- 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.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
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:
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
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 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.
Monday, July 26, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
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!"
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.)
(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.)
Friday, July 16, 2010
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?"
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?"
Saturday, July 10, 2010
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
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."
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."
Thursday, July 1, 2010
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.
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.
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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.
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.
.jpg)
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.
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