My boy, almost expelled from school

The "kids" were all lined up, sitting nicely on their chairs. There was a moment of panic, when a baby did not want to sit up straight and kept toppling over. Once she was positioned against the back of the chair, it was fine.
Class was about to start.
Ms. Kaitlyn's Kindergarten class, that is.



The school building is beautiful, naturally with the American flag!









Oh, and NO dogs or cats allowed! Sorry, Fudge and Hootie...










I asked Ms. Kaitlyn if my son could come to school. "Of course", she replied. "And if you want, you can stay with him since it's his first day. Giraffe's mommy is here too." That's all right, I said. He will do fine.
I did come into the classroom briefly to take pictures. I moved Zander's high chair a little closer to the others so they would all fit in the picture.










As I proceeded to take a picture of his other class mates, Ms. Kaitlyn looked over to him and noticed that he had grabbed Cheetah by the ear and was trying to pull her off her chair.
She ran over to him, got Cheetah to safety and then moved his high chair to where he could do no harm to the other kids.
"Don't do that again, or you will have to go home", she said sternly.











My son was neither overly impressed nor subdued by that statement.
I may have to look for another school.
Sigh...

Slick puppy

Meet Fudge, our newest family member:

He is a German Shepherd/black lab mix and is sooo sweet!
He came home with us from a shelter on Tuesday and has adapted extremely well. He does not like to be alone and will follow us around "like a puppy" you could say...:)
He tries really hard to be friends with Hootie, but Hootie doesn't want to have anything to do with him; he will hiss at him when he comes too close, or swat him. It will take that cat a little while to accept Fudge. Meanwhile Hootie has been snacking on Fudge's water and food to his heart's content.

Now, about the name of this blog...
Yesterday Jim tied Fudge in the garage with food and water, then brought the kids to Danyelle for Zander's speech therapy and went to work. I would pick up the kids from Danyelle's after work, go home and take Fudge for a walk (Zander in the stroller), since it was such a gorgeous day.
I parked the car outside, opened the garage door and there was Fudge, still tied to the pole where Jim had left him. He was yelping and howling, ecstatic with the prospect of being able to jump on us in greeting, happy to soon be released from his pole prison. I saw he had knocked over the bag of potting soil, but not much had spilled. Then I noticed the paw prints. Dozens and dozens of prints littered the floor and covered his leash, food dishes, and several boxes and picture frames around him.
Even though they were brown it did not smell like poop, so I got a little closer look.
Then it dawned on me: motor oil!
Last week Jim had changed the oil in my car and, since we did not have any container to put the used oil in, left the pan with the used oil in the garage until we would be able to dispose of it. I have to admit that my thoughts towards my husband were not very nice at that moment. Not very nice at all.
Okay, let's tackle this and get it over with.
While I tried to calm Fudge, who was trying his utmost to jump on my suit, I told Kaitlyn to run upstairs and put on her oldest clothes. Then she could walk Fudge in the backyard while I changed and together we could bathe him and attempt to get most of the oil off him.
When she came back down I untied Fudge, who immediately jumped on Kaitlyn, deliriously happy that he was finally loose. In his enthousiasm he scratched her arm, which prompted Kaitlyn to start wailing for me to get that dog off her!
Plan B
I tied Fudge to the pole again (sorry, baby) and brought Alexander, who had been napping in the car, upstairs and changed hurriedly into my old jeans and my Salon Maison shirt (the shirt I use when I dye my hair, since I ALWAYS seem to spill dye on myself). Then I ran back down and let Fudge give me a proper greeting, complete with wet doggy kisses!
Together Kaitlyn and I washed Fudge's paws, belly, and under his chin. Luckily he did not get any oil around his mouth and Kaitlyn went to fetch him some fresh drinking water, which he slobbered up the way only a puppy can. When I was sure I had gotten all of it, I rinsed him and Kaitlyn dried him off carefully. We let him run in the back yard a little to dry off completely and, finally, were ready to head into the house.
First things first: I poured myself a glass of wine and took a sip (okay, more like a few gulps...).
Then I fed Alexander, changed him, and got Kaitlyn's dinner ready. She wanted bread with butter and a boiled egg and asked if she could eat it while watching the dog movie (How to take care of your puppy). Needing a little time to myself I agreed (yes I know, the tv is not a babysitter. So bite me!) and told her she had to make sure Fudge would stay away from her plate. She sat down on the couch and Fudge promptly snatched a piece of bread from her plate and devoured it in 3 seconds flat. Okay, so maybe that plan didn't work out too well.
Later that night, after putting KK to bed, tidying up the house and getting things ready for the next day I plopped down in front of the tv with my son in my arms, ready to relax for a little bit.
At 11pm I fed him once more, put him in his crib, walked Fudge, and fell into bed. I think it took me a whole second to fall asleep.
I woke up sensing someone standing by my bed. I opened my eyes and looked at my daughter. Kaitlyn was wondering why Fudge was not sleeping next to her bed and where was he anyway and could she go get him and take him to her room? I slowly moved my head to look at my alarm clock. It was 4:15am...sigh
Whose idea was it again to get a dog?!?!?

A hair cut and then some...

Okay, so I have been cutting my boy's hair since he needed one, the first one when he was 2 months old. MONTHS, not years!
Now, since his hair grows faster than grass after a week of rain, I have given him numerous haircuts. So many in fact that I stopped counting. He has had one professional hair cut when he was around 6 months old, but I have cut it on all the other occasions. I asked Jim yesterday...he stopped counting at 12, and Zander has had a few more after that.

The day before yesterday I noticed that his bangs were hanging in his eyes and I got out my "Mommy" scissors. Only I am authorized to use those and I use them exclusively for hair: Jim's, KK's, Zander's and my own bangs.
So Wednesday evening I was able to get his bangs and the hair on top of his head done. All I needed to do was trim the back and sides, by his ears.
Now, this whole hair cutting business has become exceedingly difficult due to Alexander's moving around, pulling his head one way with a jerking motion when I try to get it to go the other way. I have tried to do it while he is asleep, but to no avail: he starts rolling his head from side to side in his sleep.
Kaitlyn has helped me by distracting him, which works up until a certain moment, when he decides I messed with his hair long enough.
Last night I decided to finish by cuting the back and around his ears. I did not want to postpone it in case I would not get around to it for another week or so and have his neck hairs long enough again for a pony tail - so not "in" anymore. I got the back done quickly and then proceeded to finish up with the sides.
Since Jim was busy, Kaitlyn volunteered to distract him while he was sitting in the high chair. She was doing a wonderful job and neither one of us was prepared for Zander suddenly throwing his head forward. I felt the scissors make contact with his ear while I closed the blades...
It took Zander a full 4 seconds to realize something hurt. Then "the lip". That's when he started squealing like a little pig getting slaughtered and the blood started gushing out.
My hearing is not too good to begin with and is now completely shot. I know my son can be loud, but this topped it all. Even the synergys shots, which are very painful, do not elicit a reaction like this one.
Kaitlyn rushed to get me a tissue, which I held up to his ear to stop the bleeding. Naturally, with him screaming bloody murder the attempt was futile, since 95% of his blood was in his head to accomodate his need for oxygen. In the meantime Jim had come running and, after I told him the cut was tiny and we did not need to make a trip to the ER, had fled the scene.
With Zander howling while I am holding him in one arm and trying to stop the bleeding with the other, I am trying to get a hold of a bandaid (I have to replenish the supply in my purse again). They are too far up for Kaitlyn to reach and impossible for me to get down without hands. Finally Jim comes back and I ask (yell actually) to get me a @#$#@$ bandaid...okay, I did not SAY that in front of the kids, but boy was I thinking it! My husband manages to find the tiniest bandaid in the box - it's a family size box - barely enough to cover the top of a pin, and hands it to me. Naturally, the second I put the bandaid on it is soaked with blood. After some more asking (yelling again, since my son is waayyy not out of steam yet) I finally get the size I want and promptly stick it on his hair. Zander has actually calmed down a little and there I go ripping the bandaid off his hair, pulling a few out of his head for good measure. There we go again!
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I get the bandaid in the right place and Zander calmed down. Needless to say I was done with hair cutting! I even blamed my husband for an instant, since I mentioned wanting to take Alexander to a hair dresser and he said he is not quite ready to do that. I bet NOW he is!
A tip on how to get blood completely out of clothes without discoloration: hydrogen peroxide. It's magic.
This morning, as I was feeding my oh so sweetly smiling, cooing baby I contemplated getting the scissors to get to that little pluck of hair I missed yesterday.
And then I remembered what happened...or actually I saw what happened. He still had dried blood all over his ear and the side of his head. When I gather enough courage I will tackle that project.
Sigh.
And next time: hair dresser it is, honey!

Snow!

Trying to hit daddy...

Finally KK can make a snow angel!

Everyone is enjoying the snow...until Zander touches it! So much for that!

Are you sure it's the same baby?

That was the question from the ENT when he saw Alexander last week.
He said: I did not hear him when I was coming down the hall!
I know what he is talking about. He used to make a lot of noise breathing, kind of like a constant wheezing. We had gotten used to it I guess.

We are ecstatic because for a while now Alexander has been breathing silently. Thank you, God! I don't mind waking up in the middle of the night to go check on him, putting my hand on his chest, listening intently for any sound from him. A sigh, a movement, a yawn puts my mind at ease and I can go back to bed. Sometimes, instead of going back to bed right away, I sit in his rocking chair for a while, rocking lightly and listening to my son breathing softly. Sometimes I don't have to strain to hear him. He is a party animal, my boy, and once in a while, if he slept too much during the day, he will have lengthy and loud conversations with his ducky or bear. These are pretty much one-sided conversations, but incredibly loud nonetheless. I used to be a heavy sleeper until I had children. Now the slightest cry wakes me up instantly and I am by their beds long before Jim even realizes one of his children is having a nightmare. Even if I still were a heavy sleeper, there is no way I would be able to sleep through Zander's "parties". So I lie in bed and listen to him telling a story to his ducky.
Sure, it's annoying.
Then again, I'll take waking up to his stories over hearing him struggle to breathe any day...or night!

My life is...

A few hours ago I could have thought of a slew of words that are not even remotely close to any expression of thankfulness or happiness...the endless list included several very strong expletives in several different languages, none of those worthy of repeating here lest anyone speaking any of those languages might come across them and report me to the authorities. You know, the "bad language police", the one that would make me say "I am happy" 4,532 times, until I would be so sick of saying "I am happy" I would start grumbling and cursing once more and the whole thing would start all over again.
I was in a groove, but it was not a good one. I was feeling terribly sorry for myself and my miserable little life devoid of any pleasures, a full night sleep that was not induced by alcohol, or anything that remotely resembled the slightest hint of contentment. I had no intention whatsoever of crawling out of the pit of self-pity I was wallowing in.

What had started all this you might wonder? Even if you didn't wonder, I will tell you anyway. It's MY blog and I feel like writing it. If you don't want to "hear" it, stop reading. So there!
Anyway, my having to leave my baby at home and having to go back to work is what started all this. While Jim was away I got to spend four delightful, unfairly short days with my babies, of which two were alone with my littlest baby, while my older"baby" was at school. I am absolutely convinced that my days with them had been reduced to a mere 5 hours, instead of the usual 24 and I feel shorted much precious time with my babies. On top of that my dear husband had me driving around town to take care of the van situation (it needed to be dropped off to be repaired), which meant even less time to play...


Soooo, when Jim came back on Tuesday night I was thoroughly frustrated and mad with the world and Jim, back from his relaxing trip to beautiful South Florida, was conveniently there for me to unleash my fury onto. After all, I had to go back to work the next day!

To make matters a little more complicated, we had had a big scare on Thursday, when Jim took Alexander to the pediatrician who, to make a long story short, thought he had diabetes. So on Friday morning, while Jim left for the airport, I took Zander to a pediatric endocrinologist. After spending over 3 hours there, with a futile attempt at the very end of our visit to draw blood, we left with the good news that it was probably not diabetes. However, to be on the safe side I had to prick Zander's finger 4 times a day and write down the result of the blood sugar test, then call back on Tuesday with the results. I spoke with the doctor on Tuesday who, after going over the results, told me it was definitely not diabetes. Thank you, God!
The scare of Alexander possibly having diabetes put some intense stress on us on Thursday, though, with the result that Jim and I ended up fighting before he went to his DADS meeting. He had left the house a huge mess, which, OCD as I am, just had to be cleaned up on the spot in order for me to think straight. Also, kids had to be fed and bathed, lunch prepared for the next day, trash taken out, and I was completely exhausted by the time Jim came back from his meeting. Since he is a last-minute person with as little planning as possible, he did not have his bags packed yet for his trip. He proceeded to do that at 10:15pm, at which point I am usually in bed already. Add that to the thoroughly relaxing evening I had already had (grrrrrr) and voila! Miss Ticked Off Big Time (can't use any curse words...sigh), that would be me, went to bed mad. You know what happens when you do that, right? You don't sleep well! You have all these weird dreams that keep repeating themselves over and over, and you wake up from the slightest little noise about 37 times. Oh, and you suddenly wake up at 3:15am, having to go to the bathroom really bad and then can't get back to sleep until 15 minutes before the alarm is set to go off. That's how my weekend started and, as we all know, when you think you will be able to get a good night's sleep it ain't gonna happen...
Anyway, my days with my babies were wonderful and the closer Tuesday evening came, the more upset I got again.
It would be the end of my playtime.
Back to work, girl!
On top of taking care of the kids in the evening, including cooking dinner, bathing, brushing teeth, reading books, checking home work, cleaning up after kids and husband, laundry, making the grocery list and shopping, preparing lunch, taking care of the cat, getting gas (in the car that we both drive), fixing things around the house, paying bills, fixing lunch (for school and work) and breakfast, participating in whatever is going on at KK's school - book club, seasonal parties, special days, etc - keeping up with appointments (and reminding my husband of those)...wow, I guess I really do all that...on top of all that I also have to go to work and concentrate on things other than my family for 9 hours and battle rush hour twice a day as well. How many hours are in a day again? Can I request that number to be upped to, say, 45 hours? I would not mind including some time to actually play with my kids and have some time to spend with my husband. While I am at it, why not throw in some time for myself as well? Maybe learn how to nap while driving? Nah, I guess that would be pushing it!

I believe I sufficiently explained why I was in such a foul mood. Now, I was at work, doing some magnificent wallowing while working on the computer, when I saw it: the page from Rachel's blog that I had copied into a Word document. All I saw was the title, and I remembered what a great entry that was - and what wonderful responses! If you haven't read it yet, please go to Rachel's blog and find "My life is..." It is worth it!
Yes, my life is hard and it stinks sometimes, but more often than not it is simply...I cannot even begin to describe all the positive things about my life, they are too numerous!
So, I decided to "put my big girl panties on", thought about all the things I am grateful for, all the things that are NOT hard, and put a smile on my face.
And it is still there:)

Another haircut

I managed to cut Zander's hair today, for the most part anyway. It used to be so easy to cut his hair, but now that he is more mobile, it has become a true challenge.
It only took me an hour(yes, I am being sarcastic), and that's without the two half-hour interruptions, when I saw that bottom lip start to come out, followed by the wails of a baby being tortured...and the huge crocodile tears were not far behind. That child has no problem whatsoever with his tear ducts, or with his lungs for that matter. I think the people that live three streets over heard him!
Jim had to help me finish the job when he got home from work. He kept Zander's attention focused on him, distracting him from what I was doing, and I was done in a few minutes. Then, just as I am finishing up, Zander swings his arm and knocks down the container with hair clippings I had set on the table, sending the hair flying all over the floor I had swept a mere 30 minutes before...
I think next time I will head on over to the hair salon and spend $10. A small price to pay for the time (and sanity) I will save!