What Do You Do...

...when you are home without your kids? You blog about them. Duh.

Chuck and I drove back home today, while the boys stayed in StL with my mom for a few days. It was a lovely drive back, made all the more lovely by the quiet of the interior of the car, and the dryness of the road.

It's nice and quiet in my living room right now too, except for the sound of the Vikings game. But it does feel weird to be here without the kids. So I'll blog it out.

My kids are adorable. Have I said that? Jack was positively AMAZING on the drive down to StL. He was patient and helped Ryker and listened to what we were saying. In StL he was a had his frustrating moments, but given the extreme schedule, he did well. He showed his adoration for Kaya and Buster and and Calen and Ian (his cousins) by following them around everywhere. They showed their maturity by letting him be their shadow. Every once in awhile he would crawl into the same seat with one of them and just grin from ear to ear. This morning he laid across me and cuddled. I LOVED it. My sweet boy. He's growing up so much. He can do so many things for himself, and help us out a lot. I forget that he's only five.

Ryker also showed his sweetness on the trip. On Christmas Day we were sitting around Gaga and Papa's house opening presents. We were all in a circle with the kids in the middle, and Ryker asked my mom about opening more presents. She quietly explained to him that it was the adults' turns now, because, for instance, Momma had not opened a present and SHE had not opened a present. He listened, then got up quietly and walked out of the circle. He returned with a present from under the tree and handed it to my mom. It wasn't for her, but still. That's pretty darn cute. He got such a reaction from all of us that he went back and proceeded to bring ALL of the rest of the presents out and distribute them equally amongst the (wrong) adults.

There were many other examples of his sweetness. If several people were sitting around, he would bring them all a toy to play with. When someone mentioned they were hungry, he would give them part of his snack. When Jack said he didn't want Ryker to bring certain toys to Gaga's, Ryker would set them aside and say "my no bring dat to Gaga's, no" as he shook his head. He's such a sweet, sensitive little guy.

I love my boys. And as much as I love the silence, I do miss them!

Driving to St. Louis

I have done the drive to St. Louis many, many times over the last 14 years. I've driven alone, with my mom, with Chuck. We've driven when I was 8 weeks pregnant, and when I was 8 months pregnant. We've driven through heat and rain and snow, in the Chevy Lumina van, the Geo Prism, the Subaru, the Honda and the Mazda - and once, Chuck drove the Honda while I drove the van and we caravanned using walkie talkies to communicate. For the longest time I would cry every time we started the drive back to Minnesota, already missing my family. (For the record, and because they are all sitting in the room as I write this very post, I still miss them terribly when I leave. I just handle it better now.)

The drive down this time was an entirely different experience, and one I hope I never have to repeat. Chuck's new job doesn't given him any vacation days, so our plan was to drive down on Christmas Eve.

We woke bright and early and tried to coax the boys to eat first and second breakfast faster. By the time we loaded the car, got everyone in and stopped for coffee, it was 9:15. By 9:45 we had turned around for home - not wanting to be one of the dozen cars we saw in the ditch. I was devastated. Chuck spent an hour clearing the driveway of the newly fallen snow, and I alternated between road condition maps of MN, IA and MO.

At 12:30 we got antsy and started off again. Southern MN was fine. Iowa was not. There were no plows out, you couldn't really see the road, and it was decently icy. Also it smelled bad. We pulled into a town looking for dinner, and got nervous when we saw that the McDonalds was closed. I have never been so happy to see an Arby's be open. We ate and went potty, put a new movie on and switched drivers.

I was ready to take my turn at the wheel, thinking that it didn't look like Chuck had much trouble. On the road back to the highway I got my first taste of really awful fishtailing. I live in MN, so that's saying something. We twisted this way and that, Chuck yelled instructions at me, we sort of tilted up on two wheels, and finally came to a dead stop in the middle of the road. I made sure I wasn't having a heart attack, and we started back on our way. The children didn't even notice - not a word. Later, I put on the rear window wiper and Ryker whipped around, going "Who dere?!???" Good thing he's observant.

I have never gripped a wheel so hard in my life. I was hunched over, trying to keep our wheels in the treads of the car in front of me when I was lucky enough to be following someone. My eyes, hands, forearms and biceps hurt. By Missouri, it was better. My boys fell asleep, all of them, and I was left to my thoughts.

It had been a very stressful day, but I found myself completely calm and happy. The car was warm and silent except for the sleepy breathing of my favorite guys. I saw houses lit up in Christmas lights and knew that lots of people were with loved ones, smiling and laughing and recharging. And I knew that we'd soon be joining their ranks. I must love my family a lot, because I did not CARE how long it took us to get there, or how awful the journey was, I just wanted to be there with them.

We pulled into my mom's garage exactly 12 hours after we left (the second time). Within five minutes the kids were opening presents, commencing the spoiling for the week. I feel spoiled too - great family, non-stop eating, people playing with my kids, and a little blogging time to boot. Life is good.

I love my kids

This post will serve a dual purpose. First, I will get to express my undying love for my offspring. And second, I will have something to look back on and read while driving to StL, as they will no doubt be screaming and yelling and hitting in the back seat. It will be a sort of safety net so I don't yell back. Like my own little Blog Happy Place & Mute Button.

My kids are at really cute ages right now. Jack is REALLY smart (proud momma) and can figure out all sorts of things, including when adults are speaking in code. He knows all of the dirt at his school because he listens to every word the teachers say. I was that way. He can have really good conversations about things with us. But mostly what I love about him right now is his love for Ryker. He truly adores that kid. And it's not like Ryk is a baby who isn't in his way - Ryker is actually pretty annoying to him. He follows him around and takes his things. Nonetheless, Jack will put everything aside to help Ryk. This morning Jack refused to get dressed, opting instead to stand with only underwear on so he could stay with Ryker in the bathroom as he tried to go potty. I asked Jack what he was doing and he said that Ryker might get scared if he left him, so he wanted to stay in there with him. Sweet boy. And on our way home from some outings tonight, Ryker undid his own seat belt. None of us could reach it and we were on the highway so I couldn't pull over. We were really close to our destination, so we just let it go. You should have HEARD Jack. He was so nervous the whole time. Kept asking us to fix it, and when we pulled into the parking lot at Burger King, instead of exclaiming his joy at the impending Play Place experience, he yelled that it was so good we were there because now we could buckle Ryker in!

Ryker himself is pretty darn cute. He is TALKATIVE. And expressive. We were out with some friends tonight at a not-so-kid-friendly bar. After awhile he came toward us through a crowd of people and had put his own coat on upside down and inside out. Subtle. In our haste to get everyone into the car and buckled up, I lost our keys. We knew they were there somewhere, but couldn't find them. We finally took Ryk out of his seat and found them under him. As we drove off, he goes "Cwazy Wykur, me has keys!" and just cracked up laughing. (For the record, none of us called him crazy.)

They both did an awesome job at the holiday program at their school. Jack got to be the flag bearer, which was thrilling for him. He sang and danced to all the songs. He looked so handsome and proud. And Ryker stole the toddler's portion of the show. He was hilarious. The kids were all lined up on the stage, and they all stood still and stared straight ahead, like a very long police line-up. All except Ryker, who stood in the middle of the crew and DANCED. He danced and danced his little heart out. My face hurt from smiling so hard at him. He was having such a good time! Pictures (although really bad) are on Flickr to the right.

Venting

I need to vent.

It's hard to be a good mom to two young, willful boys.

It's hard to be a good wife all the time through a stressful year.

It's hard to try to get back into shape and make time for the gym.

It's hard to work a full-time job that frequently requires (unpaid) overtime.

It's hard to volunteer my time, and not even do as much as I want to do.

It's hard to keep the house clean, the kids clean, and me clean.

It's hard to make time to see friends as often as I'd like.

It's hard to work on my anxiety issues every single day.

Whew. Decent list. I wish I was doing a better job at every last one of those items. I get frustrated when I feel like I'm doing those things only moderately well.

But what is harder than each the things above is knowing that others are doing them all by themselves, with no support network. And so I vent and then I get over it and stop feeing sorry for myself, and then I thank all of you for being such good friends and family (or total strangers, maybe, but whatever - I thank you too).

Photos

New photos on Flickr - to the right.

Things We're Happy About

We just got through the most ridiculous weekend we've had in a long time. Tantrums, biting, whining, diminishing beer supply, broken internet connection. Oh, and 17.1" of snow - the 5th most in MN history - and blizzard conditions.

The bulk of the snow fell on Saturday. Minnesotans were advised not to go ANYWHERE under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. So we were stuck in our house. It was really cold and windy too, so we didn't even go to our driveway. People all over Facebook and Twitter were announcing their wonderment at this scene, and their delight in getting to curl up and read books all day. Those people clearly don't have two young boys.

While Chuck attempted to dig us out of our driveway, I attempted to keep the children from killing each other, or me. I wanted to get casseroles in the oven for dinner, so I put on some Christmas music and set to work. Both kids sat up at the counter, Ryker demanding second lunch. They were both crabby, as was I. Ryker learned a new phrase, which he proudly exclaims all day long now - "Knock it off!"

To regain sanity, I decided we'd play a rousing game of "What Makes You Happy." We went around and took turns giving our answers.

Mom: "Ryker, what are YOU happy about?"
Ryker: "Mercris" (Merry Christmas)
Mom: "That's good. Jack?"
Jack: "I'm happy that we have a roof and a house in snow storms. And thunder storms."
M: "Me too. I'm happy that we have lots of good food to eat. Ryker?"
R: "Teets" (treats)
J: "I'm happy because I love Mom more than anything else in the world. And that makes me happy."
M: (wiping big happy tears away and waiting for him to ask me for something, like a new car or $100) "That is THE NICEST thing I have heard in a long time. I love you too. And THAT makes me happy."
J: "I'm also happy for tartar sauce."

Three hours later, my Ready-In-30-Minutes recipe was in the oven and we didn't kill each other after all. Merry Christmas.

Jack Jokes

Jack has really taken to joke-telling. His sense of humor is really, really odd sometimes. (Forgive me if I've noted some of these before - I'm too lazy to go check on previous posts.)

His old standby was as follows:

Q: Why did the cookie go to the doctor?
A: Because he was feeling kinda crumby.

Then he moved on to the following, coming out of one of his books:

One old dinosaur: "I'm old and sore."
Other dinosaur: "I've never heard of an oldensaur."

He was so enamored with that one that he named his stuffed gorilla "oldensaur."

The same book produced his favorite line:

"You're too smalls to be my meatballs."

Then a joke out of another book:

Q: Where does the king keep his armies?
A: In his sleevies.

This one had me a little worried. I read that part to him and he laughed so hard that no sound was coming out, his face turned red and his one dimple - high, high up on his right cheek - totally sunk into his face. Once he regained the ability to talk, he made me practice the joke with him so he could tell it to his friends at school.

Then last night he busted out a new one:

Q: How many "pwirrels" (squirrels) does it take to change a lightbulb?

I was THRILLED that we were moving into new genres of joke telling, and eagerly awaited his response.

A: 98


That was it. He sat laughing and laughing and laughing and I sat bewildered, wondering if my 5 year old was telling me a joke that was above my humor-intelligence-quotient.

The Fruits of Cabin Fever

I'm not sure what has gotten into me. It's partially the fact that my mom is here, so I can get more done. It's partially that Chuck got a job, so I feel like we have a bit of breathing room. It's partially that we've all been cooped up inside because Minnesota Winter has set in.

I have gone crazy at the gym. My friend keeps signing up for races, and the competitive part of me really envies that. My body is worn from playing so many years of basketball and soccer, so I can't really run on pavement anymore for any decent distance. When she signed up for the Twin City Ten Mile back in October, I vowed I was going to do 10 on the elliptical too. Not the same thing as carrying your own weight on the streets of Minneapolis, I know, but it was a goal. I began working out at the gym in late August and was tired after 20 minutes on the elliptical. Five weeks later I got up to an hour and a half and reached my goal.

But back to this weekend - the same friend signed up for a 5k on Thanksgiving too so that day I wanted to push myself. I ran 6 miles. Yesterday I biked another 6 and lifted, and today I ran about 3.5 and played basketball. Extra babysitter = longer workouts = happier Jamie.

I also went ballistic on the house. I thought I just wanted to get a new toilet seat. I did that, installed it, and cleaned the bathroom. Then I washed my hands and got annoyed that the sink wasn't draining properly, so I removed the pipes under the sink and cleaned them out. (Sometimes I think I'm a plumber at heart. I actually fixed the hotel toilet on one of my college visits with my mom.)

My big plan this weekend, though, was to clean the big room in the basement and make a playroom for the boys. Eventually we'll refinish the entire basement and make it look purdy, but for now we just needed to clean it. And remove the weird, huge, Timberlodge-style bar glued to the floor down there. That thing has bugged me since we moved in.

It's gone now, thanks to Chuck. Jack helped me sort through toys - throwing broken ones away, keeping ones he wanted, and donating ones that we don't need anymore. The ratio of kept vs donated is not quite what I was hoping for, but it was a start. Jack was SO pleased to be helping. We have a lot more work to do down there but pretty soon our kids and all the neighborhood kids can be playing ping-pong or pool down there, having dance parties and watching movies. And the adults can be sitting upstairs watching football and drinking beer. My plan is coming together....

The Thankful List

Things I'm Thankful For (the Obvious and the Not-So-Obvious):

1. Family and Friends - this one is too big to summarize so I'll just say "Thank you and I love you" and leave it there.
2. Best Buy - for seeing the smart, hard-working person that is my husband and giving him a chance. And for being closer to home than my work, thus giving me rightful ownership over the Hybrid for awhile longer.
3. The new Sonic Care toothbrush Chuck bought me - it replaces the other one I had, which forced me to press the button every 3 seconds for it to function.
4. All the Einstein bagels and cream cheese in my fridge. Also the Straub's chicken salad my mom brought me from St. Louis.
5. My new hair color - I let Nicki loose on it and I love it!
6. The Lowe's gift card - it will let us buy a new toilet seat. I've wanted this for months now.
7. Coffee - for keeping me from being a raging lunatic every morning.
8. My awesome coworkers - for keeping me laughing through the stress.
9. Netflix - for letting Chuck and me watch every episode of Lost in this last year, and for making sick days with the kids so much more tolerable.
10. The Wiggles - for making Ryker SO happy.
11. Paper and markers and googly eyes - for making Jackson SO happy.
12. Dr. Tom - for helping me accomplish so much on the anxiety-front this year.
13. The gym - for helping keep me mentally and physically healthy.
14. Nova - for all the useless factoids I can now spew forth on unsuspecting friends and family.
15. My iPod and Pandora - for keeping the music alive no matter where I am, and for teaching my kids to appreciate it as well.

Ryker-isms

Good Lord that boy talks a lot now. I'll try to document his new pronunciations as best I can.

• I served him hot cocoa for the first time today. He referred to it for the next several hours as his "coffee."
• His favorite songs are "Cankle" (Twinkle Twinkle Little Star), "Hah-tay-toe" (Hot Potato), and our personal favorite, "Giggle Balls" (Jingle Bells). Favorite artists are "Boobay" (Michael Buble) and "Bee-alls" (the Beatles).
• He "yuvs" (loves) the "Wig-uhls" (Wiggles) and particularly "yikes" (likes) the "cock-uh-puhls" (octopus).
• He'll say most everyone's names now, but the cutest right now might be "Cuh-yen" (Cullen).
• Favorite toys are "cockuh ba-yul" (soccer ball), "tains" (trains), and "sub-all" (shovel).
• Winter accessories include "mitts" (mittens) and a "cack-et" (jacket).
• When movies are starting they are "coming" and then they are either "o-buh" (over) or "bow-ken" (broken).
• He's not potty-trained yet, but he'll tell us when he's "messy" or "stinky" most of the time. Sometimes he lies and says "I fi-yun" when he's clearly not.

Anyway, we're having fun deciphering what he's saying. We have to ask Jack to translate at times, and he always comes through.

The iPhone Will Be the Death of My Parentdom

My two year old knows how to scroll through pictures, close out of Facebook and get into Talking Carl, close out of Talking Carl and get into Doodle Buddy, and shake the phone to make the screen clear.

As if that's not bad enough, I find myself having the following conversations:

Jack: "What are you playing?"

Momma: "It's called Angry Birds."

J: "What are you doing?"
M: "Ummm, well, I'm loading birds into this slingshot."

J: "And then what?"

M: "Well, I launch them at those sculptures over there."
J: "What are you trying to do?"

M: "Ummm...blow up those piggies?"

Lemons Into Lemonade

I've done this before on this blog - turning my frown upside down and whatnot - but it is a nice little exercise when I'm feeling frustrated. I'm very, very lucky, and it never hurts to remind myself of that so I don't ever take it for granted.

Here goes.

Chuck still doesn't have a job. He got turned down for two promising ones this week. But he still has 5 that he's in the running for. Five job possibilities. Hundreds of people have applied for each of those positions, but Chuck was one of the handful of resumes each of those lovely, smart, wonderful hiring managers plucked out of the pile to interview.

Jack got sick again last night. Poor guy. I brought him home with Ryker, missing what we were supposed to be doing. Our foiled Friday night plans? Serving dinner at a homeless shelter. We are operating on one non-profit salary right now, and have been for five months, but we still have enough money to make food for other people to eat - people going through amazingly rough times right now who are so grateful for each and every meal.

Chuck went over to help out while I drove one of our two cars to our beautiful home. We went inside, ate dinner, got into comfy pajamas, read some of the multitude of books we own, gave Jack some medicine that we're lucky enough to have stock-piled, and I tucked them into their warm beds with their stuffed animals and blankets. I took out my brand new MacBook, cracked a beer (which we are also lucky enough to have stock-piled) and got to chat with a few friends.

During the night, Jack got sick all over his bed. We have more than one set of sheets, more than one blanket, more than one pillow, so I was able to get him back asleep - comfy and cozy - in no time.

The snow began to fall through the night. It is beautiful, and we're lucky enough to have an attached garage so we don't even have to step into the snow when we leave the house. Jack still feels awful, and wants to do nothing more than lay around dozing in and out of sleep. We have enough movies to keep him occupied when he IS conscious.

The snowstorm knocked out our power mid-afternoon. It came back fairly quickly, but even if it had stayed off, we have plenty of food in our pantry, plenty of candles in our house, an abundance of flashlights, and an awesome fireplace with wood that's already chopped. We would have been all set.

Chuck went out to clear the driveway with the snowblower that we are lucky enough to own. It was broken. But we have computers that helped Chuck diagnose the problem, which was a cracked something-or-other bolt. I'm lucky enough to have a smart, handy husband who happens to have a large assortment strange tools and other things, and he was lucky enough to have the exact bolt that broke. So he replaced it, and he's off and running down the driveway with the newly restored snowblower.

So really, life's good. Very very good. Jack will get better, Chuck will get a job, the snow will melt (by April), and life will continue to show me that things aren't nearly as bad as my Twitter feed might imply.

Lists About Stress

A List: Signs That You Are Too Stressed At Work

1. Your coworkers make frowny faces at you all day.
2. You burst into tears at work.
3. Other coworkers burst into tears upon seeing you burst into tears.
4. You ponder taking up smoking for the built-in breaks.
5. You are offered immunity boosting supplements because people don't know what else to do with you.
6. Three different people, in separate instances, order you to drink beer.
7. Your laugh has turned maniacal.
8. Your regular response to "did you get that email?" is "maybe."
9. You walk so fast that your shorter coworkers have to jog to keep up with you in your walking meetings.
10. After work you fall asleep in your bath.

A List: Things That Calm Me Down

1. The afore-mentioned bath.
2. The post-bath nap.
3. My Hoodie Footie Snuggle Suit.
4. Sitting in the back of the van in the garage watching the thunderstorm with Jack.
5. Dinner with the family.
6. Watching Ryker bliss out watching the Wiggles.
7. Being presented with 3 new art pieces by Jack (one of which is a giant, fat dog that he labeled "Mom," but I'll take it).
8. Hard cider.
9. Chuck having 800 interviews this week.
10. Blogging it out.

My Musings...Jack's Musings...

Okay, you had to endure a post without a single quote from the kids, so I'll balance it out.

One of my favorite things is to just sit and let Jack ramble. It's hilarious. He will just keep going and going and move from subject to subject with little or no transitions. I have no idea where he gets that from. Have I told you about my Snuggle Suit? I had the funniest conversation today. Not about the Snuggle Suit. What was I talking about?

Anyway, last night I let him go for a spell. He began by talking about the almost-life-size-construction-paper-boy that he made at school.

"Momma, Miss Christy let me bring home that boy so I hung it on my wall. (That was fairly obvious because we were sitting on his couch staring at said-boy taped halfway up his wall.) I'm gonna make a road for him to walk on. And maybe I will cut his legs off. Maybe I'll cut his legs off and then put them back on - OH! - I KNOW! - I will cut his legs off and then use a screw - I found my toy screws bee-smorning. I can use a screw to put his legs back on so they can go back and forth and look like he's walking. And maybe I'll cut his arms off too so they do the same thing. I might do that tomorrow morning. I might. Maybe. I cut that other thing down. See it? I taped it up on the wall over there. And I found that other piece of paper in my cwoset. See it? I taped it up too when I found it bee-smorning in my cwoset. It is the weekend tomorrow?"

The Sound of...

You're missing my musings about the gym, aren't you? I can tell.

I was there today. I've been sick for awhile, so my attendance has been spotty the last two weeks. But tonight I ran and it felt good. I went to sit in the sauna for a bit afterwards. I was sitting in there, and another woman was in there, and it struck me that we both hadn't moved a muscle and were just staring off into space. And I thought that was really fascinating, because there aren't many places where you just sit motionless and silent. You are trapped in a tiny room and there is no entertainment. And you aren't supposed to talk.

I love the silence and the time to reflect. Most days I don't have any quiet time. None. I wake up and am with the kids and Chuck...talk to my mom on the way to work...people in and out of my office all day, meetings, running around the museum...talk to friends or family on the way home from work...at home with the kids and Chuck...bed. I choose to fill my days with people and conversations. I love it. But I do like a bit of quiet time.

So I'm sitting in the sauna loving the quiet time. And in walks another woman. She has on all of her workout clothes still, which has nothing to do with my story, I just don't understand how people can do that. I mean, it's so friggin' hot in there. How can you sit with yoga pants and a shirt and socks and shoes? Ick. I am all for the swimsuit. She also (relevant to the story) has an iPod. As she opens the door, I can hear sound coming from the headphones. She sits down and I'm already annoyed because she is trampling on my sound-free zone. But then I hear the music.

"You can't hear it...

It's electric!"

You've got to be kidding me.

"You gotta know it...

It's electric!

Boogie, woogie woogie!"

Now, I can do the Electric Slide with the best of them. I can bust out two different versions, even, depending on the people I'm dancing with. But I DO NOT want to hear that song in the sauna. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. She didn't even turn it down.

"And I'll teach you, teach you, teach you

I'll teach you the elec-tric sliiiiii-de."

No you won't. I had to leave.

I'm going to write a book of etiquette at the gym.

Make It Stop!

For real. I call Uncle.

Remember two weeks ago when Jack had the stomach flu? Yeah? And then I decided not to write about ME having the stomach flu last weekend. There wasn't anything interesting or funny about it. It sucked. The same morning that I got sick, Ryker did too.

I had about one day of feeling better, and then my throat started hurting.

Then Jack started coughing.

Then I lost my voice.

Then my nose was all stuffy.

Then Chuck took a nap. He never naps.

Then I spent half of dinner in the bathroom with Jack.

Now we are all sitting here straining to hear the TV over Chuck and my hacking.

UNCLE.

Mawwaige

I was driving Jack back up to Target the other night, for a last minute Halloween costume emergency. (Chuck accidentally bought him a size 12-14, so it looked like Batman's son was trying on Daddy's uniform.)

As we were driving, he asked me when he would get married. I said that people get married at all different ages, and some choose never to get married. It just depends. He said that he really WANTS to get married. I said okay, that then it would depend on when he found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He goes "well, I want to marry Logan, but he doesn't want to be married to me. And boys don't marry boys." I said "well, sure they can" and teetered on the verge of explaining the state by state difference in this fact. I decided against it.

"I really want to get married. At school I asked 'Who wants to marry me?' but NO ONE said anything!"

I said that some kids just haven't thought about marriage yet, but that once they did, I was sure someone would say yes to him.

Jack: "Well, I really want to marry Logan and Rico and Payten. Why can't I marry all of them?"

Me: "Well, in some cultures that is ok with everyone. People can share their lives with more than one person. In our culture we say that a person can only be married to one other person at the same time."

The conversation fell apart after that. Jack swore I said "sculptures" instead of "cultures." Also, explaining polygamy versus monogamy and why gay marriage isn't legal is really really hard when you're talking to a five year old.

Opportunist

I am sick of the illness circulating through our household. Although we're trying to not spend money right now, I splurged on some immunity boosting Jamba Juices for our family. I figured it would cost less than going to the ER 84 times in the next several months.

I came home with three orange-sherberty things. I didn't figure Ryker needed one. Ryk looked longingly at them - "What DAT?" I said it was something for Mommy and Daddy and Jackson. Ryk took that better than I thought he would. He sat there quietly in the armchair while I gave Jack his cup. He tried it. Ryker watched him carefully. Jack announced "I don't like it" and Ryker jumped out of his chair immediately, yelling "*I* yike it!!! *I* yike it!!!"

I poured him a small cup. He devoured it, pushed it back across the counter at me, and said "I yike it. (Signed for more.) More."

Tonight

It was an adventurous night in the Van Nostrand household. Jack's stomach ache - which he complained of during his soccer game and which led him to take a 2 hour nap for the first time in a year - took full hold in a really gross way. I'll spare you the intricate details, except to say that it was in the car on a trip with Daddy to Walgreens to stock up on Pedialyte and Saltines. They didn't make it.

When they got back, Jack came into the house in just his underwear (it's 50 degrees out). He threw his hands in the air and said "I fwrowed up" and marched back to the bathroom. So that was that. I got him into the shower and went out to the garage to help Chuck. I sat in the driveway disassembling his carseat while Chuck worked on the interior of the car. Ryker ran around in pajamas and Crocs and obeyed as I repeatedly yelled "DON'T TOUCH THAT!" at him. I went back in to get Jack out of the shower, put his carseat and clothes in the washer, spray his shoes out, and give Ryker Fourth Supper.

Chuck ventured BACK out, this time without Jack but in the same car (???). He got our supplies and milk shakes. Jack was ecstatic.

Here's where the night got better.

I put Ryker in bed, which I don't get to do very often anymore. Jack's just a wee bit attached to me, as Ryker is to Chuck. I'm out of practice. Ryker now insists on doing baby flash cards - they have animals on them starting with each letter of the alphabet. He pulls out Buffalo first and says "Yak." Wow. I said "that's really close - but that's a buffalo." He goes "Buffo?" and then pulls out the Yak card and puts them side by side. Nodding, he says "yak" at the correct one. A few cards later he pulled out the Narwal and said "nawal." (This is significant if you know the story about me only finding out that narwals were real about 3 years ago.)

Then it was time to sing. We turned out the lights and he snuggled up to me and requested Sunshine. I obliged. Then Pat a Cake. I obliged. Then Cankle. Ummm...

"What Ryker?"
"Cankle."
"You have cankles?"
"No."
"What do you want to sing?"
"Cankle."
"Mommy has cankles?" (stiffling laughter)
"No."
"Good boy. What do you want to sing?"
"Cankle....DIS!" (doing the Twinkle sign from Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)

OHHH!

Back to Jack. He seems better. He ate applesauce, the milk shake and a few Saltines. He is mostly just upset that he can't go to school tomorrow, because he really wanted to wear his soccer uniform and medal for his friends. Once they smell nicer, we'll let him.

32

Well, another year has passed. This is the first year I haven't been pregnant or had a baby in tow for about 5 years now. And because of that, I was able to turn the focus back to me. My first objective? To conquer my panic disorder. I've been in therapy for 15 months now, and every single day for those 15 months, I have logged my anxiety levels and my anticipated anxiety levels, as well as any exposures I have done. (Exposures are things that make me confront my anxiety, things that I would have avoided in the past.)

I'm such a perfectionist that I'm almost always looking at where I need to go, instead of celebrating how far I've come. As part of a birthday present to myself, I decided to go back and look at my logs, starting with my birthday last year.

I counted them up, and I noted 116 exposures I've done in the last 365 days. Imagine something that gives you cold sweats, makes you want to pass out or throw up - then imagine intentionally putting yourself in those situations once every three days. It's intense.

Not all of them go swimmingly. I've had 7 knock-down, drag-out panic attacks in the last year. Lots of others gave me significant trouble, but didn't put me out of commission. But the vast majority of exposures were fine. I have developed a pattern. I get anxious in the lead-up to something. Then I peak in the first 15 minutes or so - sweating, dizzy, nauseous - and then I calm down and do just fine. Last year I would bail on things in those first fifteen minutes. Now I am able to remember, through that, that I know the ending to this story already. I know I'll be fine.

What's interesting about looking back at all of my exposures is that they have changed in some pretty dramatic ways. Things that I flagged as exposures in the fall and winter of last year are not things I have noted in the last few months. Some are the same, the bigger ones, but lots of the day to day things that used to make me crazy now are fine.

So it's been a good year on that front. Progress on my journey.

I Lose

I asked Jack who his favorite person is in the whole entire world (trying to get him to say me, of course). His answer?

Lucy.

I've never even HEARD of Lucy.

How do I lose to a kid who I've never even heard of??? I'm sure she's lovely, but come on!

Sign of Things to Come?

Ryker marked his second birthday by promptly falling into every stereotype of the Terrible Twos known to man. He throws CRAZY tantrums. He screams and yells because we cut up his hot dog instead of giving him the whole one. He sobs if we don't let him carry the case for a DVD around. He yells "No Momma - (s)top it!" when I rudely insist on changing his dirty diaper.

And he doesn't reserve that behavior for us. He shares it with his teachers and classmates as well. We have started getting notes about his behavior. "Ryker had a tough day." "Ryker was very angry." "Please work with him at home on this."

This week they've started making him go sit with Miss Mari. That's the Toddler Room equivalent of being sent to the principal's office. The offense? When he gets mad, he now sits on the ground, takes his shoes off, and throws them across the room. He has all the rest of the toddlers doing it too. So the chain-reaction where one kid cries, then another starts crying now includes a mass of children dropping to the floor to remove their shoes.

It used to be that when I took him into the room, they would say "Hi Ryker!!" with genuine excitement in their voices. Now they sound a titch disappointed that he showed up. I remember my mom coming home from a day of teaching first grade, saying that it was a really easy day because Naughty-Child-So-and-So was home sick and wasn't there to disrupt the class. That's MY baby now! Awesome.

My mom is trying to convince me that the Universe provided Chuck and me with the Crazies (my new name for the boys) because we are so calm and can handle them. And of course we can. But I have a new respect for those parents in the store who have kids throwing tantrums. I used to look at them and wonder what exactly was flawed in their parenting style that would result in kids THAT out of control. Now I just smile and nod knowingly.

Things that Annoy Me at the Gym

Those of you that follow me on Twitter and/or Facebook, feel free to not read this. It will just reiterate what I've already said many times.

As you know, I am fully in love with the gym. I really am. I love it there, love how I feel while working out and when I'm finished. But there are things that I find myself being super annoyed at. I guess it's good that I'm focusing my annoyedness on the following instead of being mad at the actual workout, but still.

1. People being loud in the sauna. This happened today and was the inspiration for this Post-In-Which-I-Vent. This woman very loudly yawned over and over and over again. And then sighed deeply. And then yawned. And then cleared her throat. I don't want to talk to you. Stop trying to make me.
2. When people just wander around the gym, not doing anything.
3. People hitting on me in the locker room. I wish I was making this one up, but I'm not. It's happened at least 3 times.
4. When people pick the elliptical machine right next to me when there are a dozen other ones to pick from that don't have anyone on either side.
5. The music they play over the speakers. Seriously, it's like sleepy-time in there. NOT motivating.
6. When people talk on their cell phones while running or biking.
7. When people move around in the hot tub. Like, completely change places. I closed my eyes one time, just relaxing, and opened them to find the woman had moved half way around the thing, and closer to me.

Hmmm. I thought for sure I had more than 7. That's not too bad, I suppose. Here's hoping that this blog rids me of these annoyances.

The Costume Conundrum

Last year at this time, Jack was asking me to get him a flower costume for Halloween. I was debating whether or not he'd get made fun of, knowing the kids at his school. I scoped out the costumes and found one that would probably work. But then he announced he wanted to be Spiderman, and we went with that.

In chronological order, the following have been Jackson's costumes for Halloween:

1 month old - Tigger
1 year - ??? (Seriously, I just spent like 30 minutes trying to find a picture of what Jack was for Halloween that year. We can't figure it out! Bad parents...bad, bad parents. We think maybe he was a cowboy??? Wait, he WAS a cowboy - I just found the pictures! Phew.)
2 years - Bumblebee
3 years - Superman
4 years - Spiderman
This year he has announced he wants to be a monster. A monster? Okay. Research mode - I have found such gems as "Bleeding Scream Child Costume," "Demon of War Black Child Costume," "Kids' Shredded Corpse Costume," and "Infected Child Costume Extra Large."

Can I just do the flower one?

My Fault

Jack and I play a rhyming game in the car. He loves it. So tonight on the way home from the gym I was throwing out words and he was rhyming as fast as he could. Sometimes he makes up words, which I have to go along with because we read a lot of Dr. Seuss and he makes up words all the time.

Ryker plays too, except he just repeats the word I said, or part of it.

Tonight I was naming things as they came into my head - road, street, mall, car, van...

I should have been thinking one step ahead, anticipating the words that could rhyme and steering my innocent little babies away from potential verbal disasters.

I SHOULD have been thinking one step ahead, but I wasn't.

And so I yelled "Store!"

And Jackson responded "WHORE!"

Singing

I was putting Ryker in bed last night and we were singing. He wanted to sing Happy Birthday. I began and he whispered "wykur" so I'd know who we were singing to.

"...happy birthday dear Ryker, happy birthday to you."

"Joshun"

"...happy birthday dear Jackson, happy birthday to you."

"Dada"

"...happy birthday dear Dada, happy birthday to you."

"Pants"

"Ummm, pants?"

"Yesh."

"...happy birthday dear pa-ants, happy birthday to you."

Photos!

New photos up on Flickr! Check out my big boy's first soccer game and his fifth birthday party!

Here a Grandpa, There a Grandpa, Everywhere a Grandpa Grandpa

It seems the kids have developed a problem understanding familial relationships. That would be understandable if they had the sort of strange family tree I do, but they don't. It's really very simple.

Ryker is convinced that Grandmommy (my mom) is named Grandpa (or "Gampa," to be accurate), and Jack has taken to calling Uncle Ry Ry (my brother) "Grandpa" as well. The funny part is that my dad wasn't able to come this time, so there actually weren't ANY official grandpas here. But every 4 minutes or so, you'd hear one of the kids yell something to one of the fictitious Grandpas. And then you'd hear one of us going "No, that's GRANDMOMMY" or "No, that's UNCLE RY RY."

Not-Quite-Birthday Day

Although today wasn't Jack's official birthday, he was certainly treated well. He woke me up around 6am, fully decked out in his Superman costume. Being the lovely daughter I am, I sent him off to find my mom. He did and I went back to sleep. (Sorry Mommy!)

Then Chuck and I got up and both kids had been fed and were sitting together assembling the favor bags we would give away at our party. Jack loved it - although he had originally wanted to draw a picture for every single kid who was coming so they could take it home with them.

Jack went with Uncle Ry Ry to the Mall to pick out his presents (a tradition with Ry Ry and Grandpa and the boys). He arrived back in time for lunch, which he promptly refused, explaining to me that he wasn't hungry because he ate an ice cream THIS BIG. It was Cold Stone, so use your imagination.

He played and played and played, then rode along as Ry Ry went in search of fried clams. Don't ask. He had taken the costume off for a bit, but had it back on for this excursion. Guests began to arrive around 3 - I had to call Ry Ry and get him un-lost so the guest of honor would be here on time. They arrived, and Jack got a HUGE dose of family (including Gaga and Papa, who flew in from StL just in time for the party) and friends and cake and cupcakes. Then he opened a ridiculous amount of presents. Some of you, and you know who you are, are going to HATE my payback for your oh-so-noisy generosity. Just wait.

Then the guests left and we had the Second Annual Mentos and Diet Coke Experiment. We tried it on his last birthday, courtesy of Uncle Bob. It worked fairly well. Bob is quite the engineer though, and was unsatisfied with the results. He tweaked the set-up and came prepared this year with a new design. And it WORKED! And when there were no more bottles left, Ryker and Jack and Jordan had fun playing in the sugary stream now running down our street.

We had dinner, then I caved and gave Jack Tootsie Pop even though all he ate for dinner were the crusts off my pizza.

If you're keeping score at home:

• Food consumed after 7am: one ice cream cone, one cupcake, one slice of cake, one Tootsie Pop and zero protein or nutrients
  
• Gifts opened: a katrillion, needing three katrillion batteries
• Halloween Costumes sported: Superman outfit twice (and Spiderman last night)

Grown-Up Boy

Jack had his Well Child exam today. He was great. He sat and listened and answered questions and did everything he was told. He's 98th percentile in height and 97th in weight.

It was so surreal to see our big guy up there. We're used to having to hold the kids' hands as they lay on the exam table, hold them down when they get squirmy. Jack was his own man. We just sat there for an entire section of the exam, talking amongst ourselves while the doc and Jack went about their business.

And as if I wasn't already having trouble processing how much he's growing, I went into his room tonight to find him listening to the radio - which he had tuned by himself to KDWB. Those of you who don't live in the Twin Cities - it's a Pop/Hip Hop station. He's not quite 5 years old.

My Creative Baby

My term for Jack has always been "quizzical." Since the day he was born he's studied things carefully, wondered about things, worried about things, and worked at things. He has been taking all of that energy and putting it towards art projects recently. Every day he comes up with a new invention - a mail carrier box, a helmet that looks like Frankenstein (he calls it Iron Man, but I modified this post for our generation), construction-paper-grass for his walls, masks, a collage with a sun taped to it and a blue strip of paper coming out of it as a 3D representation of the sky. It's sort of mind-blowing to watch your little boy come up with stuff like this.

His newest one was yesterday. I came into his room when I got home and he stood there smiling at me, with bat ears made out of construction paper taped to his head. It was plain as day what he was trying to do.

"I wanted to look like Superman."

"Batman" I said.

"Yes, Batman." He beamed up at me.

"Well, you DO look like him."

He told me that he thought about it all day and came home and made the ears and was constructing a cape. He actually wore his whole outfit to the neighbor's house tonight.

My sweet, sweet, creative boy. I love him and his amazing brain.

Wiggles

Proof of Ryker's obsession with this very strange kids' band, and proof of our obsession with hearing him say "wiggles."

Stage 2

Every parent goes through the same two stages with their small kids:

Stage 1 - Kid as a pet...
This is the stage where babies and toddlers are just there. They don't talk or have control of their limbs. You pick them up and carry them around. Sometimes they come when you call them and sometimes you can teach them little tricks.

Stage 2 - Kid as a person...
Once the kid learns to talk, everything changes. They lose their pet-status and turn into little humans. It's CRAZY.

At first that is completely fascinating. You watch your little pet turn into a person who can tell you what they think and express themselves and mimic things they've heard you say.

Then the infatuation wears off just a bit, as they lose the ability to be quiet. They just talk and talk and talk. Sometimes I think that Ryker might faint from not taking a breath.

Tonight he was mimicking me as I spelled words for Jack. They he began spelling things himself. Not correctly, of course, but he was trying. Mostly they were real letters, but sometimes he would use the oft-forgotten letter "doe-bay" and string together a series of m's that doesn't naturally occur in English words. Then he started counting. "One, two, fee....seben, eight, nine, ten...wevn, twev, firften..."

I got the camera out but he clammed up. I'll keep trying.

Weird Things I've Seen

August edition:

1. A stuffed frog flying down the highway.
2. A man wearing jeans, no socks, and black dress shoes while working out.
3. Nikki eating brats and Coke for breakfast 3 days in a row.
4. Several different couples at different times kissing in the exact same place on the Plaza at Target Field.
5. A senior living facility named Real Life.

Also weird, all children's programming: Dora, Sponge Bob, the Wiggles. I mean seriously, have you ever watched them? Someone was on some serious drugs when they made those shows. And our kids are obsessed with them.

Car Conversations

Ryker gives a monologue in the car now. It goes a little something like this...

"Momma! No Momma. (S)Top it Momma. No. No. Joshun no. Top it Joshun. Why? Why Momma? Why? Whatchoo doin? Whatchoo doin Momma? Top it!"

He's alternately curious and appalled by our drive home. It's virtually the only time he's not requesting food though, so that's nice.

Generally Jack stays quiet during these monologues. Sometimes I ask him what he thinks Ryker is trying to get me to do. Tonight he told me that he thinks Ryker wanted me to stop the car. To which Ryker replied, and repeated at least a dozen times, "top da caw Momma. Top it! Top da caw."

The Gym

Those of you who follow my tweets and/or Facebook posts will have heard most of my gushing about the gym. But hey, if you are following my tweets, FB posts AND blog then I consider you either a stalker or my bestest friend, and either way, you have obviously demonstrated a tolerance for my ramblings.

But first, can someone please explain to me why it took me 31 years to figure out that vanilla yogurt and granola bars are CRAZY GOOD together?!

Okay, back to the gym.

I used to spend all of my time in gyms or fields of some sort. But when I got pregnant with Jack I just couldn't figure out how to swing the timing of it, so I gave up my membership and Chuck kept his. It's stayed that way despite Chuck's efforts to get me to sign up again.

Until last week. He finally convinced me. I signed up during one of their incentive periods so it'll be really cheap.

I went Thursday for my first time. I did the elliptical for 20 minutes, at which point I couldn't handle the taunting of the brand-new basketball court any longer. I went in there and shot around for an hour. It was FANTASTIC. Nothing like it. I was running up and down the court like a little kid. Then I sat in the hot tub like an old adult.

I didn't go on Friday, mostly because I was hungover from a wedding on Thursday night.

But I went Saturday, Sunday and Monday.

I LOVE THE GYM. It really is awesome. There is something very addicting about working out so hard that you are dripping sweat. It feels good. I've missed that feeling.

Today I couldn't figure out how to get over there. I do NOT get up in the morning. I just don't. I hate mornings. And I don't like getting ready for work at the gym. That eliminates lunch as well. I went to pick up the kids and tried to take them to the gym, but was politely informed by Jack that they can't go without snacks. Van Nostrand rule, I suppose, because it's certainly not the gym's rule. And since I was sans snacks, I headed home. We went to the park to play but after we put them in bed I decided I'd go to the gym anyway. Chuck really wanted me to try to go later in the evening because it's "so relaxing."

So I went. My back is hurting today (how old am I?) so I decided to swim. I got in the water and realized I didn't have my goggles. But I'm stubborn, so I swam anyway. After awhile my eyes really hurt, and I know that when they do that, they are bright red and I look exactly like a cocaine addict. Or something. So I decided to sprint in the pool. That kicks your *ss so I figured that was a good alternative. And I got tired fast, but was stubborn some more so I made myself sprint without a break for 30 minutes. My feet HURT about halfway through but that just made me more mad so I kept going. When I got out I figured out why my feet hurt. It's because I had ripped a hole in my toe. Blood and all.

And that meant that I couldn't go in the hot tub or the sauna. So I went to shower instead, where I noticed I brought shampoo and lotion instead of conditioner.

I got home and Chuck asked if I was relaxed and I hobbled over and looked at him with my junkie-eyes and told him NO. And then we watched random Italian Scrappers yell at each other on TV. Tomorrow's a new day.

Giant

We're raising a giant. We've taken to watching those Discovery Channel shows about the tallest man in the world, just so we can have an idea of how Ryker's episode will be laid out. You know - the footage they'll want and the types of childhood recollections that would be prominently featured, perhaps dramatically reenacted.

One such scene, I'm guessing, would have to be the early doctor's appointments. They would include interviews with our pediatrician, who would by then be maybe 60 or 7o years old. She'd sit in her trinket-filled living room recalling those early appointments with Ryker, and they'd cut away to visuals of his growth charts.

The one from two years old:

• Weight: 99.16% of growth percentile based on weight-for-age
• Length: 95.48% of growth percentile based on stature-for-age
• Weight for length: 98.22% of growth percentile based on weight-for-recumbent length
• Head Circumference: 99.92% of growth percentile based on head circumference-for-age

Any guesses on how this will benefit him in the future? Aside from the obvious jokes about football scholarships and sumo wrestling?

A Talker

Ryker is a talker, just like me. He's saying more and more things and we're understanding him better.

Last week he said his name for the first time, correctly. Ryker is not the easiest name for a kid. He has previously referred to himself as "why why" or "bebe." But the other morning I asked him what his name was and he said "Why-kur." Now he repeats it over and over because he knows I like it. "My Why-Kur, myyyy Why-Kur." (He uses "my" for "I.")

Last night I said "Ryker, what do you like to do?" not really expecting a response, and he said "baseball."

Today I told him I was going to give him a haircut and he said "Nicki not here." Nicki, if you haven't been reading this blog for very long, is our magical neighbor. Among other talents, she cuts hair, and apparently she's made quite the impression on him.

After his haircut he had a bath, and after that I put him in a froggy towel. He was hopping around saying "wibbit" and I got him on the changing table and asked what he was and he said "My wibbit."

He's also extremely fluent in the art of telling me what he does NOT want. Why do kids pick that up first? His love for saying no sometimes gets in the way of what he really does want, but I've learned to adjust. This morning he told me he wanted eggs and then proceeded to yell "no Mommy! No Mommy!!!!" until I brought them over to him, at which point he smiled and said "tank too" by way of appreciation.

I LOVE this age!

Beautiful

From my sweet boy just now, out of nowhere:

"If things are so beautiful sometimes I almost cry."

My Sweet Jackson

Jack's going through some harder times. I haven't posted it because it's scary to write about, but he's having a lot of trouble dealing with frustrations. He's been this way since birth - and I mean that literally. He was the colicky baby who turned into the hitting and kicking toddler who turned into the tantrum-prone preschooler. We work on it ALL THE TIME. In fun ways and in serious talks and in everything in-between. Mostly I think it's the friends he has at school right now, and those friends are moving on to a different school this fall for kindergarten. For that, I'm eternally grateful. But one friend talks about hurting himself and death and all of these tremendously adult topics. And Jack is mimicking that. And he's getting a reaction out of me. I know that's a shocker to you all, right?!

Anyway, he is doing okay and he's going to be fine and we'll talk to the pediatrician about it. And he's constantly talking about happy things and things that he wants to do and wants to learn and wants to work on.

And I need to take this moment to share how sweet he really is, and how kind his heart is.

When I picked him up from school yesterday I told him we were going to CJ's birthday party (the eldest of the Hayes children). He asked if we had a present and I said that no, we didn't have one but that it was okay. He pondered that for awhile. Then he told me that he would give CJ one of his toys. "I'll give him one of my toys, I don't care." He said it so sweetly. So we got home and he decided he wanted to give CJ the pop-up book he's been working on.

The pop-up book, just so you know, is not something that we have ever talked about. He decided to do that himself this last weekend. He stapled a few sheets of small legal paper together. Then he used construction paper to make a house with a roof. He cut out a window and a door and then another window but left enough paper in that window upon which to draw a person. Then he stapled the bottom of that house to an inside sheet of the legal paper book. So when you flipped into the book, you could then flip the house up. Hence the pop-up book. It was brilliant.

So Jack wanted to give that to CJ. He ran around the house asking us how to spell different words so he could write into it. We took it over there and when it was time for CJ to open presents there was his book, amidst the baseball gloves and games. Chuck and I were hiding in the back of the yard because we were scared Jack would get made fun of. (Have I mentioned my total fear of kids being disappointed or made fun of or kids not coming to other kids' birthday parties?)

Before CJ got to Jack's card, Jack brought it to me and told me that he needed to write his name on it. So we went inside and got a pencil and Jack sat down to write his name on the front. It was the first time I got a look at his book up close. At the top of the cover page he had written "Jacks wig". And no, I didn't type that wrong. He doesn't know how to use apostrophes. And "wig" is the newest word he has learned how to spell. Under "Jacks wig" he wrote "CJ" and under that he was adding "Jackson".

I said "that is really sweet Jack. Do you want CJ to open it now, or later?" He said now. I said that CJ might ask what it meant, and he said "well, YOU can tell him..." I said "well yes, except I'm not really sure what it means. Why did you write 'Jacks wig'?" and he goes "I couldn't think of anything else to write so I just wrote that."

Good answer. So we went back outside and he handed it to Payten, who was handing presents over to CJ. I stood on the stairs and hoped it would go well. CJ opened it and read it and did so amazingly well with it. He was confused, of course, but spent a sec with it, looking at it and reading it and said thank you. It was adorable. I am SO thankful that CJ was so kind about it. And Jack sat there looking immensely proud and sort of blushing.

And later Nicki and I got a hold of the card and saw what he did on the inside. He had written "Jackson has so much fun with wig."

Of course. What else would you write there?

Cuddling

I don't know how long my boys will cuddle with me, so I better blog about it now.

Tonight was the best cuddle night. I put Jack in bed and he asked for me to cuddle with him. Actually, his manners have fallen by the wayside recently, so it was more of a demand. I'll take it though.

I curled up next to him and he put his arm around me and put his forehead against mine. It was pure bliss.

Then I sat on his couch for a few minutes as he fell asleep and I was relishing the calm and peacefulness and WHAM the door flies open. It's Ryker. "Momma!"

I scooped him up quickly and ran out of the room before Jack woke up. Chuck was in the hallway, and I was like "why did you let him do that?" and he was like "he wouldn't stop asking for you." And I was just holding him in my arms and he just beamed at me.

My sweet boys. I love 'em.

Not the Right Way...

For those of you who may need to explain euthanasia to your children at some point, take a lesson from Chuck and me. Here are some phrases to avoid, as they tend to bewilder little kids:

• He wasn't feeling well so the doctor helped him die.
• He was hurting and his brain wasn't working right so the vet helped him pass on. (This was Chuck's attempt to correct Bullet #1, which was my first attempt at an answer to the question "what happened to Norman?")
  
• They gave him medicine that made him die. (This one doesn't even work when you tack on "but it was peaceful." Just avoid it entirely.)
• We took him to the vet and they helped him die.

The best way out of this situation, as we learned, is to just keep talking until the movie on the TV becomes more interesting than your explanations.

Inappropriate

All kids go through certain inappropriate phases. I remember Jack calling a seat a "teet" - which turned into him announcing at restaurants "Momma teet!"

Ryker is fully in the inappropriate phase now too. His obsession with shoes as a baby has expanded to include socks now. Only he can't say "sock." To keep this family-friendly...he replaces the "s" with a "c."

So now he runs outside to find Daddy and yells, for the entire neighborhood to hear, "Daddy's (not an s)ock!"

Or he runs into the entryway to find his socks waiting for him before school and he turns around and yells "My (not an s)ock!"

Also - just a random but funny and slightly inappropriate snippit. Tonight he was sitting on my lap at bedtime, facing me. We were singing in the dark, like we always do at bedtime, and he reached over for his sippy-cup. In one motion, with no pomp at all, he turned the cup upside-down with one hand, pulled my collar open with the other hand, and tried to pour water down my shirt.

Ryker and Me - A Comparison

Ryker and I are very similar. Evidence:

1. We both would prefer to sleep until 11ish most days.
2. We both get VERY dizzy, VERY quickly. We noticed this on Friday night when Chuck was spinning Jack on the floor and Ryker wanted a turn. Chuck spun him slowly, but his giggles gave way wide-eyes and a pale face. Chuck picked him up and held him - poor little guy. He looked pitiful.
3. We both have to touch everything. We walk through stores and touch everything in sight.
4. We are both obsessed with having something to drink right next to us at all times.

How Ryker and I differ:

1. I don't leap to a standing position when people wake me up.
2. I don't feel the need to carry 8 items in my arms at all times - 2 books, 3 balls, a car, a maraca, and a cup of water, of course.
3. I don't feel intensely drawn to the dish washer.
4. I don't want to drink rain water off of the rocks in the backyard, or drink the bathwater.

Making It His Own

Jack's version of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, as sung into his little microphone that plays the music but not the singing part:

Take me out to the ballgame
Take me out to the crowd
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks
I don't care if I've never had them
For it's root root root for the home team (I try to get him to say Cardinals there but he doesn't)
If they don't win it's a shame
At the old ball-game

If you know the song, he's missing a bit at the end so the music keeps going for awhile. He doesn't seem to mind.

And Another...

Someday I will tire of posting videos of the boys dancing, and someday my videos will end with a statement other than "Ryker STOP!"

Passing the Time...

A Few Weeks Late

Ryker is very definitely a second child. See, we TOOK pictures at his birthday party. We just forgot to post them until now. Oopsie daisy. This first one was particularly funny - that's us trying to watch the World Cup through Ryker's balloons.

(Don't ask me why the text is underlined up there. It's driving me crazy. And I refuse to lose my sanity over the font in my blog, so I'm leaving it.)

Really Hot in Here

I was on Jackson-duty tonight for bedtime. Mostly because Ryker is a complete Daddy's Boy right now. He actually greets me at daycare with "Momma!!! Doddy not hee-yer?!" and is frequently known to push me away if I try to steal a kiss while Chuck is holding him.

So Jack and I are bonding.

Jack came from the bathroom into his bedroom, where I was waiting for him. He set his underwear on the bed as he got undressed. I asked if he needed new underwear and he said no. I didn't respond. He pulled a pair of very thick, fuzzy, footy pajamas out of his drawer. I said that I thought it was probably too hot for that (it's been 90+).

He looks at me with concern and says "it's too hot for underwear?"

Poor Chuck

Poor Chuck. He is having a rough time right now. He's laid off. He has a cold. He spilled water on his keyboard so now he can't type J, K, L or use the backspace.

He found out a little bit ago that he has mild sleep apnea, so he has to wear a CPAP at night. It's this little machine that sits next to your bed and has a plastic tube that comes out of it and goes to your nose. It has plastic straps that keep it attached to your head at night. That sucks enough.

As a follow-up, they needed to check the oxygen level in his blood throughout the night. So they sent another machine. This one has a cord that attaches to a little finger-brace for your index finger.

Chuck set to work that night to set up the new contraption. It was beeping and Chuck wasn't meeting it's needs so it started electronically screaming at him. It was the most awful noise. He finally got it to shut up and the Universe decided to give me more noise to deal with, because I LOVE noises I can't control, so it let our neighbor take off in his Diesel truck, come back 2 minutes later, idle in the driveway, do a lap around the block, idle in the driveway for another 2 minutes and finally turn off.

So now Chuck lays down with the finger-brace on his left index finger, cord traipsed across his body and off the bed. He straps his nose-hose on. He puts in his mouth-guard. (He loves that I'm writing this.) He tries to fall asleep but his cold is bad. And when he opens his mouth to cough, the reverse air-pressure makes a Darth Vader noise come out of his mouth. He's like a dragon breathing fire, only there is only the noise and no flames.

At some point I giggled myself to sleep. I awoke at 4:45am to the sound of the beeping finger-sensor. It thought Chuck was dead but he wasn't. He had detached briefly to go retrieve more cold medicine. He came jogging back around the bed, lunged at the sensor and threw it on his finger again. The beeping ceased. He sat on the edge of the bed fumbling with the gel-packs. You know those things - the ones that you cannot open with a chainsaw even though they are "perforated."

I helped him open it. He fell asleep again.

Scoreboard:

Oxygen level: fine
Teeth: un-grinded
Breathing: regulated
Cold: almost gone
Keyboard: fried
Us: laughing

Stickler

Jack and I were reading The Listening Walk the other night. If you haven't read it, it's a book about walking quietly and listening to the sounds outside. It's a fun book to read because you get to make all the noises - they spell them out for you really well so it's easy to do them right.

Anyway, the last page tells you to close the book and listen to the noises around you. So we did that. We sat quietly. Finally I whispered "I hear the air-conditioning." Jack goes "do you remember the part of the book where it says not to talk?"

Yikes. So I was quiet again.

Then he started giggling so I said "what did you hear?" and he goes "I heard you talking."

Doesn't Quite Get It

Jackson frequently just doesn't quite get it. He's close to getting it, whatever "it" might be, but just isn't quite there.

Tonight we were reading about how pandas are endangered. We talked about how people are cutting down their trees so they don't have anywhere to live. Then we got talking about how pollution from cars is hurting our earth in general. Trying to circle back to the book, I asked what he thought we could do to save the pandas. He got very excited and started talking all fast with his eyebrows up at his hairline.

"We could make ten hundred thousand posters and put them up on every single house. We could drive them all around all over. The poster would say 'Stop....Killing....the Pandas.'"

Close, I guess. He's got part of it right.

Our Anniversary

I realized that I have written Birth Stories for each of the kids, but haven't ever written about Chuck and me. I'll keep it short so you don't all die from the ooeygooeyness.

We both went to Carleton. Many of you reading know the exact story of how we met. I plead the fifth. So does Chuck. Anyway, we started dating my sophomore year, his senior year. We were never apart after that.

On a misty Thursday night in October of my senior year he picked me up after a basketball open gym. He told me that we should go for a walk, which I thought was odd. It was not a nice night. We decided to sit in a gazebo right by the Cannon River. I was CRANKY. I had had a bad day, and it was midterms. I sat in the gazebo just ranting to Chuck, who sat patiently sweating bullets. Finally I said "oh my God, I'm such an awful girlfriend! I haven't asked how you are. How are you?" and he said "well if you are such a bad girlfriend, how about you just be my wife instead?" Awww. And he pulled out the box with a ring in it but didn't get it out. He just held it up and showed it to me. I waited a sec but then just dove in and took it out myself. I asked why he didn't put it on my finger and he explained that he got the ring a few weeks ago and had held on to it (without me knowing) but in the meantime a ring-sizing kit had come in the mail and I tried it and it said that I was a different size than the ring he got. He was nervous it wouldn't fit me! It did though, have no fear.

To celebrate, we went to Taco Bell. What else do you do in Northfield?

Anyway, each year on our anniversary Chuck gets me something following the traditional gift guide. I might be making that name up. You know, paper is for the 1st anniversary, etc. etc. I never look it up because I want to be surprised. This year was bronze. He got me a bronze-cast Buddha Amitabha. That particular Buddha reached enlightenment through persistence, which reminded him of my journey to get over panic disorder. How sweet is that? I was amazed.


I got him a painting. I found it on an art adoption website that I stalk. I had previously tried to adopt a work from this particular painter, but she ended up sending it to a gallery for an exhibition. I wrote her again, inquiring about a waterscape. I explained that I wanted an anniversary gift but couldn't spend money really because of our lay-off, and that this particular piece reminded me of being at the ocean and how peaceful that time was. And she picked me! Hooray! So we get this beautiful painting, which I can't post yet, because there are several in the series and I'm not quite sure which we'll end up getting.

I found it ironic that we both got pieces of art that reminded us of peacefulness.

AND my mom gave us an anniversary present. She didn't want us to have to stay in the house all the time because of our financial situation. She gave us a stack of gift cards 2 inches thick to all our favorite places. Blew me away.

Happy Anniversary Sweetie (it was 2 days ago, I'm a bit slow). I love you.

Reasons We Loved This Weekend

Well we've reached the conclusion of Ryker's Birthday Weekend. Following are the reasons each of us LOVED it.

Ryker: Ryker was the birthday boy. He loved the attention, the presents, and the cake he got to shove into his face. He loves his new presents, and is completely smitten with his new HUGE bouncy ball. "Ball - KICK! MY ball! You weddy? I weddy. KICK!" is all we've heard for the last 28 hours. It's gone everywhere with him -- served as a baseball, a soccer ball, a basketball, a chair, and a pillow when he got tired.

Jackson: Jack loved the weekend because he pretty much thought it was HIS party. He actually called it that several times. He got some good Grandpa time, including ice cream at 10 this morning! He also helped Grandpa shop for Ryker, and picked something for himself. Thus, we are now the proud new owners of a big talking Woody doll and Buzz Lightyear. Both kids LOVE them.

Chuck and me: We loved having people here, getting to see old friends again and gathering part of the Chrysalis crew again. I love having a deadline by which to clean our house, and continue to bask in the glory of a house sans tumbling hair and dust balls. We also enjoyed getting to eat something other than brats. (We had eaten them for almost every dinner last week in our efforts to not spend money. The culmination was eating them Thursday night with no buns because we used the last of the buns to make Ryker a PB&J for his lunch, which we had to do because Tugboat had eaten the last of our loaf of bread.) But I'm not gonna lie, my favorite part of the whole weekend might have been the three hour nap I got to take today.

Grandpa: Speaking for him, I think Grandpa loved the weekend because he got to spend good time with all of us, particularly Jackson and Ryker. He got to check off one of the food items he's had listed in his phone since seeing it on TV - the Juicy Lucy - via dinner last night. It didn't disappoint. And despite an unfortunate situation with his own alarm clock at the hotel (which played all night at such a low level that he was convinced it was his neighbor's), I think he got some good rest in.

Grandmommy: Again, speaking for someone else (it's a blog - isn't that part of the definition?), I think my mom had a good time hanging out with all of the family and friends that were over this weekend. We got to eat at QCumbers, which was yummy and fun even though she had to keep Jackson and me from freaking out as we almost got hit by a tornado while IN the restaurant (which happens to be a circular space encased in floor to ceiling windows. I'm just sayin'.). She happened to also have an unfortunate sleeping situation, as she was bombarded by balloons being sucked into the ceiling fan and then shot down at her head at 3am., but I think she had a good time anyway.

Tugboat and Kitty: They did NOT enjoy the weekend. I didn't see the kitty most of the weekend because she was hiding from everyone. Tug was not hiding, but was relegated to the garage during the party. Once she was let indoors, she had to endure Tow Mater flying into her paws and Ryker hitting her on the head with his new ball. She's passed out right now.

Pre-Birthday

It's Ryker's Birthday Eve. If you missed his birth story, or are named Grandmommy and want to reread it, here it is:

http://sheand3hes.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-birthday-ryker.html

I'm so proud of our little baby.

Ryker has grown into quite a funny, talkative, confident little boy. He tried to read me his book tonight. He can tell you that he's two. He speaks in sentences. He is persistent.

What I really love about him right now is how lovey he is. He flirts, bats his eyelashes, smiles coyly, loves to be held and to hold hands. He gives his baby (or "mah bay bee" if you're Ryk) hugs and kisses. He gives Jack a big hug before bed every night. "Nigh nigh Joshun."

So tonight I'm reflecting on the last two years and how much joy Ryker has brought to our lives. Thanks big guy.

And all at once...

...it came tumbling down. Or so it seems right now.

Chuck got laid off yesterday.

It's weird how you can leave the house in one position and come home in a totally different one. Or get over one major hurdle and think it's relatively clear sailing, just to have another one pop up.

So here we go.

We've done this before. Chuck was with a company that pretty much capsized. We made it through that, with my decently low non-profit salary. And we managed to keep putting money towards retirement through that. Chuck and I KNOW how to batten down the hatches.

Anyway, I'll keep this short. But any of you loyal readers out there who know of marketing or product management jobs, BOY have I got the BEST employee for YOU! And he's CUTE too.

My Neighborhood

I've written about my awesome, awesome neighbors, the Hayes'. I don't think I've written about the rest of the neighbors.

Like the neighbor with the chihuahua that won't shut up. I have never heard that dog bark during the day. Only at 10pm. And the dog doesn't just bark at a normal pace. He barks and then he stops barking and then he lulls you into thinking he's all done being pissy ... andthenhebarksandbarksandbarks ... and then he stops. Have you ever tried to fall asleep while a tiny dog taunts you? Sucks. (Okay, I don't really know if it's a chihuahua but that's what I imagine he is when I think of 101 ways to off him.)

There's a retired fire fighter who has had his house on the market for two years now, and who drinks really heavily, then picks fights about politics with anyone who is still up.

Then there is the man who wears tight jeans and a leather vest and drives a huge diesel truck. That wouldn't be that weird. Here's the weird part - he leaves his house (which everyone in a 20 mile radius can hear because of the ridiculously loud engine) and returns MAYBE three minutes later. What can you drive to, do something at, and drive back from in three minutes? And he does this multiple times every single day.

Oh, and how about the middle-aged couple that throws raucous parties 4 days a week? Have I mentioned them? Our backyards border each other, and shortly after we moved in they threw a party during which they put up a ladder and climbed to the roof. Actually, only the men-folk climbed up. They stood around, leaning on the chimney, and periodically yelled at the women-folk to toss them beers. And the women OBEYED! I don't know which behavior I was more appalled by.

I'll leave it there. It's a strange place sometimes, but I love it.

Helping

We were walking through the Mpls airport on our way home and this woman in front of us reached down and picked up a nickel. She turned around and said that she found a nickel and asked if Jack wanted it. He nodded and said "fank you!" She walked away and he looked up at me, beaming, and said "how did she know I'd want this?!"

He walked through the airport, carefully clutching his new nickel. When he went to the bathroom he made me hold his nickel - apparently none of the 19 pockets in his cargo shorts were good enough for Shiny New Nickel.

By the time we got the bags we were all completely done with traveling. My mom got really bad customer service throughout the airport, Jack had fallen and scraped his knee, Chuck's arms were going to fall off from carrying our 22 bags, Ryker was just pissy in general and I was pondering why there aren't more cases of Shaken Baby on plane rides and in airports.

As we tried to make our way from baggage claim to the taxis, my mom was pulling two bags, Chuck was holding the two biggest bags, and I was pushing Ryker in the stroller loaded with 4 bags while pulling a rolling suitcase. And yes, we packed too much.

I asked Jack to pull the small rolling suitcase. He argued. I told him that he needed to help the family.

"I *AM* helping! I'm carrying THIS!" he said, holding up Shiny New Nickel. I almost threw him across the hallway.

Photos

I uploaded a ton of photos from Beth's wedding to the Flickr site - click on the link to the right.

Beth's Wedding

Beth's wedding to Nik was SO great. I completely love Nik - he's fantastic. I love Nik and Beth together. I just love the whole thing. And the past weekend was a huge celebration of their relationship and both of our families. The love was so palpable.

In the lead-up to the wedding, I avoided writing about it for two reasons. First, it wasn't about ME. It was about Beth and Nik. I didn't want anything to distract from that. Second, I thought it might jinx it.

But in reality, for me, the wedding weekend had increased significance. And since this is my blog, and the wedding is over, I get to write about what it meant to me.

Beth asked me almost a year ago to be in her wedding. She called one day and I sat in my backyard as she told me how much I mean to her and how honored she would be if I would be in her wedding - and that the wedding would be in California. I remember sitting there and wanting so much to just be excited. JUST excited. But, as is so often the case with me, there was a companion emotion - anxiety. It's like a parasite - feeding off of my other emotions and keeping me from getting the full enjoyment out of things.

I told Beth that I would love to be in her wedding. It was true. Then I fell into a panic attack.

I decided that I really needed to get help for my panic disorder. I have seen therapists before, but none really helped me get better.

Soon thereafter, I found Dr. Tom. I can't remember if I've written about him on this blog before. Blog readers, meet Dr. Tom. He is fantastic. His whole practice focuses on anxiety and panic disorders. It's all he does. And he's good at it.

So I've seen Dr. Tom every week since the beginning of July 2009. In the first few appointments he made me make a hierarchy. That's a list of everything I normally avoid, with a corresponding ranking from 1 to 100 of how frightening that situation is for me. I tiered it, so I put some things on there that were only 20s or 30s, things that give me a moment of pause, but that I get through ok. Then there were 50s and 60s, things that freaked me out, but that I would be willing to do. The top two things on my list - at 90 and 100 - were standing in front of a group of people where I couldn't leave, and flying a long distance.

I've worked for 11 months now to get up the ladder. I've done countless "exposures," as they are called. I've put myself in situations that terrify me. I've had successes and failures. I've gotten better. My ultimate goal is to not let panic define my life. My shorter-term goal was to do this wedding. The wedding required a flight to California (3.5 hours), multiple group-outings and meals, and walking down the aisle and standing up in the wedding.

For a long time I didn't think I'd be able to do it. I felt like I was lying when I talked confidently to others about it. I felt like this was way above my threshold for tolerance of panic and its physical symptoms. I figured that I would say I would do it, but likely back out at the last minute.

I threw a massive tantrum in the airport waiting to board the plane to LAX. I really wanted to go home. I just didn't see how I could possibly do it.

But I got on that plane. I made it out there, helped my family get there. I did every single thing on the itinerary. I did the things that scared me, and I did them with minimal anxiety. I calmed OTHER people down as we waited to walk down the aisle. I walked, I stood. I loved standing up there for Beth. My legs weren't wobbly. My heart wasn't racing anymore than anyone else's. It was fantastic. Jack was the ring bearer and was ADORABLE coming down the aisle. I partied at the reception. And then I flew home today and was completely fine. Not a lick of panic.

I'm so proud of myself and of my family. I had a blast and was so grateful that I could do that for Beth, and moreover, that she and Christi and the rest of our families were there for me. I will always remember this weekend as a major milestone in my recovery. Oh, and the wedding was sweet. =)

My Little Helper

Ryker's almost two, and that places him firmly in the Uber-Helper stage. He wants to help with everything.

He wants to carry his own lunch bag into daycare. Some days he carries Jack's too. He looks like a pigeon-toed, beer-bellied, drunk construction worker shuffling onto the job site.

Yesterday he helped me shop at the Mall of America. He picked out his new shoes for Beth's wedding, and Jack's new shoes for the trip. He carried the package of my new Spanx around Bloomingdale's for me. (Those of you that haven't heard of Spanx are either men or teeny tiny women. Those of you that HAVE heard of them should wish me luck breathing.) Finally, he helped me pick out a bra. He helped by sitting in his stroller in the dressing room staring at me in awe as I undressed in pseudo-public, nodding slightly as I tried them on, then laughing hysterically at the pair that was obviously too big. (Note to self: Teach Ryk the dos and don'ts of shopping with women.)

Today he helped me fold the children's laundry. He sat on his tiny chair in front of me, grabbing pieces of clothing out of the basket, shaking them out, then handing them to me and saying who they belonged to. In his estimation almost everything was "Joshun's" although any blankets were his, and the 3T pajama pants apparently were mine.

I'll rent him out to the highest bidder.

Things I Hope They Don't Say At School

I hope Jack doesn't say the things Chuck teaches him. Like that Momma pees her pants when she exercises. I do NOT. Or that the Barking Spiders were the ones that farted.

I also hope that Ryker doesn't call me a baboon to his teachers. He mistakes the word "balloon" for "baboon," and to further complicate things he calls ME a balloon. I don't know what he's talking about, but it ends up coming out as "Momma a baboon."

And please let Jack not pick up on the lyrics he hears in the car. It's bad enough that I've got him saying "Rockin' like it's my job" and "a million plus with binoculars." And someone at school taught him to say "I like to move it, move it."

And in general, I hope they don't pick up on Chuck and my favorite jokes - the perennial one liners "your MOM does ...(repeat whatever the other person just said)" and "that's what she said."

When do parents learn to censor better?

Economic Recovery

Jackson's been asking a lot of questions about our upcoming trip to California for Beth's wedding. Every day I have to give him the countdown. He said last night that he wished it was tomorrow because he wants to see Beth and Nik NOW. So sweet.

Tonight he was asking me about the food on the plane. I said that they would probably give us pretzels. He said that he wasn't sure he liked pretzels anymore, I told him that he would be pretty hungry then, and he said that maybe he WOULD eat them. Then he asked if that was ALL they would give us. Now, keep in mind that I've flown ONCE in the last 3 years. So I said that I wasn't sure, but I didn't think they gave us much. I went on to explain that they used to give full meals but that I didn't think they did that anymore, and of course he asked why. He's a smart little guy, but I didn't really feel like explaining the economic downturn. Instead I just said that in the world right now, people aren't spending as much money to fly, and so the airlines don't have much money to spend on food. I thought that would be confusing enough to quiet him down.

I should have known better. He thought about it for awhile and then said that he wanted to give the money we save up to the airlines.