Sunday, December 2, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Forty Hundred Thumbs Up and Other Stories
On the way to my Aunt's for Thanksgiving. I had my iPhone hooked up to the minivan's stereo. I had forgotten that I picked a few choice AC/DC songs to add to my play list. They remind me of high school in my post-alternative phase, hanging out with my cousin and his friends, and going to Rush concerts.
There were cheers for Bieber (or Beaver, as Three calls him). Suddenly, the first few bars of "Back in Black" began. Complete silence in the minivan.
Then a little voice pipes up, it's Three: Mom, who sings this song?
Me: AC/DC
Moo: AC, WHAT?
Three: "I MEAN what is the NAME of this song!!
Me: Back in Black.
Three: Forty Thumbs UP! No Forty HUNDRED Thumbs Up!
Moo: 100 Thumbs UP!
Three: Can you put this on my play list?
Me, dumbfounded: Um, sure.
Moo: Me, too Mom.
Me: Ok.
Doodle: I don't get it.
*******
This morning, Doodle has a friend over and we are making chocolate chip cookies.
Me: Are there any other cookies you want me to make for the holidays?
Doodle: Let's make Spritz cookies!
Me: Yes, It's a tradition for us. Do you remember whose recipe we use?
Doodle: Hmmmmm.
Me: I've give you a hint. Three is named after her.
Doodle: Oh, Aunt Helen.
Moo: She makes the BEST cookies! (Interesting because Aunt Helen died before Tori was born and Tori never got to taste her cookies. I do, however, use her recipes. She was an amazing cook).
Three, sounding it out: HELL- A- NA. You mean my name has Hell in it?! (Three says this in an amused sort of way).
Me: I guess so.
A moment later, after thinking about it......Me: And it's strangely appropriate.
********
Doodle has a sleepover in full force. Six girls, eight and nine years old, and Three. We told Three she could watch the movie with the big girls. There's lots of chatter and Three is getting frustrated.
All of a sudden from the next room I hear, from Three, loudly: Shut your little pie hole and watch the movie!!
Complete and utter silence. Trying not to laugh, Three goes in the naughty chair.
Dan: Horrifying, yet strangely effective.
Me: Yep, those big girls are still quiet.
There were cheers for Bieber (or Beaver, as Three calls him). Suddenly, the first few bars of "Back in Black" began. Complete silence in the minivan.
Then a little voice pipes up, it's Three: Mom, who sings this song?
Me: AC/DC
Moo: AC, WHAT?
Three: "I MEAN what is the NAME of this song!!
Me: Back in Black.
Three: Forty Thumbs UP! No Forty HUNDRED Thumbs Up!
Moo: 100 Thumbs UP!
Three: Can you put this on my play list?
Me, dumbfounded: Um, sure.
Moo: Me, too Mom.
Me: Ok.
Doodle: I don't get it.
*******
This morning, Doodle has a friend over and we are making chocolate chip cookies.
Me: Are there any other cookies you want me to make for the holidays?
Doodle: Let's make Spritz cookies!
Me: Yes, It's a tradition for us. Do you remember whose recipe we use?
Doodle: Hmmmmm.
Me: I've give you a hint. Three is named after her.
Doodle: Oh, Aunt Helen.
Moo: She makes the BEST cookies! (Interesting because Aunt Helen died before Tori was born and Tori never got to taste her cookies. I do, however, use her recipes. She was an amazing cook).
Three, sounding it out: HELL- A- NA. You mean my name has Hell in it?! (Three says this in an amused sort of way).
Me: I guess so.
A moment later, after thinking about it......Me: And it's strangely appropriate.
********
Doodle has a sleepover in full force. Six girls, eight and nine years old, and Three. We told Three she could watch the movie with the big girls. There's lots of chatter and Three is getting frustrated.
All of a sudden from the next room I hear, from Three, loudly: Shut your little pie hole and watch the movie!!
Complete and utter silence. Trying not to laugh, Three goes in the naughty chair.
Dan: Horrifying, yet strangely effective.
Me: Yep, those big girls are still quiet.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Overheard,Observed and Generally Awesome
Three: Can I have some chocolate milk?
Me: Sure, after you eat your dinner.
Three: Oh, dammit.
************
Three: You have peach skin, I have brown skin.
Me: Yes. I think it's beautiful.
Three: I want to have peach skin. Peach is my favorite color.
Me: Isn't orange your favorite color?
Three: Nope, peach.
Me: Really? You know, some of my favorite people are brown. Auntie R, Grandma S, .....
Three: I LIKE Peach!
Me: Ok. We're different, but I think we are both beautiful. What do you think?
Three: I have boogers and sneezes and I NEED a Kleenex!! Now!!
Me: I'm glad we had this talk.
**********
Me, in the bathroom: Three, you have to wipe front to back. No, wait, you need to make sure to wipe your bottom.
Three: But I DID.
Me: Your whole bottom!
Three: I DID! I DID IT!
Me: Not really. Wipe the WHOLE bottom!
Three, shouting: I. Wiped. MY. BUTT!
Me, exasperated: I mean you have to actually wipe your whole butt, even in your butt crack.
Silence.
Three, in a tiny voice: Butt crack?
Then hysterical laughter. She literally cried, she laughed so hard. Then...
Three: Butt crack, butt crack, butt crack...
Me: You, know, that is a potty word and we can only say it when we are in the potty.
Three: Ok.
A few hours later, I hear loud, hysterical laughter from the bathroom. Sounds like there is a party in there. Giggling and snorting and guffaws and dancing.
Then I hear Dan's voice: BUTT CRACK? Hahahahhaha!!
Three: Yes, Mommy said BUTT CRACK!!
More laughing.
Me: Grow up, all of you!
******
A story from Hoosier Girl:
So the girls were playing with their dolls and having them get married. I asked who would be the preacher, and the girls told me I should be the preacher. I started the ceremony, but stopped to ask what the girl doll's name was, and it was Dell. When I asked who the boy was, Moo replied, in an exasperated voice: It's KEN. It says so right there on his underwear!!
******
A sign on Moobear's door:
"Sleep over. No boys allowed. Except Daddy and Star Wars Boy*"
* Name has been changed to protect the name of Moobear's good friend.
*******
Family Movie Night, we're watching Rudy.
Moobear, "They keep talking about dressing for the football game, where are the dresses?!! Who is going to wear the dresses?!"
Me: If you're waiting for the dresses in this movie, you're going to wait a loooooong time.
Later, we're playing let's see if we can spot Daddy in the band in the movie. I'm convinced I see Dan.
Me: Look honey! It's you.! That is TOTALLY you.
Dan: That looks EXACTLY like me, except that he's playing trombone, and I played trumpet.
Me: Whoops. He's totally cute, though.
Dan: Nice save.
Me: Sure, after you eat your dinner.
Three: Oh, dammit.
************
Three: You have peach skin, I have brown skin.
Me: Yes. I think it's beautiful.
Three: I want to have peach skin. Peach is my favorite color.
Me: Isn't orange your favorite color?
Three: Nope, peach.
Me: Really? You know, some of my favorite people are brown. Auntie R, Grandma S, .....
Three: I LIKE Peach!
Me: Ok. We're different, but I think we are both beautiful. What do you think?
Three: I have boogers and sneezes and I NEED a Kleenex!! Now!!
Me: I'm glad we had this talk.
**********
Me, in the bathroom: Three, you have to wipe front to back. No, wait, you need to make sure to wipe your bottom.
Three: But I DID.
Me: Your whole bottom!
Three: I DID! I DID IT!
Me: Not really. Wipe the WHOLE bottom!
Three, shouting: I. Wiped. MY. BUTT!
Me, exasperated: I mean you have to actually wipe your whole butt, even in your butt crack.
Silence.
Three, in a tiny voice: Butt crack?
Then hysterical laughter. She literally cried, she laughed so hard. Then...
Three: Butt crack, butt crack, butt crack...
Me: You, know, that is a potty word and we can only say it when we are in the potty.
Three: Ok.
A few hours later, I hear loud, hysterical laughter from the bathroom. Sounds like there is a party in there. Giggling and snorting and guffaws and dancing.
Then I hear Dan's voice: BUTT CRACK? Hahahahhaha!!
Three: Yes, Mommy said BUTT CRACK!!
More laughing.
Me: Grow up, all of you!
******
A story from Hoosier Girl:
So the girls were playing with their dolls and having them get married. I asked who would be the preacher, and the girls told me I should be the preacher. I started the ceremony, but stopped to ask what the girl doll's name was, and it was Dell. When I asked who the boy was, Moo replied, in an exasperated voice: It's KEN. It says so right there on his underwear!!
******
A sign on Moobear's door:
"Sleep over. No boys allowed. Except Daddy and Star Wars Boy*"
* Name has been changed to protect the name of Moobear's good friend.
*******
Family Movie Night, we're watching Rudy.
Moobear, "They keep talking about dressing for the football game, where are the dresses?!! Who is going to wear the dresses?!"
Me: If you're waiting for the dresses in this movie, you're going to wait a loooooong time.
Later, we're playing let's see if we can spot Daddy in the band in the movie. I'm convinced I see Dan.
Me: Look honey! It's you.! That is TOTALLY you.
Dan: That looks EXACTLY like me, except that he's playing trombone, and I played trumpet.
Me: Whoops. He's totally cute, though.
Dan: Nice save.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Has it been three years?
We have some friends who are in China meeting their daughter for the first time. Just about this same time of year three years ago, end of April/beginning of May, we were in Ethiopia. Thus, we have been thinking about and remembering our adoption trip. I just can't believe that three years ago about this time we were in Ethiopia and Three looked like this:
And now she looks like this:
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Racisim and Stereotypes Alive and Well in America!
Here's a link to one of my must read blogs, Racialicious, if you want to join the conversation. Photo credit: Racialicious.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Priorities
After the Superbowl, on the way home from a party:
Moo: I liked that car the player got. The black one.
She's referring to the Corvette gifted to Eli Manning.
Doodle: It was cool.
Moo: And he forgot to get the keys at first!
Doodle: Can we get a car like that?
Dan: Yes, but we will need to use your college fund to pay for it. Should we do that?
Moo: No! College is more important than a car.
Doodle: A car is a want, not a NEED.
My heart swells with pride. Briefly.
Three: I want a green one. No, maybe an orange one. The fast one car. That one. Yes.
Moo: I liked that car the player got. The black one.
She's referring to the Corvette gifted to Eli Manning.
Doodle: It was cool.
Moo: And he forgot to get the keys at first!
Doodle: Can we get a car like that?
Dan: Yes, but we will need to use your college fund to pay for it. Should we do that?
Moo: No! College is more important than a car.
Doodle: A car is a want, not a NEED.
My heart swells with pride. Briefly.
Three: I want a green one. No, maybe an orange one. The fast one car. That one. Yes.
Friday, December 23, 2011
An Admirer From Afar....
I got this email from the Mom of a boy in Moobear's class two days ago:
Hi there,
Hi there,
I am Mark's* mom and am writing to ask what Mark* can get for Moobear for Christmas? It turns out he has a crush on her (I found out after the Halloween get-together) and wants to give her an anonymous gift. I only have tonight and tomorrow night to get her something...any suggestions?
thanks!
My response:
How cute! That is adorable. I won't tell!
Moobear loves anything pink, mini erasers, Barb*e, plain notebooks or journals--especially ones with cats on them-- she is obsessed with cats right now, legos, stickers, stuffed animals, lip gloss. She also loves to bake cupcakes and cookies. Does that give you enough to go on?
Mark's* Mom:
Thanks! I'll see what I can come up with. Please don't say anything, Mark* is very shy about it. I guess other boys like her too so he can't even tell his friends! Have a great holiday.
My reaction, reading the last email was, oh that is so sweet, but wait a minute, OTHER BOYS LIKE HER TOO?
It appears that the pretty pink princess Halloween costume was an amazing choice!
I've kept the secret, and I can't wait to hear about the present that is mysteriously going to appear in her locker today. Every girl deserves to have a secret admirer in her life.
In other news, Doodle tells me she can beat up boys. Apparently there is a boy in her class that she pretend fights with all the time at recess. Who knew the girls would be so different?
*Not his real name. All names have been changed to protect the feelings, hopes and dreams of one very cute, very sweet little boy.
Happy Holidays!
Monday, December 12, 2011
A Challenge for Santa
As of this morning, we had no idea what Santa was going to bring Three for Christmas. Previous conversations went like this:
Me: Three, what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?
Three: A DS. And a pen.
Me: But you can't have a DS until you are 7. Is there anything else you want Santa to bring you?
Three: A DS and a pen.
Me: Never mind.
This morning, we made some progress (sort-of).
Me: Three, what should Santa bring you for Christmas?
Three: A DS and a pen.
Me: You can't have a DS until you are seven. Is there anything else you want Santa to bring you?
Three: A laser. Lasers.
Me: A laser???
Three: Yes, lasers.
Me: What, may I ask, are you going to do with a laser?
Three: I'm going to shoot them. Pew! Pew! (shooting noises). And I'm going to kill her.
Me: Three, it's not nice to kill people. We don't shoot people with lasers.
Three: It's pretend. It's just lasers.
Me: So the only thing you want from Santa is a laser?
Three (exasperated, speaking as if I am a complete idiot): YES. And a DS.
Awesome. Those elves have their work cut out for them.
Me: Three, what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?
Three: A DS. And a pen.
Me: But you can't have a DS until you are 7. Is there anything else you want Santa to bring you?
Three: A DS and a pen.
Me: Never mind.
This morning, we made some progress (sort-of).
Me: Three, what should Santa bring you for Christmas?
Three: A DS and a pen.
Me: You can't have a DS until you are seven. Is there anything else you want Santa to bring you?
Three: A laser. Lasers.
Me: A laser???
Three: Yes, lasers.
Me: What, may I ask, are you going to do with a laser?
Three: I'm going to shoot them. Pew! Pew! (shooting noises). And I'm going to kill her.
Me: Three, it's not nice to kill people. We don't shoot people with lasers.
Three: It's pretend. It's just lasers.
Me: So the only thing you want from Santa is a laser?
Three (exasperated, speaking as if I am a complete idiot): YES. And a DS.
Awesome. Those elves have their work cut out for them.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Pictures of the "broken smile"
I'm ready to share pictures of my lopsided face-- it's still not 100% better, but it's getting there. Frankly, I'm not sure why posting the photos was difficult--maybe because it made the thing all the more real?
I had some awesome reactions, though. A few people asked about dental work. A very nice person at work asked if I needed help and basically asked if my husband had hit me (ummm, no!). Since I needed to wear my eye patch occasionally at work, my coworkers joked about my "pirate hour" and offered to "bling up" the eye patch. Lots of nice emails, and a family friend sent me a beautiful orchid.
My face is at least symmetrical, but the paralysis is noticeable when I smile with my mouth open. On the one hand, I'm grateful for the recovery I've had and that other than my appearance, my body is in working order. On the other hand, my appearance does bother me from time to time--and I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm that vain. I'm self-conscious now about my facial expressions and shy away from pictures. Physically, the only remaining symptom, other than the smile, is an annoying watery eye. I'm constantly saying, "No, I'm not crying. Seriously, I'm fine. It's just my thing from the shingles." My left eye can still water for hours at a time-- which means I wear my glasses everyday. Also, I lisp a tiny bit when I say "p" words in a row. I sound like Elmer Fudd when the dog is in trouble," Pritizie, Prizie, PRITZIE!"
Now for the pictures. At first glance, it looks like the right side of my face is wonky. Then it is clear that the right side is turned up in a smile and the left is well, drooping.
Here it is the night it happened (July 30th):
Here I am a month later, on the first day of school for the girls (last week in August):
Another month later (October) at the Shedd Aquarium. I must admit, a low cut shirt does help distract others from the face:
Slowly, the symmetry comes back a bit. This photo is from November 11th:
Getting there. I hope that by Easter my photos will be normal. We'll have to see what the Christmas photos look like.
If they aren't better by Christmas, I have now ruined the surprise of our holiday card. Sorry.
I had some awesome reactions, though. A few people asked about dental work. A very nice person at work asked if I needed help and basically asked if my husband had hit me (ummm, no!). Since I needed to wear my eye patch occasionally at work, my coworkers joked about my "pirate hour" and offered to "bling up" the eye patch. Lots of nice emails, and a family friend sent me a beautiful orchid.
My face is at least symmetrical, but the paralysis is noticeable when I smile with my mouth open. On the one hand, I'm grateful for the recovery I've had and that other than my appearance, my body is in working order. On the other hand, my appearance does bother me from time to time--and I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm that vain. I'm self-conscious now about my facial expressions and shy away from pictures. Physically, the only remaining symptom, other than the smile, is an annoying watery eye. I'm constantly saying, "No, I'm not crying. Seriously, I'm fine. It's just my thing from the shingles." My left eye can still water for hours at a time-- which means I wear my glasses everyday. Also, I lisp a tiny bit when I say "p" words in a row. I sound like Elmer Fudd when the dog is in trouble," Pritizie, Prizie, PRITZIE!"
Now for the pictures. At first glance, it looks like the right side of my face is wonky. Then it is clear that the right side is turned up in a smile and the left is well, drooping.
Here it is the night it happened (July 30th):
Here I am a month later, on the first day of school for the girls (last week in August):
Another month later (October) at the Shedd Aquarium. I must admit, a low cut shirt does help distract others from the face:
Getting there. I hope that by Easter my photos will be normal. We'll have to see what the Christmas photos look like.
If they aren't better by Christmas, I have now ruined the surprise of our holiday card. Sorry.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Amazing video supporting marriage equality in Australia
I posted on FB but this is worth sharing here, too.
Beautifully done.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Imagination gone wild
This week, we were back at our local childrens' hospital for an ortho appt for Doodle's broken ankle. The verdict: two more weeks in a cast, but with weight bearing. Mostly good news. But it was a long morning, and Doodle was upset that the cast was not taken off. She was also really nervous about putting weight on her bad ankle.
Three and Hoosier Girl went with Doodle and I and by the time we were in the car on the way home, we were all tired, hungry and cranky. For some odd reason, Three spent most of the day pretending to be a spider, making weird spider noises.
Three: Coo.....coo
Hoosier Girl: Three, do you need something?
Three: Yes.
Hoosier Girl: A spider snack?
Three: Coo.
Hoosier Girl hands Three an imaginary spider snack.
Hoosier Girl: How about some spider juice?
Three: Coo.
Hoosier Girl: Here you go!
She hands Three some imaginary spider juice.
Three: I love spider juice!! Yum Yum!
Three turns her attention to Doodle, poking her from her car seat.
Doodle: Stop, it Three!
Three: I not Three, I Spider.
Doodle: Stop it Spider! Mom, she's touching me!
Me, kind of pissed and a bit at the end of my rope: Three, leave your sister alone!
Still more touching.
Suddenly, Doodle exclaims, "Smack!"
At once there is sobbing from Three. Hysteria. Lots of wailing.
Me, instantly angry: Doodle, did you hit your sister?
Doodle, calmly: No, I just created an imaginary fly swatter and killed the spider.
Three: I no want to be killed!! *sobs*
Me: Seriously, you didn't touch her?
Doodle: No, I just hit her with my pretend flyswatter.
Hoosier Girl and I stare at each other as Three sobs and wails. I am secretly proud of Doodle in that moment for her awesome, creative smackdown (pun intended). However, I'm about one venti St*rbucks and three minutes of silence away from sanity and ready to lose it with the wailing and carrying on of Three.
Then, in a moment of pure brilliance, Hoosier Girl out-foxes the fox.
Hoosier Girl: Three, here is some spider medicine. It will make you all better from the flyswatter!
Three: * sniffs* Ok, I all better. Look I Spider again !!!
Well played, Hoosier Girl, well played.
Three and Hoosier Girl went with Doodle and I and by the time we were in the car on the way home, we were all tired, hungry and cranky. For some odd reason, Three spent most of the day pretending to be a spider, making weird spider noises.
Three: Coo.....coo
Hoosier Girl: Three, do you need something?
Three: Yes.
Hoosier Girl: A spider snack?
Three: Coo.
Hoosier Girl hands Three an imaginary spider snack.
Hoosier Girl: How about some spider juice?
Three: Coo.
Hoosier Girl: Here you go!
She hands Three some imaginary spider juice.
Three: I love spider juice!! Yum Yum!
Three turns her attention to Doodle, poking her from her car seat.
Doodle: Stop, it Three!
Three: I not Three, I Spider.
Doodle: Stop it Spider! Mom, she's touching me!
Me, kind of pissed and a bit at the end of my rope: Three, leave your sister alone!
Still more touching.
Suddenly, Doodle exclaims, "Smack!"
At once there is sobbing from Three. Hysteria. Lots of wailing.
Me, instantly angry: Doodle, did you hit your sister?
Doodle, calmly: No, I just created an imaginary fly swatter and killed the spider.
Three: I no want to be killed!! *sobs*
Me: Seriously, you didn't touch her?
Doodle: No, I just hit her with my pretend flyswatter.
Hoosier Girl and I stare at each other as Three sobs and wails. I am secretly proud of Doodle in that moment for her awesome, creative smackdown (pun intended). However, I'm about one venti St*rbucks and three minutes of silence away from sanity and ready to lose it with the wailing and carrying on of Three.
Then, in a moment of pure brilliance, Hoosier Girl out-foxes the fox.
Hoosier Girl: Three, here is some spider medicine. It will make you all better from the flyswatter!
Three: * sniffs* Ok, I all better. Look I Spider again !!!
Well played, Hoosier Girl, well played.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Konked Heads--Three style
Earlier this week, I was on a call at work. Preschool called my work number and cell. Hmmm. Could be ok, might not be. I called back, but went straight to voicemail. Weird.
When I met Dan to drive home he says, calmly, "So an incident happened at preschool today." He wisely waited to tell me so I wouldn't freak out.
Turns out that the preschool director was on the swing. Three nicely asked if she could swing, too (I KNOW. That in itself is a shock). Three climbed (jumped is more likely, knowing Three) onto the preschool teacher's lap. They lost balance, and fell backwards off the swing. It is unclear if they actually were swinging before they fell. Other than a little blood from the preschool teacher's nose, Three was fine. The preschool director, not so much. Not only did she hit the back of her head on the ground, the back of Three's head banged into her face upon impact. Lots of blood and the preschool teacher was a bit dazed confused and so they called an ambulance.
When Hoosier girl came to pick Three up (minutes later) the police car and ambulance were still there. She thinks to herself, "Hmmm ambulance and police car, Three must be involved somehow." I think Hoosier girl felt a little bad about that, but hey, she knows Three.
Turns out at minimum, the preschool director's nose is broken. And I'm sure there is a lump on the back of her head from the ground, if not a concussion. And she spent some time at the hospital/ER that evening.
Three is totally fine. Hoosier girl cleaned off the blood in a bath, which is above and beyond the call of duty. She was a bit shaken, but loves to tell the story.
Three says, matter of factly, "We were on da swing and then we fell and then we konked heads and I hurted myself. And there was blood and Teacher K hurted her nose and it was BROKEN!! And then the doctor truck came and the police car. And I cried. And Teacher K went to the hospital."
When we got home from work, the girls were out playing. We all had lots of hugs and shared some sangria and snacks with Hoosier girl. She deserved it.
School called to make sure Three was ok. We were all like, she's fine but how is Teacher K? The reply, "She's doing well, but has some new thoughts about swing safety." I'm sure she does.
This is the dilemma I have. I'd like to get the preschool teacher a get well gift. What says I'm sorry my kid accidentally broke your nose? Wine? Spa treatment? Fruit basket? Help a girl out here.
When I met Dan to drive home he says, calmly, "So an incident happened at preschool today." He wisely waited to tell me so I wouldn't freak out.
Turns out that the preschool director was on the swing. Three nicely asked if she could swing, too (I KNOW. That in itself is a shock). Three climbed (jumped is more likely, knowing Three) onto the preschool teacher's lap. They lost balance, and fell backwards off the swing. It is unclear if they actually were swinging before they fell. Other than a little blood from the preschool teacher's nose, Three was fine. The preschool director, not so much. Not only did she hit the back of her head on the ground, the back of Three's head banged into her face upon impact. Lots of blood and the preschool teacher was a bit dazed confused and so they called an ambulance.
When Hoosier girl came to pick Three up (minutes later) the police car and ambulance were still there. She thinks to herself, "Hmmm ambulance and police car, Three must be involved somehow." I think Hoosier girl felt a little bad about that, but hey, she knows Three.
Turns out at minimum, the preschool director's nose is broken. And I'm sure there is a lump on the back of her head from the ground, if not a concussion. And she spent some time at the hospital/ER that evening.
Three is totally fine. Hoosier girl cleaned off the blood in a bath, which is above and beyond the call of duty. She was a bit shaken, but loves to tell the story.
Three says, matter of factly, "We were on da swing and then we fell and then we konked heads and I hurted myself. And there was blood and Teacher K hurted her nose and it was BROKEN!! And then the doctor truck came and the police car. And I cried. And Teacher K went to the hospital."
When we got home from work, the girls were out playing. We all had lots of hugs and shared some sangria and snacks with Hoosier girl. She deserved it.
School called to make sure Three was ok. We were all like, she's fine but how is Teacher K? The reply, "She's doing well, but has some new thoughts about swing safety." I'm sure she does.
This is the dilemma I have. I'd like to get the preschool teacher a get well gift. What says I'm sorry my kid accidentally broke your nose? Wine? Spa treatment? Fruit basket? Help a girl out here.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Reasons #987 and #988 why I love our puppy
She guards/cuddles Doodle while she sleeps.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Conversations with Three
Three: Mommy, you go to potty? In your bathroom?
Me: Yes, Three. When are you going to go potty in the bathroom?
Three: When I grow a pen*s.
Me: I'm not sure that's going to happen without substantial effort and assistance. Maybe we can try the potty sooner?
Three: Ok.
Me: Ok. (now yelling to Dan) I KNOW WHEN THREE IS FINALLY GOING TO BE POTTY TRAINED!
Dan: When?
Me: (with a straight face) When she grows a pen*s.
Dan: Well, I guess we have a definite time frame then.
Me: Really?
Dan: Yeah, like never.
****
The big girls are doing super summer math workbooks. They are due weekly, and somehow we end up doing the entire week's worth the night before they are due. Again. Dan is out for a run with the dog, and I'm bribing Three to give us a moment of quite with a leftover Re*ce's peanut butter egg from Easter-- one of the big ones. My favorite candy on earth. I was desperate.
I tell her to eat it slowly and that the big kids will be done in a few minutes.
Me: Moo, you add up the sums in the bubbles. Color anything that has 7 as a total purp.....
Three: (muffled) muffmeee!
I look over and she has stuffed the entire giant egg in her mouth at once. She is drooling chocolate spit and she looks like she has a tennis ball in her mouth. I quickly start to walk her into the kitchen, where there isn't a rug, sensing that perhaps this isn't going to end well.
Me: Spit it out, just spit it out.
Three tries to spit it out, but the peanut butter appears to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. Chocolate is being drooled on my socks. She gags once, and suddenly I'm covered in chocolate peanut butter vomit.
There is not a spot on her. Not even that spittle string that sometimes hangs off of your mouth after a good barf.
Three: (cheerfully) Well that was gross!
Me: (wiping vomit off my face) Yes, yes it was.
I strip in the kitchen and head off to the shower. Doodle and Moo are instructed to stop math and put on a show to watch with their sister until their Dad comes home. I've thrown the clothes in the washer and wiped up most of the puke. All that is left is the wrapper and a smear of chocolate barf on the floor.
Doodle: DON'T LET PRITZIE IN THE KITCHEN THERE IS CHOCOLATE BARF ON THE FLOOR AND SHE WILL GET SICK AND DIE!!!
Dan: What the?
Moo: (nonchalantly) Oh, Three barfed chocolate on Mom. She's taking a shower. It was gross.
Dan: (from outside the shower curtain) I was gone for 30 minutes and there was barf and what????
Me: Just give me 15 minutes. Please. I need to wash the barf out of my hair. Just 15 minutes. I will explain. And then we will never speak of it again.
Dan: (laughing) I wasn't gone that long......So just your average night, huh.....
Me: GET. OUT. BEFORE I HURT YOU.
Dan: I'm sorry.
Me: Yes, Three. When are you going to go potty in the bathroom?
Three: When I grow a pen*s.
Me: I'm not sure that's going to happen without substantial effort and assistance. Maybe we can try the potty sooner?
Three: Ok.
Me: Ok. (now yelling to Dan) I KNOW WHEN THREE IS FINALLY GOING TO BE POTTY TRAINED!
Dan: When?
Me: (with a straight face) When she grows a pen*s.
Dan: Well, I guess we have a definite time frame then.
Me: Really?
Dan: Yeah, like never.
****
The big girls are doing super summer math workbooks. They are due weekly, and somehow we end up doing the entire week's worth the night before they are due. Again. Dan is out for a run with the dog, and I'm bribing Three to give us a moment of quite with a leftover Re*ce's peanut butter egg from Easter-- one of the big ones. My favorite candy on earth. I was desperate.
I tell her to eat it slowly and that the big kids will be done in a few minutes.
Me: Moo, you add up the sums in the bubbles. Color anything that has 7 as a total purp.....
Three: (muffled) muffmeee!
I look over and she has stuffed the entire giant egg in her mouth at once. She is drooling chocolate spit and she looks like she has a tennis ball in her mouth. I quickly start to walk her into the kitchen, where there isn't a rug, sensing that perhaps this isn't going to end well.
Me: Spit it out, just spit it out.
Three tries to spit it out, but the peanut butter appears to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. Chocolate is being drooled on my socks. She gags once, and suddenly I'm covered in chocolate peanut butter vomit.
There is not a spot on her. Not even that spittle string that sometimes hangs off of your mouth after a good barf.
Three: (cheerfully) Well that was gross!
Me: (wiping vomit off my face) Yes, yes it was.
I strip in the kitchen and head off to the shower. Doodle and Moo are instructed to stop math and put on a show to watch with their sister until their Dad comes home. I've thrown the clothes in the washer and wiped up most of the puke. All that is left is the wrapper and a smear of chocolate barf on the floor.
Doodle: DON'T LET PRITZIE IN THE KITCHEN THERE IS CHOCOLATE BARF ON THE FLOOR AND SHE WILL GET SICK AND DIE!!!
Dan: What the?
Moo: (nonchalantly) Oh, Three barfed chocolate on Mom. She's taking a shower. It was gross.
Dan: (from outside the shower curtain) I was gone for 30 minutes and there was barf and what????
Me: Just give me 15 minutes. Please. I need to wash the barf out of my hair. Just 15 minutes. I will explain. And then we will never speak of it again.
Dan: (laughing) I wasn't gone that long......So just your average night, huh.....
Me: GET. OUT. BEFORE I HURT YOU.
Dan: I'm sorry.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Mommy's smile is broken-- a summer vacation with sun, sand, and a little facial paralysis
Friday was our last day of work before vacation. My jaw hurt and I took some ibuprofen. Didn't think anything of it, but it wasn't getting better. My tongue also felt like it had coating on it. I thought maybe my sinus infection was coming back. I left work a little early and we headed to the beach.
After dinner with friends on Saturday, we took a group picture. At first I thought it was the chardonnay, but I couldn't fully smile. We left soon after and as soon as we got in the car, I told Dan, "I think I have Bell's Palsy." Moo said, "Mom, your smile is broken." Half of my face was paralyzed.
We went straight to the ER. Although I was pretty sure I wasn't having a stroke, since I could move my limbs and think clearly, it was still scary. Of course my blood pressure was through the roof, too-- because I was panicked.
My cousin, who had survived a brain aneurysm in December, met us at the hospital. I'm glad she was there, but it didn't help my blood pressure. She entertained the girls, and took them back to where we were staying.
The nurses thought Dan and I were freaks. He's doing a bit of his own exam in triage, and the nurse kept asking me where I had heard of Bell's Palsy. When I explained that Dan was a doctor, my cousin a nurse, and my mother-in-law had it once, she calmed down a bit. I felt better when they didn't take blood or put in an IV. I figured if they didn't do any of those things, that they weren't too worried.
An ear exam, a head CT scan, some lower blood pressures, and four hours later (there was a boating accident ahead of us), we discovered I have Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome. Well, Dan did. The ER doc was like, "It's a Bell's Palsy, nothing serious," and when Dan mentioned Ramsay-Hunt, asked Dan if he wanted antibiotic drops for my ear (you med people will understand that means the er guy was a bit of a doofus).
Basically Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome means I have shingles in my ear, which has aggravated my facial nerve. I can't fully close my left eye, and half of my face doesn't move when I talk. Literally, I'm talking out of the side of my mouth. The left side of my face droops a bit. Since my eye doesn't close, I'm sleeping with an eye patch on. I sometimes dribble food or beverages out of the side of my mouth.
Let me tell you, it's been *super*. The pharmacist at the 24 hour pharmacy kept looking at Dan when we dropped off the scripts. They gave me meds to help with the shingles virus that they use to treat herpes and some steroids, and the eye patch. Her look said, "First of all, this woman is no prize, and I'm not sure what kinky games you're going to play with that eye patch."
I'm relieved that this is treatable, and that the paralysis will likely completely resolve (in several weeks). So far, the pain isn't too bad. I can't really pronounce my "fs" so swearing is quite amusing. I never really appreciated how much I used the F-word. Or tell the girls to "Freeze."
I'm used to being on display, what with having Three and all. We often get looks because we are a transracial family. Now, we get even more looks. I'm thinking of getting a t-shirt that says, "I know my face is paralyzed, please stare at my boobs instead."
I'm trying to have a good attitude about it, and not be too impatient for improvement. The running joke with my family is that you can't take my cousin and I anywhere without a head CT first.
I'm just relieved it isn't anything worse. And I even more sensitive to the experience of others who have an obvious disability. I'm not ready to share pictures yet, but I will post some later.
After dinner with friends on Saturday, we took a group picture. At first I thought it was the chardonnay, but I couldn't fully smile. We left soon after and as soon as we got in the car, I told Dan, "I think I have Bell's Palsy." Moo said, "Mom, your smile is broken." Half of my face was paralyzed.
We went straight to the ER. Although I was pretty sure I wasn't having a stroke, since I could move my limbs and think clearly, it was still scary. Of course my blood pressure was through the roof, too-- because I was panicked.
My cousin, who had survived a brain aneurysm in December, met us at the hospital. I'm glad she was there, but it didn't help my blood pressure. She entertained the girls, and took them back to where we were staying.
The nurses thought Dan and I were freaks. He's doing a bit of his own exam in triage, and the nurse kept asking me where I had heard of Bell's Palsy. When I explained that Dan was a doctor, my cousin a nurse, and my mother-in-law had it once, she calmed down a bit. I felt better when they didn't take blood or put in an IV. I figured if they didn't do any of those things, that they weren't too worried.
An ear exam, a head CT scan, some lower blood pressures, and four hours later (there was a boating accident ahead of us), we discovered I have Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome. Well, Dan did. The ER doc was like, "It's a Bell's Palsy, nothing serious," and when Dan mentioned Ramsay-Hunt, asked Dan if he wanted antibiotic drops for my ear (you med people will understand that means the er guy was a bit of a doofus).
Basically Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome means I have shingles in my ear, which has aggravated my facial nerve. I can't fully close my left eye, and half of my face doesn't move when I talk. Literally, I'm talking out of the side of my mouth. The left side of my face droops a bit. Since my eye doesn't close, I'm sleeping with an eye patch on. I sometimes dribble food or beverages out of the side of my mouth.
Let me tell you, it's been *super*. The pharmacist at the 24 hour pharmacy kept looking at Dan when we dropped off the scripts. They gave me meds to help with the shingles virus that they use to treat herpes and some steroids, and the eye patch. Her look said, "First of all, this woman is no prize, and I'm not sure what kinky games you're going to play with that eye patch."
I'm relieved that this is treatable, and that the paralysis will likely completely resolve (in several weeks). So far, the pain isn't too bad. I can't really pronounce my "fs" so swearing is quite amusing. I never really appreciated how much I used the F-word. Or tell the girls to "Freeze."
I'm used to being on display, what with having Three and all. We often get looks because we are a transracial family. Now, we get even more looks. I'm thinking of getting a t-shirt that says, "I know my face is paralyzed, please stare at my boobs instead."
I'm trying to have a good attitude about it, and not be too impatient for improvement. The running joke with my family is that you can't take my cousin and I anywhere without a head CT first.
I'm just relieved it isn't anything worse. And I even more sensitive to the experience of others who have an obvious disability. I'm not ready to share pictures yet, but I will post some later.
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