Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Sad but Sweet

We had a long holiday weekend. Not long as in extra days off; long in the I can't take anymore of this whining and fighting kind of way. All three of us were still sick and cranky. Some of our plans fell through as well, so we didn't have the distractions that we thought we would.

The whole weekend wasn't a wash, we spent time in the park, we played in the sand and water table (best investment ever), and we played with Michael's new volcano and Triceratops. But, in between those time there were a number of serious tantrums over...well, mostly nothing. We did a lot of counting, and in most cases it worked. However, on Monday Michael really came unhinged.

Things started off well. I normally take Michael grocery shopping with me, and he indicated that he wanted to go when I asked him. I explained that he needed to get dressed and he started up the stairs to do so. But, at some point between getting to the top of the stairs and me going to help him take him shirt off, he just lost it. He wanted to go with me. Then he didn't. He would agree to get changed, then as I'd get close to him he would change his mind. He was caught up in not wanting what he wanted, and there is no defense against that. When I told him that I was going to leave without him he got so angry that he threw one of his toys at me and then tried to hit me. I took his toy away and then held him from behind trying to get him to calm down. He pulled away from me and crawled behind the end table. There was no way I was taking him to the store in that kind of mood.

Several hours later, he came up to me and apologized for throwing his toy at me. This is the first time he's done something like that. He's done that immediate apology thing kids do to appease people, but this was a real apology. It was unprompted and it showed true remorse. I was really impressed by the emotional maturity behind it.

Last night we sat down to watch Curious George before bed. George was disappointed because they came back to the city to discover that there was a heatwave, but because of energy demands, they couldn't turn on the air conditioner. Michael was really engaged in the show until George decided that he was just going to turn the air on for a little while to cool things off, then he asked me to turn it off.

My mom had told me that he often turns of Curious George when George is about to do something he shouldn't, but I had never actually seen him do it. When he asked me to turn the TV off, I felt bad because obviously the thought of doing something bad makes Michael so uncomfortable that he doesn't even want to watch it on TV. He clearly understands that if you do something you aren't supposed to, people will get upset with you. To some extent, it's very sweet of him, and shows a sensitivity on his part that he's never shown before. On the other hand, I hate to think that just watching a TV show could cause that much anxiety.

It made me realize that as a parent, there are a number of ways I can protect him. So far, it's mostly just been protection against physical dangers. It's easy enough to child proof the house and be cautious with choking hazards. But, the emotional things are so much harder than that. I wish I could protect him from everything, but I guess the best I can do nurture his self confidence and teach him ways to deal with anxiety when it does creep in.

I have a feeling this isn't always going to be easy.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Whine Flu

I've got whine flu. It's not as bad as the swine flu, but it's no picnic either. I'm really hoping that the three day weekend gives Andy, Michael, my mom, and myself plenty of time to recover from this annoying and seemingly endless cold. Until then, I leave you with this...


Those are Michael's new dinosaur* underwear and that is Michael's oppinion of them. I'd like to try to get a pair of them on him this weekend. Wish me luck.

*You know you're a geek when you get upset that there is a brontosaurus on a pair of underwear. Brontosaurus is no longer a dinosaur classification. Well, considering what is probably going to happen to these undies, I guess I shouldn't be too concerned.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

How to get your Geek On, 3 year old style

Tuesdays are my late day to work. I love coming home to see what the boys have gotten into. I also love that as soon as I open the door Michael runs to me, grabs my legs, and yells "Mommy, your home!"

That didn't happen yesterday. It was a bit too quiet when I opened the door and no one came to greet me. I took off my jacket and plopped my stuff by the door and then started to investigate. The TV was on in the living room. It appeared to be on the Disney channel, but a 'tween show was on. My guess is that Andy and Michael were watching Phineas and Ferb but abandoned the show before it was over. (Michael rarely lets Andy and I enjoy Phineas and Ferb, which cracks both of us up.)

I turned the TV off and listened for a moment. Silence is normally a bad thing, and that's all I heard. Time for some serious investigating to see what those guys were up to. I noticed the light to the basement was on, so I decided to head down and see just what exactly was going on.

Imagine my surprise when I get down there and discovered Andy and Michael watching a National Geographic show on paleontology. When Michael saw me, he ran over and instead of hugging my legs, he grabbed my hand and started to drag me over towards the TV. "Mommy look, LOOK! They are digging up dinosaurs!" As if he wasn't ecstatic enough watching people brush dirt away from dinosaur bones, they flashed up some CG dinosaurs. Michael started jumping up and down with joy. "Dinosaurs!"

Wait, what? I was expecting to find Andy and Michael playing in the rice bin, or to find that Michael had locked Andy in the Laundry room. Instead, what found was my three year old engrossed in an adult documentary about paleontology.

Andy has always worried that as Michael grows up he might pick playing soccer over playing baseball. I have a hunch he should be a little more concerned about Michael deciding he likes Star Trek over Star Wars.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Dinosaur Party. ROAR!

For Michael's first and second birthday we celebrated with family gatherings at my father in law's house. Our townhouse is somewhat small, so having the parties at his house allowed us to invite all of the extended family. It also meant very little work for me. However, this year Michael understands what a birthday party is and he has friends that he would like to share the day with. So, we decided to throw the party at our house.

I'm not much of a party planner, but at least for this party the theme was a pretty obvious choice. All I needed to do was look around at all of the dinosaurs in my living room for the inspiration. I checked out the party store and discovered that for a hefty sum of money I could go crazy with dinosaurs. But, that still left the cake and the activities. That's were my mom and Andy stepped in. I did a lot of the grunt work to make the party possible, but they brought in the creativity that made the party great!

Andy really wanted to do a dinosaur dig. We discussed doing it in the sand and water table, but the possibility of thunderstorms concerned us. Instead, we decided to go with a big plastic bin and 40 pounds of rice.


Michael is the one in the green dinosaur shirt. The young man on the left, in the yellow shirt looks enough like Michael that I often confuse the two when they are outside playing.


Yes, I allowed six children to play in 40 pounds of rice IN. MY. HOUSE! It was well worth the mess. The kids had a blast! I don't know how we even got them away from the rice bin. Andy really knows how to think like a kid.

After the dino dig, we played pin the skull on the T. Rex Skeleton. The kids were a little young to completely get the idea, so it was rather fun to watch.


The young man in the yellow shirt was the one kid who did get it. I can assure you that he didn't need Michael directing him, but that didn't stop Michael.


This young lady didn't need any help either...'cause she was smart and lifted the mask up so she could see. But, my little supervisor didn't seem to care. He'll boss anyone around, any time.

Finally, it was time for cake. This is were my mom stepped in.


She actually made the cake to match one of Michael's dinosaur shirts, but a certain person was a little too tired to wash said shirt for the party. I regret that now.


Michael didn't seem to mind. He enjoyed blowing out the candles and dug right into his slice of the cake.

I'll be honest, before the party started, I had decided that next year we would just go to Dinsey World instead of spending the money and energy on a party. By the end of the party I had completely changed my mind. It was so worth every ounce of effort that went into the party. I will never forget the joy on Michael's face as his friends showed up for his party, or the excitement that the kids displayed when we opened up the dinosaur dig.

I'd say the party was a roaring success.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Demonstrating my Stellar Parenting at the Pediatrician's Office

Michael had his three year well child visit yesterday. I feel like crying every time I say or write "well child". It should be a "well baby" visit. He cannot possibly be three years old. He cannot possibly be 39 inches tall (90th percentile). At his last visit, he wasn't even tall, he was long. When did he become mature enough to stand still long enough to be measured?

The appointment started off well enough. I had prepared Michael for the appointment so he knew he'd be weighed and that the doctor would want to see in his eyes and ears and mouth. I've done this in the past, but this was the first time it really seemed to make a difference. Michael was very cooperative with the nurses and doctor. I was so proud.

I did have one concern about the appointment. They had asked that I have Michael fast for the appointment so they could run a lipid panel on him. Fasting isn't much fun if your an adult, but if your three, it's just down right confusing. I've spent the past two years cheering every bite he takes, so he didn't know what to think when he asked for food and I said no. I'm sure he didn't even think it was possible for me to refuse him food.

If there is one thing in life that you can count on, it's that a hungry child is an unpredictable child. I expected him to be a little cranky, but that's not what I got. Instead, super silly, uncontrollable child showed up. Michael has never misbehaved in front of the pediatrician before, so I've never had to discipline him in front of the doctor before either. Well, Michael gave me that opportunity yesterday. Wow, is that uncomfortable.

For some reason, Michael occasionally decides that he is a dog and that he must lick my face. That desire hit him full force yesterday while I was trying to speak with the doctor. Normally when Michael does this, I let him lick me, then I lick him back. Hey, it's appropriate behavior...for wolves. Obviously, I was not going to lick my kid's face in front of the doctor, but I didn't know quite how to calm him down. I opted for the repeat "don't do that" 30 times approach. I'm sure the doctor was highly impressed with my skill at controlling Michael. His only response was, "I see he has no problems with his motor skills." No, no he does not.

After the face licking, it was time for the doctor to check Michael out. Michael was great with the stethoscope. He was calm for several minutes while the doctor listened. Then the doctor checked his eyes and mouth. Everything looked good. The doctor asked to look in the first ear and Michael even turned for him. The doctor asked him to turn for the other ear. Michael gladly complied.

"Has Michael been sick?" The doctor asked.

Uh-oh. "He's had a touch of a cold, nothing major.

"It look's like he has an ear infection. There's just some pus back there so I think it's resolving. Has he had any trouble sleeping?" He asked mildly.

My verbal response was, "No, he's been sleeping fine. He's been a little cranky in the evenings, but I thought that was from the cold."

My mental response was...OH MY GOD! MY KID HAS AN EAR INFECTION AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT! I'm the worst mother in the world. How do you miss something like an ear infection? The doctor must think I'm an idiot. I am an idiot. Oh, my poor baby. *

I love Michael's doctor. He wasn't judgmental at all. He wrote a script for antibiotics and told me to fill it if Michael got worse. But he made sure to let me know that he didn't think it would be necessary. Then we moved on to the safety discussion and wrapped things up. After not knowing that my child had an ear infection I decided that a sacrastic "no kidding" would be inapropriate when he warned me about the dangers in parking lots.

From there we went down the hall so the nurse could draw some blood from his finger. he flinched a little when she pricked his finger, but aside from that he was fine with the whole process. He walked out into the waiting room with me and occupied himself with the toys while I paid for the visit. He's grown into such a big boy. I'm so proud, and weepy...

On the way home, he devoured the bag of snacks I had brought for him. Then he devoured his dinosaur noodles, and the Froot Loops, and the banana and the... Well, at least I know how he's manged to move up to 75th percentile for weight.

*Yeah, and remember last fall when Michael complained about his ear to the day care director so much that she called me to make sure I took him to the doctor, and there was NOTHING WRONG! Little stinker.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Hide and Seek

Michael recently discovered the game Hide and Seek and has started to insist that I play it with him all the time. I enjoy playing it with him, but I have to say, he doesn't quite get it yet.

Most of the time he wants it be It. He understands that he is supposed to stay still and count but be hasn't figured out the letting me hide part. He knows exactly where he wants me to hide, and he directs me there before heading down into the basement to count.

Normally he wants me to hide behind the end table in the living room. He grabs my hand and leads me over to the end table. Then, he pushes me until I walk behind the table. Obviously, I'm a bit taller than the table so he directs me to "hide your head and neck mommy." I get down on the floor and do my best to hide. It's about as effective as a professional wrestler hiding behind a sapling.

Once Michael has hidden me, he runs down into the basement to count. I have no idea what kind of counting is going on down there, but he leaves me enough time to get up and hide someplace else. At first, as long as I wasn't behind the table, I was pretty much hidden. The first time it took him about five minutes to find me. Of course, I was cleverly hidden at the dinning room table playing with my iPhone, so you can understand the challenge. (Bad mommy) Now, I have to get a little more creative and actually try to hide myself from view. He caught me hiding behind the shears pretty quickly, but ducking behind the dinning room table really threw him off. I believe it was my laughter that finally led him to me.

Sometimes, Michael actually let's me be It. I tell him to hide and then go down into the basement to count. According to Michael, I MUST count to 20, so I shout out each number as I listen to Michael run around upstairs. Andy normally helps Michael find a hiding place, but it really doesn't make much difference. The anticipation is too overwhelming, and Michael gives himself away before I can pretend to look other places for him. He giggles and runs right to me. He did manage to play it cool once when he picked his own hiding place. I came up the stairs to find him laying face down on the sofa with his eyes closed tight. I stifled my laugh as I pretended not to see him sprawled out on the sofa and went to check behind the end table. He had his eyes squeezed tight and a big grin on his face.

I love playing hide and seek.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

8 things

Deanna, over at Momgineering Tagged me with the 8 things lists. I thought this would be fun for a Tuesday.

8 Things I'm looking forward to:
  1. The paperback release of Kushiel's Mercy
  2. Buying a Macro Lens for my camera
  3. Michael's birthday party
  4. Taking Michael to the beach to visit my dad
  5. My Saturday morning cup of coffee
  6. Getting my hair cut
  7. Retirement
  8. The next Twilight movie

8 Things I did yesterday:
  1. Exercised
  2. Cleaned the downstairs bathroom
  3. Sang "Boom, Boom Ain't it Great to Be Crazy" about 20 times
  4. Played Trains
  5. Drank a Hot 'n Spicy V-8
  6. Played Hide and Go Seek with Michael
  7. Giggled
  8. Prepared tonight's dinner in the crockpot
8 Things I wish I could do:
  1. Sing well
  2. Spell
  3. Eat as much food as I want
  4. Be two places at once
  5. Work part time
  6. Spell
  7. Spell
  8. Spell
8 Shows I watch:
  1. Deadliest Catch
  2. Heroes
  3. Myth Busters
  4. Reaper
  5. Sarah Connor Chronicles
  6. Family Guy
  7. Weather Scan
  8. Curious George
8 Songs on my music player:

  1. Back to Black - Amy Winehouse
  2. Ocean Rain - Echo and the Bunnymen
  3. Cursum Perficio - Enya
  4. River of Deceit - Mad Season
  5. Humble Me - Norah jones
  6. Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkle
  7. Bad - U2
  8. Hurt - Nine Inch Nails
(Yes, I realize I have the single most depressing playlist on earth.)

8 Favorite warm weather activities:
  1. Playing golf
  2. Swimming
  3. Napping (It's good for any season)
  4. Bird Watching
  5. Walking in the Park
  6. Grilling
  7. Blowing bubbles with Michael and the neighborhood kids
  8. Drinking Gin and Tonics
8 Favorite Happy Things:
  1. Comfy jeans
  2. Popcorn with lots of butter
  3. Kisses from Michael
  4. Getting sucked into a good book
  5. When Andy totally gets me
  6. Blogging
  7. Cracking a good joke
  8. Sleeping late

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Best Day Ever

I was pretty surprised at 11:32 on May 8th, 2006 when that first contraction hit, but I decided to lay back down and try and get some sleep. From my childbirth class and every thing I had read, this was going to be going on for a while and I should try to relax and rest as much as possible. Then, the second contraction hit. I peeked at the clock. 11:38. Hmm...that was kind of soon. I closed my eyes again and tried to fall back to sleep. That's when the third contraction hit. I checked out the clock again. 11:44. I got up and set up the laptop so I could use the online contraction monitor. Things seemed to be going a little faster than I expected.

After tracking contractions for half an hour I decided that this was probably the real thing so I went up and woke Andy up. He got up and hit the contraction button for me while I got things organized.

It was at this point that I learned something about myself. I was having contractions every five minutes. They were bad enough that I had to stop whatever I was doing and I couldn't really talk through them either. I knew this was the real thing and I knew it was time to call the doctor. But, there was the small problem of having really bad wet bed head. Did I really want all of the doctors and nurses, not to mention family members with cameras to see me looking like that?

No, I did not.

So, I decided to wet my hair in the sink and then blow it dry before heading to the hospital. As I bent down to stick my head under the faucet, I discovered that bending over made me have a contraction. But it didn't stop me. I contracted every three minutes until my hair was dry and pulled back in a respectable manner. I know it was every three minutes because I kept calling out to Andy to record each contraction while I was styling my hair. Looking back, I guess contracting every three minutes should have been alarming, but hey, the hospital was only 5 minutes away. I figured I was safe. I did pass on the makeup.

The 5 minute trip to the hospital felt like forever. Andy cut through a parking lot to save time, but we had forgotten about the speed bumps. They were just little ones, but ouch did they hurt. Each one led to a contraction. You would think at this point I would have remembered all of those breathing exercises I had practiced, but nope. I didn't.

It was after hours, so we had to enter through the ER. Andy dropped me off and went to park the car. I walked into the ER and realized I had no idea what I was supposed to do. The one receptionist was admitting a hand-cuffed gentleman and his police escort was blocking my way. There were no nurses around and there were no chairs to sit in. So, I leaned against the wall and waited patiently for my turn. It crossed my mind to cry out and play the sympathy card, but that's not really my style.

After a few moments a nurse walked by, saw me standing there contracting, and got things in motion. After registering, I was taken up to an observation room with Andy and my mom. The next few hours pretty much went like this. Pain, pain, pain, mom commenting on how cool the contraction monitor was, me asking for and epidural, and Andy holding my hand every time he saw I was about to contract. Then, pain, pain, pain, mom telling me my contraction had peaked, me asking for an Epidural AGAIN, and Andy holding my hand.

It was a busy night in the maternity ward and I was the last of the moms to check in. However, they finally realized that maybe I wasn't going to be the last to deliver and they transferred me to the delivery room. When we got there, the nurse told me I needed to walk about 10 feet to the bathroom and relieve myself. I looked down that 10 foot hallway and then back at the nurse. I really though she was joking. There was no way I could walk that far. But she was serious. So, I hauled myself out of the wheelchair, contracted down the hall, contracted while I relieved myself, and then contracted all 20 feet to the bed- which I had no intention of ever moving from again.

I have no idea how many times I asked for an epidural, I'm sure it seems like it was more times than it actually was. What I do know is that I was admitted around 1:30 am and that I didn't get the epidural until 5:30 am. I pretty much just laid there dealing with it the whole time because I could barley talk. I wondered what I would be like during labor. You hear all these funny stories of polite women cursing and yelling, and since I'm loud and not always polite, I thought it might be quite a show. But it wasn't. I didn't have it in me at the time. Forget walking around, forget deep breathing. I couldn't even talk.

I started to move into transitional labor. The childbirth instructor had mentioned that this was the bad part and that I might actually have contractions that peaked twice. My mom, who was still fascinated by the contraction monitor, kept telling me when I was having a contraction. My nurse kept touching my stomach when I would have a contraction. She was a very nice nurse but it was really making me mad. During one bad contraction, I finally told her to "STOP TOUCHING ME". I guess she didn't notice that Andy was only holding my hand during contractions, and keeping a safe distance from me the rest of the time. He was the only one that could really read me without me having to say anything.

Soon the contractions really started to bunch up on me. Andy held my hand while my mom explained my contractions to me from the monitor print out. "Oh, you just peaked three times!" she squealed with delight. Oh, there were so many snarky comments I could have come up with for that one, but I only had energy for a quiet, "No shit." Like I might have missed a contraction that peaked three freaking times.

Then, the anesthesiologist showed up. He was a gruff looking man with a big beard and he did not look like he was thrilled to be there. I told him I loved him. (Seriously, I did.) To be fair, I do love him for what he did for me. He changed my entire birth experience for me. From the moment the epidural started to work, I was a different person. I started noticing the nurses around me, I was joking with my mom and Andy. I even called my boss to tell him I wouldn't be in. (He saved the message for me and sends it to me every year for Michael's birthday. Isn't that sweet?)

I took a nap, and when I woke up the nurse came in to check on me. She asked me if I was ready to push. For some reason I thought she was just making conversation. I don't know what I said, but she said, "No, are you ready to push now?" Wait, what? Now? Push? You mean like in having a baby? Um, sure, I guess.

So push I did. At little after 8:30 in the morning, Michael was born. Andy was holding my hand. My mom was holding my leg, and we were laughing and joking with the doctors and nurses in the room. I'll be honest, it didn't really seem real until the doctor held Michael up for me to see him. From that moment on though, it's been very real, and very wonderful.

When I saw Michael, all I saw was perfection. I'd never held a newborn before, so I didn't have any idea how big they should be. I heard the nurse comment on how big Michael's hands were. Then, my mom commented about how big his feet were. But, I didn't think anything of it until the doctor glanced over at Michael on the scale and said, "He is a big one!" Michael was 9 pounds, 14 oz. Just two ounces heavier than I was at birth. At that point, I loved the anesthesiologist just a little bit more.

Friday, May 8, 2009

The Longest Day Ever

Three years ago today was the longest day ever.

Michael was due on May 7th. Several days before his due date, I had a major contraction and started showing all of the signs of impending labor. I was sure I was going to go into labor at any moment, and didn't even think I would make it until the 7th.

I was wrong.

When I woke up on the 7th I discovered that all signs pointing towards labor had stopped completely. I was a bit disappointed. I was so excited to finally get to meet Michael and I was so sure that it would have happened by now, that the let down was huge. For that matter, so was my belly. I waited for something to happen all day long, but nothing. Not even a twinge.

I was disappointed on the 7th, but when I woke up on the 8th, I was beside myself with frustration. It was bad enough that I hadn't slept well in months, that my knees and back hurt, that I had a 10 pound baby bouncing on my bladder; but when I had to get up at 5:00 in the morning on the day AFTER my due date and log on TO WORK, I just cried. My dad called to see how I was doing, and I cried. My sister called to see how I was doing, and I cried. My boss IMed me and asked me how I was doing. Guess what? I cried. Honestly, I think I cried for the better part of the four hour day I worked.

I was able to calm down a little after I logged off for the day and went to beach myself on the sofa. I had been working on an afghan for Michael, but I kept making mistakes and would have to undo sections constantly. I decided I wasn't going to put the afghan down until it was done. In my mind, I had decided that the only reason I hadn't gone into labor already was because the stupid afghan wasn't done. (In my hormone induced pregnancy lunacy, that made perfect sense.) I worked on the afghan all day until it was done.

Around 7:00 pm I ran out to the grocery store to pick up a few little things. While I was shopping, I noticed a contraction, but based on the earlier one, I didn't take much stock in it. Instead, I finished my shopping then returned home to lay on my left side and drink some water. Nothing, the contraction in the store must have been a fluke.

Around 10:00 I gave up. I took my shower and crawled into bed. I made myself feel better by deciding that I would work in the morning, and then after my OB appointment I was just going to burn vacation time until I went into labor or was induced. I didn't know how I was going to make it through four more hours of work, but I would have to find a way. I was so defeated that I didn't even bother to dry my hair before bed, I mean it wasn't like anyone was going to see me with my wet bedhead or anything since I was NEVER going to go into labor.

At 11:32 I woke up. I automatically rolled myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom when I noticed that OMG my whole belly was balled up tight and radiating major pain throughout my body. My longest day ever ended with the very beginnings of my best day ever.

And...I had the worst wet bedhead ever...

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Michael's Summer Acedemy: Course Description

This summer, Michael will be teaching a series of courses for three year olds. The first class in the series will be: Bed Time Stalling 201

Course Requirements:

Student must show competency in two year old stalling techniques such as: Screaming and crying, binky and/or Lovey tossing, and slithering out of your parents arms.

Course description:

This course will focus on incorporating new stalling techniques into the three year old arsenal. We will explore ways in which hygiene and bodily functions can be used to delay impending betimes. Strategies include the classic "I have to go potty" approach to the more subtle "I need to brush my teeth" tactic. We will also explore ways to elevate the screaming and crying approach into begging and pleading about "needs" and ways to block the "that's really a want" defense. Special emphasis will be placed on the highly effective method of "Just One More" with considerable discussion on the bundling of multiple "one mores"- such as books, songs, and kisses - into a significantly delayed lights out. The final class will be a brain storming session looking at ways to counter "Just Go To Bed" without causing blood pressure related complications in your parents.


This class is recommend for any child that is interested in delaying their bedtime or is looking for new and exciting ways to drive their parents insane.

Class specifics:

This class will be held online every Thursday night at 7:30 pm. Access to the internet is required. Please contact the school for directions on how to commandeer your parent's iPhone or Laptop.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Weird Dreams

I've been having some weird dreams recently. Well, weirder than normal. Dreams do tend to be pretty weird in general.

It's not uncommon for me to have what I call anxiety dreams. They typically involve things like being late to work or forgetting my locker combination. I find the high schools ones to be the funniest. I'll be sitting in class when I realize that I've forgotten my homework and I start to panic. But then, as I start to wake up reality starts to sink into the dream. So, I'll be sitting in a high school class worried about getting trouble for not having my homework one moment, and the next I'm trying to figure out why I'm in high school if I have my Masters Degree. When I wake up I thank goodness that I'm not in high school any more.

The other night I had what seemed to start out as an anxiety dream. Somehow, I ended up on American Idol and I was about to go on stage. Not only was I concerned that I can't sing, I didn't even know the words of the song. I started to freak out. But somehow, I managed to make it through the cut and we moved onto the next song. This is where it got really weird. I knew the words to the song. Considering I can't remember the words to songs while I'm awake, this was really amazing. Even more amazing, when I started to sing, my voice was incredible. It was really exhilarating. When I woke up, I felt really good.

I have no idea where that dream came from. I've never watched American Idol, and it's barely on my radar. I do, however, know where the dream I had last night came from.

In last night's dream, I learned that I was pregnant. This was not a good thing. Not only do I not want to be pregnant, I also take a class C medication and getting pregnant while on the medication could be harmful to the fetus. I was terribly upset, concerned, name it. Andy and I were going back and forth over what we should do and how this was going to turn our lives upside down, and what if there is something wrong with the baby, and, and and... Talk about anxiety.

So, in the dream, we decided to put one concern to rest and have them check the baby out with an ultrasound. When the images started popping up on the screen we discovered that there were TWO babies. I was having twins! OH. MY. GOD. I freaked out and made them check again and again just to make sure that they were right. Each time, we saw the same thing. Two babies.

The end of the dream was actually the worst part. I asked Andy what we were going to do about it, and he just smiled and said, "We are going to have twins." Like it was no big deal. That shock woke me right up. It's slightly possible that I could get pregnant, it's even remotely possible that I could get pregnant with twins. But there is no way in hell that Andy wouldn't be freaking out more than me.

It was an interesting dream to have. I'm pretty sure that it was the result of reading Laura's post about twins and singletons. I'll never really understand what it was like for Laura and Jon to learn that they were having twins, but based on the dream I had last night, I can imagine that it was a pretty shocking experience.

While I was very relieved to wake up and realize that it was just a dream, I will confess that a tiny part of me was a little sad too. Thanks to Laura, I know that raising twins isn't a piece of cake, but I also know that it's totally worth it.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

I Have Plesiosaurs in My Bathtub and other Problems

After my brief brush with potential Swine Flu hysteria last week I decided to chill out and not worry so much. Between the helpful comments I received and a serious dose of cabin fever from way too much rain, we decided to venture out this weekend. In fact, we went out to dinner on Friday evening, went shopping for Michael at the outlets on Saturday, and went to a great birthday party on Sunday. Talk about throwing hysteria to the wind. It made for a great weekend.

So, this brings me to other problems that arise when you have a three year old in the house.

First, the dinosaurs. Now that I have lived with a dinosaur obsessed child for a while, I understand how they ruled the earth for millions of years. Those buggers are sharp. They have sharp teeth, sharp claws, horns and other pointy things attached all over them. They also seem to reproduce like bunny rabbits. I have dinosaurs in my living room, Pterodactyls in my trunk, and Plesiosaurs in my bathtub. How does that happen? Are they migrating in the middle of the night in the Great Toy Box Escape?

Now that I think about it, how does something as spiky as an anklyosaurus reproduce anyway? Ouch!

My second problem is the stupid straw cups. The Bottle Fairy really should have taken into account that straw cups are a bigger pain in the butt to wash than the bottles were. They have tons of nooks and crannies where spoiled milk can hide and rot. Michael's about 50/50 with a regular cup, so unless the Straw Cup Fairy plans on delivering some new furniture when she takes away the cups, I guess we'll have to suffer through with the bottle brush for a little while longer.

I guess we could just cover all of our furntiture in plastic...

Never mind, forget I ever mentioned that.

My final probem? I'm sick of Mac 'n Cheese. I'm pretty sure that one's self explanatory. I mean, I'm glad that Michael's eating something, but when "variety" means switching things up from Sponge Bob noodles to Dinosaur noodles, things might just be getting a little redundant.

Which reminds me...I have dinosaurs in my kitchen too.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Caution or Hysteria

Yesterday, one of my coworker received a call from his wife asking if she should pull their little girl from preschool because of concerns over the Swine Flu. They live in Delaware near where four U 0f D students have been confirmed to have Swine Flu. They decided to keep her in school for now, but we talked a little about it after he got of the phone. We couldn't come up with any good way to decide.

The topic came up again when I picked Michael up yesterday. My mom asked me if she should take Michael to his gym class today. I felt it was OK. I knew it was going to be rainy today, and I hate to think that my mom would be cooped up with him all day.

My comfort level changed this morning while I was watching the news. There is a suspected case of Swine Flu in my county. I don't really know what that means on a practical level, but on an emotional level, it's a bit scary. It's one thing when people are getting sick in another state, but when they may be circulating in my neighborhood, that's a whole different matter.

Andy and I discussed it a little, than my mom and I did as well. I figured it's probably safe enough at this point, so I left it up to my mom if she wanted to take him to class or not. By the time I did my morning check-in call, I wasn't feeling as positive about it. Fortunately, my mom must have been feeling the same way about it, because she told me she wasn't going to take him.

Missing on class isn't a big deal. But we will need to make this decision again and again until the flu season eventually end. Is it safe to let Michael go to a friend's birthday party on Sunday? That's more important than the gym class he missed. We need sandals and summer clothes for Michael. Is it safe to go to the outlets to shop? What about his classes next week, and the week after that? How long is it fair to keep him cooped up?

It really comes down to a risk benefit analysis, but I don't feel I have the information I need to make smart decisions in this situation. Obviously, the right level of caution is somewhere between stockpiling food and not leaving the house for a month and running around the playground licking all of the equipment. I just don't know what the appropriate precautions are to take.

I guess for now we'll just have to keep an eye on the news and make our decisions based on what we know at the time. Hopefully I can find the right balance.