We try to make St. Patrick's Day a special day in our house. Starting with our kids placing their shoes outside their bedroom door the night before (to see if any leprechaun happens to stop by with green and golden goodies) and ending with a big Irish feast (this year: corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, and homemade Irish Soda Bread topped off with our own version of Shamrock Shakes: vanilla milkshakes with a bit of green food coloring...and a much appreciated hint of Bailey's Irish Cream for mom....)
So, when a friend announced she set up a play date at a place called The Green Goober, I thought it sounded like the perfect addition to our St. Patty's Day fun. I didn't bother even looking at it online because, heck, with a name like that, I'm in! Bringing me to this week's first lesson:
Lesson #1: Names can be deceiving. (Or perhaps I need to reconsider what I think sounds exciting?)
For all intents and purposes, The Green Goober is located in the city, far off our usual path. So, after a short workout at the gym, we got on the highway and headed in that direction, completely missing the exit due to road construction and a lack of any warning that the exit was about to jump out at us....seriously, why bother with a sign at all if you're going to hide it! After a mile or so, we got off at the next exit and seeing as how there was bumper to bumper traffic going the other way, I thought, 'shoot, we'll just cut through the side streets'.....famous last words.
Ten minutes later, Madeline says: "Mom, it looks like we are downtown."
"We are," I grumbled, turning the car around...again...while making sure I didn't lose sight of the highway, just in case. The girls watched the pretty "artwork" on the signs and buildings as I got my bearings straight and figured we had a much better chance of finding the place if we were actually on the road we needed to be on, which, by that point, I had to assume was on the other side of the highway. Oh, how a GPS would come in handy at times like those!
Twenty minutes later we arrived at The Green Goober. While I am not entirely sure what I was expecting, what we found was FAR less interesting. The Green Goober is a neat little Eco-friendly toy shop situated right next to a huge Frozen Custard store. (I probably would have opted for the latter of the two myself but figured we ought to go ahead and check it out.) The owner is very friendly, offering organic cookies and milk to the kids upon entry (a tradition she may have to forfeit after the amount my kids inhaled, having eaten very little of their green pancakes in order to indulge in green and gold candies that morning.) The store contains things made mostly in other countries from mostly wooden or organically grown and produced or otherwise all natural materials. This place is right up so many of my friends' alleys and as much as I would like to buy in, I just can't. After all, my kids are NOT going to be eating that sand bucket that excitedly claims it is free of BPA, lead paint, toxins, artificial sweeteners, preservatives, trans-fat, hormones and whatever else. And the sand that will be going into the buckets and subsequently finding its way into their mouths, well, I am guessing it isn't organically grown or toxin free. Maybe I'm supposed to buy the $25 sand bucket, melt it down and serve it with a side of organic fruit. I don't know. But, I do know, as wonderful as it sounds, I can't justify spending money that way. They obviously haven't seen what kids do to buckets (or what gets put in them) or they would reconsider the hefty price tag. Seriously. Just two days ago my kids were excitedly digging for worms with which to fill their buckets and "keep as pets." ("Mom, don't you have a BIGGER bucket? We are going to find FAR more worms than this one will hold!" Woo hoo...) And guess what? The worms were perfectly happy in our $2, and I am guessing quite contaminated, bucket....well, at least we didn't hear any complaints.
And to my dear friends, who do everything as "green" as possible: I love you all dearly and truly respect you for living what you believe, I just don't know how you afford to do it. I mean, I paid close to $4 for a small bag of organic gummy worms so that the kids could what? Experience an organic sugar high? (I'm pretty sure they are just as bad for you either way.) In less than ten minutes, they ate every last one of those babies, too....oh wait, I take it back. They ate all but one which I found hanging on the bottom, inside of my shirt later that night. Very odd. But I am okay with it because at least it was organic and gummy and didn't come from their bucket!
Lesson #2: If your actions draw your sister's blood, they are probably not okay.
This morning began with two hysterical screams from upstairs. One, an unidentifiable shrieking of garbled sounds and the other, a princess-like squeal from Madeline because, "Lily is getting her blood on me!" Never mind the fact that it was Madeline having hit Lily upside the head that caused the nose bleed. And can you believe Lily had the audacity to bleed on her sister, and all over the toys, the playroom carpet, the hallway and loft before finally settling in for a thorough drenching of the bathroom? And no, the chemicals I reached for would not be found anywhere close to The Green Goober (in fairness, they were mostly red goobers...). But they sure as heck got the blood out.
Lesson #3: Computers and gymnastics don't mix.
Lily did it, the computer won....need I say more? Actually, I am not even exactly sure of what happened other than she was doing gymnastics and somehow ended up needing an ice-pack because of the computer....some things are better left unknown.
Lesson #4: You can't walk a cat....at least not easily.
So because Leroy at times seems very "dog-like," we decided it would be a lot of fun to "walk" him. We bought a harness and leash and got Leroy all hooked up. The first time out was mostly spent with Leroy crouched down, freaked out by all the sounds: airplanes overhead, birds chirping in trees, a dog walking by (twice), 10 minutes spent chasing a bug in the mulch and other such things.
Then yesterday, we thought it would be fun to meet Aidan at the bus stop with Leroy. Seeing as how the cat doesn't actually move much, at least not on our terms, we fastened Liam in one side of the double stroller and put Leroy in the other (fully harnessed and leashed of course) and slowly made our way up the hill. Let's just say, there is a reason people do not walk cats. But, when the mailman came back by to tell us our "lazy" cat had made his day, it was all worth it, even if it means becoming "that crazy neighbor."
Lesson #5: Don't carry a cat with it's back legs against your face.
Really Madeline? Did you need to carry the cat with it's bum in your face? I was pretty sure the scratches running under her eye and across her cheek definitely got the lesson across until I saw her running across the room holding a squirming cat just moments later....
Lesson #6: Tie the kids up BEFORE trying to sweep and mop the floors. (Or how to have more fun with the ol' Snap, Crackle and Pop!)
You'd think I would know these things by now but I can't tell you how, um, "delighted" I was, after having moved all the kitchen furniture and then sweeping the entire main level in preparation for mopping, to glance over and see Lily and Liam playing in a pile of Rice Krispies they had poured out in the adjoining room. They poured out at least three quarters of the box, which by all accounts, makes a much better Snap, Crackel and Pop when you STOMP, STOMP, STOMP it into the ground. After I SNAPPED and CRACKELED a little myself, I wondered why it is I never use the ol' POP on my kids....oh, some days I wonder....
Lesson #7: There is a reason children don't get to name babies.
Today's car conversation went like this:
"Mom, you know what?" Lily asked.
"What, Lily?" I replied.
"When I am older and hatch out babies, I am going to name one Junior and the the other one Wee-wee," she told me.
Hee hee...hee hee hee.....it's a good thing she chose good, traditional names for her hatchlings, you know, those that can't cause any heartache or humiliation or....reminds me of the other night when I was playing indoor soccer. There was this one Asian guy on the other team who was a decent player and as I went one-on-one with him I heard one of his teammates call out: "Come on, Wei-lei!" (You know, kind of like Pele...get it? Ok, so you have to know soccer I suppose...)
But really, how can you not find that amusing?
And finally, Lesson #8: It is unwise to throw a temper tantrum in the bathtub.
Liam has been testing the hypothesis that if you throw yourself face down in the water while screaming and thrashing about, you will drown more quickly than if you just, say, take a normal bath, in happiness and good cheer. Shoot, why bother going green when shades of blue are so easy to come by! (And far less expensive too!)
Have a great weekend, whatever color you may choose!
3.09.2010
The Walk
During the forty days of Lent, we remember the forty days Jesus spent in the desert before he began his public ministry. It is often thought of as a time we are to reflect on (and endure) our own personal wilderness. It is a time of preparation for believers: a time of prayer, penitence, giving and self-denial. Sometimes the experience stays on the spiritual level. Often it is experienced alone. And then there are those literal wilderness journeys through which we must travel on our own while surrounded by those we love the most....
****
We are currently living in the middle of a mirage of spring. March is typically our snowiest month, yet so far, we have had none to speak of. As a matter of fact, on Sunday it reached nearly 50 degrees and we started to see the great big meltdown begin. Given such beauty and warmth, Kurt, his visiting buddy, the four kids and I decided it was a perfect day for a walk around nearby Starring Lake. Ok, in fairness to the kids, they had no choice in the matter but happily hopped in the car anyway after I let each of them choose a riding vehicle to take with us.
Ten minutes or so passed before the guys caught back up with us, empty handed.
"Where's the jacket?" I asked.
"He'll be fine," Kurt assured me. (A few minutes later, Kurt gave his jacket to a whining Aidan.)
We were maybe a quarter around the lake at this point. On we walked, sometimes the kids would walk with me, other times with the men but pretty soon, it didn't matter where they were walking; they were all tired and complaining. I attempted to allow them to take turns sitting in front of Liam on the stroller but each time he kicked and screamed, not wanting anyone in front of him. I tried distracting them by finding big sticks for them to carry and quickly realized that was a bad idea as they were practically taking out other walkers as well as each other. I tried to get them to pretend they were ice skating with me which erred on the side of dangerous and even the men tried distracting them with the old hold-hands-and-swing-on-the-count-of-three- trick. Nothing put a permanent kibash on their exhausted whining yet on we walked, through the wilderness, complaining kids and all.
About half way around the lake the kids were begging me to turn back.
"Well, there's no point now. We are half way around," I assured them. "Just keep walking. You'll be fine."
The next mile went something like this:
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we almost there?"
"Why do we have to walk the lake?"
"Are we there YET?"
"You always make us do things we don't want to."
"You said it wasn't much longer."
"Are we EVER going to get there?"
"I CAN'T WALK ANYMORE!"
"MOM! It isn't FAIR you make us walk so much!"
"Are you trying to kill us?"
"WHY AREN'T WE THERE?"
"You told us we'd be there already! YOU LIED!"
With about a quarter of the 2.3 mile lake to go, the two men a good 30 feet or so ahead, I had Madeline balancing on the handlebars of the jogger in which Liam was now crying, Lily (wearing her two unmatched rain boots on the wrong feet) riding my back, and Aidan, having stopped about 10 feet behind, screaming at the top of his lungs:
"MOM! My crack hurts! My CRACK hurts! I can't move any longer because MY CRACK HURTS!"
And I am laughing hysterically, tears rolling down my face, because none of the other dozen walkers passing us at this point know that he is speaking of the cracks on the bottom of his feet from having had some dry skin issues and not the crack that might come to mind otherwise.
In the end, Aidan rode the front of the jogger, enduring Liam's frantic kicking, Madeline stayed on the handlebars and Lily pranced at my side. With the extra weight of Aidan up front, I couldn't turn the stroller so every time we needed to straighten out, the kids would lean one way then the other to get us on track, making the time much more roller-coaster like, and the kids much less miserable. I also used this rather peaceful time to tell them about walking the lake in the summer when we can hunt for treasure with a real (mom-made) map! (Even with the abundance of enthusiasm I mustered, their response told me it might take a little more convincing!)
About ten feet from the car I asked:
"Ok, who wants to go around again?" (hee hee hee....) Shocking, there were no takers.
****
****
Just goes to show that one person's wilderness is another person's walk in the park.
But hey, at least I know what to give up for Lent next year: walking lakes with four kids attached.
****
My version of the story:
We arrived at the lake where I unpacked the truck, got Liam situated in our jogging stroller and watched each kid delightedly ride down the first little hill which was covered in melted snow (a.k.a. water) where Aidan lost his balance and fell over and Madeline and Lily barely escaped a similar fate. Aidan took it in very good spirits though, picked himself up and began again. We hadn't gotten but 50 feet when Lily started hollering because she couldn't get over the un-melted spots and we turned around to watch Aidan take an ugly spill, sandwiching himself between ice and his scooter. With two kids already crying, we quickly realized there was still too much ice and snow covering the path for the kids to ride. After calming down, Aidan started complaining about being cold. That's when I noticed he had failed to put on his jacket and was only wearing a thin and overly-worn Steelers jersey...you know, the kind with little holes in it. I asked Kurt to please bring back the jacket that was in the car when he and his buddy took the scooters and bikes back and the kids and I "eagerly" walked on. (You might be wondering, with that kind of start why we would keep going....surely you know me better by now!)Ten minutes or so passed before the guys caught back up with us, empty handed.
"Where's the jacket?" I asked.
"He'll be fine," Kurt assured me. (A few minutes later, Kurt gave his jacket to a whining Aidan.)
We were maybe a quarter around the lake at this point. On we walked, sometimes the kids would walk with me, other times with the men but pretty soon, it didn't matter where they were walking; they were all tired and complaining. I attempted to allow them to take turns sitting in front of Liam on the stroller but each time he kicked and screamed, not wanting anyone in front of him. I tried distracting them by finding big sticks for them to carry and quickly realized that was a bad idea as they were practically taking out other walkers as well as each other. I tried to get them to pretend they were ice skating with me which erred on the side of dangerous and even the men tried distracting them with the old hold-hands-and-swing-on-the-count-of-three- trick. Nothing put a permanent kibash on their exhausted whining yet on we walked, through the wilderness, complaining kids and all.
About half way around the lake the kids were begging me to turn back.
"Well, there's no point now. We are half way around," I assured them. "Just keep walking. You'll be fine."
The next mile went something like this:
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we almost there?"
"Why do we have to walk the lake?"
"Are we there YET?"
"You always make us do things we don't want to."
"You said it wasn't much longer."
"Are we EVER going to get there?"
"I CAN'T WALK ANYMORE!"
"MOM! It isn't FAIR you make us walk so much!"
"Are you trying to kill us?"
"WHY AREN'T WE THERE?"
"You told us we'd be there already! YOU LIED!"
With about a quarter of the 2.3 mile lake to go, the two men a good 30 feet or so ahead, I had Madeline balancing on the handlebars of the jogger in which Liam was now crying, Lily (wearing her two unmatched rain boots on the wrong feet) riding my back, and Aidan, having stopped about 10 feet behind, screaming at the top of his lungs:
"MOM! My crack hurts! My CRACK hurts! I can't move any longer because MY CRACK HURTS!"
And I am laughing hysterically, tears rolling down my face, because none of the other dozen walkers passing us at this point know that he is speaking of the cracks on the bottom of his feet from having had some dry skin issues and not the crack that might come to mind otherwise.
In the end, Aidan rode the front of the jogger, enduring Liam's frantic kicking, Madeline stayed on the handlebars and Lily pranced at my side. With the extra weight of Aidan up front, I couldn't turn the stroller so every time we needed to straighten out, the kids would lean one way then the other to get us on track, making the time much more roller-coaster like, and the kids much less miserable. I also used this rather peaceful time to tell them about walking the lake in the summer when we can hunt for treasure with a real (mom-made) map! (Even with the abundance of enthusiasm I mustered, their response told me it might take a little more convincing!)
About ten feet from the car I asked:
"Ok, who wants to go around again?" (hee hee hee....) Shocking, there were no takers.
****
His Version:
Sunday: Great day out so I took a nice walk with Brooks and the family around the lake. The fresh air, peaceful surroundings, and great conversation were just what I needed to start the week. I wonder why Karen looked so haggard afterward? Strange. The End.****
Just goes to show that one person's wilderness is another person's walk in the park.
But hey, at least I know what to give up for Lent next year: walking lakes with four kids attached.
3.02.2010
Grrr...(The Laughter Continues)
"You do not know what you are doing to me...now, STOP TURNING PAGES!" -Grover in The Monster at the End of This Book
All right, which one of you failed to knock on the wood like I requested?! Seriously. The only thing I can say is:
BUG, BUG GO AWAY! And DON'T COME BACK SOME OTHER DAY! And OUR FAMILY DOESN'T WANT TO PLAY.....you get the drift.
Aidan and Kurt were down Monday with what seemed like a very mild performance from our pesky old friend. And no sooner did I write that last sentence than Lily was back in the bathroom needing help cleaning up both ends (as well as the floor and toilet and...) Argh. I can only imagine that the rest is coming. Thus, I have given up the whole superstitious stuff for now and have gone ahead and spoken with thy Holy One upstairs about perhaps visiting another family for His entertainment for a while.
And He said (insert voice of James Earl Jones): "Ha, Ha, Ha, As if!"
And I think I heard Him mumble something about 'what's with all the superstition mumbo jumbo' but then, I was bathing in the last of the Clorox Clean-up so might have misunderstood. And here I was praying for at least partial immunity when I heard of that last plague going around (see former post on The Plague.) In all due respect God, seems like I might as well have been praying for Oreos to rain down from the heavens! (Just guessing, but that's not going to happen either, is it?)
Speaking of heaven, I have come up with another ingenious idea: The Stomach Bug Apron (Ok, so I might need to tweak its name for marketing purposes...how about The Hot Zone Helper? Any better?)
But get this. It would be a full size apron (maybe more like a latex body suit complete with face mask and surgical shoe covers but that is yet to be determined) and would be kind of like the cargo pants of the apron world: a place to hang the bleach spray bottle, another for backup (the Lysol bottle), several pockets for housing rags, gloves and plastic bags, a simple paper towel holder and maybe a special place for a jar of valium and a few phenergan suppositories while we're at it....Comes with an inflatable Biohazard Protection Suit able to withstand Biosafety Level 4...
And if you order now, I will double the offer! That's right, now you can get TWO Hot Zone Helpers for only $19.95. (Must be 18 or older to order. Some restrictions may apply.)
In all seriousness though, did you hear that laughter just now?
All right, which one of you failed to knock on the wood like I requested?! Seriously. The only thing I can say is:
BUG, BUG GO AWAY! And DON'T COME BACK SOME OTHER DAY! And OUR FAMILY DOESN'T WANT TO PLAY.....you get the drift.
Aidan and Kurt were down Monday with what seemed like a very mild performance from our pesky old friend. And no sooner did I write that last sentence than Lily was back in the bathroom needing help cleaning up both ends (as well as the floor and toilet and...) Argh. I can only imagine that the rest is coming. Thus, I have given up the whole superstitious stuff for now and have gone ahead and spoken with thy Holy One upstairs about perhaps visiting another family for His entertainment for a while.
And He said (insert voice of James Earl Jones): "Ha, Ha, Ha, As if!"
And I think I heard Him mumble something about 'what's with all the superstition mumbo jumbo' but then, I was bathing in the last of the Clorox Clean-up so might have misunderstood. And here I was praying for at least partial immunity when I heard of that last plague going around (see former post on The Plague.) In all due respect God, seems like I might as well have been praying for Oreos to rain down from the heavens! (Just guessing, but that's not going to happen either, is it?)
Speaking of heaven, I have come up with another ingenious idea: The Stomach Bug Apron (Ok, so I might need to tweak its name for marketing purposes...how about The Hot Zone Helper? Any better?)
But get this. It would be a full size apron (maybe more like a latex body suit complete with face mask and surgical shoe covers but that is yet to be determined) and would be kind of like the cargo pants of the apron world: a place to hang the bleach spray bottle, another for backup (the Lysol bottle), several pockets for housing rags, gloves and plastic bags, a simple paper towel holder and maybe a special place for a jar of valium and a few phenergan suppositories while we're at it....Comes with an inflatable Biohazard Protection Suit able to withstand Biosafety Level 4...
And if you order now, I will double the offer! That's right, now you can get TWO Hot Zone Helpers for only $19.95. (Must be 18 or older to order. Some restrictions may apply.)
In all seriousness though, did you hear that laughter just now?
2.26.2010
Even the best laid plans....
"Man plans, God Laughs." -Yiddish Proverb
I first encountered this proverb during one of my many childhood hours spent in the card section at the grocery store. On the front of the card stood a smiling stick figure man next to a beautifully set up picnic under a great big sun and clear sky. When you opened it, rain filled the page and everything drooped including the stick-figure's smile. The proverb was loud and clear. I have to admit, it puts a smile on my face every time I read it.
You see, although I don't believe we are little puppets being tossed around by some crazy God, there are moments (or weeks) that I have to imagine we are pure entertainment to any and all heavenly beings. I know I enjoy good slap stick comedy so why wouldn't God? Afterall, He who created creatures such as the platypus (or the human) surely has a good sense of humor! So what if it happens to be real life and not some blockbuster comedy? So what if it happens to be MY life....Yep, still funny.
And then there are those times where I do wonder if God is just screwing with us. Seriously. How hard would that be to resist? I know I do it all the time to Leroy, throwing stuff in front of him to see how he will react or dangling a string nearby and moving it just out of his reach, over and over. It just never gets old really.
This was simply one of those weeks. We started with a bang (the 3-hour ER trip) and then replaced Peek-a-Boo with a week long game of Catch-Up. Who doesn't love playing catch-up? Yeah, me neither. So by last night, I still had to paint the eleven paper-mache pinata Light Sabers I was making for Aidan's upcoming birthday party (one of those "great ideas" I half-wish I hadn't thought of or at least wish I would've kept to myself), do a week's worth of laundry, clean the house, write a gazillion thank-you's to various friends and family members, finish my Christmas-turned-Easter cards (ok, so I never quite got to all of them!) take Liam to get his stitches out, teach piano....the list goes on and on. My plan was to get up early so that I could get things going, add in a visit to the gym before going to mom's group at church briefly before feeding the kids and getting Madeline to school on time as well. (Note to self: Breathe!)
But around 4 a.m. I awoke to that oh-too-familiar sound of one puking Lily. (Thankfully in her room, not mine!) And of course, Lily had chosen to sleep up with Madeline on her bed last night so I spent the better part of an hour trying to get sheets and blankets and animals and toys (and who sleeps with plastic pie pieces anyway?) removed, rinsed out and washed without waking up Madeline as well. After bathing Lily, setting her up to sleep in the bathroom, and getting a very early start on the laundry, I made it back to bed, the clock closing in on 6 a.m. A little before 6:30 Kurt woke me to say, "Shoot, we forgot to get the trash out to the street." Again.
And that is when I am pretty sure I heard enormous laughter coming down from the heavens. But then, I was still half asleep.
I rolled over, mumbling some words of encouragement for Kurt to get out there as I was not going to be getting up and I went back to sleep....for maybe 10 minutes before Aidan and Liam woke me up thus beginning the day, again. (More laughter...)
I had planned on going to the gym and church, not being stuck at home with sick kids: laughter filled the air.
I had planned on washing the blender and putting it away, not dropping it in the sink (apparently you can't do that?!) and throwing it away. And laughter filled the kitchen.
I had planned on taking my cell-phone on the drive to the doctors to make some catch-up phone calls....but I seem to have misplaced it....Why not just call it you ask? Well, I could, but I conveniently left it on vibrate so all it would do is buzz with laughter.
I had planned on Liam's stitches coming out quickly and easily but it was when the doctor went out for the second time for even more back-up that I realized today really wasn't going to go as planned. (I can be slow sometimes...or at least very stubborn.) Two doctors, a nurse and a very sharp surgical blade later, he was stitch free. But not without much laughter. No wait, my bad, those were tears...
I had planned on putting the kids to bed early to try to finish some stuff up, not hopping around in a one legged jig shouting "ow, ow, ow, ow" after severely stubbing my toe on the side of the bed....
"Mom, I can't really get to sleep," Madeline complained about half way through my theatrics.
Oh really? Because I always find it REALLY easy to fall asleep when someone is insanely jumping and shouting around my bedroom.
But....before I go cursing God and the angels He rode in on, I must admit, I am grateful, even for a day like today. It may not have gone quite as I had planned but it was time well spent: time with the kids at home, preparing for a party, getting 12 loads of laundry done and remembering that sometimes the best laid plans are meant to be broken.
Plus, in the end, the trash got picked up (ironically, the driver was several hours late), I found my phone right where I apparently left it (yesterday's jacket folded neatly in the closet), Liam is done with doctors for the month (let's hope) and Lily seems okay (knock on wood that the plague is not making its rounds again! Seriously. Knock on some wood already! Thanks.)
I suppose no matter how you look at it, sometimes we need a little tossing around in order to be set straight again. And I am thankful I can supply God with some entertainment in the process. And perhaps some to you, too.
Have a great weekend!
I first encountered this proverb during one of my many childhood hours spent in the card section at the grocery store. On the front of the card stood a smiling stick figure man next to a beautifully set up picnic under a great big sun and clear sky. When you opened it, rain filled the page and everything drooped including the stick-figure's smile. The proverb was loud and clear. I have to admit, it puts a smile on my face every time I read it.
You see, although I don't believe we are little puppets being tossed around by some crazy God, there are moments (or weeks) that I have to imagine we are pure entertainment to any and all heavenly beings. I know I enjoy good slap stick comedy so why wouldn't God? Afterall, He who created creatures such as the platypus (or the human) surely has a good sense of humor! So what if it happens to be real life and not some blockbuster comedy? So what if it happens to be MY life....Yep, still funny.
And then there are those times where I do wonder if God is just screwing with us. Seriously. How hard would that be to resist? I know I do it all the time to Leroy, throwing stuff in front of him to see how he will react or dangling a string nearby and moving it just out of his reach, over and over. It just never gets old really.
This was simply one of those weeks. We started with a bang (the 3-hour ER trip) and then replaced Peek-a-Boo with a week long game of Catch-Up. Who doesn't love playing catch-up? Yeah, me neither. So by last night, I still had to paint the eleven paper-mache pinata Light Sabers I was making for Aidan's upcoming birthday party (one of those "great ideas" I half-wish I hadn't thought of or at least wish I would've kept to myself), do a week's worth of laundry, clean the house, write a gazillion thank-you's to various friends and family members, finish my Christmas-turned-Easter cards (ok, so I never quite got to all of them!) take Liam to get his stitches out, teach piano....the list goes on and on. My plan was to get up early so that I could get things going, add in a visit to the gym before going to mom's group at church briefly before feeding the kids and getting Madeline to school on time as well. (Note to self: Breathe!)
But around 4 a.m. I awoke to that oh-too-familiar sound of one puking Lily. (Thankfully in her room, not mine!) And of course, Lily had chosen to sleep up with Madeline on her bed last night so I spent the better part of an hour trying to get sheets and blankets and animals and toys (and who sleeps with plastic pie pieces anyway?) removed, rinsed out and washed without waking up Madeline as well. After bathing Lily, setting her up to sleep in the bathroom, and getting a very early start on the laundry, I made it back to bed, the clock closing in on 6 a.m. A little before 6:30 Kurt woke me to say, "Shoot, we forgot to get the trash out to the street." Again.
And that is when I am pretty sure I heard enormous laughter coming down from the heavens. But then, I was still half asleep.
I rolled over, mumbling some words of encouragement for Kurt to get out there as I was not going to be getting up and I went back to sleep....for maybe 10 minutes before Aidan and Liam woke me up thus beginning the day, again. (More laughter...)
I had planned on going to the gym and church, not being stuck at home with sick kids: laughter filled the air.
I had planned on washing the blender and putting it away, not dropping it in the sink (apparently you can't do that?!) and throwing it away. And laughter filled the kitchen.
I had planned on taking my cell-phone on the drive to the doctors to make some catch-up phone calls....but I seem to have misplaced it....Why not just call it you ask? Well, I could, but I conveniently left it on vibrate so all it would do is buzz with laughter.
I had planned on Liam's stitches coming out quickly and easily but it was when the doctor went out for the second time for even more back-up that I realized today really wasn't going to go as planned. (I can be slow sometimes...or at least very stubborn.) Two doctors, a nurse and a very sharp surgical blade later, he was stitch free. But not without much laughter. No wait, my bad, those were tears...
I had planned on putting the kids to bed early to try to finish some stuff up, not hopping around in a one legged jig shouting "ow, ow, ow, ow" after severely stubbing my toe on the side of the bed....
"Mom, I can't really get to sleep," Madeline complained about half way through my theatrics.
Oh really? Because I always find it REALLY easy to fall asleep when someone is insanely jumping and shouting around my bedroom.
But....before I go cursing God and the angels He rode in on, I must admit, I am grateful, even for a day like today. It may not have gone quite as I had planned but it was time well spent: time with the kids at home, preparing for a party, getting 12 loads of laundry done and remembering that sometimes the best laid plans are meant to be broken.
Plus, in the end, the trash got picked up (ironically, the driver was several hours late), I found my phone right where I apparently left it (yesterday's jacket folded neatly in the closet), Liam is done with doctors for the month (let's hope) and Lily seems okay (knock on wood that the plague is not making its rounds again! Seriously. Knock on some wood already! Thanks.)
I suppose no matter how you look at it, sometimes we need a little tossing around in order to be set straight again. And I am thankful I can supply God with some entertainment in the process. And perhaps some to you, too.
Have a great weekend!
2.23.2010
2.22.2010
...Because it Was Time For a New Post....
I woke up this morning thinking: "My, it has been far too long since my last blog post, I wish I had something to write about but things seem pretty calm and normal and...." and then I made the novice mistake of FORGETTING TO KNOCK ON WOOD!
We had a busy day planned today. Aidan had no school and the five of us had lots of errands and chores on our plate before Aidan headed out for a playdate, Madeline to school and Liam for nap leaving Lily to help me with the house work (ha ha). Liam had an Occupational Therapist appointment first thing this morning to get us started so I made sure the kids were on top of their personal to-do lists so we'd be ready to get out the door as soon as it was over to take Madeline to a trial dance class.
Liam's tongue teacher (as we call her) arrived a tad bit late. After stopping just once, when Liam told me he had to use the potty (false alarm), we went quickly through all the exercises, which basically amount to trying to get the kid to lick random things so that he gets extra practice moving his tongue various directions. (According to the ENT we saw last week, Liam's tongue is attached differently than normal so it is not the tongue-tie causing his speech and feeding issues, rather an attachment issue that may be hindering some of the movement...or not....which may or may not have anything to do with anything... The good news: He didn't want to go the surgical route...because you know, we were really interested in that option! I'm pretty certain that if talking is a problem now, operating on the tongue probably wouldn't speed up the learning process...)
At any rate, as the tongue teacher was writing up her report for the day, I handed Liam a cup of milk which he immediately spilled on the ground. I gave him a towel to clean it up and afterward he started playing an innocent game of peek-a-boo with me. You know the routine: now you see him, now you don't....because there is a towel on his head and surely you don't know he is there any longer....
Liam got a huge laugh out of this game. Over and over he put the towel on his head and pulled it off to show me 'SURPRISE' he was really there...chuckle chuckle. And then he decided to go all extreme-sport version on me and was about to bust out with his own version of the Double McTwist when he lost his balance (taking the towel off his head) and fell into the side of a nearby wooden chair. (Shoot, how'd that get there?)
Now, from my angle, it looked like he hit his arm, maybe just barely brushing the side of his head on the way down. Nothing too crazy, right? We were playing peek-a-boo for crying out loud. But, my angle was quite wrong apparently because when he came up to see if he had landed it (dude!) he had a three quarter inch laceration above his eye. Perhaps Liam was feeling a little unstable not having any upcoming doctor visits so he purposefully dove head first into the chair...or perhaps he just wanted to prove he fit into our family, just a few months late, as with most things...or perhaps he was just going for that tough-guy look to make up for his size. Whichever it was, he succeeded.
So, the OT helped round up my kids as I made a series of phone calls to find someone to watch the other three while we went downtown to the Children's Hospital, again. Half an hour later, Liam and I were at the Emergency Department. He smiled away, blood oozing out of his cut while I silently grumbled at having to wait for families whose "emergencies" didn't seem very emergency-ish. But then, I suppose the cut wasn't going anywhere either so no need to rush.
Shortly after checking in, the nurse came over and pasted numbing medicine all over Liam's cut. (He REALLY loved that....he just showed it differently than the other things he loves that don't make him fuss and cry and scream.) The stitch nurse came to escort us to our room within minutes where he told us we would wait until the medicine fully numbed Liam up.
"I'll be back in about 45 minutes," he said.
"Really? It takes 45 minutes?" I asked, not remembering from the last three times I'd been in the same position.
"Oh, we want to make sure he is as numb as he can be before we work on him," he replied. "But, here is the remote. Change the channel if you want and if you need me, just press that big red button in the middle." Staples T.V. commercials somehow merged with Southwest Airlines commercials in my head as I imagined pushing the big red button: Wanna Get Away?
We waited. And waited. And waited some more. And after we had waited as long as a two year old is physically and emotionally capable (it had been at least 10 minutes I am sure) Liam started to fuss. He was so fussy that not even the Non-Latex Glove Chicken I had blown up for him, nor the Tissue Magic tricks I did for him could distract him. He was pointing at the door and tugging at me, and grabbing at his clothes and doing everything he could but blurt out that this was not another false alarm: He had to go bathroom, NOW!
As I was bent down, trying to open the drawer of the cart that had the word "Diaper" on it, the admin staff came in to register us. I explained that, although I looked like I was trying to rob them, I really was just hoping to get a diaper since my son was in the process of going potty. She used her magic code to open the drawer (seriously, when did they invent those?) and handed me a diaper.
"We don't have wipes though so you will have to use the paper towels," she told me, as I watched her close the door with the diapers AND WIPES in it.
"No problem," I replied.
As luck would have it, she was training a new person today and what could have taken a few moments went on and on and on. Long enough that Liam had about lost it by the end (think Jack-Jack from the Incredibles). As soon as they turned to leave, I quickly wet a few paper towels, stretched Liam out on the bed and started the diaper change. Quite unfortunately, what I thought was a completed effort was still in process. He screamed as his bowels made huge, um, progress which I was able to catch in the paper towels. What I didn't anticipate was the other way in which he would go potty at that same moment. So, as Liam was spitting urine out of his mouth (he couldn't have aimed better had he tried!) and I was busy trying to wipe him up with half used paper towels, he gave one final yelp and out came the rest of last weeks food product. Kicking myself for not having taken both legs out of his pants and silently cursing the Miralax we've been giving him to help with the constipation issues, I reached over him to grab the tissues I had tried to entertain him with earlier. I had just started the arduous task of mopping everything up when the doctor came in for her initial visit. WHERE IS THAT RED BUTTON WHEN YOU NEED IT?!
So, there I am with a half naked toddler who is covered in poop at one end, blood and tears at the other and urine down the middle, a pile of diapers and dirty paper towels on the ground sitting next to some unidentified puddle, and I have all of two semi-used Kleenexes to try to fix the situation.
"Hi, I am Doctor.....um, can I get you some wipes or something?" she asked as she took notice of the scene.
"Oh, that would be great, thanks. Your registrar told me you had none," I said calmly.
She pushed the magic code and pulled out the full container of wipes that were sitting right next to the diapers and handed them to me before continuing to examine Liam, still naked but at least now smiling. I lined his new diaper with a few tissues in case he wasn't quite done yet, and made him a little more presentable before explaining what happened for the tenth time.
At this point, I am almost laughing at how ridiculous I sound.
"Well, you see Doc, we were playing Peek-a-boo and it got a little out of control...."(Uh-huh....sure....) "Usually we have them wear helmets of course, for such aggressive play, but you know how it goes....one thing leads to another and BAM!" (She's shaking her head yes, but writing "Child-Services" in her notes...)
I am sure the Emergency Department has heard it all but it didn't make it any less amusing. The stitch nurse laughed and said we should probably rename it Peek-a-Boo-Boo.
I'll spare the rest of the details but after screaming uncontrollably through the papoosing and stitching process, Liam immediately went back to all smiles as we lifted him up and handed him his big red popsicle. (Hmmm, maybe I should make it more clear that I am perfectly willing to just buy the kid some popsicles!)
Although he didn't exactly get a gold medal for his efforts, he does have five beautifully sewn stitches under his brow (along with some very empty bowels). And let there be no doubt, he has decided to throw in the towel on playing peek-a-boo (boo)... at least for today.
Happy Monday to you too! Oh, and be careful what you wish for! :)
We had a busy day planned today. Aidan had no school and the five of us had lots of errands and chores on our plate before Aidan headed out for a playdate, Madeline to school and Liam for nap leaving Lily to help me with the house work (ha ha). Liam had an Occupational Therapist appointment first thing this morning to get us started so I made sure the kids were on top of their personal to-do lists so we'd be ready to get out the door as soon as it was over to take Madeline to a trial dance class.
Liam's tongue teacher (as we call her) arrived a tad bit late. After stopping just once, when Liam told me he had to use the potty (false alarm), we went quickly through all the exercises, which basically amount to trying to get the kid to lick random things so that he gets extra practice moving his tongue various directions. (According to the ENT we saw last week, Liam's tongue is attached differently than normal so it is not the tongue-tie causing his speech and feeding issues, rather an attachment issue that may be hindering some of the movement...or not....which may or may not have anything to do with anything... The good news: He didn't want to go the surgical route...because you know, we were really interested in that option! I'm pretty certain that if talking is a problem now, operating on the tongue probably wouldn't speed up the learning process...)
At any rate, as the tongue teacher was writing up her report for the day, I handed Liam a cup of milk which he immediately spilled on the ground. I gave him a towel to clean it up and afterward he started playing an innocent game of peek-a-boo with me. You know the routine: now you see him, now you don't....because there is a towel on his head and surely you don't know he is there any longer....
Liam got a huge laugh out of this game. Over and over he put the towel on his head and pulled it off to show me 'SURPRISE' he was really there...chuckle chuckle. And then he decided to go all extreme-sport version on me and was about to bust out with his own version of the Double McTwist when he lost his balance (taking the towel off his head) and fell into the side of a nearby wooden chair. (Shoot, how'd that get there?)
Now, from my angle, it looked like he hit his arm, maybe just barely brushing the side of his head on the way down. Nothing too crazy, right? We were playing peek-a-boo for crying out loud. But, my angle was quite wrong apparently because when he came up to see if he had landed it (dude!) he had a three quarter inch laceration above his eye. Perhaps Liam was feeling a little unstable not having any upcoming doctor visits so he purposefully dove head first into the chair...or perhaps he just wanted to prove he fit into our family, just a few months late, as with most things...or perhaps he was just going for that tough-guy look to make up for his size. Whichever it was, he succeeded.
So, the OT helped round up my kids as I made a series of phone calls to find someone to watch the other three while we went downtown to the Children's Hospital, again. Half an hour later, Liam and I were at the Emergency Department. He smiled away, blood oozing out of his cut while I silently grumbled at having to wait for families whose "emergencies" didn't seem very emergency-ish. But then, I suppose the cut wasn't going anywhere either so no need to rush.
Shortly after checking in, the nurse came over and pasted numbing medicine all over Liam's cut. (He REALLY loved that....he just showed it differently than the other things he loves that don't make him fuss and cry and scream.) The stitch nurse came to escort us to our room within minutes where he told us we would wait until the medicine fully numbed Liam up.
"I'll be back in about 45 minutes," he said.
"Really? It takes 45 minutes?" I asked, not remembering from the last three times I'd been in the same position.
"Oh, we want to make sure he is as numb as he can be before we work on him," he replied. "But, here is the remote. Change the channel if you want and if you need me, just press that big red button in the middle." Staples T.V. commercials somehow merged with Southwest Airlines commercials in my head as I imagined pushing the big red button: Wanna Get Away?
We waited. And waited. And waited some more. And after we had waited as long as a two year old is physically and emotionally capable (it had been at least 10 minutes I am sure) Liam started to fuss. He was so fussy that not even the Non-Latex Glove Chicken I had blown up for him, nor the Tissue Magic tricks I did for him could distract him. He was pointing at the door and tugging at me, and grabbing at his clothes and doing everything he could but blurt out that this was not another false alarm: He had to go bathroom, NOW!
As I was bent down, trying to open the drawer of the cart that had the word "Diaper" on it, the admin staff came in to register us. I explained that, although I looked like I was trying to rob them, I really was just hoping to get a diaper since my son was in the process of going potty. She used her magic code to open the drawer (seriously, when did they invent those?) and handed me a diaper.
"We don't have wipes though so you will have to use the paper towels," she told me, as I watched her close the door with the diapers AND WIPES in it.
"No problem," I replied.
As luck would have it, she was training a new person today and what could have taken a few moments went on and on and on. Long enough that Liam had about lost it by the end (think Jack-Jack from the Incredibles). As soon as they turned to leave, I quickly wet a few paper towels, stretched Liam out on the bed and started the diaper change. Quite unfortunately, what I thought was a completed effort was still in process. He screamed as his bowels made huge, um, progress which I was able to catch in the paper towels. What I didn't anticipate was the other way in which he would go potty at that same moment. So, as Liam was spitting urine out of his mouth (he couldn't have aimed better had he tried!) and I was busy trying to wipe him up with half used paper towels, he gave one final yelp and out came the rest of last weeks food product. Kicking myself for not having taken both legs out of his pants and silently cursing the Miralax we've been giving him to help with the constipation issues, I reached over him to grab the tissues I had tried to entertain him with earlier. I had just started the arduous task of mopping everything up when the doctor came in for her initial visit. WHERE IS THAT RED BUTTON WHEN YOU NEED IT?!
So, there I am with a half naked toddler who is covered in poop at one end, blood and tears at the other and urine down the middle, a pile of diapers and dirty paper towels on the ground sitting next to some unidentified puddle, and I have all of two semi-used Kleenexes to try to fix the situation.
"Hi, I am Doctor.....um, can I get you some wipes or something?" she asked as she took notice of the scene.
"Oh, that would be great, thanks. Your registrar told me you had none," I said calmly.
She pushed the magic code and pulled out the full container of wipes that were sitting right next to the diapers and handed them to me before continuing to examine Liam, still naked but at least now smiling. I lined his new diaper with a few tissues in case he wasn't quite done yet, and made him a little more presentable before explaining what happened for the tenth time.
At this point, I am almost laughing at how ridiculous I sound.
"Well, you see Doc, we were playing Peek-a-boo and it got a little out of control...."(Uh-huh....sure....) "Usually we have them wear helmets of course, for such aggressive play, but you know how it goes....one thing leads to another and BAM!" (She's shaking her head yes, but writing "Child-Services" in her notes...)
I am sure the Emergency Department has heard it all but it didn't make it any less amusing. The stitch nurse laughed and said we should probably rename it Peek-a-Boo-Boo.
I'll spare the rest of the details but after screaming uncontrollably through the papoosing and stitching process, Liam immediately went back to all smiles as we lifted him up and handed him his big red popsicle. (Hmmm, maybe I should make it more clear that I am perfectly willing to just buy the kid some popsicles!)
Although he didn't exactly get a gold medal for his efforts, he does have five beautifully sewn stitches under his brow (along with some very empty bowels). And let there be no doubt, he has decided to throw in the towel on playing peek-a-boo (boo)... at least for today.
Happy Monday to you too! Oh, and be careful what you wish for! :)
2.13.2010
Enter Leroy, Stage Right
"He's bad, bad Leroy Brown,
Baddest cat in the whole [darn] town
Badder than old King Kong
And he's meaner than a junkyard dog." -original lyrics by Jim Croce (but this is a variation that has been sung over the years....)
So, apparently the seams came unloose and started to unravel because Kurt and I decided to get the kids a cat for Valentine's Day. Yes, you read that right. A Cat. A handsome (yet gassy), Bobcat-like hairball named Leroy, possessing claws that could match any average Tiger. (Seriously, you'd think the shelter might consider cutting their nails ever so often! Sheesh!)
It seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time. I mean, I love animals (right?) and although I really wanted a nice, confined rabbit, I compromised with a cat thinking it was a good starter pet for the kids. (And the only one Kurt would actually agree to, might I add.) Now, you might be thinking: Why not just get a fish? Honestly, fish are as about as interesting as watching a wall. (And I have plenty of walls I don't have to feed!) At least cats have antics and are good for a laugh here and there.
So, 10 month old Leroy came home with us a week and a half ago. The kids were thrilled ("We get to keep him forever and ever? Until he DIES?!" Aidan asked, excitedly.) And then BAM! The anxiety hit like a Mack Truck.
What? Until he dies? Hold the phone! To what did we just commit?!
Now, rest assured, I did not panic with the stress of getting married and I had no major anxiety adding each additional kid to our family. But then came Leroy, the cat. Ever heard of the straw that broke the camel's back? Welcome Leroy. I hereby declare you a Basement Dweller!
I had such big panic attacks the first four days I thought I was allergic to him. I searched frantically for my inhaler, just in case the tightening in my chest was asthma coming on and one morning I even had to invite my neighbor friend over to calm me down. Because we had a cat. In the basement.
And then later that second day, when he jumped up on our couch, scaring Madeline who immediately pushed him off, which of course engaged his wild claws leaving quite an impression on the leather, I about had it. (Apparently scratched up furniture does nothing to quell anxiety....shocking.)
By Friday, I called Kurt crying because "I'm so sorry...We got a cat!... Waaaaaa!" And he just laughed and laughed.
"Karen," he said. "It's...a cat." (Breathe Karen Breathe!)
And that is when it hit me: Well duh....how well do you think most chickens react to a cat in their coop? All this anxiety and territorial behavior I was exhibiting began to make sense. And I realized, I am fully and completely a nut-job! Surely the fact that in the midst of panic attacks over a cat I planned out where I would build my chicken coop under the deck and how I would convert the sunroom into a bunny habitat (you know, in the event that Kurt lost his marbles too and allowed it) confirms my nuttiness.
So, after admitting to myself and others I did not want to keep this cat, (I actually made tentative plans for just how he might take leave of our house), I forced myself to bond with the furball. I took the kids to the pet store to get a Furminator to help control the shedding as well as some cat treats and we headed down to the basement together to brush out his beautiful coat and begin the process of "training" him. I handed a treat to each of the kids and told them to give it to Leroy, making sure I called him by name rather than "the cat." Madeline and Lily immediately threw theirs at him and when I told Liam to give his to the cat he held up his empty hands and began to chew wildly.
"No, Liam! Don't eat the cat treat!" I said while trying to get his busy mouth open. He quickly swallowed and started signing "more, more, more."
Well shoot, maybe we HAVE been feeding Liam the wrong kind of food this whole time!
After watching Leroy fall into the toilet a few times (that's just plain funny), seeing how much abuse he tolerates from the kids who still think you can safely carry a cat by the neck, and in discovering I am not at all allergic, I now realize he is actually a decent fit for our family. And since Kurt was originally hoping we could rename the cat "Bruce Lee-roy" I will end on a few quotes from the martial arts master which help sum up this last week or so.
"There is no such thing as maturity. There is instead an ever-evolving process of maturing. Because when there is a maturity, there is a conclusion and a cessation. That’s the end. That’s when the coffin is closed. You might be deteriorating physically in the long process of aging, but your personal process of daily discovery is ongoing. You continue to learn more and more about yourself every day."
"Flow in the living moment. — We are always in a process of becoming and NOTHING is fixed. [Well, Leroy is...] Have no rigid system in you, and you'll be flexible to change with the ever changing. OPEN yourself and flow, my friend. Flow in the total openness of the living moment. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror. Respond like an echo."
"You cannot force the Now. — But can you neither condemn nor justify and yet be extraordinarily alive as you walk on? You can never invite the wind, but you must leave the window open." --Bruce Lee
And with any luck at all, the cat might just find that open window and escape!
One week down, only about eight hundred more to go....
Leroy, post 'declaw' surgery
(We're a one strike you're out family apparently....)
Baddest cat in the whole [darn] town
Badder than old King Kong
And he's meaner than a junkyard dog." -original lyrics by Jim Croce (but this is a variation that has been sung over the years....)
So, apparently the seams came unloose and started to unravel because Kurt and I decided to get the kids a cat for Valentine's Day. Yes, you read that right. A Cat. A handsome (yet gassy), Bobcat-like hairball named Leroy, possessing claws that could match any average Tiger. (Seriously, you'd think the shelter might consider cutting their nails ever so often! Sheesh!)
It seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time. I mean, I love animals (right?) and although I really wanted a nice, confined rabbit, I compromised with a cat thinking it was a good starter pet for the kids. (And the only one Kurt would actually agree to, might I add.) Now, you might be thinking: Why not just get a fish? Honestly, fish are as about as interesting as watching a wall. (And I have plenty of walls I don't have to feed!) At least cats have antics and are good for a laugh here and there.
So, 10 month old Leroy came home with us a week and a half ago. The kids were thrilled ("We get to keep him forever and ever? Until he DIES?!" Aidan asked, excitedly.) And then BAM! The anxiety hit like a Mack Truck.
What? Until he dies? Hold the phone! To what did we just commit?!
Now, rest assured, I did not panic with the stress of getting married and I had no major anxiety adding each additional kid to our family. But then came Leroy, the cat. Ever heard of the straw that broke the camel's back? Welcome Leroy. I hereby declare you a Basement Dweller!
I had such big panic attacks the first four days I thought I was allergic to him. I searched frantically for my inhaler, just in case the tightening in my chest was asthma coming on and one morning I even had to invite my neighbor friend over to calm me down. Because we had a cat. In the basement.
And then later that second day, when he jumped up on our couch, scaring Madeline who immediately pushed him off, which of course engaged his wild claws leaving quite an impression on the leather, I about had it. (Apparently scratched up furniture does nothing to quell anxiety....shocking.)
By Friday, I called Kurt crying because "I'm so sorry...We got a cat!... Waaaaaa!" And he just laughed and laughed.
"Karen," he said. "It's...a cat." (Breathe Karen Breathe!)
And that is when it hit me: Well duh....how well do you think most chickens react to a cat in their coop? All this anxiety and territorial behavior I was exhibiting began to make sense. And I realized, I am fully and completely a nut-job! Surely the fact that in the midst of panic attacks over a cat I planned out where I would build my chicken coop under the deck and how I would convert the sunroom into a bunny habitat (you know, in the event that Kurt lost his marbles too and allowed it) confirms my nuttiness.
So, after admitting to myself and others I did not want to keep this cat, (I actually made tentative plans for just how he might take leave of our house), I forced myself to bond with the furball. I took the kids to the pet store to get a Furminator to help control the shedding as well as some cat treats and we headed down to the basement together to brush out his beautiful coat and begin the process of "training" him. I handed a treat to each of the kids and told them to give it to Leroy, making sure I called him by name rather than "the cat." Madeline and Lily immediately threw theirs at him and when I told Liam to give his to the cat he held up his empty hands and began to chew wildly.
"No, Liam! Don't eat the cat treat!" I said while trying to get his busy mouth open. He quickly swallowed and started signing "more, more, more."
Well shoot, maybe we HAVE been feeding Liam the wrong kind of food this whole time!
After watching Leroy fall into the toilet a few times (that's just plain funny), seeing how much abuse he tolerates from the kids who still think you can safely carry a cat by the neck, and in discovering I am not at all allergic, I now realize he is actually a decent fit for our family. And since Kurt was originally hoping we could rename the cat "Bruce Lee-roy" I will end on a few quotes from the martial arts master which help sum up this last week or so.
"There is no such thing as maturity. There is instead an ever-evolving process of maturing. Because when there is a maturity, there is a conclusion and a cessation. That’s the end. That’s when the coffin is closed. You might be deteriorating physically in the long process of aging, but your personal process of daily discovery is ongoing. You continue to learn more and more about yourself every day."
"You cannot force the Now. — But can you neither condemn nor justify and yet be extraordinarily alive as you walk on? You can never invite the wind, but you must leave the window open." --Bruce Lee
And with any luck at all, the cat might just find that open window and escape!
One week down, only about eight hundred more to go....
Leroy, post 'declaw' surgery
(We're a one strike you're out family apparently....)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)