An Admirer From Afar....

I got this email from the Mom of a boy in Moobear's class two days ago:

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!

 

 

 

 

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. 

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.

Amazing video supporting marriage equality in Australia

I posted on FB but this is worth sharing here, too.

Beautifully done.

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.

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.

Reasons #987 and #988 why I love our puppy

She's destroying our P*lly P*cket collection one doll at a time.  Nice work, Pritzie.  I never realized how many tiny annoying shoes they have, and how difficult it is to put on their teeny tiny clothes.--and stepping on their teeny tiny hands with bare feet is almost as painful as stepping on legos with bare feet.

She guards/cuddles Doodle while she sleeps.