Fresh Air

I started this morning by taking Michael to his one-year check up, I was talking with the doctor about his spitting up (which is not horrible, but something I'd like NOT to see at all in my one-year-old thankyouverymuch) and he urped all over me, right on cue. Thanks, Bud.

Michael's one year stats are impressive, especially considering our doctor's office does not adjust his age:

head circumference: 47.7 cm - 90%
weight: 21.6 lbs - 25-50%
height: 29.5 in - 50%

Not bad for my four pound preemie!

It was a gorgeous day here today and the afternoon went smoothly enough that I figured we could fit in a trip to the park after dinner. I remember last year, going out into the front yard shortly after Michael's homecoming, taking pictures with some of the spring flowers, and I'm not kidding when I say it felt like an ordeal just to take the kids a few feet out the door (Michael's apnea monitor had to travel with us then). I found myself kind of amazed at how easily we could hop into the car and jet down to the park for half an hour without any kind of advanced tactical plan needed. Freedom!

Michael, now with visible teeth!

I love that Harper can now climb ladders with enough confidence that I don't need to hover, she can just go and play - four-year-olds are neat.

Seriously, it's a struggle not to eat him for dinner...

Is it me, or does Harper look like a "big kid" in this picture? And how is it possible we are still an entire year away from kindergarten?

Much to my delight, Michael was happy as a clam in the swing. (Although he's usually happy as a clam, so I shouldn't be surprised.) This will make it very easy to continue to take him to the park.

Four-year-olds are big cheese balls.

Sleepwalking

It feels like I've been underwater most of the day today. We're getting ready for Michael's first birthday party this weekend, but there's also a lot of other stuff going on and I have been up way too late at night.

This morning I was so tired that I squirted the conditioner into my hand in the shower and I found myself staring at it for a moment, unable to remember what to do with it. I really wish I were joking.

Harper has been both difficult and hilarious lately, although the hilarity is largely unintentional (the difficult part is purposeful, methinks). If you've read here long then you already know how much I love children's mispronunciations and misunderstandings with the English language. The funny things kids say are among my favorite perks to parenting and/or teaching young children. Recently Harper has had some song lyric mix-ups:

"We learned a new song in school today, the ribbon song. You shake your fingers to the ribbon, your hips to the ribbon. You move stuff to the ribbon!" (That would be the rhythm song.)

"Cradle, cradle, cradle, I made you out of clay. . ." (I guess it makes sense that she wouldn't know the word dreidel.)

She's been having trouble remembering how to say, "humpback whale". It either comes out as "lumpback," or, "hunchback".

She's also having trouble remembering how to clean up her toys and sit in one place to eat a meal. . .

This is the type of mess that occurs nearly every time Harper plays. It is the downside to how well she entertains herself and the reason why we're needing a cleaning up refresher course in these parts.

One Year

Dear Michael,

You are one year old today, which is a pretty good trick, since your birthday was supposed to be in May. . . Your arrival a year ago, nine weeks early, turned our lives upside down in more ways than one. We'd been waiting for you anxiously, but also willing you to stay put and grow bigger just a little longer. You arrived, small but strong, and I was so relieved to see you safe and sound.

Just over four pounds at birth, you needed extra time to grow and learn to do the things that are important for babies - sucking, swallowing, and maintaining your body temperature. You needed time, and special care, and so you spent the first 30 days of your life in the NICU. The day I went home from the hospital, having to leave you behind, was one of the hardest days of my life. I knew you were in wonderful hands, that I could call to check on you anytime, that I would visit you every day, but there are no words to describe the heartache of driving away from that building without you.

When you did come home, in April, I was terrified that you were not ready, that something would go wrong and there wouldn't be a team of nurses and doctors at the ready. But you were just fine. You slept and ate and grew, while Daddy and I stumbled around in a sleep deprived haze for a few weeks. You were small enough that we had to wake you up in the middle of the night to feed you. You loved to be held and any upset could be calmed almost instantly by scooping you up and wrapping you up against my chest. (A year later this is still, mostly, true.)

For any parent or child who might wonder, I can now confidently assure the world that it is possible to love a second baby just as much as a first. I loved you even before you were born and you make my heart grow bigger every day. You are a marvel to me, little man, and I will never grow tired of watching the unfolding of the person you you are becoming.

You are taking your time to learn all the baby tricks like crawling and waving and I find that it is easy to give myself to the anxiety and worry about you. And then you grin your huge grin and remind me that we all do things in our own time and that I should let go of my worry and just enjoy the beautiful baby that you are. You are teaching me a new level of patience, Michael, a lesson I'm sure I have needed to learn. You are helping me appreciate things as they are. You demand that I live in the present.

You are a JOY Michael. Calm and happy. You go with the flow. You have a gentle spirit. You delight in the people who love you, especial Harper, Daddy, and I. The way you quiet when I sing to you, squeal with glee when Daddy walks through the door, laugh at Harper's antics, you remind all of us how to love and appreciate each other. Harper likes to say that you love her best because she can always make you smile. But I think you are already in on the secret of parents' hearts, that it is possible to love many people very, very much.


You are a gift to everyone who knows you. I am so privileged to be your mother. I promise to do my best to help you grow up, if you promise not to do it too quickly.

I love you Michael.

Love,
Mommy

A Year in Photos

(The last one isn't in the usual chair, because I haven't taken that photo yet, but look at the HUGE boy eating finger food!)

Happy Birthday Michael!

A Year Ago, Part Four of ?

So amidst the blur of the time I was in the hospital, there are a few moments that stand out more clearly than the others:

• When I first went to the hospital I went to the one nearest our home, where I was supposed to have Michael. It was there that we realized something was truly wrong, but didn't really know the extent of things yet, only that I'd be spending the night.
• The next morning, February 11, the doctor doing rounds let us know that they'd decided I needed to be transferred to the larger, downtown hospital, where they were more prepared to deal with complicated pregnancies and preemies. For a brief time we thought they were going to transfer me in a HELICOPTER. My (closely monitored) blood pressure spiked at the mere thought. As it turns out, the flight for life team was in charge of the transfer, but took me (thankfully!) in an ambulance. (Okay, I think my blood pressure goes up just remembering how it felt to think for even a few moments that I would be going anywhere by helicopter.)
• Once we got settled into the new hospital a doctor came to sit with us, have us sign many consent forms, and basically explained what was wrong as well was everything that could possibly happen - including the possibility that the baby and/or I could die. I think they were trying to make sure that we realized the potential seriousness of the situation. That was a rough night.
• Another memorable day was the day we "toured" the NICU. I think I was somewhere around 28 weeks. I don't know how you can really be prepared to see all those impossibly tiny babies and monitors and machines. . . And the perfectly lovely nurse who was showing us around and explaining how things worked kept saying, "When your baby this," and, "When your baby that." And it was the phrasing that put me over the edge. And the poor nurse and Matt had to keep going right along as I sat there and quietly cried nearly the entire time she talked to us. It bothered me for days, the way she kept saying, "Your baby. . ." because at that point my water hadn't broken, and I was convinced I would be on bed rest until May, when I would deliver a perfectly healthy full-term baby. I hated her assumption that we would be in the NICU at all.
  

A Year Ago, Part Three of ?

In some ways I wish I'd written much more about our experiences last year. So many of the details allude me now.

It was a year ago today that I started having the regular contractions that led up to Michael's early birth. In the blog entries shortly after he was born I promised to tell his birth story. . . and never did. Now I'm not even sure I can. I am finding it difficult to remember exactly what happened between that Friday morning and Sunday night.

I have a general sense of how that month of bed rest passed - lots of television and computer time, some reading and writing. I needed the distraction and noise of the tv and phone calls. I felt the worst when it was too quiet or I sat too long with my thoughts. One of the worst times was during the first week I was in the hospital and I was wheeled down to get an ultrasound. I was left in the wheelchair, to wait in a hallway, for nearly half an hour. If I'd known to bring a book (which I did the next time) it would have been okay, but just to sit for half an hour with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling/wall/my lap it was very difficult not to panic about the situation we were in - the unknown of it all.

When I look back at the blog entries from February and March of last year I am amazed at how upbeat so many of them seem. Right now when I think of that time I remember how terrifying and awful and lonely it all felt. I feel almost sick to my stomach reading about it, because I remember how desperate I felt, even as I tried to be positive/upbeat when I wrote and talked with people.

I had contractions on and off the entire week before Michael was born. At one point early in the week I was even bounced back to the PICU so Michael could be constantly monitored. I think that was Tuesday, the day I hit the 31 week mark in my pregnancy. I was in the PICU one night and then things quieted enough that I went back to the regular maternity room until late in the week. I had been in the hospital long enough that certain things about it were almost starting to feel like home.

We are almost ready to celebrate Michael's first birthday and he is a beautiful, healthy baby. Someday I think I will be able to celebrate him, without feeling so heavily the weight of the scary experience surrounding his birth. A year later I am thankful and I am also sad. Even as we move forward a piece of me is still grieving the loss of the way things were supposed to be.

Mounting Evidence That I am Going Insane

I met a friend for coffee last night, which was a lot of fun, and we stayed way too late just chatting away. As a result I spent most of today being almost deliriously tired.

When we arrived home from picking Harper up at school I repeatedly asked her to check if there was anything for me in her mailbox. I was growing frustrated that she hadn't followed through on my request when she turned to me, exasperated, and said, "Mom, I just don't know what you're talking about!"

And she had every right to be confused, since I was trying to ask her to check her backpack.

Do you think they've already got my name on a room at the asylum?

Cheating

Harper is sick, I'm getting sick, and the February blahs have not left us behind, despite the fact that the calendar says March.

There is a lot going on here right now and, much like with my diaries and journals growing up, I seem to find the least time to write when there is the most to say.

We almost completely bypassed the fact that it is Dr. Seuss' birthday today. But I did manage to read Harper Horton Hatches an Egg before bed.

Back in the early days of this blog, when readership was very low (not that it is skyrocketing now, but whatever) I shared a bit of writing in tribute to Dr. Seuss. It seems appropriate to link there now, three years later. As a bonus, looking back on that post makes me realize, in a new way, that my children really do look alike. I will need to do some more comparison photos soon.

Tidbit

Eating lunch in the kitchen one day this week, Michael does something (makes a noise? lifts his hand?) which makes Harper proud.

"Mom!" she says, "Do you know what Michael just did? He is one impressive baby!"

He is too young to appreciate it now, and he may even be embarrassed by it someday, but that girl is going to be his biggest cheerleader.

trouble with a lower case "t"

(Car accident update: after some digging around, I've concluded it's unlikely anyone was seriously injured in that accident because I can find things about other accidents that night, but nothing is written about the one I saw.)

So here's a picture of Harper imitating Alex the Lion from the Madagascar movies...


She does look like a bit of a trouble-maker, no?

Well it finally happened, yesterday Harper got in trouble at school.

I knew something wasn't right when I picked her up because she wouldn't talk to me and she did not say her day was "great," as she usually does. We were driving home and I told her I feel worried when something is wrong and she won't tell me what it is. She finally said that her feelings got hurt but was clear that she didn't want to talk about it.

Then she said, "Mom of all the days of past school I have had in both of my schools, today was different, there was never a day like today. When I get home I want to go to my room and have some self-time to think about things. Then maybe I will tell you about it."

Now as she is saying this I am simultaneously fighting back tears and laughter, because she is so serious about it. On the one hand, my heart is breaking because obviously something has really upset her. On the other hand, I am trying not to laugh because OH. MY. GOODNESS. Could she be any more dramatic? I just need some self-time? Who is this child?

Harper did go to her room for a few minutes when we got home. Then she slunk out, and climbed up on my lap, and said she didn't want to tell me what happened because I might be angry. I promised not to get angry and told her I would just like to talk about what was bothering her.

Apparently Harper's teacher saw her kick a book and sent her to sit by herself at a table until she was ready to behave. Which, in the context of a preschool class, is not a huge transgression or an especially embarrassing/difficult to handle punishment. I mean, obviously I don't want her going around kicking books and getting time-outs, but I think an isolated incident of misbehavior is normal. Harper says that someone else threw the book on the floor and she just wasn't paying attention and kicked it on accident. Which I find to be an equally suspicious and plausible explanation.

Rather than debating whether or not it was a purposeful action, we talked about having to take responsibility for what we do, even when we do something wrong accidentally. Harper was still clearly very upset, and embarrassed I think, about the whole incident - I asked if she wanted me to help her write an apology note to her teacher.

Harper liked the idea so we talked about what she wanted to say, I wrote it down, and she copied it (which took FOREVER):




The note says:

Dear Miss H-,
I am sorry for kicking the book. I will pay attention next time.
Love, Harper

Underneath her note she drew a picture of her teacher and also wrote the word book again. Please note it has all the elements of a thorough apology: addressing the person you've wronged, saying what you are sorry for, and telling what you'll do differently in the future. Never too young to learn!

I want it to be clear that I didn't make her do this as part of a punishment (seriously, the poor girl was punishing herself enough!), but I genuinely thought it would help her feel better, which it did. That note is, however, exactly the sort of thing I would do as part of the consequence for a more significant transgression at school.

For the record, the teacher didn't even mention the book-kicking to me. There was no school today because of a teachers' meeting, so her teacher will probably be surprised when Harper shows up with the apology note tomorrow. I'm sure she hasn't thought about the book-kicking nearly as much as Harper has!

What I Can't Stop Thinking About

Do you ever feel as shaken by a near incident as you do by an actual incident? Or, rather, do you ever feel shaken when you watch something happen to someone else, even though you are perfectly fine?

It's been a little wet here lately, with temperatures dancing around freezing. Yesterday temperatures dipped a bit and we got some sleet/snow stuff and by evening there was a thin layer of ice on the roads and sidewalks.

Matt, Harper, Michael and I had dinner with Matt's parents. Matt and Harper had been out together in the afternoon so Michael and I met them at Mike and Ann's late yesterday afternoon. We had a nice dinner together and then left Harper to spend the night. Matt took the bags (Michael's things, leftover food) in his car and I took Michael with me, leaving a few minutes after Matt.

The drive between Mike and Ann's and our house takes place primarily on one road - which is both hilly and curvey.

I was driving especially slowly on the way home, having skidded a bit just coming to a slow stop in Mike and Ann's subdivision. As I was on the main road to our house, coming down a hill, I saw a van coming from the other direction try to make a left turn. It was one of those times when you can tell exactly what is about to happen. The van took the turn way too fast and, as it crossed the road in front of me, the back of the van kept sliding until it was facing the wrong way and slid off the road, flipping over and landing on its side.

It was already dark and I have a very clear image in my head of the van's headlights as I drove past.

I pulled over, put on my hazards, and shakily called 911. I am sure three or four other people were doing the exact same thing, but I figured better they get several calls about the accident than none. I explained where we were and what I'd seen. The 911 operator asked me if the driver had been injured. I told him I couldn't tell, but the van was laying on its side with the driver's side up in the air. The operator said, "Okay, we'll send someone out there." And that was it.

I did not want to leave the car with Michael inside and there wasn't really a shoulder where we were parked, so it didn't seem safe to stay there long. I did try to hollar back to other cars that had stopped that I had called 911 - I have no idea whether anyone heard me.

I can't stop thinking about that van...

What happened so quickly in front of me might have felt like one of those horrible slow-motion movie shots to the person (or people) in that van. I have no idea whether anyone was injured or how quickly help arrived. I have no idea if there is something else I could or should have done to help. It is strange to me that I'll never know the end of that story. It isn't like I can call 911 back and ask what happened.

So, amid many other things whirling around our life these days, that accident is what's stuck in my head tonight.

Send Reinforcements

Is it seriously only Wednesday? This has been a very long week.

We are entering a time of year that is particularly busy for Matt. He has not been home for dinner or bedtime since Saturday. And we're on our own for bedtime tomorrow as well. Dinner and bedtime (for the children) are two of my least favorite times of the day if I'm on my own. Tonight I was trying to put food on the table (literally) for Harper and I, the phone was ringing, the dog was barking, and Michael tried to reach over to his bowl - successfully flipping it up into the air and then onto the floor. It was full of banana pieces and an entire 2nd foods serving of squash. Miraculously, the bowl landed right-side up but there was squash everywhere. So the phone continued to ring, the dog continued to bark and Michael cried for his dinner while I wiped and mopped up the mess. Of course my food was stone cold by the time everything was resettled - cold green beans = disgusting.

Bedtime is a challenge because Michael is not quite old enough to sit and listen to stories with Harper and it is difficult to get either of them involved in an appropriate pre-bedtime activity while getting the other one settled. On days when Harper hasn't watched much television I might put a 1/2 hour show on for her while I deal with Michael. Unfortunately we are in a major standoff right now because Harper is having some toy putting away issues and there is no TV until she gets her act together. Harper LOVES television, and yet the standoff continues. Have I ever mentioned the fact that she's a tad stubborn?

If Harper is really cranky I will sometimes put her to bed first, but Michael is teething right now and setting him down to play on his own is like unleashing the wrath of a hundred starving lions. He's not a fan. Now I know babies will cry now and then, but I find it unbearable to listen to him howl for the 20 minutes it can take to get through Harper's bedtime routine.

I have said before that I cannot imagine how single parents do it, especially with more than one child. It is soooo much easier and more pleasant to divide and conquer.

Equal Parts Frustration and Celebration

I decided I needed to take a little break from the reminiscing about last year at this time. I still intend to share more of that experience just not today.

So Harper's school Valentine's party was on Thursday. I missed the winter party because Matt was able to get some time off of work to go, so this was my first classroom party. The kids did an activity that involved writing the letters of their names on hearts, and making a "chart" from the hearts. They also sorted some candy hearts (safe ones, which the teacher had made phone calls to confirm the safety of) and "graphed" them according to color. The last activity was putting their valentines into each other's bags. One other mother had baked cookies. She approached me and said there were no nuts in them, but they do use nuts and peanut butter all the time at home and understood if I didn't want Harper to eat them. Harper happily ate the treats we made and didn't make a stink about the cookies she couldn't have.

Just as I was feeling like things had gone smoothly and we hadn't really had any allergy issues, a different parent brought out one more thing for the children. She'd bought little plastic baskets that looked like conversation hearts and filled them with a valentine, sticker, and actual conversation hearts which were completely unpackaged. I am not sure I have ever seen a "safe" bag or box of conversation hearts - one that did not have a cross-contamination warning on it. It is not a new thing for us to be in a situation where we have to turn down a treat for Harper, but I found this situation particulary upsetting because the teacher had specifically asked, in her communication about the party, that no one bring in any candy with their valentines! She even suggested parents send stickers, temporary tatoos, or pencils if they felt they had to includ something other than a card.

By the time we got home I found myself feeling really angry. Either that parent didn't read the communication from the teacher or read it and just chose to ignore it. All the parents know that there are children dealing with allergies in the classroom. I don't understand why, when specifically asked not to do something, you would go ahead and do it anyway. If this parent desperately wanted to bring something for the children maybe she could have asked the teacher about it? Then at least we might have been able to come up with a safe alternative. I had to take the basket away from Harper and dump out the candy, and the stickers and the valentine that had been surrounded by the candy. I did agree to take the blasket basket home and thorougly scrubbed it before allowing Harper to have it.

When we were dumping the candy out at the party Harper was looking like she might cry and she practically pleaded with me to check if it was safe for her, couldn't I look at the package? Life is not fair, and it is full of disappointments, but I still felt terrible having to take that away from her. We never should have been put in that situation. Grrrr.

*****

On Saturday, Valentine's Day, I took the kids up to see a junior varsity basketball game at a high school near our house. Matt is the site manager for their girls' home games, so he was already there. As I sat with Michael, trying to keep him calm despite the loud music and even louder buzzer, Harper trailed Matt and ended up acting as a ball girl. They even announced her name at halftime as she stood, waving, from the score table. It was pretty cute.

When Matt and Harper came back over to the bleachers after halftime, he told me he was so proud of how Harper handled herself. She did a good job with the basketballs, but she did an even better job when one of the adults offered her a cupcake. At first she politely said no thank you. Then the woman asked her if she liked cupcakes. Harper told the woman that she did like cupcakes, but that she had a peanut allergy and they probably weren't safe for her.

Matt was right there, so there wasn't any real danger of Harper eating an unsafe cupcake, but she did turn it down on her own. It gives me hope that, in time, she will be able to take steps to keep herself safe and I won't have to spend every moment of any public situation feeling like I'm in the middle of some type of code red awareness mode. It gives me hope that she'll be able to be responsible when she's older and we aren't always a step away from her.

And it helped me remember that moments like the ones at her Valentine party, while they are crappy situations, are opportunities for Harper to learn about managing her allergy and to witness how seriously we take it.

Harper was very matter-of-fact about the whole cupcake thing, which is what makes me the most proud of all. It's difficult for her, the peanut allergy thing, and I doubt it will ever get much easier, but she handles it gracefully. I have to remember to do the same.

A Year Ago, Part Two of ?

(Yes, I'm double posting today, the last one was long enough without adding this bit of history to it.)

February 10, 2008, was a Sunday. After the doctor's appointment I'd had the Friday before things hadn't gotten worse, but they hadn't improved either. By Sunday I was so anxious about the situation that I couldn't sleep. I finally got up out of bed and used the computer for a couple of hours until it was time to get ready for church.

I was looking back over my notebook and blog posts from this time last year and I wish I'd written more of the specifics about what was happening. I have specific memories of a handful of things, but so much of it is fuzzy. I remember emailing some recipes to a college friend that morning, I remember eating breakfast after church, and I remember the on-call doctor eventually confirming that yes, I probably should head to the hospital.

I don't remember if I packed any kind of overnight bag. I know I put the book I was reading (Object Lessons by Anna Quindlen), my notebook, and probably some Sudoku puzzles into my backpack - knowing I'd probably be waiting at the hospital for a while (ha!).

I think Matt was busy with basketball that day. I'm pretty sure Ann came over to watch Harper when I left for the hospital. I drove myself (it's only a couple of miles away). I was able to walk right up to labor and delivery and skip the emergency room - pregnant ladies get all the perks. It would be about six weeks before I'd drive my car again.

I know I got a room and a hospital gown and an IV and an ultrasound, but I don't recall much about any of those. The on-call doctor was amazingly kind and I think she did the ultrasound herself. I don't believe they found any conclusive reason for the bleeding I was having right away - my partial placental abruption was difficult to see.

I remember reading my book and trying to watch the pro-bowl to pass the time. I think Harper and Matt came by to see how I was doing or maybe bring me a couple of things once we realized I'd at least be spending the night.

I don't remember whether we knew, that first night, that I was definitely going to be on bed rest. I know we were told it was a possibility that the baby might come anytime.

I had my first steroid shot - which hurt, um, a lot - but was worth it, of course.

I have a very, very vivid memory of finally calling my parents, who were on vacation in California. They were at a bar with a couple they'd met and maybe golfed with, having drinks. Can you imagine the buzz kill my phone call was?

I started to calmly explain to my mom what had been happening and I could hear her getting upset over the phone. I knew if I could hear her freaking out then I would freak out, and I remember saying to her that she was going to have to stay calm or I would ask to talk to my dad instead. (In hindsight, there might have been a better way to handle that.) She remained calm and I explained what I could.

I was exhausted, but I'm not sure how I managed to sleep that night. Actually I think a nurse might have given me something to help me sleep. I don't think I had any idea yet about what we were really in for.

Valentine's Day Preparedness

One of the first major events of Harper's first year in preschool last year was the Valentine's Day celebration. I thought it would be fun to help her make cards instead of buying them. This is maybe not the best place to get all crafty because Valentines are cheap - less than $2 a box in many cases. But it bothers me that they all have characters all over them, and rarely is there enough space for a three- or four-year-old to actually write her name. Instead I invested in some glitter glue, stickers, a Valentine stamp, and a heart-shaped hole-punch.

I have no idea how last year's card-making went because, oops, I'd been hospitalized. There were, however, supplies aplenty left over, so we decided to give it a go this year. Harper may be up half the night making Valentines tomorrow, because she only go through half of them tonight. Next year I will attempt to spread out the card making a bit - it is not enough of a fun fest to get through all the cards in one sitting. And Harper had a difficult time understanding that she needed to sign her name, but not decide who each card was for. Her preschool teacher requested that the cards only say who they are from - then there is no need to fret about who gets what when they kiddos deliver them.


I also signed up to make treats for the party, so there will be at least one thing Harper can safely eat. The parents know not to bring peanut products into the room, but we don't let her eat things made in non-peanut-free homes, too risky.

First Harper helped me make rice krispie hearts, I spread some melted chocolate on them and Harper added sprinkles. I had pressed the batch of rice krispie treats onto wax paper on the counter and made them about 1/2 as thick as normal rice krispie treats. Cutting hearts out of the krispies was, as you'd imagine, a sticky mess. In the end it was still preferable to the work of doing cutout cookies, even if the results weren't so pretty.


Today a note came home in Harper's bag requesting 3 dozen cookies, and I knew the rice krispie things wouldn't be enough. I ran for the trusty spritz recipe, since those cookies are so easy and can be done without embellishments in a pinch. I found a disc which I thought would produce a heart-shaped cookie, or something close to it. Instead I ended up with several dozen vaguely obscene cookies:


Please tell me the four-year-olds will see hearts. Or at least won't see cookies that ought to be rated R. They are pink. Oh wait. That isn't necessarily helpful.

*****
In other preschool news, Harper was attacked today! Okay, not really, but she was scratched by another child - in a manner that drew a tiny bit of blood. Because a tiny bit of blood was drawn the nurse called and left us a message and suggested we follow up with our pediatrician. I'll get to the pediatrician part in a moment, but can you please stop and imagine what went through my head when we returned home to an answering machine message from the school nurse?

When Harper isn't here and the phone rings I always, always, pray for a moment that it isn't someone calling to tell me she had an anaphlactic allergic reaction. It seems almost inevitable that one of those calls will come someday. (But some calm adult will have administered her epi pen and she'll be heading to the hospital for observation, just in case. See? No problem.)

Anyway I called the peds office and they said, as long as the scratches weren't deep, that we should wash them several times a day, keep them covered, and watch for signs of infection. So, you know, no big deal.

But wow, she's got three scratches on one hand, one on the other, two on her forehead, and two on her right cheek. There are scratches on her hands because she covered her face after the first scracthes, so her hands got in the way when the kid came back for more.

Harper swears she did nothing to provoke this, and I'm inclined to believe her. Little children are unpredictable and have poor impulse control, so things like this will probably happen from time to time. I know they are well supervised at school. There really isn't anything more to be done in this situation. I am sorry it happened though.

11 Months

Today Michael turned 11 months old, which means we'll be celebrating his first birthday in just a few weeks.

Here's his one-month picture, in a preemie outfit that was a bit saggy and baggy on his tiny body:
Here he is today, sitting in the same chair, next to what now looks like an impossibly small article of clothing:
The picture does not seem to accurately reflect how little that sleeper is, it looks like doll clothes. I kept that one article of preemie clothing to help us remember how tiny Michael started out in this world.

And look at him now:

For so many reasons it doesn't seem right that he is nearly a year old. Our physical therapist keeps reminding me that I can't think of him as a one-year-old (despite his size!) for another several months. Maybe we should just have two celebrations, one on his calendar birthday and one on his adjusted birthday (May 6). Seems like a good reason to bring more cake into the world!

A Year Ago, Part One of ?

First of all, it's Erin's birthday today. Yea Erin! Good job being born all those years ago. Thanks for moving in across the hall from me freshman year. If it hadn't been for you, I may have transferred to Wisconsin.

A year ago I was about 27 weeks pregnant with Michael. I woke up to realize I was spotting, which is something I never experienced with Harper. I called the doctor, made an appointment, and then called to arrange for someone (probably Ann/Nana) to watch Harper, and then took a shower.

I remember being in the shower and completely breaking down and just sobbing. All I could think was that, if something was going wrong or I found out the baby wasn't okay, I would forever link the memory of that bad news with Erin's birthday. And I actually prayed that if we were going to lose the baby that it wouldn't happen that day.

As it turned out my doctor didn't see anything worrisome, the baby sounded good, she didn't think I even needed an ultrasound, and suspected I had just burst some blood vessels coughing. So she sent me home with instructions to call back if things got worse.

Of course something was (or already had) gone wrong, but without an ultrasound there was no way to tell for sure. So I went home and took a nap.

For the record I don't blame my doctor at all for not seeing what was happening or for not insisting that I have an ultrasound that day. She actually said I could go to the hospital and get one if I wanted to, but she really didn't think it was necessary. And I didn't press it because I knew Harper was waiting at home and I trusted my doctor.

All's well that end's well, right?



For the record I would like to acknowledge that I appreciate that we all survived relatively unscathed and I know there are a million worse ways things could have gone. I think I can be grateful and still admit/own all the other things I felt during this time last year. I plan to tell it like it is/was without apologies...

Well at least the old vacuum cleaner is good for something...

But it will only be a "horse" until garbage day, when it will be unceremoniously kicked to the curb.

I loved that Harper dedicated this video (a nod to the song dedicated to Mugga) and I also liked where she explained the rocking horse could not go in water because she'd decorated it with a "puppet ear." Maybe because puppet ears don't float?

*****
I feel as though I should post some sort of warning here - tomorrow will be exactly one day since we had the first inkling that something was going wrong with my pregnancy. I still have many, many residual feelings about everything we went through last year and I think I'll write about some of that year. They probably won't be happy posts. So feel free to check out and come back in late March or April, when we'll be getting ready to go see the tulips at the arboretum!

Siblings in Stripes

At some point yesterday afternoon, I noticed that both of my children were wearing items of clothing my sister had given them for Christmas. It seemed like a good time to take advantage of the afternoon light and photograph those two. Thanks for the clothes Auntie Shannon!

I'm not sure I'll ever see a series of photos that so accurately demonstrate the divergent personalities of my children. Harper is all drama and cheese and silliness and fire, whereas Michael is Mr. Mellow Man, just hanging out, usually happy, along for the ride.







In all fairness, I should also share the gentle and kind side of Harper's personality with a little story...

This afternoon I was on the phone with a friend who was having a really difficult day (but that's not my story to tell) and I was letting some tears slip. Harper came into the kitchen and saw me crying. I tried shushing her and sending her back to the living room, but she said, "Mommy, if you don't tell me what's wrong I won't know how to help you."

I again motioned for her to leave and she whispered, "Lean down." I complied and she gently reached up and brushed a couple of the tears off my cheeks saying, "I'm wiping your tears away Mom." And then she pranced back to her play dough.

Siblings

Harper, April 2005
~5 months old

Michael, February 2009
~9 months old
(adjusted)

Same sweater, same room, same chair. Michael was a bit bigger (understatement) when it occurred to me to put this sweater on him, so they photos may not be great for comparison purposes...

I remembered taking that photo of Harper. I'm not sure they look that much alike, but dang! those babies have big heads.

Vacuums and Blurbs

Okay, so I'm still looking for input on the vacuum situation. Thank you to everyone who already left some ideas for us! It looks like we may either go ahead and get a Dyson or get an Oreck. On the one hand, the Dyson is pretty; Orecks are like the orthopedic shoes of the vacuum cleaner world. On the other hand, in my (albeit limited) research, I can't find anyone to say a single bad think about Orecks, while it seems a few have some complaints about Dysons. In addition we have an Oreck store not for from here and the model we're looking at comes with several years of free annual tune-ups. I expect high performance from a vacuum that requres tuning-up. Then again, if we'd ever tuned up our current vacuum, maybe I wouldn't hate it so much. Although my mother-in-law used it for a small area today and admitted that the thing is a beast.

In other news here are some funny things Harper's said lately:

Yesterday she asked Matt something about why kids had to do what grown-ups said and when Matt asked why she was asking she proclaimed, "Because I don't want to spend my whole life working for Mommy!"

Today, at preschool, they apparently read a book about Ruby Bridges during circle time. Harper remembered a lot about the story. She was especially interested in the part where martians helped Ruby get to school!

What is the Opposite of an Ode?

I don't vacuum very often. There are several reasons for this: 1) I have an extreme dislike for the chore and 2) both children and the dog absolutely hate the vacuum. We have mostly hard floors in our house so Swiffering or sweeping suffice most of the time. And most of the rest of them time we just, um, ignore the dust bunny armies that spring up. Today Mike and Ann were coming for dinner and to watch the Super Bowl and I had reached the tipping point in terms of the level of dust bunny uprising I was willing to tolerate. Matt was home and he took both the kids and the dog into our bedroom and closed the door so I could vacuum everywhere else.

In our old house I didn't mind vacuuming so much. Our old house was small and I could plug the vacuum into the dining room outlet and vacuum the entire ranch without moving the plug. In this house I can't even vacuum the entire living room/dinning room area without moving the plug. (Our house isn't that big, just bigger than our last place.). I love a lot of things about this house, but I really hate vacuuming it.

So, as I vacuumed today, I found myself composing a letter to our vacuum in my head. It went something like this:

Dear Vacuum,

I hate you. I try not to waste energy hating anything but I just cannot take it anymore. I hate that you are so heavy my back aches within moments of starting to use you. I hate that, on our hard floors, you seem do blow the dirt around instead of sucking it up unless I go over the same spot 97 times and even then you miss things. I hate that you are so loud you terrify the children and my ears ring as though I've been front row at a rock concert after using you. I hate that your attachment hose is so short I have to lift your heavy a** off the floor with one hand, while extending the hose with the other hand, to get the cobwebs off of our decidedly normal height ceilings. I hate that, when stowed, one end of your hose tends to come loose and flail around like some nearly severed appendage. I hate that your locking mechanism is broken so I stand you up, let go, and about fifty percent of the time you fall back with an alarming crash, often hitting one of my feet. I hate that you are just barely tall enough NOT to reach into the little area between the edge of the kitchen cabinets and the floor and I am forced to use your stupid hose if I want to get at all the gunk. I hate that your vacuum bags never seem to fit quite right. If I could sue you for causing back strain and hearing loss and psychological trauma I would.

And I know, I know, I have electricity and running water and I should be thankful I'm not sweeping a dirt floor, oblivious to the locusts which are about to eat our crops and lead to a famine of massive proportions. BUT I still hate you, Vacuum, and I want to fire you, but I'm not sure we can afford to replace you with a better performing model.

It's been over six years, Vacuum, and I kind of wish you'd just die already so we could all move on. Clearly this relationship isn't working.

You see, I had to turn to something as silly as composing vacuum hate mail because it was the only way take my mind off the outrageous volume I was dealing with. Just was I was thinking the part about wishing the vacuum would die my hand felt something funny on the cord.

I looked down and realized an entire chunk of the protective sheath (is that the right word?) around the wires of the cord was just missing! And we all know it is not safe to use appliances with damaged cords, right? I did a temporary duct tape repair so I could finish waging war on the dust bunnies, but we all know that was a very, very short-term fix. I told Matt about the cord and...

It's time for a new vacuum baby!

We are going to try to get one soon, as in next weekend, so please, please leave your vacuum advice in the comments because, much to my delight, Matt seems to agree that it might be prudent to spend more than $99 on the next vacuum. Dare we discuss Dysons? Are they worth it?

Pertinant vacuum circumstance facts:

• We need a vacuum that can handle hard floors and carpet.
• We have a dog, but he doesn't shed (and we'll never have shedding pets because of allergies). He does, however, drag all manner of debris in from the yard, like small bits of leaves.
  
• Harper (and Michael will join her soon) is prone to leaving boulder sized crumbs behind when she eats. (BTW, what is the matter with our dog that he doesn't attend to those?)
• I would like a vacuum to be significantly lighter and quieter than my current model. Unless it weighs as much as several bowling balls and sounds like a rock concert it won't be difficult to improve these areas.
  

Okay, Internets, tell me what to do!

Lift

So yesterday (I think it was yesterday) I found out that Wondertime magazine is going to be discontinued next month -whaaaa! It is my favorite magazine, the most tolerable parenting magazine, and that - of all things - made me cry. I have another two years of subscription left, so I wonder what they're going to do about that? I also feel like a shmuck because I sent gift subscriptions to approximately a dozen friends in the last year and I wonder what will happen to their subscriptions - nice gift! I have had no luck figuring out where to go to protest this decision (Maybe I should make a Facebook group!), if any of you have info on this, please let me know! And my apologies to those of you who recieved Wondertime as a gift from me. Boo.

This reminds me of when Rosie's magazine got cancelled and I ended up with another two years of Redbook (I think) instead. No offense to Redbook but it was not the same.

Anyway I have found one thing to be nearly fail-proof at cheering me up so I thought I would share:

Michael is smiley 98% of the time, but it can be very difficult to get him to laugh, which makes the video even more precious. Hope you could hear it over the dog barking...

Disjointed

I'm feeling a little out of sync lately - in a way that's hard to explain. I think it is partially ripples from difficult times other people are going through. I think it is partially some uncertainty we've been going through lately (all is okay though, no worries). I think it is partially the state of the world and the cold of the winter and the challenge of parenting two little children without, say, a four-day rejuvenating solo retreat once a month.

It's not all bleak and doom and gloom, but it seems like the days are thick with shadows and I'm having a hard time finding my way out of them. Blah.

I feel disconnected right now. I'm having trouble keeping up with blogs, with email (a perpetual problem), with phone calls and letters. Not to mention the army of dust bunnies which now see fit to hold strategy meetings right out in the open. Or, oh help, the fortress of dirty laundry threatening to swallow us whole.

It is a motivation problem, because being connected with friends and having a reasonably clean house are things that make me feel happy, but I just can't seem to get enough of a handle on them these days to achieve the level connectedness and cleanliness that leads to happiness.

I'm in a rut.

We're facing down some changes around here - not in the next week or month, but we're trying to answer some questions about where Harper will attend school next year and whether I will return to work (hopefully, in some capacity, I will) and it seems unlikely that our family situation will look the same in, say, eight months' time. And I think that's good. Because change is never easy (and I tend to go kicking and screaming into any change) but it may be just the thing I need to get unstuck.

Where Does the Time Go?

Lately it feels like my wheels are spinning and I'm behind on everything. Scientists really need to get cracking on ways to get more hours into the day, or at least ways to slow the passing of time while children are sleeping. Mmmkay?

Here's a hilarious bath picture of Michael - we don't really have much of a photo editing program, so the best I could manage was to put an asterisk over his delicate parts, but I HAD to find a way to share. I guess he's outgrowing the infant tub, we really need to find him a bath seat, we just haven't yet. He is nowhere near sturdy enough when sitting to put him in the tub unassisted - it would be like begging for stitches.

We think he's working on his own version of Pilates (Babylates? Tublates?) - instructional DVD and late night infomercial to follow.


And here's Michael's ten month shot... it doesn't look terribly different from the nine month one, but we're on a roll here, so I am presenting it anyway.


The picture was taken only a day late, on January 10th.

Recently I'd been doing a little fretting about Michael's speech. Did you know there was speech therapy for babies? There is. About ten days ago he really wasn't babbling at all and I started to feel like we were seeing a delay, even for his adjusted age. I had literally made myself a note to call our care coordinator and ask her about it when he started to babble like crazy. Now he'll talk to anything, although he seems to most enjoy conversing with his own reflection.

He's been making mamama sounds, as well as buh and puh sounds, grunting, and doing something that sounds like he's trying to imitate a motor. The BEST part about it is that Harper keeps insisting he's said actual words. I'll give her "mama" although he has no idea that it means anything yet.

Today they were playing on the floor of the living room and she came running into the kitchen to tell me, "Mom! Michael just said the words to get a rabbit out of a magic hat!"

When I looked at her blankly, she elaborated, "Mo-om, he said abracadabra!"

Kids are fun.

Wandering Blogger

In a very strange turn of events, I am sitting in a BW3s, blogging from a crowded sports bar at 10:30 on a Friday night.

Instead of jazz music and a cup of coffee, I've got basketball on TV (too bad there's no NFL on Friday nights), music of which I can only hear the bass, and a Bug Light - whatever works!

Around 1 this afternoon our TV, internet connection, and phone just died. The phone will likely be reconnected by tomorrow (Saturday) night, but the internet and television will probably be out of service until MONDAY!!!! It has become a reflex to go to the computer whenever the children are safely occupied, especially during naps or after bedtime, and I felt like a lost sheep today. My tether to the outside world has been severed! To make matters worse, Matt is running a basketball tournament this week and is pretty much gone until Sunday afternoon, making it near impossible for me to leave the house with his laptop and check in during normal business hours (hence the 10:30 sports bar visit!).

Some people close to us have been burdened with truly tragic events lately, so I am at least able to recognize that our lack of connectivity is really just an inconvenience, but that doesn't mean that I like it.

So if you need to get in touch with us in the next couple of days and our phone isn't working - just give the cell phones a try.

Oh! I almost forgot the strangest part! Earlier today, when our phone wasn't working, people who tried to call our number got through to a different residence. So some poor woman was getting our phone calls all afternoon! I finally called from my cell phone and gave her that number, in case she wanted to pass it along to anyone who called, so they could stop calling her! Can you imagine? SHE called the phone company to clear up the problem and our phone worked for about an hour before going dead again. Hopefully someone else isn't getting our calls now.

I wish you all weekends of warmth and strong internet connections!

Harper Tales

Tonight I offer you a few Harper stories and a request...

For a long time Harper didn't watch any commercial television because all we had was PBS and videos. We'd expanded our cable package and she now watches Disney and Nickelodeon channels as well. While I appreciate some of the preschool programming on Nick, I do not like the fact that there are regular commercials during and between the preschool programs. I am amazed at what kids pick up from commercials (any television for that matter). Tonight I was flipping through a magazine and there was picture of that little green guy who is supposed to be mucus, Harper looked over and said, "Hey! That's for Mucinex DM!" Somewhere an advertising executive can get a high-five for the success of his (or her!) campaign.

***

We have a bag of hand-me-down books on tape from a teacher friend. We don't have the books, only the tapes. Once in a while Harper will bust out the Fisher Price tape player and listen to them. The story of King Midas and the Golden Touch is on one of these tapes. Tonight after dinner Harper turned to me and asked, "Mom, have you ever gotten the golden touch, where everything you touched turns to gold?!"

"No," I replied, chuckling a bit.

"Me neither," Harper said dejectedly, "Everything I touch just turns to normal."

***
One of the bedtime stories Harper chose tonight was less a story than a series of little poems stating types of things the author liked. For example: I like apples. Red apples, green apples, yellow apples, juicy apples, etc.

As we read I would pause at the end of each page and ask Harper to identify the word that was repeated a half dozen or more times on the page, i.e. "apples" from the example above. They've been working on letter sounds in preschool lately and as she looked for each word I noticed that she would make the beginning sound repeatedly, searching for a word beginning with the correct letter.

One of the pages we read had some simple three-letter words on it, the kind that sound exactly as they look like they should. So I pointed to one and asked Harper if she could tell what word it was by saying each letter's sound and putting them together. So she went:

buh, buh, buh, buh

a, a, a, a

duh, duh, duh, duh

It says, "Bad!"

Yup. Harper read her first word. I am getting goosebumps thinking about it. Reading is one of the things I love most in the world, and watching Harper make those first steps toward being able to read herself is so cool. One of my most favorite things about teaching first grade was watching kids learn to read. I feel so honored to witness this process in my own child. Amazing. I'm a proud mama tonight.

***

And speaking of my beautiful, amazing daughter... would you do something for her? Tomorrow (January 14) is the last day to submit public comments to the FDA as they revisit the issue of allergen labeling on food packages. Many of you already received an email about this today, but I want to make sure to cover all my bases. Here is the body of that email:

In recent years it has been the law that companies must list, in plain English, any of the top eight allergens (wheat, soy, peanuts, tree nuts, milk, fish, eggs, and shellfish) that are present in food. But that is where the requirement ends. Companies are not required by law to label for cross-contamination. Cross-contamination is a problem in the case of severe food allergies, like Harper's, because even a trace amount of the allergen can cause a reaction. That's why you see notes on some labels about products being manufactured on equipment that processes nuts or milk or eggs, etc. Companies voluntarily offer this information, sometimes. I send untold hours on the phone trying to figure out is safe for Harper to eat, and we still have to be prepared to administer an injection of epinephrine at anytime, because it is nearly impossible to be certain a food is safe, unless I grow it myself! Required labeling for cross-contamination would initially be a burden for many companies, but would make food much, much safer for people with food allergies.

I should have send this email sooner, as tomorrow (January 14) is the last day to submit public comments, but if you have a minute, and you feel comfortable doing so, would you please click the link below and leave a comment requesting stronger regulations and consistency in food allergen labeling? Especially if you work with children, this is a change that could make your job easier when dealing with any food allergies you might encounter.

(*You only have until tomorrow to submit your comments about the current "May contains" FDA food labeling. Click here for the form).

In my email I also posted the comment I left, as a suggestion of what you might like to say. Then I found these words on a facebook group page that I like even better than what I originally said:

"Thank you for accepting comments for your upcoming hearing on food allergy labeling laws. Please require companies to label for more than just the Top 8 allergens - perhaps the Top 12. I especially request that you require labeling for sesame, which is often hidden under the terms 'spices' or 'flavorings'. Sesame can be a life threatening allergen and consumers have the right to know if the food they are purchasing contains it. Please also require the allergens to be listed in bold letters on the label. Please require companies to label for shared equipment and shared facilities. Studies indicate that cross contamination from shared equipment is extremely common and extremely dangerous. Consumers should have this info to determine if they want to put themselves or their child at risk."

I have been really moved today by all the return emails I've received from people saying they'd already left a comment. It certainly can't hurt to try to make a difference here. I know Harper would appreciate it.

Quiet Moments

Not too long ago Giselle wrote a post that included some musings on the terribly boring home videos that first time parents take. We don't actually have too many of those of Harper, mostly because we didn't have a very easy to use video camera. In 2007 I got a video camera for my birthday, I have mentioned once or ten times that I'm still figuring it out, but (editing aside) it is really easy to whip out and film things on a whim.

Today I took what may be the world's most boring video of Michael (unless you're his grandparent), but it captured some rare moments. When Harper was a baby it often felt like I had nothing but time to spend with her. Sure, I failed to get most anything else accomplished, but I was free to lay around and stare at her fascinating baby self all day long. With Michael, of course, things are completely different. Even the quiet moments I manage to sneak with him are colored by the fact that our family cannot revolve solely around his schedule and I often have one eye on the clocking thinking about feeding/clothing/dropping off/picking up/ or entertaining my other child.

This afternoon the schedules got flip-flopped a bit, Michael's morning nap (which is often nonexistent, btw) stretched into the afternoon so that Harper was "napping" by the time he was ready for lunch. I was able to do what I so rarely have the pleasure of these days and just linger over his lunch, and stay at the table playing and talking with him. I could watch him forever, this one, and I pulled out the camera to document those big beautiful eyes in the afternoon light, the way his fingers explored the spoon, the way his feet wiggled and tapped with happiness, how intently he can concentrate on something, how he always has at least a hint of a smile for me, and, yes, even the extreme drool situation we are currently experiencing.

There's very little action in the 90 second clip, but it's a movie I could watch again and again. (Confession: I do watch the clips I post, over and over, I'm fascinated by my children - which is as it should be. I'm also totally annoyed by my own voice, but there's nothing I can do about that.)

****

I took Harper to gymnastics tonight, and was feeling very hurry-up about getting her in bed once we got home (gymnastics nights run about 15 minutes later than what I'd consider ideal). In all my grumping and rushing I disturbed Michael, who'd been trying to fall asleep. So I ushered Harper into bed, and then went into Michael's room to snuggle him in the rocking chair for a moment or two.

So I was all nestled in, with my fleecy warm baby a pleasant weight against my chest, enjoying the dark and quiet, when Harper tiptoed in and said, "Mom, I hardly saw Michael at all today." Which was true enough (see afore mentioned flip-flopping schedules).

Relaxing the bedtime regulations, I let her come over and give Michael a kiss and a hug. He immediately picked his head up and grinned at her. Then he leaned back against my chest, but, instead of putting his thumb back in his mouth, he reached out to hold Harper's hand.

We shared the dark and quiet for a bit, the three of us, Harper occasionally reaching out ever so gently to pat Michael's back or kiss his cheek. And I thought, "Yes. This. More of this please. More calm and fleecy warm children and rocking chairs in the quiet. More peace."

By tomorrow those quiet minutes will probably be far from my children's minds, but I think I'll hold on to them for a while.

***
Edited to add: The song in the background of that video is, "Whole Other World," from Right Outta Nowhere by Christine Kane - one of my absolute favorite artists.

Dedication Explanation

This might be one of those stories that was more funny when it happened than funny in the retelling. . . but I have to share to explain the dedication below.

The past several holidays we've spent the week after Christmas at my parents' house in Wisconsin. It has become a loose tradition to play games together on New Year's Eve. This year we played my brother's new Trivial Pursuit game (the 25th anniversary edition) and then we played Taboo.

If you've never played Taboo, the object is to get your team to say a word, which is on a card along with words you cannot use while talking to your team. So the word might be Christmas and you would have to get your team to say it without using words like Santa, holiday, December, stocking, tree, etc. You "give" as many words as you can during the allotted time and then play moves to the next team. It's a fun game, often made more fun when people are giddy from staying up late (like trying to make it to midnight) or have perhaps sampled some holiday "spirits".

We were well into the game when my dad, who was giving clues to my mom, had to get her to say the word "teapot". So he sang, "I'm a little. . ." and my mom confidently yelled, "Teacup!" We all dissolved into near hysterical laughter at my mom's mistake and it only got worse as my dad kept singing the song and my mom kept saying "teacup." By the end of it my mom was quite literally rolling on the floor laughing.

I know it was probably one of those, "You had to be there" moments. But without sharing that little story, you wouldn't understand why I laughed so much when Harper came home from school today, singing this song:

In Which 2009 Already Surprises Me

We made it back from Wisconsin in only seven hours, this is unheard of when traveling with small children. It was the perfect anti-storm of sleeping children, cooperative bladders, light traffic, dry weather, and vacant construction zones.

***

Michael was excited to see his room, he got all smiley and wiggly when I carried him in there to change his diaper.

***

Harper said, "This was such a good day."

"Driving in the car all day?" I puzzled.

"Well we got home safely Mom!"

Good point.

***

Matt went to pick up the dog, the dog entered, Michael cried. Michael apparently forgot Rebound and/or is now afraid of him.

Wha?