water, and more water, and gastrointestinal crap (not necessarily in that order)

Travis's last T-ball game was this past week. Overall an enjoyable season, looking forward to next year. Travis loved loved loved his trophy, and we put it in his bedroom on the shelf so that a) Noah couldn't reach it (priority number one), and b) he can see it every night as he goes to sleep.

Last week Ben had an endoscopy to determine if there were any digestive / gastrointestinal problems we should be worried about. Doc says everything looks good, but as it turns out, we did determine that Ben is an animal when it comes to foreign objects being shoved down his throat against his will. They gave him a mild sedative, as per standard operating procedure, to relax him. I think what it actually did was take him to an alternate reality where he didn't really know what was going on, so he fought the process tooth and nail. Doc gave him five times the amount of sedative that he gives normal patients, and still barely got the job done.

So, they come get me, and on the way back to his recovery bed, the doctor is telling me about this trial and tribulation. We walk into the room where Ben is snoring loudly and the nurse casually mentions that he's sleeping. The doc actually rolled and his eyes, snorted, and said, "yeah, now he's sleeping..." I think it was quite the stressful ordeal for the poor doctor, thank goodness we (the collective we, I mean) pay him the big bucks.

At any rate, Ben finally, slowly, wakes up... and is as loopy as a can of peas. He kept trying to pretend like he didn't know who I was, and at one point said "I hope my wife doesn't show up". He also tried to pretend like he was 100% in charge of his mental faculties, which he most assuredly was not. Then on the way home, he asked about 40 times (I kid you not) about how the procedure went, did they have to biopsy anything, what did they find, etc. I finally just stopped answering him and totally ignored him.. he'd get a little cranky but in about 30 seconds would totally forget that he even asked me a question, so it was all good.

And of course, while on that car trip home, while Ben was at his loopiest, I got a call from the car dealer with the results of their diagnostics on the Mountaineer. I'm a fairly intelligent person, and don't really fit into any of those girly stereotypes... except that when it comes to car troubles, I'm about as ignorant as they come. So this mechanic is rattling off crap about computer upgrades, and rotor problems, and tire circumferences, and meanwhile my mechanically-inclined husband is all but drooling in the passenger seat. So I played the dumb wife card, pretty accurate in this case, and said we'd call them back in the morning when my better half could speak in full sentences again.

Other weekend news, we went to a party at a friends house with the biggest slip and slide I've ever seen.

Ben and I had fun too.

On the way home, we picked up some sparklers from a random fireworks store and played with fire before the kids went to bed. They loved it.

Finally, on Sunday, we went to the water playground, which Travis loved and Noah was somewhat conflicted about. He is still grappling with his feelings about water, in general. Overall I think he enjoyed himself.

Sophie in her adorable swimsuit....

That's about all the news I have. Fourth of July weekend coming up, sounds like we'll be heading to the lake and then possibly a trip to Indy to catch up with some friends.

Out.

Girlfriends and Pizza

Went on a playdate this week with Travis's little 'gal pal' from pre-school, Una. He and Una took a liking to each other right at the beginning of the school year. So on the last day of class, her mom and I agreed to get the kids together this summer, and this week was our first such event. So cute. I wish I would have gotten a picture, but I forgot my camera. We'll be doing it again in a couple weeks though, so I'll have to be sure to get a picture of him and his little girlfriend.

We also decided to go to the beach yesterday afternoon, always an adventure. Noah finally abandoned his reluctance to enjoy the water that he's seemed to have the last few months, and jumped in with both feet, so to speak.

We also went to my favorite pizza place of all time and enjoyed some good grub before heading home. Some pics of the kids enjoying Silver Beach Pizza (and playing with dough balls):

In other news, we have kitchen countertops ordered which will be our next project, Ben sold a boat today, then subsequently bought a Jeep (kind of a lifelong dream of his). He's also undergoing an endoscopy tomorrow so I'm hopeful that everything goes smoothly there.

I feel like I have more to say but am going through some kind of a communication block right now. I'll be back eventually.

Despair

As I type, it is nearly 10pm, and I am sitting down after my evening routine to unwind and relax before bed. Ben is snoring in the recliner next to me. In about 10 or 15 minutes, I anticipate that he'll awaken to begin his evening routine.

The two of us are so dramatically different in how we handle our post-dinner agendas that its a wonder we speak to each other at all after the hour of 6pm or so.

I am hardly the model of achievement, but for my part, I have to get my stuff done - and the earlier the better. I can't stand having my task list for the evening weighing on my mind. It is just too much pressure. Kids in the bath, dishes done, kids to bed, another load of laundry started (oh my god the laundry is ridiculous, I could drown in laundry in this house), general straightening, trash out for trash night, clothes set out for tomorrow, etc, etc... if I don't get it done early it just kills me.

Ben, on the other hand, prefers to 'catnap' in the evening and then wake up refreshed enough to get his stuff done. Like last night, for example, he had to go out to Menards to pick out the sink for our new countertops before finishing up the order. So around 7:15 or so I remind him, tell him he doesn't have to wait until after the kids are in bed, he can go ahead and go. He acknowledges and I assume he intends to leave. Around 8:15 or so, he's lying in the recliner. Asleep. The exchange goes something like this:

Me: Ben. Don't you want to go to Menards?

Ben: [incoherent grumble]

Me: Ben. Seriously. It's past 8 o'clock. Does Menards close at 9?

Ben: mm. uh. mmm.

Me. 9 o' clock? Don't they close at 9? As in, you don't have enough

time. As in, get your lazy @!@* up...????

Ben: mmuhnmm . Leave me alone.

Me: So you're not going to Menards.

Ben: I'm going. Leave me alone.

Me: Okay but don't you think you should go now?

Ben: I'll go when I go. Leave me alone.

Me: Fine but it just doesn't seem like you're going.

And so on. I positively drive him crazy, but in my defense, I justify it in my own mind by saying that I'm doing it for his own good.

He is the embodiment of the ever-so-eloquent Despair, Inc. demotivational poster currently hanging in my basement:

On the flip side, I fall asleep when we watch movies like its my job. It drives Ben nuts. But, I mean, it's night time. You can't yell at someone for falling asleep at night time, right?

Rebel squirrels

Wow, it seems like we've been busy a lot lately.

Travis had his swallow test last week, and the result is that a) all the muscles are doing the right things and b) his gag reflex is considerably far forward on his tongue, which is probably what is leading to the food sensitivity issues. Still on the waiting list to see the feeding therapist, but one positive outcome of this is that I feel a little better about not pushing the food issue any harder right now, until we can get some professional assistance underway.

Last weekend we had our first official camping trip. It was just a one night trip, to a campground near Lake Michigan, about an hour away from home. Nothing too dramatic but we thought we'd ease into the whole family trip thing. It was remarkably easy... far easier than it really should be with three children under four and a half years old. The kids had a great time, Ben and I did as well, and I'm ready to take on a real, full-fledged family vacation. Now if I only had any vacation time left. Blasted maternity leave.

The biggest problem we had on the camping trip was keeping Noah out of the fire pit. He was fascinated with it. I was literally on the edge of my seat, ready to leap thru mid-air, every time he came within ten feet of the fire -- he supposedly understands the concept of hot, but seeing as how the worst "hot" he's ever actually encountered is a slice of pizza that's a little too 'fresh' out of the oven, he doesn't quite grasp the severity of the situation. I, on the other hand, envision every stumble turning into a catastrophe defined by third-degree burns and permanent physical and emotional scarring. Thankfully, we survived the trip unscathed.

I subscribed Travis to a new puzzle magazine, because the kid loves puzzles and the like. He was looking at the magazine on the way to the campground, and in particular was enjoying the "What's Wrong With This Picture" page -- he loves those, where there are silly things like an ice cream cone for an umbrella and whatnot. So he points to this picture of a chipmunk on a skateboard, and he says, "Mom, ha ha, that's funny... that chipmunk is skateboarding without a helmet!" I got a real kick out of that, that what's funny to him is not the idea of a rodent on a skateboard but rather the lack of safety gear of said rodent.

Sophie is officially 6-months old, as of today. Wow, that's hard to believe. She's doing well, starting to eat some more exciting things, like rice cereal, pureed fruit, and carpet lint.

Gearing up for my day off tomorrow. I love Wednesdays.

That's all for now.

Coping, Schmoping

I broke the front door today.  You know, the glass storm door in the entry way?  For some reason, the latchy thing that actually closes the door would not move when the handle moved, so it was stuck permanently in a closed position.  I say "was" because it's not in that position now.  Because there is no latchy thing.  There's no door handle.  There's no glass.  All of the above has been removed and tossed aside somewhere (except the door glass, which was ever-so-gently deposited in its resting spot).  Ben is currently at some hardware store buying a drill bit because of the 15 drill bit kits we've got lying around the house, none of them appear to have a 3/8" bit.  At any rate, the point is, I broke the door, and Ben inherited himself a project.

The further point of this story is that I have officially reached the end of my rope of coping mechanisms.  Which means a broken front door is the type of problem essentially equivalent to the house burning to the ground.  I encountered said broken door as I was trying to let my mother and Travis into the house after a quick jaunt to the library, and she was going to stick around and watch the kids while I went to a luncheon at my office.  I couldn't let them in.  The door was broken.  They finally entered through the patio door in the back, I left for my work thingie, and cried most of the way there.  About a broken front door.  Or, at least I think that's what it was about.  I can't really be sure.

I always forget about this post-partum crap until I'm right in the thick of it.  I also forget that Sophie is only 6-months old, not even, so it's not really unusual that I'm going through this right now.  I'm also finishing up nursing right now, partially for reasons partly out of my control, which I'm really struggling with -- but all things considered it is the right decision.  Nonetheless, it means more emotions, and more turbulence, more instability in my mental state.  I've taken some steps recently to get back under control, however, which is good - because up until now my only remedy has been a strict regimen of chocolate... which doesn't help any, but darnit, I love chocolate.

Bedtime Stories

I found out today that Travis believes all baseball catchers are named "Strike". I determined this while we were playing a makeshift game of T-ball this evening, where Travis decided he was the catcher. Noah went to try to pick up the catcher's mitt and Travis said, "No, Noah, I'm Strike..." So we had a little conversation about it, I asked him if his name was Strike, he said yes, because I'm the catcher. I asked why that meant his name was Strike and he said, "Because that's what the guy says whenever the catcher catches the ball."

Clever little fella.

As I was putting the boys to bed tonight, first Travis decided he was very sad because he left his little stuffed dog Cupcake at ya-ya's house. Now, mind you, he has only cared one whit about this little dog for about 26 hours. Before last night, it was just another stuffed animal cluttering up our house. But he stumbled across it yesterday and decided he loved it, we named it, and he's carried it around obsessively since. If you know Travis, this is not a surprise. Let me give you some background. Up until about 2 weeks ago, Travis had a veritable litter of stuffed animals that he insisted upon taking to ya-ya's house daily. Ya-ya even bought him a good sized cloth bag for transport. Let me introduce you:

• Moose: a staple since Travis was 11 months old, Moose goes practically everywhere. Never to pre-school or other places where there's lots of kids, or on shopping expeditions and the like. But for the most part, where Travis goes, so goes Moose.

• Boxer: a do-it-yourself Build-A-Bear creation, Boxer is a little stuffed dog that Ben bought at the store one time as a reward for completing some sticker chart. I can't remember which. It might have been potty training. We put it together ourselves, the stitching is a little primordial so I'm not sure how much longer he'll hold up.

• Blueberry: Blueberry was a gift from an ex-co-worker of mine, either for my baby shower while I was pregnant with Travis, or shortly after he was born. A light blue stuffed dog that says "My First Puppy" on the collar, Blueberry was another one of those that no one really cared about until a few months ago.

• Brownie: A stuffed giraffe that Travis and Ben made at the Build-A-Bear at Brookfield Zoo in Chicago about a month ago, Brownie has now been added to this group of treasured animals. I would note that Travis spends essentially zero time playing with, cuddling with, or otherwise engaging with Brownie, but insists still on having him make the trek between houses.

• Goose: A stuffed pink duck that Travis won at his soon-to-be new Pre-School's school fair this spring. A duck named Goose. Love it.

• Tomato:  See previous blog.

• Milk: A tiny stuffed kitty cat that was also a gift from a co-worker, received at my baby shower for Travis. He's always kind of liked this cat but only recently has it made the hot list.

About two weeks ago, I decided I'd had enough, and told Travis he could pick two animals to take with him to ya-ya's. I mean, I felt like I was constantly counting stuffed animals, or gathering them up, or saying "whoa I think Noah just threw Blueberry in the recycling," - it was getting ridiculous. And he seemed to be adding animals at an exponential rate. So now he takes Moose and some random animal -- today Cupcake. The rest stay in Travis's bed. My life is so much easier now.

Back to the story, we could not find Cupcake when we left ya-ya's house today. (He's about the size of a jumbo jellybean, after all...) Travis was mostly okay with this until bedtime, when he got sad again. To help him feel better, I told him to try to think of the funniest thing he could think of. We came up with a tomato frog eating tomatoes in a tomato tree. Then he cracked up laughing and rolled over, and went to sleep.

On my way out of the room, Noah told me he wanted "Pickle the Tar". It took me about twelve guesses to figure out that he wanted a song -- "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". A little serenading, and he's sleeping contentedly as well.

Sophie's sleeping also, after a full bowl of cereal, bottle, and bath. Yippee.

Now its my turn.