Introducing. . . .

Max Maximum Joshua Eitzen

Age: 3 months

Species: Fancy Dwarf Hamster (oooh, fancy)

Weight: uh, 1 oz. soaking wet

Length: about 2 inches

Josh has been saving his money for a long time, and although he would say that he wanted MarioKart for the Wii, he never seemed all that excited about it. In fact, even though he had the money, he had yet to purchase it. We were at Petco last night (something we do often to kill time) and he asked, as usual, how old he would have to be to get a little pet of his own. John and I looked at each other, and silently agreed to look at a few pets. By the time we left, Josh had purchased a dwarf hamster, a water bottle and hanger, a hamster house, wood bedding, food, a running wheel, a running ball and chew sticks with his own money. We agreed to lend him the money for the cage, with the agreement that he would use his allowance and do extra chores to pay us back. He is a pretty cute guy, and although he bit Josh hard enough to draw blood, Josh is in love with him. He named him (can you tell?) and listened very carefully to the care instructions. He will be in charge of cleaning the cage each week and giving him food and water. I have a bad feeling that I will actually be doing those jobs myself, but hopefully he will fulfill his responsibilities most of the time. This is one of those totally crazy parenting moments. A moment that we will wish we could take back, I'm sure. Here are a couple of quotes from Josh to help make it worth it. . .

John: You are going to have to really love him. Even when you get tired of him, you have to love him enough to take good care of him.

Josh: I already LOVE him! (this was before we had actually decided to purchase him :-))

Me: Are you so excited?

Josh: Yeah. I can't even feel my legs. And I'm not even kidding.

Josh: When I get up in the mornings, can I get him up and play with him and snuggle him?

Time out and time in and spanking, oh my!

I think that most parents would say that discipline is the hardest part about raising children. I personally think that seeing your children hurt is much harder, but discipline is such a grueling day-to-day issue that it at least wins the prize for the hardest part of each day. When I was training to be a teacher, we were taught to call discipline "management." Kind of like calling the garbage man a "waste manager." Everyone knows that they mean the same thing! We were also taught to call punishment "consequences." The theory is that the word consequence merely means the result of any given action, rather than a specific reaction to bad behavior. Again, a rose by any other name. . . .

When it comes to discipline, you will find parents at very opposite ends of the parenting philosophy spectrum in any given room. Some people think time outs are worthless; I personally am a big fan. Some people count to three; I personally kind of want to stab the person counting, and I'm not even the one in trouble. And everyone knows that bringing up spanking is every bit as dangerous as asking someone's political views. You never know what you are going to get and it could be a pretty volatile conversation if you happen to disagree!

So I was reading an article the other day at the doctor's office. Not only do I not know which issue it was in, but I don't even know the magazine title. Or which day I read it since we have been to about a billion dr. appointments in the last month! Anyway, it was about discipline and the things that work the best. This particular article was not in favor of time-outs. The author suggested that "time-ins" are much more effective. The general idea is that when a child misbehaves, you sit them down with you for a time-in, during which you discuss with the child the inappropriate behavior and what an appropriate behavior would have looked like. Then you end with a plan for next time. I am, I admit, really simplifying this concept. However, I immediately thought three things about the author of this article. 1) The author either has no children or has adult children and has completely forgotten about ages 1-4. 2) The author most likely has an only child if he/she has children. How else could we explain how they conveniently forgot that at any given moment in a day, at least two, if not more, children will misbehave at the exact same time? and 3) The author just might smoke crack. Not to be judgemental of others or anything.

Later I was thinking about it, and I thought that maybe there was something to it. So I decided to give it a shot. James had thrown an epic, James-style screaming fit in which he accused the entire family of being CHEATERS after losing a round of Candyland.

Me: James, meet me on your bed.
James: WHHHHHHHHYYYYYY???????
Me: I need to talk with you.
James: I HAAAAATTTTTTEEE it when you talk to me!!!! (I think that he would have used airquotes around talk if he knew how to do it)
Me: Head on in there.
James: (stomp, frown, huff, snuffle, pout)
Me: What do you think I want to talk to you about?
James: That you guys are CHEATERS?
Me: No.
James: Then I don't know.
Me: What do you think that you did that was naughty?
James: Uh. Um. Uh. Um.
Me: Didn't you throw a fit and yell at everyone? Weren't you a poor sport?
James: I don't want to talk about this. AT ALL.
Me: Then head to time out--five minutes for you, buddy.
James: FINALLY!

I guess the one thing that I do know for sure about discipline is that it is not one-size-fits-all. And the Time-In size does not fit James.

Six years ago. . .

I have a lot of worries, but they are usually abstract and don't really develop into true fear. (And it's a good thing or I would become one of those people who never leaves their house.) Six years ago today, I felt the first little twist of true fear in my stomach. I remember it clearly. Josh had been limping and occasionally crawling from one place to the other for more than a week. We had been in to a doctor in the previous week, and she had diagnosed a pulled ligament. No big deal. Should be better in 7-10 days. But this Friday in 2002 was the 10th day. And it wasn't better. Would it be too neurotic to take him in to the doctor before the three day weekend, before the craziness of school began? I decided to wait until the next week, hoping that it would be better by then. But the little twist in my stomach began a slow growth toward full fledged panic. It actually seemed like maybe he was improving, but on the Sunday before Labor Day itself, we went to a family reunion in Vancouver. We walked over the hill to a lake, and the limping began again, even worse this time. He was in a lot of pain, and was soon sobbing. We left early to return to my parent's house with ice on his knee. By the time we got there, we noticed he was running a fever too. Neurotic or not, the doctor was called. He was very worried and told us to head to the ER. Yikes! We decided to head to the McMinnville ER, where we would closer to his own doctor. The doctor there explained that you can get an infection in a joint, which will destroy the joint if it isn't taken care of so we needed to rule that out. An X-Ray was taken, blood work was done (the very same bloodwork that would seemingly rule out cancer and send us on a wild goose chase for a diagnosis) and a thorough physical exam was done. Definitely not a joint infection. Probably just a virus that was causing both the knee pain and the fever. We talked a lot about Fifth's disease, which he had been diagnosed with earlier in the summer. The doctor knew someone who had had severe complications from it months after contracting it. She had recovered fully and was a college student now. Perfect: Diagnosis AND reassurance. When the blood work came back, however, there was one small problem. His blood counts looked OK, but his SED rate was extremely high. A SED rate is a measure of inflammation in the body, and is often used to help diagnose Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis or auto immune diseases. A normal SED rate is 1-15 in a child. A high SED rate is anything above 45. Josh's was 95. We were sent home with instructions to go to the pediatrician for a re-check as soon as they were back in the office. And so the saga began. There are only a few things that cause an actual physical reaction for me still. A cold, clear fall sky. The smell of the soap at the hospital. The news that someone has unusual blood work. The in-patient wing of the hospital. Halloween. And this Friday in late August, when I can actually feel my stomach twisting.

Dear James,

I've been thinking. I have a promise to make to you. You will not be punished for being the second child. I swear. Even if I have to do kind of stupid things. Like taking you to the Open House today to "meet" a teacher you don't remember NOT knowing and to "tour" the classroom where you have participated in no less than five holiday parties. Because you know what? It isn't your fault that Josh (or Diana or Mary or Laura) has done everything first. So here is my pledge to you, my sweet boy: I will be just as excited and willing to experience things with you for YOUR first time as I was for Josh's first times. First soccer game. First school conference. First kindergarten Christmas program. First time reading those ridiculous alphabet stories where the author works altogether too hard to think of words that all start with the featured letter. (Xavier gets an X-ray because he broke his finger while playing the xylophone.) First time realizing that all those letters on the page actually say something and that you can read them all on your own. Kindergarten starts in four days. Let the (unique and individually experienced by you) games begin!!

Meditations from my funny girl

All quotes from my sweetie. I decided to go with the English translation of Abby-ese for ease of understanding!

On James (who was inexplicably screaming at the time): Grandma, he is OUT OF CONTROL!

On school: School is for big girls. Not big girls like me. Big girls like mommy. Or Dora.

On ice cream: I love vanilla. Cause it's vanilla.

On babies: When I'm a big lady, I'm gonna have a baby in my tummy and the doctor is going to CUT IT OUT. (last three words spoken in her monster voice)

On pets: When I'm a mommy, I'm gonna bring home one of those guys from the store. (a mouse that we saw THREE weeks ago, FYI)

On food: Farmer John likes me to eat colors. But not the paper kind. (from a conversation with the boys about eating different colored fruits and veggies at each meal.)

On ice water: Ice water is yummy. Cause it's crunchy. And it touches my mouth.

On having a baby at our house: I want a baby to live at our house too. And I want it to be Henry.

On dogs: I don't like dogs. Because they scare me. And they bite my skirt. And they're cute.

On my mom's cat: That cat is named Curly. Like my hair.

On me: I love you mommy. Because you are big and soft. (Gee thanks.)

The Weekend of many posts. . . The End

Be sure to read the first five installments in the previous posts from today. Come on. You know you want to!

Somehow, it is the last day before I go back to work. I love this time of year just as much as I hate it, to be honest. I love teaching and the beginning of the year is the best. It's full of excitement, energy and enthusiasm. (And it is also the time of year when I feel compelled to point out the alliteration of that last sentence.) But it's a little bittersweet now that I have kids. The summer is so. . . relaxed. I can't think of another word to describe it. There are no deadlines or schedules, no rushed mornings or stressful evenings. I always fear is that I will arrive at this late August Sunday and realize that the summer was not all that I wanted it to be. That fear went unrealized this year. What a fantastic summer we've had. . . .

I've been to the East Coast with my oldest, picked strawberries with my youngest and spent many hours playing Sorry with my middle guy. Josh has hiked many miles and seen things that many people never see. James has reminded me exactly how funny and sweet he can be by having more great days that days when he tries my patience. Abby has picked up about ten thousand new words and a charming (for the most part) new habit of questioning the world. We spent a week in Medford with family, spent a week in Seaside with my mom, and camped with my whole family. We've slept in until at least 8 every day. We've gone to the library, read hundreds of books, and laid around in our pajamas all day. We've eaten fresh fruits and vegetables, barbequed many nights and gone out for ice cream at least twice a week. I can't remember the last time that I didn't have my hair in a ponytail and wasn't wearing flip flops. I've spent time with friends, old and not-so-old, watched the Olympics (and some other stuff), and read more than twenty books of my own. We've gone through bottles and bottles of sunscreen--the kids are tan enough that they look like summer babies, but not so tan that I feel guilty. All three kids have spent time with friends, but have had the time to remember that their siblings really are pretty great too.

Right now, Abby is peacefully playing babies, the boys are playing "Deal or No Deal, the Board Game," and all I can hear are the sounds of giggling, imaginary play and the clicking of the keys. Am I sad that we will soon be swept up in the chaos of school mornings, homework, soccer practice and my part-time job that takes as much time as a full time job? A little, if only because I know that we will never have this exact summer again. Exciting times are ahead, but for now, I think I'll go enjoy the last few minutes of the lazy days of summer!

The Weekend of many posts. . .Part Five

It may have seemed like I dropped off the face of the planet, but really, it was just a crazy week. It went a little something like this . . . .

Sunday: Barbeque with the Denneys. The world is right again--the Eitzenneys are back together.
Monday: Workshop--kids go to G and G's house to spend the night. John and I go to Salem for a night out--dinner and shopping, my favorite combo.
Tuesday: All day workshop, part two. James and Abby home in the evening. Josh camping with Grandpa.
Wednesday: Pack for camping, clean house for open house on Thursday night. In theory. In actuality, pack and then leave most of cleaning for John and head for Beaverton before I kill my adorable, mess-making children. Josh returns to G and G's from ill-fated Mt. St. Helen's trip.
Thursday: Abby wakes up barfing. Barfs every fifteen minutes for four hours. Unfortunately for Grandpa, she is left behind with him while I take Josh to appointments at the Casey Eye Institute and Emanuel. (Eye bumps are still there, but not growing. We're still in wait-and-see mode. Don't know about the eye bumps? Good story about bleeding eyes. Ask me sometime. All blood work was great. For the first time in over five years, every single number was in the normal range. Awesome!!) Came home to a now perfectly fine Abby. Thanks Grandpa! Grandpa and boys leave for camping trip in Washington. Abby, Grandma and I shopped for camping, had dinner and visited my grandparents.
Friday: Up early to babysit Henry. Abby and Henry had a great time playing together! And except for one minor incident in which I somehow allowed my nephew to get wedged between the washing machine and the wall, all was well. Abby, Grandma and I head to Beaver campground, outside of Carson, WA. We had the BEST time! The kids waded in the Wind River, rode bikes, explored, and enjoyed the fun of having three campsites full of cousins and aunts and uncles to wander between. All the cousins except for Henry were there, so fun was had by all. Lots of hot dogs and S'mores were had by all too! We are totally going back next year!
Saturday: Head to my parent's house, take showers, scratch our mosquito bites, and have some pizza for dinner and finally head home to see John, who was in Coos Bay Friday and Saturday for a golf tournament.
Sunday: Off to buy shoes at the Outlet mall. Briefly consider leaving my whining children there, but decide instead to bring them home along with the hundreds of dollars of shoes we purchased for them.

And here we are. Sunday night. Whew!

The Weekend of many posts. . .Part Four

My New Obsession. . .

is the Twilight book series. Who knew that novels written for teenagers about vampires, werewolves and young love could be so addicting?? Teresa brought me the first two last Sunday, and I have steadily worked my through the first three books this week (Somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500 pages!) I am a fast reader, but these are amazingly fast reads. I just started book four today, and I'll bet it is done within twenty four hours. There are only four books in the series (so far??) and I'm pretty sad that I'll be done though, so maybe I'll drag this one out for a few days. I'm a nerd, I know.

The weekend of many posts. . .Part Three

Josh's Mt. Rainier Adventure

The weather may have been bad for Mt. St. Helens, but it was perfect for Mt. Rainier. Josh and my dad spent four days there a few weeks ago. This post was going to be really cool because I have identical pictures of myself at many of the same places that Josh visited. Wouldn't that have been cool? Unfortunately, I forgot to dig them up at my parent's house this weekend. So, while you look at these pics of Josh at Mt. Rainier, picture me (with super skinny stork legs, bad 80's fashion, and an unfortunate fluffly mullet) in the same place.

Mt. Rainier. And Josh and my dad in my parent's backyard posing in their matching Mt. Rainier T-shirts. Whoa. . . de ja vu.

The little markers show when important historical events happened. I don't remember any specifics, but it is a cool exhibit. I know--'cause I've been in this picture too.

The weekend of many posts. . .Part Two

Josh's Mt. St. Helens Adventure!

If you have never considered climbing Mt. St. Helens, let me enlighten you as to how it works: Only 100 people are granted permits to climb Mt. St. Helens each day. It doesn't matter if something goes wrong on your day. Even if the mountain is closed, you only receive a refund of your money--not a new permit for another day. Why do you need to know this information? Something went wrong on Josh's day. And the name of that something is . . . the weather.

Josh and my dad camped the night before the climb at the campground at the beginning of the route. My dad said it was the worst night of camping he has ever had. Now, I have pretty clear recollections of a few camping trips that were pretty bad. The one where my mom, sister and I didn't leave the tent for two straight days. My mom read The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles to us. (A great read-aloud, by the way.) Then there was the one where I awoke in a puddle. An actual puddle. Or how about the one where my dad and I had to drive into the nearest town because a freak June snow storm threatened to collapse our tent in Bryce Canyon? So to say that this was the worst? Well, it must have been pretty bad.

In the morning, the rain had not let up. Many of the other campers decided to just forego their permits and try again next year. A group from Germany was among them! But my dad, Josh and my cousin and his girlfriend decided to give it a try.

About halfway up, you come out into the open. I have made this climb in the sun, so I remember the spot well. You leave the more protected trail like area and start the out-in-the-open, through the rocks, need to be able to watch the trail markers part. And that was when the wind and SLEET started. And as they were actually in the rain/sleet cloud, they couldn't see much out in front of them. Everyone was soaked, freezing, and underequipped for bad weather of that magnitude. So, to the disappointment of all, they headed back down to the car.

What is my take on this? I was pretty happy to have my child home in one piece and know that my dad takes every bit as great of care of him as I would myself. Plus I know that my dad may be a grandpa, but he is in great shape and will be ready to head up at the next available time. Josh has many years of hiking ahead of him--Mt. St. Helens can wait. They are considering trying for a permit in September if there are any spots during that less than optimal month. I would even let him out of school for the day for that. How much worse could the weather get??

The weekend of many posts. . .Part One

We went to the beach last week, as I have already mentioned.

Here are my favorite pictures from the week. . . .

Class Lists

Note: This will be the weekend of many posts. I can't believe that I haven't written for a whole week, and I have so much to catch up on--the Mt. St. Helen's climb for Josh, a great camping trip and some funny moments with the kiddos. But for now, this is what is on my mind at the moment. . .

When I was in elementary school, on the Friday before Labor Day, the class lists would go up. It was the most exciting day of the summer! The new school clothes were picked out, school supplies were ready, and all the kids were tired of the non-stop nothingness of summer that had seemed so appealing in June. My sister and I loved that day. After months of speculation, we would know all the answers. Who would be our teacher? Which part of the school (the old wing or the new wing) would our classroom be in? And most importantly, who else was in our class????? Some years were overwhelmingly exciting. It was exactly the teacher, the location and the classmates we had hoped for. Other years, not so much.
This will not surprise those of you who know me well, but behind my excitement in the days leading up to the big "reveal" was a feeling of dread. I always felt a bit sick to my stomach as we walked towards the lists. What if the answers were not the answers I wanted to hear? What if, horror of horrors, none of my friends were in my class? And I had to face the prospect of walking into a classroom full of PEOPLE I DIDN'T KNOW. (Not that this was likely to happen in my smallish school that I attended for six years, but who am I without something to worry about?) To this day, I still hate going somewhere where I don't know someone.
The point of this story, besides to point out my overwhelming need for serious therapy is this: The class lists are up at my kids's school. Josh, oh-so-much like me, will not need to be nervous. In the little dual language bubble that he has been wrapped in for three years now, the kids will know the teacher, the location and most, if not all, of the classmates on that list. James, however, will most likely know not a single person. The dual language program has grown and there are two classes. The three boys he knows who will also be in the program have been placed in the other class.
When I had kids, I knew that I would try NOT to pass on my neuroses. And there are a lot of them. I can't say that I was very successful with Josh. He has most of mine plus a few of his own (hello "What if the cord to my lamp catches on fire while I sleep?" What??) But James is very happy-go-lucky. I decided early this summer that I would let the kindergarten chips fall where they may. I would hope for a two-two split if the four boys got split up, but no matter what, even if it was a 3-1 split, it would be fine. James would be fine. Because being comfortable walking into a room full of strangers is a great skill to have. And James already has it. But now that it has actually happened, I can't help but worry. Because I'm me, and I believe that I have already established that I worry. The great thing is that James doesn't. I told him today that he would have Josh's kinder teacher, and he smiled. He didn't ask who else was in the class. It didn't even cross his mind. Boy do I wish I could be like him!
I am sooooo excited because I just loved Josh's kinder teacher. She will be fantastic for James, and he will have a great year. And I will drop him off on the first day with a smile on my face that will (hopefully) hide the fact that I have a gigantic knot in my stomach. Because my sweet James just goes with the flow, and I'll try to learn from him.

PS This post is not, in ANY WAY, meant to be guilt inducing for Sarri, Judy and CB. So don't let it induce guilt. After all, you didn't make the lists!!

Twenty questions

No, this is not another Tag type blog. This is the true story of my delightful five year old playing twenty questions. Now, I'll be sure not to forget this . . . .




James (to any unsuspecting person): Hey, do want to play twenty questions?
Unsuspecting person, assuming that said child knows how to play: Sure
James: OK
US: Do you want to go first, or should I?
James: I'll go.
US: OK, go!
. . .silence. . . .
US: Are you going to go?
James: Go where?
US: Hmmm. How about if I go first?
James: OK.
. . .silence. . .
US: Are you going to ask me a question?
James: About what?
US: Uuuuuh. About the thing I'm thinking about.
James: Oh, right. Is it an elephant?
US: No. Ask me something that will give you a clue.
James: OK. Is it a tiger?
US: No. Like ask me if it's an animal.
James: If what's an animal?
US (getting exasperated): The thing I'm thinking of!!
James: Oh. Is it a lizard?
US: No. How about if you think of something.
James: OK. I've got one.
US: Is it a person?
James: No. It's an animal.
US: Just answer yes or no.
James: Why? Elephants aren't people! They're animals!


The best part is that this scene plays out with anyone who gets sucked in. (As is often the case with James, I am not entirely sure that he doesn't know exactly what he is doing and just loves to watch people's reaction.) In any case, if you read my blog, you are lucky. You will know that the answer is always elephant. And it doesn't make him mad at all if you guess on your first question. He finds it satisfying. And don't warn people who don't read my blog. It's pretty funny to watch.

The master of twenty questions. Being a monkey in a tree.

Oooooh! My own bed!

So said Josh as he fell exhausted into his bed last night. We got home from the beach late last night, and although we were all sad to see the end of our annual summer beach trip, we were glad to be home too. I'll post pictures later, but here were the highlights of the trip this year. . .

• Sitting in the breezy, 80 degree weather while the everyone else we knew was home baking in the heat.
• The love affair between my nephew Henry and my kids. Cousin love.
• Genuinely NOT worrying about a tsunami. True story.
• Reading four books.
• Coming home from the beach each day with four kids who had sand in every orifice of their bodies. We definitely brought some of Seaside home with us in their ears and in their. . . other places.
• Eating dinner crammed around the table every night, listening to the happy (and loud) voices of four kids chattering about their day.
• Watching Josh being a big kid on his boogie board. He wasn't allowed out very far, but he didn't let that stop him from having a blast.
• Feeding the seagulls to both the delight and terror of Abby. The contradiction of a two-year-old.
• James's wipe out off the boogie board, which got so much sand in his hair that he looked just like he did when I sprayed his hair black for his Diego costume last year.
• Watching the Olympics with my mom every night.
• Spending an afternoon with the other cousins (my cousin Beth and her friend had the house after us) on the beach. There was a lot of burying each other in the sand and football for the boys and a lot of basking in the glow of FOUR older awesomely cool girls for Abby.
• Eating every meal at the house. No trying to pacify an 8,5, almost 3 and 1 year old in a restaurant. And actually eating fruits and vegetables on vacation.
• Sharing my room with all three kids. As annoying as it can be (when one is kicking me, one is whining about his sleeping bag on the floor and one is rustling around non-stop in the Pack and Play because she barely fits anymore) I really love having them all in the same room. It feels safe and comfortable and close.
• Having the car sit nearly unused (we put less than fifteen miles on the car the whole time we were there) in the driveway.
• Relaxing completely.

We're glad to be home, but we'll be awaiting next year's trip!

Off to the Beach

When I was little, we went to the beach every summer. I actually don't know if it was every summer, but it seems like it in my mind. We had this cool, funky little beach "cottage." It was on the beach at Cape Kiwanda (Pacific City.) We could see the ocean and the enormous rock (oddly named Haystack Rock, just like the one in Cannon Beach) from the front windows, and you could always feel the sand under your feet, even inside the house. We went to other beaches, but a lot of my beach memories come from the days we spent at the little cottage by the ocean. My sister and I played in the water, dug holes (several memorable summers were spent inside the giant holes my dad dug for us), looked at tide pools, climbed the dunes, and walked to the little store to get ice cream bars. There was no TV that I can recall, although I remember spending a lot of time reading as I got older. We ate tacos or spaghetti or some other kind of kid-friendly food every night for dinner. We loved every minute of it. My mom might disagree--I probably spent some of my older summers pouting, but my memories are all of great times.

Now it is my own kids turn at this tradition. We go to Seaside, another of my all time favorite beach spots. My mom gets us a house for a week. It's a bit bigger, and we NEVER track sand in the house thanks to the fantastic mudroom at one entrance of the house where the utility sink and washer/dryer come before the rest of the house. But it still has funny old carpets and smells like the beach. In the good way. We head out today for our yearly visit. My mom, the kids and I will joined by my sister and her little guy this year. We'll dig holes and play in the ocean. We plan to eat tacos, spaghetti and Chicken a la James (James's favorite, of course.) There is a TV--it is the 21st century, after all. But we'll spend most of our time on the beach. There will be a few trips to the arcade and at least one trip for ice cream. We'll read, nap, and relax. Most importantly, we'll make my favorite kind of memories: the kind where you can't distinguish the year or how old you were when you think back on it. The pictures look the same from year to year, but the kids get bigger. Traditions are important and this is one of my favorites!

Seaside, August 2007. Abby even has the same swimsuit packed for this year. If it weren't for the swim diaper, we really wouldn't be able to tell the difference in the photos!

From a mom's point of view

The day that Josh was born, I began to see the world in a different way. There were the obvious things, of course. The miracle of life, the amazing capacity to love in a way that I never knew existed, the sudden awareness of all of the danger in the world. But for me, the strangest thing to get used to was that I suddenly started to look at all situations from a mom's perspective. When we watched a football game on TV, I would think about how the mother of the kid who just made the touchdown felt, watching it happen. When I saw my class walk in on the first day of school, I imagined the feeling that their mothers had had when they saw them walk into the middle school for the first time. My paranoias instantly changed from things that I was scared of into things I was scared of for my kids. I was no longer afraid of tsunamis because I might drown, but because I might not be able to save my kids. And after realizing that watching Josh lift his big head off the basinette at the hospital had filled me with unimaginable pride, I knew that my life had changed forever.
I know exactly what got me started on this train of thought. Last night, we watched Michael Phelps swim for his first gold in the Olympics. Before he swam, they did one of those human interest pieces on him, and they showed a clip of his first gold medal. Part of the clip was a camera focused on the face of his mother at the time. Her reaction instantly made tears well up in my eyes. I knew exactly how she felt. Because it doesn't matter whether your child wins the gold medal or finally kicks that soccer ball after letting it pass him by for an entire season, a mother's pride is fierce and immediate. Seriously, watching her face made me almost sob out loud. And let me tell you how much John would have laughed about that. For the next ten years.
I love the Olympics. A lot. But every once in a while, I have to turn it off for a few minutes just to remind myself that the Olympians aren't actually my own children and that they all have their own mothers to feel pride and elation and sorrow for them. People used to tell me that kids change your life forever. And I believed them. I really did. I just didn't know that it would even change the way I thought. There is a quote that everyone has heard, but I like it anyway, so I'll end with it today:

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

100th Post Worries

There is a book that James loves called 100th Day Worries. It's about a kid who has to bring in 100 things on the 100th day of school and doesn't know what to bring. She worries and worries about it, and people in her family keep giving her things to try to help. Unfortunately, she doesn't have a hundred of anything. In the end, she adds all the things her family gave to her together (which conveniently adds up to 100) and brings in 100 things that her family gave her. Her teacher tells her that she has never had someone bring in 100 pieces of love before and she wins some sort of prize. James loves the story. I think it's because she wins a prize at the end because he doesn't even know about 100th day yet, but we read it over and over.

I realized last week that my hundredth post was getting close, and I have thought and thought about what to write about for it. I kind of felt like that little girl in the book--what would be good enough for a milestone?? I was feeling kind of stressed about it because I decided early on in this blog process that I would have a book made every time I reached 100 posts to keep, like a journal. So now I needed a good book ending too!

So here it is, my 100th post. I never came up with good idea, so I decided that 100 pieces of love would be a good solution for me too. In the book, her 100 things come in sets of ten, so mine will too. Feel free to stop reading--this is my great book ending and will probably bore everyone else.

10 People I Love (My apologies because I plan to cheat a little)

1. John 2. James 3. Abby 4. Josh 5. my parents and my sister and her family 6. my grandparents 7. my cousins, aunts, and uncles 8. Diana, Mary and Laura 9. my friends (and their kids) 10. Jim from The Office

10 Things I Love to Do:

1. Play with my kids 2. Snuggle with my kids 3. Teach 4. Read 5. Blog 6. Walk 7. Watch TV 8.Dance in secret in my house 9. Listen to music 10. Hang out at my parents' house.

10 things I Love to Look at:

1. Josh's blue eyes 2. James's green eyes 3. Abby's grey/brown/metal colored eyes 4. A sunny fall day 5. A snowy mountain against a blue sky 6. Crashing ocean waves 7. A clean house 8. My children's smiling faces 9. A harvest moon 10. A campfire

10 Things I Love about my House:

1. The red wall in the dining room 2. The patio out back 3. My countertops 4. The way it smells like us 5. The carpet 6. Being close to each other 7. The colors in the living room 8. My comfy bed 9. The paintings in Abby's room 10. The memories that we have here

10 Places I Love:

1. The beach 2. Disneyland 4. My classroom on the first day of school 3. Jefferson Park (Mt. Jeffereson) 4. The Grand Tetons 5. Elk Creek campground 6. High Camp (Mt. Adams) 7. Emanuel hospital 8. Starbuck's 9. My grandma and grandpa's house 10. My house (see above)

10 Ways to Waste Money that I Love Anyway:

1. Getting a pedicure 2. Having a mixed drink 3. Getting an expensive cut and color 4. Seeing a movie in the theater. At night. 5. Eating at the Melting Pot 6. Getting a hotel room in Portland even though it is only an hour from my completely free house 7. Going out to dinner 8. Eating Coldstone Ice Cream 9. Bare Escentuals make-up 10. Buying any drink from Starbucks

10 Things that I Love Because They Don't Waste Money:

1. The public library 2. Bike rides 3. Smelling all the candles at Pier One 4. Walking around a store just to look 5. Coupons 6. Sale Items 7. Red Box movies 8. Going to the park 9. Reading stories out loud 10. Listening to the radio

10 Songs I Love (All songs are on playlist below):

1. Lean on Me (Club Noveau version) 2. Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon and Garfunkel) 3. By Your Side (Sade) 4. Alison (The Pixies) 5. She (Elvis Costello) 6. Cocoon (Jack Johnson) 7. I Will Carry you into the Dark (Death Cab for Cutie) 8. Somewhere Over the Rainbow (Iz version) 9. Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (Bach) 10. Canon in D (Pachebel)

10 Books I Love (This could be a hundred!):

1. To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee) 2. The Song of Solomon (Toni Morrison) 3. The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles (Julie Andrews Edwards) 4. Holes and Small Steps (Louis Sachar) 5. Where the Heart Is (Billy Lett) 6. She's Come Undone (Wally Lamb) 7. Water for Elephants (Sara Gruen) 8. In Some Small Way (by my mom) 9. Eat, Pray, Love (Elizabeth Gilbert) 10. Gone with the Wind (Margaret Mitchell)

Whew! That was surprisingly easy--I could have written at least twenty more in each category. I guess that is a good lesson for the last entry of the book that I will (someday) make of this blog so far: There are a lot of great things in my life. I sometimes get caught up in things that I don't have, places that I haven't been or things I haven't done, but I was able to easily list 100 things that I absolutely love and that make my life happy. I think that makes a pretty incredible life!

Abby (Read previous post if you haven't already so this will make some sense!)

Abby's finger is already looking so much better! Dr. H. used a little needle to extract the pus (just threw up in my mouth a little bit). He had used magic numbing cream before starting, so the initial pokes didn't hurt her at all. Then when he started the actual "extraction," she said, "Ow, Oooow, OOOOOOW! That huwts me. OOOOOOW! Stop it!" So apparently that did hurt. She did really well though: she stayed very still and shed just a few little tears. He was kind of annoyed that he couldn't culture the goo (she has already been on an antibiotic for two days) but I don't think it really matters what it was. She will continue the full course of antibiotics, use a prescription antibiotic neosporin type stuff, and is supposed to soak her thumb. Thankfully, soaking it in the bathtub is A-OK, and she'll be happy to have a few extra bubble baths over the next two days. Since we don't know what she did to originally hurt her finger, we don't really know why this happened. Hopefully, it won't happen again because it is SOOOO disgusting. I hope to never say the word "pus" so many times in one day EVER AGAIN!

Warning: Gross picture ahead. . . .

Hypothetically, if a mother was worried about every little thing, she might take her child to the doctor for a virus, on (let's just say) a Monday. That mother would be sent on her merry way and wake up the next day to find out that just as the doctor predicted, her little monkey is fine. Then, on (just throwing this out there) Wednesday when she has to call back for a malady that legimately needs to be seen by a doctor, she might feel a bit sheepish about calling. I mean, come on, people will start to think she has Munchhausen's by proxy and makes her kids sick for the attention. (This hypothetical mother would not only know what Munchhausen's by proxy is after learning about from a random Discovery Health program, but she would also even know how to spell it. She's just like that.) Even worse, when said malady is really not improving and might be getting worse, and the poor mother has to call back on Friday morning for yet another appointment, she might be feeling really embarrassed by the whole week. This is, as I mentioned, a completely hypothetical situation.

And now a hypothetical, and completely gross, picture of the malady that a random mother's child might have to go to the doctor for. Perhaps today at 11.

Why yes, that is pus under her skin. And yes indeed, that is red, puffy, infection signaling skin below it. And is that a red streak going down the side of her thumb, you ask? The kind that you are warned to look for when looking for a spreading infection? Yep.

No Tag Backs!

I was tagged by Sarri yesterday, and I'd like to thank her! My current life of doing absolutely nothing is not giving me much inspiration for things to write about. . . For those of you non-bloggers who are reading, this is cyber-tag: If you get tagged, you are supposed to answer the same questions that I do and post them.

20 Years Ago
I was 13, and getting ready to enter the eighth grade. I didn't know yet, but that would turn out to be my least favorite year of school. The friends that I had at the beginning of the year would not be the friends I had at the end of the year, and I remember the transition being pretty difficult. I am a nerd and love school, but I didn't really even love my classes that year. You just have to love junior high. . .

This is actually more like 21-22 years ago, but I was so impressed with how great I looked, I thought it would work. Where are my shorts? And what is up with the sharpei dog T-shirt? And my legs look like stork legs. No wonder middle school was tough for me! Apologies to my sister and cousins for this one. . .

10 Years Ago

I was 23. I was getting ready to enter my third year of teaching. I was working at Patton, teaching two sixth grade core classes. I loved my job, loved the people I worked with, and never wanted to leave. I only had one term left until I got my masters. John and I had been married for three years and were starting to look towards having kids. In just five short months, we'd discover that Josh was on his way. I went to my five-year high school reunion on just about this exact date. Note to others--five years is not long enough for anything to have changed! It was fun to spend an evening with my friends though.

This is just about exactly ten years ago. Sadly, I was not pregnant in this picture--that is just what I looked like. If I ever attempt to wear overalls again, someone please shoot me with a tranquilizer gun and drag me to fashion school.

Five Years Ago
At 26, I had a four week old, a nearly four year old, and was about to enter my third year of job-sharing with Teresa. We had thankfully just finished the intensive part of Josh's treatment and moved into the phase that was less disruptive to everyday life. He was set to go to his first year of preschool, and I managed to set aside my terror at sending him and get him all registered. I was realizing that James was the most perfect baby ever and feeling pretty great after my C-section. I missed my ten-year high school reunion because it was held on my due date!

This might be more like six or seven years ago, but you get the idea. After the last two, I thought I'd better put in a pic where we look cute so that my family doesn't kill me in my sleep.

Three Years Ago

I was in the last year of my twenties. I was pregnant with Abby and looking very forward to my already scheduled C-section on September 12. We fully enjoying the summer without ANY meds (Josh had finished all treatment on May 5), and watching Josh feel better and better each day. He nearly ate us out of house and home that summer! We were all anxiously awaiting Josh's first day of kindergarten.

So Far This Year

Happily, this has been a pretty uneventful year. We've had happy holidays filled with all of our quirky traditions. James finished preschool. Abby finally started to really talk, and now she never stops. Josh discovered that he loves baseball. I've been to seven Mom's Night Outs. John and I celebrated our twelfth anniversary. We celebrated the first birthday of my sweet and adorable nephew. We've met up with old friends, spent time with new ones and are enjoying spending time with John's parents who live nearby for the first time since I was 15.

Yesterday

James, Abby and I laid low to let Abby recuperate. John's parents took us out to Ruby Tuesday for dinner--yum! I talked to Josh on the phone, and he is having a great time!

Tomorrow

We are going to the zoo with Andrea and Henry and picking Josh up from his big adventure.

In The Next Year

We will go to Disneyland and hopefully camping too. James will begin kindergarten, and for the first time ever, it will be just Abby and I at home. I'll enjoy my class at school, and try out some new things that I've been thinking about this summer. I'd like to lose ten pounds--we'll see about that one. Mostly, I want to be able to say that this next year was just as happily uneventful as this past year.


OK, Kristi, Anna (ha-ha Paige--I got mine done first!), Shelley and anyone else who wants to do this. . . .you're it! For those of you with no blog (Jen?, Andrea? I was afraid to tag you after posting these pics, but if you want to. . .), you can put your answers in the comments!

Employees at the pediatrician's office: Cue laughing behind closed doors.....

Right now, I am watching James and Abby "play beach," which involves getting out every beach towel we own, spreading it out on the floor, and presumably becoming bored and leaving it all out for me to pick up. Oh yeah, and of course, the Webkins need to be at the beach. Both kids are bouncing around excitedly and laughing. Which is cute. Except that less than 18 hours ago, I rushed my shivering and miserable daughter to the doctor, sure that something was terribly wrong with her. Diagnosis: a virus. Here comes that freaky mom overreacting again.

Actually, no one at the doctor ever makes me feel that way. Ever since Josh's stuff, they are very understanding of me and my freakishness. But I can't help imagining them discussing me at staff meeting. I would make fun of me if I were them!

So yesterday, after the seventh sobbing pee accident (She sobbed, not me. Although after cleaning up the seventh, I kind of wanted to. Why don't kids ever have an accident on a hard floor?) I looked up UTI on WebMD and realized that she had all the symptoms--fever, loss of appetite, loss of bladder control, etc. Plus it said that sometimes little kids don't get the pain part. So off we went. While we waited to get in to the dr, I noticed that she had a little rash on her neck. Not a symptom of a UTI. Hmmmm. By the time we got in, the rash had spread down her arms and chest. It wasn't bumpy (strep virus)--I checked. So we took her temperature--100 (I should have known it was a virus) and did the urine test and waited for the doctor. I'd like to point out that she did her temp in her mouth, stood still for the height and weight check, peed on cue, and did not cry once. She is a model patient.

By the time that the dr came in, the urinanalysis had shown up perfectly clean, and her rash had spread down her entire torso to her legs. She looked really sick, lying in my lap all rashy and miserable. The doctor looked in her throat and saw some sores on her throat (she DID actually mention when she got up that her "mouf huwts way bat der" mouth hurts way back there) and with the rash, he was worried about strep. So she had a strep culture done too--she opened her mouth right up and again didn't even cry. Model patient, I tell you. The rapid strep was fine. I was sent home with instructions to "keep her hydrated, Tylenol for discomfort, make sure she gets lots of rest." You know, the stuff everyone knows and that everyone else would have tried first. . . .

We had a rough night, with her up crying every hour or so, but when she woke up this morning, she was fine. No fever, rash is nearly gone, great coloring, hungry for breakfast. She didn't eat her pancakes and asked for noodle soup instead, so I am guessing her throat is still pretty sore. Otherwise, she is the picture of health. Someday I'll learn to relax. Actually that's a lie. I'll never stop imagining the worst. Laugh away, pediatrician's office.

The "beach." Which somehow turned into beds. Besides some seriously crazy hair from her night of tossing and turning, she looks pretty good. And look how long her legs look! What happened to my baby?

What's up with the monkeys?

Since you have all been dying for an update--I can't believe I made it two whole days without an entry--let me just tell you that the kids are still adorable and brilliant and funny. In case you were wondering.
You want more info? Well, read on:

Josh--Josh is currently in Washington with my dad. They'll be camping for three nights at Mt. Rainier National Park. Since he left last night to spend the night at my parents, this is officially the longest he has gone without being with at least one parent. As we got ready to say good-bye, I wondered if he would manage not to cry. He didn't. Poor guy--I know just how he felt. I can remember when I was his age being so excited to do something fun, but still worrying and feeling anxious about going and being away from home. He will have a great time once he gets going (I always did) but that doesn't make the before time any easier.

James-- We have been working on two things with James: 1) learning all the letters and the sounds they make and 2) behaving pleasantly. We have had limited success with both. For August, I thought it would be fun to do a Letter of the Day (a la Sesame Street) to help him along on the letter front. So today was "B Day." To which he said "Mooooom. Do we have to do this? I already know B. I can write it and I KNOW what sound it makes. Buh-ball. Buh-bunny." (All said in the this-is-so-lame-and-boring-voice that all middle school teachers know so well.) Hmmm. I thought we'd start with one he would be successful with. I guess he can see right through my ruse. I am pushing onward though. I have been pointing out "B" all day, pronouncing the "B" really loudly in words, playing games with B, making a B out of Cheerios, etc. He actually rolled his eyes at me. More than once. Obviously, behaving pleasantly still needs some work too. Oh well. Here is a sweet James story though: My doctor is in the same building as the kids' doctor, so they wanted to go down and play with the toys while we waited for my appointment. I knew we wouldn't be able to hear my name called, so I said no. He was very pleasant about this. When we got home, I took Abby's temperature (more on this later.) He watched the numbers go up (only a five year old in my house would know that as soon as it passes 99.5, it means a fever) and when it passed 100, he said "Oh Mommy, I'm so glad we didn't play with the toys. What if another kid got Abby's germs and got really sick?? That was a good choice you made to say no."

Abby:
Abby is sick. She woke up this morning at 6:30 (VERY unusual for this sleeping beauty) crying. I went in and told her that she needed to go back to sleep. And she did. (VERY unusual for a two-year-old.) An hour later she was up crying again. So I put her in bed with me, where we watched Dora and Backyardigans. She let me go back to sleep and snuggled up and watched two entire shows (VERY . . you get the idea here, I bet.) After my appointment, we stopped at Bi-Mart to get a thermometer (because I can't find a single one of the ninety we own. Really? At MY house?) And sure enough, her fever is nearly 101 degrees. I learned from all of Josh's stuff that fevers above 101.3 are most likely to be bacterial, while those below are typically viruses. So I asked her if anything hurt, and didn't worry about it. But now, she has had three pee accidents this morning, which NEVER happens and we had one crying on the potty incident. So, we'll probably be heading back to the dr this afternoon to pee in a cup. I try so hard not to be the kind of freaky mother that the nurses laugh at behind closed doors, but the problem is that I am that kind of freaky mother! Hopefully, her fever will go down rather than up and she'll stop peeing her pants every thirty minutes??

And lastly, since someone recently told me that they hate it when people don't post pictures on their blogs (hint, hint) here is a random pic from Medford that I love:

Blah-blah-osis blah-blah-blah-osis

That is how much I remember of what my spot was officially named. All I cared about was that it was benign! Apparently the real name means extra skin. Gross, but better than melanoma. . .

Embarrassing, but true

This is embarrassing to admit, but we are fair people. We don't just go to the fair for something to do; we really love it and make sure to go to at least one each year. Before we had kids, John and I always traveled to Salem for the state fair and spent the entire day there. The "open to close, see a concert, go to every pavillion, sit and watch the demos, play some games, eat some greasy food for lunch AND dinner" kind of entire day.

I like so many things about the fair: I love the animals (in spite of their odor), and I worry about the mental state of their young owners as they put them up for auction. I wonder about Thelma and how long it took to make her quilt. I even make elaborate plans for the things I will enter in the fair next year (I never have. I'm sure I never will.) John and I both also have a pretty embarrassing love for carnival games, most especially the one where you drop in a token and try to push the other tokens (along with the lovely prizes on the top) over the ledge.

For the past several years, we have been given free passes to the Yamhill County Fair by someone we know, and we quickly learned that the only better than the fair is the fair FOR FREE. We have seriously cut down on the time spent at the fair and rarely travel to state fair, but our fair tradition has lived on through three kids.

Last night, we headed to the fair grounds. We spent $20 dollars, which isn't much. For a fair. First we visited the animals, where my children displayed a rather disconcerting lack of knowledge about animals. Like calling a sheep a cow. (Abby) And being shocked by the sight of a cow being milked. There is milk in there?? (James) Asking when the cows would tackle each other. (Also James) And mooing at the sheep. (Josh) Perhaps that caused Abby's confusion?

Then we headed to the show halls where I tortured my family by looking at every single thing. Highlights? The lobster cake decorated by a friend's daughter--the kids were very impressed by the large purple "Best of Show" ribbon she won. Telling Abby eighteen times that the cookies weren't for eating. Telling James twenty times to stop touching things. But you know what? I don't care if anyone else likes the exhibit hall--I won't be denied canned green beans and amateur photos!

Then we were off to greasy, sugary, trans-fat laden food alley, where we showed amazing restraint and only ordered two small snow cones to share. We watched the bull riding competition for a few minutes, visited the bunny tent (where Abby announced "When I big lady, I have one of them bunnies,") avoided the people trying to get us to enter for a free barbeque, and headed to the games. Where we, of course, played the token game. And then we headed home.

In case you were wondering, this is what twenty dollars will buy you. . . .
Parking $3
Two small snow cones--peach for Abby and me, rainbow for the boys--$6
Two tries at the guaranteed winner duck pond game--$4 (both won stuffed ducks. Go figure.)
Two small stuffed emperor penguins, a large stuffed tiger, a cheap-o Hawaiian style coral necklace, three miniature whoopee cushions, eight key chains, and a lollipop as well as nearly twenty minutes of nail-bitingly exciting play time on the token pushing machine--$7.

I will spare you all the reference the the American Express commercials at the end of that list, but it IS kind of priceless to keep a tradition that we have had for so many years. Oops! I didn't exactly spare you, now did I?