Monday, October 22, 2012

Real Make Believe Conversation

S:  Hello?

A:  Hi Goldilocks! It’s Mary had a Little Lamb. How are you today?

S:  Oh, I’m OK. I have to find a new house to live in now though. The Three Bears don’t live with me anymore.

A:  I’ll come help you move.

S:  OK, it’s over the river and through the woods.

M:  Ring Ring

S:  Mary had a Little Lamb? I’ve got to go. My phone is breaking up and I’ve got another call coming through.  Hello?

M:  Hi! This is Little Bear. Do you want to meet me at a new park?

S:  Sure, can you call Mary had a Little Lamb and give her directions?

Monday, October 15, 2012


M:  Mommy, are the fuzzy things in my dream catcher dreams?

Me:  I think they must be, buddy.

His eyes widen, he catches his breath.

M:  Come here and see, Mommy!

He points to a small fuzzy in his catcher.

M:  See?  There's my dream!

Me:  Yep.  I wonder what is was about.

M:  I think it was the one about Army guys.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Keep your tonsils for as long as you can

A had her tonsils out Monday August 6, the day after we got home from our month long DC vacation.  It sucked.  And I don't just throw around crude words like that.  Not often, anyway.  But it really bit. 

She was exceedingly brave, marching into that surgery center, looking everyone in the eye, answering all of their questions.  She was given medicine, lead groggily away from me for 45 minutes, and then next time I saw my baby, she was a hot mess, screaming and crying, coming out of her anesthesia with "emergence delirium."  She was like a child possessed.  But I got to rock her and put ice on her neck and eventually she drifted off into an unsettled sleep on my chest. 
Where she remained for the next 10 days.  Seriously.  People who say their kids were fine the afternoon of their surgeries are liars, liars pants on fire.  I will say day 1 and 2 were the better of the days.  But days 3-10 were complete misery.  She wouldn't eat.  She wouldn't take her gross tasting pain medication.  She couldn't go to the bathroom.  She slept all day but hardly at all at night.  She had nightmares.  Her breath smelled.  She asked me 752 times if her throat would hurt forever.  She wanted to know if she'd ever be able to eat again.  She lost 6 pounds.  I lost 5 years off of my life.

M and S were lost without her.  They slept together in M's room for the first 4 nights, while I slept with A in the girls' room.  On the third night, M woke up at 1:30 in the morning crying that he "missed playing with his buddy."  Later, as I rocked A back to sleep after a crying fit of pain at 4:00 in the morning, I softly told her about M's and my exchange earlier.

"I miss him too" she whispered as she drifted off.

Finally on day 10, she woke up and her light had been switched back on.  S was so happy to have her "old A back" that she planned the "Great A Gathering," a party to celebrate A's return to the land of the living, complete with a tea party and a "pin the horn on the unicorn" game.

I love my Salad who love each other.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

A little slice of Heaven

Original post written July somethingorother, 2012

On the Salad’s daily constitutional the other afternoon, we ducked into a DC metro station to pick up a map. We were greeted by a 200 foot escalator. M was thrilled. “Mommy, I’ve never been on such a long EX – calater!” Imagine then how happy he was when two armed guards with their police dogs, asked the Salad if they’d like to pet them. I laughed so hard imagining those 3 minutes in M’s mind. I think it went something like this “Ooooh! I like EX-calaters and this one is super long! Wait! This is a train station! Wow! These guys have guns! Oh boy! I love dogs! What?! We get to ride this super long EX-calater again?” He was literally vibrating with excitement.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

In which I roll 3 days into 1 blog post

Our last days in Washington were a blur.  There were things the Salad wanted to do one last time - ride the elevator to the top floor of our apartment building, take a final swim at the indoor pool, say goodbye to Ms. Deborah - our favorite concierge, throw rocks in the courtyard fountain for the last time.  We did them all. Typing those last wishes out just now made me realize how innocent 5 year olds are still.  I think many adults forget that.  I'm getting sidetracked and teary eyed, so I'm going to continue. 

R had a few things he wanted to treat the Salad to, as well.  Trips to the Lego Store and American Girl doll store, for example.  Should you not believe that R was along on our trip, here is photographic evidence.
And finally my request was to walk the 9 blocks to the White House and Washington Monument (have I mentioned that the Salad nicknamed it the "Big Pencil"?) 

One of my favorite nights that last week, though, R and I got to see old friends that we haven't seen in 5 years.  R and Matt met 9 years ago.  Matt's wife and I met shortly after, when the menfolk were stationed in DC together.  We've managed to keep in touch, even though they have since lived all over the country.  Sometimes you are lucky enough to meet people you know will be in your life for a good long while.  That's Matt and Cassie.

The awesome thing about this night was that we picked up right where we left off years ago.  And the even more awesome thing was that our 6 kids did the same thing.  Despite the age difference, despite having met only twice before when the Salad was a mere 6 months old, despite having only 3 hours together, they were instant besties.

Maybe friendships are hereditary?

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

3 different kinds of crazy

I headed out to a dinner with the other triplet moms a few months ago.  I had kissed the Salad goodbye, but they were involved in a heated game of wrestling/dance class dress up, so it was lackluster at best.  I quietly walked out the door, yelling one final "So long!"  When I got to the van, I heard crazed pounding at the bay window and looked up to see this.
Good gravy.  That Salad is all kinds of crazy.  And I am all kinds of lucky.  I mean, look at A's lips?  And you guys.  S is wearing a choker!  And do I even have to mention M's penchant for headbands?

Tuesday, October 2, 2012


Original post written on June 29, 2012

We visited the Crayola Factory with our friends Maeve and Maura at the end of June. R was able to join us as well, so we were feeling doubly blessed that day. We had a great day, topped off by a trip to the Crayola Store, where we filled a tin with any color crayon we wanted.  Macaroni & Cheese orange?  Yes please!Crayons are probably our most beloved plaything, so this was a special treat.
Stacey and her family followed us out of Easton on the way home. Once we were on the turnpike, I realized we had lost her, so I sent her a text message.

Me: You ok? Thanks for a great day!

Stacey: We’re good. We had fun. Girls are asleep.
Me: Damn. You’re lucky. Mine are using their canteens as “breathe tanks” for their “outer space adventure”. Sigh.

For serious. They. Never. Stop.

Monday, October 1, 2012

It's all fun & games, 'til someone cries on vacation

Original post written June 12, 2012 (I know, I know!)

R has been so excited to take the Salad to Great Wolf Lodge all winter long. Took us until this week to get the timing right. We got up early Tuesday morning for an 8:25 AM ENT appointment for A and continued up the turnpike to the Poconos for 2 days of indoor water park fun. The Salad splashed and showed off their swimming skills. We ate at a buffet where we let them get anything and everything they requested, even though it meant a dinner of 6 cherry tomatoes, 1/2 slice of pizza, 1 lemon, some buttered ziti, and cranberry sauce for M. They were seriously giddy when they saw they would be sleeping in their own bunk beds! In their own room! With a TV! And R let them stay up until 9:30 to let them watch PBS! It would have been later, but A came and asked if we could please put her to bed, that "it was time."
We were back in the water the next morning by 9:00 AM. At noon, I told the kids it was time to wrap up, dry off and head out for lunch and then home. S cried. Hysterical. Sobbing. Sat at the side of the pool, refusing to move in protest. Demanding we bring her back someday. Begging for more time.

You know it's a been good vacation when your kid leaves in tears.