Friday, March 31, 2006

Eddie says Mommy was "e-cited."

I cried. To be clear, there weren't tears literally flying off my face ala Eddie and occasionally Chas. But there was an excess of fluid pooling in my eyes. What caused this uncharacteristic eruption of elation? A phone message. It was the triage nurse from our new allergist's office. At first my heart nearly stopped and crawled into my throat because the initial words, after introducing herself as the triage nurse, were that the allergy tests were "still positive." Fear ever so briefly starts gnawing at the pit of my stomach. Until I heard the next words. "But much less so than before." Then she gave me the numbers for egg and peanut. And then the payoff. Words that I never thought I would hear. "Dr. Virant says that hopefully he will still outgrow those." Outgrow those. Not just outgrow egg. Outgrow peanut. The messaage went on to say that he was negative for dust mites and grasses and positive but very low for soy which the doctor thinks is not clinically significant.

At this point, I have tears in my eyes and I'm jumping up and down, turning in circles and frantically calling Steph to share the news.

To put this in perspective, our original allergist said there was a 50-50 chance of outgrowing egg, unknown chance of outgrowing soy and a 1 in 1,000 chance of outgrowing peanut.

Eddie noted my mood and happily -- and a bit quizzically -- noted that "Mommy is ee-cited."

All of this on a day when we find out Steph's job is uncertain. I don't even care. We're going to challenge soy. Our boy could eat a cheeseburger at McDonald's without a side trip to the grocery store to pick up a safe bun in a couple of weeks. Life is good.

Monday, March 27, 2006

The fruits of our labors ... lost.



So in the very blurry top photo, you will see the tiny, fragile sprout that popped up in one of our marigold pots this morning. Its arrival was greeted joyfully and with song about our baby flower. By late afternoon, however, a game of peek-a-boo at the window sill left the sprout and its cousins in two other pots scattered across the floor. Eddie's immediate response was, "I can't look." When it became clear that carnage had indeed been done, he quickly placed the blame on Chas. And me. We scopped it all back into the pot and we'll see what happens. By tonight we had a couple more sprouts. If they know what's good for them, they'll be fleeing.

In completely unrelated news, the boys have discovered a difference between boys and girls, or at least moms. In the shower at the Y last night, Chas told Steph, "You don't got a penis. But you got two of those," pointing at her boobs. Today, when I asked Eddie what I had, he told me "hair." It took me a second to get what he meant. But I'm slow.

And finally, we bought them Thomas sleepover beds at Costco today in the probably vain hope that it will entice them to spend more time in their beds and less time kicking the shit out of us in ours. I'll report tomorrow. No doubt, I'll be bleary eyed yet again because I can't believe it's going to be this easy to get them to sleep.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Things I don't wanna know about and Marigolds




Tonight the boys were with their auntie whilst Steph and I took in the first act of an utterly forgettable musical at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. (We left after intermission not because it was horrible but because it wasn't particularly good either.) Enroute home, we learn that Eddie choked on a lifesaver candy. (Something I recall doing numerous times as a child.) Cathy said her clue was his panicked eyes. Just as she prepared to Heimlich him, it popped out. He told me it was scary. (For his part, Chas was scared by a segment of "Goodnight Moon and Other Stories" that he watched at auntie's house. The whole segment about how you don't need to be afraid of your nightmares terrified him. He tearfully told us all about it when we got home.)

Can I just say it scared the crap out of me after it was over just to hear about my boy choking? As we left, I got Eddie to tell Cathy, "Thanks for scaring the pee(wadden) out of my brother." It got a chuckle, so it's been repeated several times.

After the trauma, quick but also traumatic showers, pjs, teeth brushing, books, cuddles and almost instant sleep for both boys. But during this, I noticed that the name train spelling "Chas" was down from its perch. Its high perch. I had gotten the "Eddie" train down yesterday for Eddie, but we replaced it. Hmm. I asked Steph if she had gotten "Chas" down. From its high perch. Its high, extraordinarily-precarious-climbing-require- if-you-are-under-5' 5'' perch. She said no. Then we looked at each other with something akin to terror and agreed we didn't want to think about how it got down. There are simply no good alternatives.

However, on a much happier note, the boys planted Marigolds today. (And some beans from their bean table.) They put the soil in the little pots, put the seeds in, covered them, watered them and then immediately expected flowers. Uhhh. So this is going to be an excrutiating lesson in delayed gratification, I suspect. We have a dozen little peat pots in window sills around the house, awaiting the miracle of sprouting. (After it was over -- and I hate to mention this for fear that no one will ever want to come over for dinner -- Chas took the spoon he'd used to scoop soil and put it back in the silverware drawer. I took it out. But I realize I'm going to have to double check the cleanliness of utensils from that drawer from here on out.

These pictures, of course, are from the planting.

Chas' honest reaction to Mommy singing in the car.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Meanwhile... Some photos from yesterday.



In the tub, the little darlings were putting these stacking blocks up to their mouths and singing Thomas the Tank Engine songs. They were actually coordinating to make sure they were going to be singing the same thing. Then they would sing, followed by gales of laughter. I swear, next week they're going to be trying to harmonize.

I'm not beautiful 'cause I not shiney.

Tonight as we begin our snuggle routine, John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy" comes on the boom box and I look at Eddie and tell him, "You are a beautiful boy." "No," he says. "I'm not beautiful 'cause I not shiney." What does this mean? I have no idea, but I thought it was funny.

Earlier we were at the Y, the boys in child watch and Steph and I working out. While in the shower, I heard an announcement but assumed it was the "Child Watch is closing in 15 minutes" thing. But I had sort of a nagging feeling that maybe I'd missed my name. Sure enough, when I got there to pick them up, Eddie was standing looking very sad. They told me he had been sobbing and they couldn't comfort him. They had paged me but I didn't hear. They said it was just about 10 minutes earlier, so it may have been what I heard while showering. I felt/feel terrible. He looked so sad -- he puckered up and almost lost it again when I saw him. He's going through such a sensitive stage.

On the way home, he told me repeatedly that he was too sad to love me and too sad for me to love him. Finally, Chas started telling me that some kid took Percy from Eddie and "That's not very nice." So possibly it was toy thievery that sparked his sadness. But we'll never know for sure. What we do know is that Eddie was sad and needed me and I wasn't there. It's unavoidable and I'm sure it will happen again and in fact it's probably happened before. But it still leaves me feeling, what? Sorrow? Guilt? Pangs of both, really, combined with a fear that next time it will be for more than a few minutes and over something more important than a toy or hurt feelings. Life is gonna make my boys sad sometimes. It can't really be any other way and I know the sadness adds a richness and dimension to their lives that unending bliss simply couldn't. But it still makes my heart ache when I think of all the hurts I can't kiss better, the pain I'll never ease and the fears I'll never soothe.

Wow. How the hell did I get so serious? Can you imagine how bereft I'll be when their first girlfriends ditches them? I'd better up my Zoloft now.


Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Half Sibs popping up everywhere

A while ago, I peeked at this site called the Donor Sibling Registry. It's where you can go if you've had a kid via donor sperm or iggs and register to look for genetic half-sibs. I was floored to see a couple of half-sibs for my boys. I registered and eventually got an email and found half-sibs in Florida, New York and Ohio. Then a few days ago got another email from another half-sib in California with word of twin boys in Texas and another half sib in New York. Except for the Texans and the latest New York boy, we've all exchanged photos etc. I have to say there is definitely a family resemblance between the kids -- they are all darned cut.

But it's been an interesting journey for me. I mean, I've had to come to grips with exactly how self-centered it was for me to have kids this way vs. adoption. I mean, there is a little genetic "ownership" going on, let's not kid ourselves. It's cool to see that they look kind of like their half sibs but at the same time, part of me feels like those are just parts of them that couldn't come from my genes. Not that I care really.... but it's just sort of weird. With a donor "father" I've just come to think of them as mine and Steph's. I see all sorts of things that remind me of both of us -- and sometimes I catch myself thinking they inherited some genetic trait or another from her. Until those half-sibs come into view, it's like the other half of the boys' genetic material just sort of fell from the sky. Then it's weird to think that my boys are related to all these kids I have zero relationship to. But I'm getting used to it. We're looking forward to meeting one of the half-sisters on our cruise this summer and I wonder how that will feel.

Then there are the parents. So far, in email contact only, they seem very cool and nice etc. But what if in person they are horrible, awful, annoying people? Will we have to be "friends" anyway? In reality, I sort of look at them as other parents of kids my boys' age -- we have more than average in common, too, given that we used the same donor. But in the end, it's not MY relatives we've found. It's the boys' relatives. And when they are old enough, it will be for them to decide what sort of relationship they want with them. As I see it, our job as parents is just to keep the lines open so they have the option. And if we develop friendships along the way, great.

In the meantime, I am very happy with our new allergist and eager to get the blood test results for Chas. I'm allowing myself to hope that we could add soy back to the mix which would open up so many possiblities it's crazy. Sadly, however, I've seen some sneezing today so I suspect we're in for a cold or two. Yuck.

And finally, today at storytime at the library, the story lady had to tell Eddie to be quiet. He reacted by puckering up and bursting into tears. I had to spend the rest of the time with him in a side room. When I tried to talk to him about it later, more puckering, chin quivering etc. I feel so bad for him, but I know he's going to have to get used to people not being thrilled with every little utterance from his mouth. But I don't have to like it and neither does he.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Return of the Goo

I have no idea why, but tonight after days if not weeks of going to bed without his beloved goo or pacifier, Eddie demanded it. I gave in pretty quickly as I think he'll give it up again on his own soon. Plus, I don't like it when he's sad.

So today we went to a new allergist. I can't say exactly why, but I feel much more at ease with him in charge of Chas' care. Anyway, we're cutting out the routine Pulmicort but will start it again at the first sign of a cold, along with Nasonex. Hope this works. Meanwhile, we're also getting a new allergy test. I'm eager, I think, to get the results. If the numbers are going in the right direction we may even be able to challenge soy soon. That would be HUGE. In the meantime, though, this required a blood test. Chas was very brave. He complained but didn't really cry. It helped that they had Spongebob Squarepants on a TV in the room, which is highly distracting. But it was very cute hearing him describe it to Eddie tonight in the tub. "She put it and sting me here," he said, pointing accurately at the spot on his arm. Eddie responded with a heartfelt, "That's so baaaad." On the up side, Chas got Arthur the train as a reward.

OK, more tomorrow, including news on half-siblings found etc. But now I'm just too tired to blog. How sad is that?

Friday, March 17, 2006

Three at last! Three at last!




First, I know I've been a lame blogger. But I just posted something and somehow lost it all. So I'm not claiming to be perfect, but neither am I going to take the time to rewrite everything. Suffice it to say that it was the perfect mixture of humor, pathos, drama... everything you could want in a posting and more. It was the pinnacle of blogging achievement. It involved pain and laughter. But, you missed it. Sorry.

Here's a picture of the boys from their birthday party. It's not quite the same as the missing post, but it's the best I can do for you now. Sorry.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Aaaack! Horrifying omission!

(Which is better than a horrifying emission, but that's another story.) So here's what happened yesterday, two days before their party/expensive photo session.

They're in watching Kipper or something in their room and I hear a horrible THUD followed by heart-rending scream of pain from Eddie. I run in, scoop him up and commence to comforting. As he calms and I check for broken bones, missing teeth, etc., I think we've lucked out. And then the cheek begins to show its angry color. He's got a bright red, raised right cheek with a tiny cut. It looks really painful. And did I mention pictures tomorrow? I'm so damned shallow, but it doesn't seem to bother him so I allow myself to fret about pictures. Bad Mommy!

Anyway, if that weren't enough, I took the boys swimming at the Y. At the end of the session, they asked to go dangle their feet in the hot tub. Climbing out of the big tub, Chas complained a bit about something, but I didn't see what. When we got to the hot tub, I saw bright red just to the right of his right eye. I looked closer. Small spots of blood. Near as I can tell, he must have rubbed up against the no-slip tape around the handles of the pool stairs on his way out of the big pool. They look like they've been fighting. Or abused. Steph suggests we get them boxing shorts for their photo session tomorrow. Sigh.

I want Yots of Presents.

Tis morning we awoke to remind the boys that tomorrow is the big day. Thankfully, Chas said he wanted "Bob Da Builder Du-clo," which is what his auntie, uncle and grandma have bust the bank to get him. Eddie? He's more serious. "I want yots of presents!" So glad we're raising a materialistic little bugger.

And, just so the day isn't perfectly saved, Chas has not forgotten his recent obsession. After Bob the Builder was established, he added "and a teeter-totter." Sigh.

Then, we mentioned pictures and their special "present-getting shirts" they need to wear and Eddie announced that he would run away rather than submit to our sartorial dictatorship. OK, he didn't use those exact words, but they were implied. What he said was a simple, succinct, "I run away."

Meanwhile, called the photo studio to ask about retouching his smashed up little cheek. They chuckled and said unless it's too big, they could probably handle it. Oy.

OK. Now I must clean like a machine. Or something like that.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Lazy Parenting: It works for me!

When the boys turned 2 and the pediatrician learned they still took bottles at nighttime, she raised her eyebrows and told us it would only get harder to wean them. We ignored her. A few months later, we started weakening the bottles because, really, it was bad for their teeth to have milk just before sleeping. Pretty quickly we just stopped the bottles altogether. We got maybe one or two very brief, very mild protests -- more like questions really. "Bottle?" Then it was done. No more bottles, thank you very much.

Now, it seems that Eddie has completely and of his own volition given up his "goo" or pacifier. (Short lesson on the etymology of the word "goo": When he was, oh, about 6 months old, Eddie started reaching for things he wanted and jabbering "google google google" very rapidly. Usually what he wanted was his pacifier. We started calling it his google and eventually it shortened to "goo." This seems to confuse people to no end. A paci? A binky? These are terms people understand. Goo? Not so much. But that's part of the wonder of our boys.) Chas did the same thing when he was about six months old (giving up the goo, not naming it such) and started getting teeth. But that didn't seem like quite the feat as giving up something that has been a source of comfort for nearly three years.

Many of my nephews have all held onto their pacifiers to the point where there was pleading, bribing, tears and recriminations among their parents in the effort to get them to give it up. I expected a bit of that, so being someone who likes to put off unpleasantness as long as possible I put off the idea of weaning him from the goo. And presto! He does it himself. It took him a start and stop but a few nights ago he asked me to take his goo away while he was in bed, the better to avoid temptation I guess, and we've not heard or seen a goo since.

So to sum it up, my parenting style of laziness and avoidance of unpleasant tasks seems to be working like a charm. Therefore, and without regret (I hope) I am vowing not to seat the potty training. I suspect some day soon they'll take charge like they have with everything else. I'll offer a potty. I'll suggest a potty but I'm not going to fret about it. For at least another six months.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

On a happier note....




We just got back from going to see Oscar before his trip to the vet. Pink Grandma was there, too, but the boys were understandably more thrilled with the dog. I'm posting some pics, including this close-up showing Oscar's standard expression. He's clearly a little nutter and should fit right in. Meanwhile, after thinking things were going great as far as allergy boy goes.... Chas developed a single, small hive on his forehead where Oscar licked him. Weird. But if he can handle being around dogs as long as they don't lick him, well, things could be worse.

Dana Reeve died. More evidence that life is unfair.

I don't know why her death bugs me so much. It's not like I ever met her or even was familiar with her work. She seemed like a devoted wife, but how much can we ever know about the truth of someone famous? Still, she seemed cool. What really bugs me is the boy. He's 13. Both of his parents are gone. Yes, he's rich -- more money than I'll ever see in my lifetime, I'm sure. But money can't salve this wound, can't replace what he's lost. Children lose parents. Parents lose children. This case is no worse or better than thousands of others. But I don't read about thousands of others, so for me, this is worse.

Fate is cruel. She had a wonderful life to lead now as Christopher Reeve's death freed her as much as it did him from the prison of his body. Not that she didn't miss him, but come on. My mother would say that's why he died -- because he couldn't have taken the loss of her. That, mother dear, I'm sorry to say is bullshit. If God wants to take him to save him the agony of his wife's death, a more elegant solution would be to just refrain from having her get lung cancer.

Oh well. I hope that wherever they are, she and Christopher are dancing. And I hope their son is in the embrace of someone who loves him fiercely.

Monday, March 06, 2006

I want to live here with the puppy.

We visited Auntie Cathy tonight to see Pink Grandma's new puppy which she apparently tried to kill via neglect in its first day with her. I do not see a happy outcome for this dog who is adorable, friendly and doomed. Anyway, the boys love him and didn't want to leave Cathy's house. Poor Cathy. She's going to have to get up to take the puppy out to take little piddles all night. She already had to clean shit off of it. And in the end, my mother will either kill it or give it away. Hopefully not to someone who will consider it a delicacy, but you never know. The sad thing is that I knew from the moment I heard this plan that it was going to be a train wreck. But the reality is always a little worse than you anticipated. She left him cooped up in his crate all day because he couldn't go into the nursing home to visit my brother. He pooped in there and I'm hoping against hope that she didn't Bad Dog him for it because I'm sure it was a last resort.

If Chas didn't have allergies and asthma, we'd have a new pet right now I'm guessing. Meantime, do I have a great family or what? They somehow managed to find a way for me to actually be grateful for his asthma and allergies.

Anyway, I didn't bring the camera, but Steph took a dark pic with her cell phone of Chas bonding with the little Fur-ball. You can see it on her blog at www.betterlater.blogspot.com.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Eddie wants Mommy to take a time out.

So the boys are being little turds about bedtime tonight. Finally, in desperation, we tell them they are just going to have to be on their own and we leave the room. Soon, a tearful Eddie is in the living room stretching his arms out to me. I take him back to his room to rock and cuddle. He is inconsolable. Then he says, "I want to go in the other room and leave YOU here!" The second time he says it, it sounded more like "I wouldn't go in the other room and leave you here." Either way, he was pissed. He told me it was mean and naughty. Then he said he wanted me to have a time out. So that's what I'm doing. Not exactly sitting still in a corner, but having nearly four decades of experience on him, I think (hope) I can get away with it. Anyway, in the middle of Sobfest 2006, he wanted a tissue (of course. This IS Eddie I'm talking about after all.) Steph got one but he rejected it. I blotted his tears a couple of times, but he yelled that he wanted to keep his tears. I suggested it was as evidence against me and he agreed.

Before this hoo-hah, I was going to blog that Eddie and Chas are like a regular Siskel and Ebert -- they don't agree about anything. I asked them whether Brokeback Mountain or Crash would win the Oscar tomorrow night. Eddie picked Crash, while Chas picked "Broke Broke Mountain." Then tonight, Eddie recounted the fun of today and pronounced it a " lub-elly, lub-elly (lovely, lovely) day." "NO! It not a lubley day!" Chas countered. The bickered until I suggested that it was such a subjective term that perhaps Eddie's experience of the day was lovely, lovely, while Chas felt far less charitable about the merits of the day. This confused them enough that they at least ceased the argument.

OK, so now I can hear that Eddie is no longer bereft and both boys are back to being little turds so I should go to Steph's aid. But not before I choose sides. I think, for the record, that it was indeed a lovely, lovely day. The night, however, seems to be sucking.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

He ain't snotty, he's my brother....

Today we reached the pinnacle (I hope) of Eddie's control freak nature. He actually wiped his brother's nose. It's just wrong on so many levels I don't know where to begin.

In other news, they got haircuts today. Not great cuts, either. Chas was literally butchered -- his little ear was bleeding and he got some nicks in his neck but he didn't cry or protest so it couldn't have hurt much. I was ready to kick the woman in the head, though. So if he'd cried, I would probably be in jail now so it all worked out. Both boys' hair is bit shorter than I like. Steph says it just shows off their faces better, but we both know she's just polishing a turd.

Speaking of turds, how about our President, eh? I have a new theory on him. I think he gave up the drink, but simply replaced that addiction to an addiction with gambling. And money is just too mundane, so he likes to gamble with people's lives. Either that or he really is just a complete idiot.

The boys' colds are progressing. Eddie is several days ahead of Chas but ironically, the non-asthmatic, non-allergic kid always seems to suffer more with colds. Go figure. I'm just hoping they are well and their little noses aren't chapped when they get their birthday pictures taken next week. That seems so shallow, but it's true. My boys' breathers aren't working so hard as Eddie says and I'm worried about photo ops. Another think for them to be in therapy about.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

"You proud for me, Mommy!"






Yes, these are the immortal words of Eddie after he successfully scaled (more than once) the faux rock-climbing wall on his playset all by himself today.

Meanwhile, Chas' favorite word -- at least when he's in a swing -- is "Faster! Faster!" I'll post photos soon of our little bit of playtime in the yard. I've got to see about how much it will cost to pad every surface in our house and yard first. (OK, still no padding estimate, but I've now added photos.)