Valentine's Day present ever!

He runs around quoting the conductor's dialogue all the time ("All aboard! Tickets! Tickets, please!"), and handing out tickets: now he can really live the part with his new hat and hole puncher. 

Each phase gets a little tiresome after awhile, but then I feel such a pang when it passes. Not long ago, we were driving past a bunch of awesome-looking construction equipment and I started shrieking about the mini-loader and how cool it was to see the mixer pouring concrete! He looked vaguely out the car window and smiled at me, a little pityingly, and then went back to singing Tom Petty at the top of his lungs. My little boy, who had Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site memorized at age two! Instead, "Now I'm freeeeeeeee! Free falllllllin'!"

The current obsession? Granite. You heard me right.

When we bought the beach place, it needed a complete kitchen overhaul. It's a tiny kitchen, so we decided to get a granite countertop. This necessitated a trip to the granite yard on the island, an experience that blew Cody's mind. Jonathan chose a granite called "Golden Star" for the counter and one called "Verde Butterfly" for the little coffee bar countertop. Cody was entranced. He toured the granite yard with Mr. Mike, who gave him samples of granite to take home. The next time we were down, the kitchen was done. When we arrived in the middle of the night, he ran into the kitchen and said in wonder, "This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!" The only thing he wanted to do was caress the granite. The next day, he asked if we could go back to the granite yard, which we did. When JVL picked Emma and I up (we were grocery shopping while they went) the back of the van was dragging a bit. Turns out he absconded with about 150 pounds of granite samples from the now totally enamored Mike.



Every sunny day since, he's hauled these slabs outside with his tools (his "granite kit") and sits on the driveway smashing them, looking at them through a magnifying glass, examining the different colors and sheens…he's learned all sorts of rock and mineral terms. I have to drag him in for dinner. We wondered if this is kind of…well, weird. Like, shouldn't be be playing Angry Birds or Minecraft or watching cartoons like normal kids? But he doesn't know what those are and has zero interest. He wants to create and explore (and destroy). His imagination is so delightful.

The funniest part is that he doesn't understand why other people don't have the same fascination with whatever he's obsessed with. See here, for example. I mean, who wouldn't be delighted by snakes? So he'll be out pounding rocks on the driveway, and shouting to the neighborhood kids, "Look! I think this might be quartz! Or possibly onyx. This one's called lumen. Isn't that a pretty name? It means light in Latin because the granite is so glimmery!" They just gape. I can't blame them. The other day, he asked Ms. Leavesley if he could bring in some granite to show her after school one day. She readily assented, understanding immediately that he was in the throes of an obsession. Yesterday, he brought in a plastic box full of samples. Because she's Ms. Leavesley, she ogled and asked interesting questions and he just glowed. When she picked up our countertop, he said, "That's called Golden Star! It looks like sand on the beach. It's what we have in our beach condo! You may have it!" She said, "Oh no, that's okay, Cody, you keep it! It's yours!" He protested: "No, no! It would be my pleasure to give it to you! I have a giant box of granite at home!" She tried again and he said, "Oh Ms. Leavesley, I really know you love it and you can absolutely keep it!" She kindly accepted. Then we went into the hallway, where we caused a minor traffic jam as children crowded around the box, rigggggghhht at pickup time, with lots of parents trying to get through to the front desk. Clearly the kids believed there was some sort of exotic animal in there or something. Nope, just rocks. But that didn't stop Cody. Next thing I know, Annabella bounds up and says, "Cody's mom! Guess what? Cody gave me LUMEN!" Her mom scowled in my direction. (Last week, Carly's mom says to me: "Why did Cody give Carly a hunk of granite? I found it in her coat pocket; glad it didn't go through the wash.") Then a bunch of other kids start yipping and grinning. One little girl shouts, "I GOT VERDE BUTTERFLY!" Another one, whom I don't know, starts pleading with her mom: "But Cody said I can have it!" She says, "I'm sure his mom won't want him giving that away." Killing her with kindness, I chirp, "Oh, by all means! It's fine with me! We have a quarry's worth in the garage — help yourselves!" The little girl grinned triumphantly; her mother glared.

When all was said and done, CJP's box was empty — but his cup runneth over. As he buckled himself into the car, he said happily, "Mom! I gave ALL my granite away! And I am so glad about it! Everyone loved it and they were so happy to have some! And right now my heart feels so big and full!" I grinned at him and said, "You know how I tell you it's better to give than receive? This is what I mean: doesn't it feel good?" He replied, "It feels AMAZING. Like my heart will burst open!"

I just couldn't love this kid more. Until last night, when he said to me: "Mom? I've been thinking about our weekend getaway in Washington and I think we should actually go to the beach. Here are my reasons. First, we could take beach walks. Second, you could watch me surf. Third, we could just have our granite there, and just sit and gaze at it while we talk and have tea."

After I finished melting inside, I pointed out that we can't surf in March and it's a long way to drive to look at granite. Then I proposed that we go to the Museum of Natural History and visit the rock and gem and mineral exhibit. That's the new plan. ;)

Thank you, Kelly, and yes, this will be you one day

She Said Some Beautiful Things

I take it back. I'd have made an awesome pioneer. Provided pioneers had well-constructed shovels from Home Depot. You can't fully appreciate the magnitude of the work from this photo, but I. Just. Did. This. Again. My OWN SELF.

It snowed again after neighbor kid and I cleared it earlier. It's actually still snowing. I put the kids to bed. I went outside. Nothing could stop me! Look at this. What 35-year-old could do this? Obviously not me, which is why I did it tonight. If I were 35, surely I'd have thrown my back all the way out. Just look at that! Woman versus the mountain! Boo-yah!

Crap. I am not even close to making the mailman deliver my mail tomorrow. They yell at you if Mother Nature and VDOT block off your mailbox with snow and they won't come and bring you any birthday cards—of which you have received zero, because all the "neither rain, nor sleet, nor hail, nor whatever!" does not apply to the USPS in Woodbridge. I should probably go back out.

Do I still have that prescription stuff I got after my C-section? I'm pretty sure it's oxy. That sounds okay. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm so hungry now. I need to go replenish all those lost calories. 

Oh.

My Garage is a Giant Crisper

First and foremost: Congratulations to Jonathan on his one-year publishing anniversary! (Okay, it was last week, but three kids later, my standards for Remembering Things on Time have dropped.) Exciting news, What to Expect will be coming out in paperback, er, sometime soon? JVL has been doing a ton of traveling, even a year later, to talk about the book. We now joke that every time he leaves town, something catastrophic happens on the home front. He was in CA all week a few weeks back, and the girls got terribly ill (the South American vomit, not to be confused with Montezuma's Revenge). Right after the new year, he was in NC when Emma got her first true sickness and wound up on her first antibiotic. So Sunday night, he's getting ready to leave for CA for four days. We got the kids down, and he sweetly ran to the market to stock up on everything I'd need for the week, because taking all three of them to the grocery store is somewhere in the rings of hell for me. He pulled out, and then several ambulances and a fire truck pulled in. The younger daughter of our neighbor was having a fever-induced seizure and had to be rushed to the hospital. I ran over to find her mom racing out the door, her dad panicking and the older girl (5) sobbing in her underwear in the living room (she had been getting ready for bed). I scooped her up and brought her home with me, got her calm, and cuddled her til she fell asleep on the couch, which is where she was when JVL came home, laden with yogurt, milk, fruit and veggies, and frozen waffles. She stayed ti her dad came home from the hospital (everything is okay) and we went to bed. The next morning, we opened the fridge to make breakfast and discovered that it had mysteriously died overnight. There was only one thing to do (besides swear). If there were a cleaning reality show, Hannah and I could partner up and win BIG.

Admittedly, these are first-world problems. But still: Damn you, Jack Donaghy! We hauled out the coolers and JVL ran to the gas station for ice. We salvaged what we could. GE was unhelpful; their tech didn't come until Tuesday afternoon — poor JVL was safely in sunny CA by then. : ) I put a bunch of stuff outside, where it froze and unfroze and froze again, so most of it had to get tossed. When the repairman came — and I use that term loosely — he told me we needed a new compressor (whatever), which would run me about $700, but that they didn't carry them on the truck, so he'd order it and it would be in…next Tuesday. As in, seven days from then. As in, five days from now. But that I should just go to Walmart and get a mini fridge; they're "only" about $150. It is possible I said some unpleasant things to the door after he left. Then, I asked my neighbor if I could commandeer his beer fridge for a few days in the name of keeping my kids' antibiotics cool but not frozen. Not much he could say but yes. So the milk and medicine are in there, and the garage floor is strewn with bagels, cheese, yogurt, cucumbers, butter, syrup…am I classy or what? Is it wrong that we are eating cereal bars three times a day? Is it possible to develop scurvy in a week? 

So last night, with the snowstorm bearing down, JVL learned his flight had bee

n cancelled and he probably can't get home until Saturday. We all wore jammies inside out and woke up to a foot of snow! 

Trying to shovel out was a comedy of errors; I had to wait until Emma's nap, which is about 45 minutes long, but it took us about 25 just to get in our snow gear, once we found Cody's pants, which were mysteriously stashed under the dining room table. I remembered that I don't actually own snow pants. (Truth be told, I "remember" this at least once a year, right after it snows, and vow to go get some, and then it melts, and…) So I put on Jonathan's snow pants, which was as amusing as you would picture. After about 2 minutes, Cora started whining that she was cold and her pants were snowy. I pretended not to hear. I had gotten one tire clear when I heard Emma (on the monitor) start to wail. I got her up and put her in her Randy (from A Christmas Story) outfit and put her in the swing, which she was confused and not so happy about, and shoveled madly. I felt every day of my 34 years and 364 days. Our 12-year-old neighbor kid came out, lanky and strong and, well, young, and I shouted, "Want to make 20 bucks?" He brightened. It was worth it. 

Lessons? I would have made a poor pioneer. I would not make it a day on Survivor. GE products are not worth the price. It is so much better to have a big, strong, wonderful partner, whose pants fit so beautifully, around when it snows. I love and miss my Valentine. 

I will make do with the mini-Valentines. 

 Making Valentines.

Happy snow day!

Bleak Week

It's been one of those weeks. FYI, I've started and stopped writing this five or six times. Over five or six days. It's not like I'm not trying, Mom! ; ) I just can't get these children to get—and stay—well.

JVL departed for CA at zero dark thirty on Monday morning. Happily, Mom offered to come spend a couple days so I could go into the office for a few half days and not get too behind. This worked beautifully on Monday: she took the kids to school while I could feed and put Emma down at leisure, without stuffing her in the cold car to scream, then I went to work and picked the kids up on my way home. It was awesome, but I wasn't feeling so hot. My ear was filled with pressure and I had trouble sleeping. Tuesday, I worked from home, again turning over most driving duties to Mom — oh, to have a real chauffeur! I went to the doctor, who confirmed the presence of way too much fluid in my right ear, which happily was not yet infected (as it had been a few weeks ago.) "You need to get to an ENT. You really don't drain well," she told me solemnly. Yep, another thing I suck at. She gave me a steroid thingie to help shrink my whatever was blocking the snot, and I figured it'd work out in a day or two. The girls, though, seemed suspiciously sniffly. That night, my ear was throbbing and I finally fell asleep at about midnight. At 12:30, Cordelia stumbled in, sobbing: "MOMMY MY EAR HURTS!" She was burning hot. You all know how this story ends. She spent the rest of the night starfished to me in my bed, quivering and whimpering in pain despite the Motrin. At 5, Emma woke up, so I hurriedly fed her and tried to get her back to sleep. She screamed til 6:30. Cody came in then (he's not allowed to exit his room until the little clock starts glowing green — for "Go!:). I got Cordelia to her feet so we could all go get dressed and get ready for school/pediatrician. Cordelia stopped, glassy-eyed, and then projectile vomited onto the carpet.

I took a deep breath. Cody, because he is amazing in such moments, tore down the stairs into the garage and came upstairs shouting, "MOM! I got some club soda from the garage so you can clean up all the throw-up!" (It was actually a bottle of spring water, but it's the thought that counts.)

This scenario repeated a few times. Mom stayed with Emma and we took Cora to the pediatrician the second they opened, where Dr. Caplan murmured, over her screams of pain, "She really doesn't drain well." You're welcome, Cora.

Anyway. The conversation about ear tubes is "on the table" depending on how she clears this time around. It was kind of a scary day; she was pale and basically just cried quietly all day. I was so, so thankful to have Mom there (she extended her visit once she saw the chaos and puke). She manned the minivan so I could focus 100% on the girls…because Emma has been down and out for over a week, too.

Hmm.  I paused in my writing the day before last, and don't really remember where I was going with all this. There was a funny story in there somewhere, though. I think.

Oh! I remember. Once the dust had settled, I sat down with Cody to thank him for being such a trooper and showing such concern and helpfulness. He said thoughtfully, "Mom? Do you know what I was thinking when Cordelia was throwing up on the rug?"

I thought we were about to have a moment. He continued, "Well, after she threw up and you were cleaning her in the shower, I was just looking at the throw up there on the rug and do you know what? It reminded me of something. A map! She threw up IN THE SHAPE OF SOUTH AMERICA! Don't you think that's amazing?"

I did indeed. You can't make it up. He then proceeded to tell me all the countries in South America: "There's Suriname, and Guyana, and French Guyana, Equador, Colombia, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Venezuela, Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay, Paraguay, Peru, and Bolivia."

I checked Wikipedia, because I was unsure of the above. He was right. He even did it in a full-on Spanish accent.

A couple of days ago, we popped into the Giant together to pick up some groceries. As we passed the heart-shaped cookies and red-iced cakes in the bakery, he said, "Well, Mom, Valentine's Day is the next big holiday. Did you know February has a silent 'r'?" I confirmed. Then I said, "I get older every time Valentine's Day comes around." He threw his head back, giggled, and then said knowingly, "Oh, Mom. You're silly. Actually, you get older every second."

Truer words have never been spoken. : )

I can't think of anything more at the moment, and can't find my external drive with recent pictures, so this'll have to do. More soon, Mom. :)

Superman (It's not easy)

Yesterday was a bit of a lost day. Emma's lingering sickness got worse; around noon we decided she should really see a doctor. High fever, lips and fingernails blue-ish, skin very pale. Ugly stuff. Shannon takes her in to the doc; I take Cordelia to go pick Cody up from school.

Once Shannon and Emma got home, they realized that Brown Floppy was gone. In a panic, Shannon texts me to say that Flopsy may have fallen out of the car in the doctor's parking lot. No problem, I tell her. I'm on my way back from school with the kids. I'll stop in and check. All of this is done by text and Cody, sitting in the back seat, has no idea Emma has ever been to the doctor.

So we pull off the main road and into the parking lot. I immediately spy Floppy. I turn into a spot sharply and Cody, just noticing where we are, says, "Hey, why are we at the doctor's office?"

In reply, I tell him to wait right there. I jump out of the car, dash 10 yards, and return to the car holding Floppy proudly aloft.

Cody's face goes absolutely slack with wonder.

"How did you DO that?" he asks incredulously. "Did you see Emma's Floppy from the road?"

And for a split-second, it is clear that my son believe I have actual, honest-to-God, super powers.

When I quickly explained that Emma had just been at the doctor and that Shannon had texted me that Floppy might have fallen out of the car there, his face fell and his disappointment--though fleeting--was palpable.