A Birthday Lesson

My baby turns five today; and even though I have a six month-old sleeping soundly in the next room, I can't help but think of that little 5 year-old as "my baby". As I do with each child on every birthday, I've been reminiscing a lot, and doing a whole lot of "How did the time go so fast?" questioning. Somehow, his chubby little baby hands turned into hands that can swing a bat, roll out pizza dough, steer a bike, sweep the kitchen floor and yes, (I cringe to say it) even hit his brother from time to time. I've always thought it the sign of the end of baby and toddlerhood, when the five sweet dimples on the back of a child's hand are replaced by ruddy little knuckles. As I watched Connor dig in the sand today I noticed that the dimples on his hands have long since been replaced and he has become my little boy, no longer my baby. Though, if you ask him he'd wrinkle up his nose and tell you he's a big boy.

We celebrated Connor's birthday by taking him, his brother, and their two cousins to the beach. It was blistering hot and Husband and I were thrilled with the improvement in our boys' water confidence since we were last on the beach two years ago. Both of them had great success with the boogie boards; according to their cousin Chase, they were more successful than their dad! I spent a good amount of time trying to convince both Connor and Kirby that it is, in fact, okay to pee in the ocean. Neither one of them were quite sure whether or not to believe me. At one point, I even enlisted their older cousin asking him, " If you have to go to the bathroom when you're at the beach, where do you go?" Screwing up his face and giving me a look that clearly said "Duh!" he said, "The ocean!" The more I tried to convince them, the louder and more frantically Connor tried to piece the whole thing together:

"You mean I should just stand and pee into it?" he asked me.

"No, you don't actually pull your pants down, you just kind of pee while you're standing in the water," I said, realizing that the loooong walk to the bath house would probably be in my near future.

By this time, Connor's voice was at a fever pitch and the people around us were starting to check us out.

"You want me to pee in my pants?" Connor asked in utter disbelief.

I used my most hushed and urgent voice to explain to him that yes, you just pee straight through your pants right into the ocean and the water will wash it away. Appealing to his innermost quiet child (a child I'm not sure actually exists) I told him that everybody does it, but nobody talks about it because it just sounds nasty to talk about. Looking out at all of the people in the water, Connor's eyes got very wide as he asked me, "You mean all those people pee-d in the ocean?"

"Probably," I replied. "And if they say they haven't there's a 50/50 chance they're lying."

At about this time, Kirby strode toward us, threw down his boogie board, and announced that he had to go to the bathroom.

"Kirby!" Connor said in his very best soccer field yell. "Mom said we should just go pee in the ocean!".

It was a combination of the look of utter disgust on Kirby's face, and the fact that I realized how pathetic it was for a mother of boys to spend 10 whole minutes trying to convince them to pee in open water, when I just spent the last 5 years telling them not to pee anywhere besides the bathroom (we've all had our bushes watered by our little boys, haven't we?). I was beginning to sound like a desperate woman, so I steeled myself for the long walk across scalding hot sand, and said, "You know what, never mind. I'm sure one day you'll decide it's more convenient to pee in the ocean than to hike all the way to the bathroom. For now, I should be glad you two have such a strong urge to act civilized!"

"What's civilized mean Mom?"

"Never mind! Let's just go potty!"

And so it is that Connor's 5th birthday has apparently ushered in the dawn of a new age; an age of civility and manners. Perhaps even an age where there is never any pee outside the toilet? One can always dream!

Too Pooped to Party

This evening when I picked Connor up from soccer practice, he hopped in the car and nonchalantly announced, "Mommy you look tired." Assuming that he thought I looked tired because I was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt I sometimes wear to bed I asked, "What about me looks tired?"

"Your face," he replied.

Just today I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror at school and what I saw was lackluster at best, death-warmed-over at worst. I tried to convince myself that it was the florescent lighting that just wasn't doing me any favors. It's nice that Connor could confirm for me that I do indeed look as tired as I feel!

(please accept this as my explanation of why I have not been posting much!)

When Your Child is Quirky...

When your child is "quirky", you end up saying things like:

"He's so creative!" or "What an imagination!"

When your child is quirky, you use the word "random" a lot.

When your child is quirky, you hear songs that go: "$5 chicken!" and "I want some roast beef!" over and over.

When your child is quirky, you find yourself counting out four ice cubes into every drink (that's FOUR; not three - not five!)

When your child is quirky, he spends hours crammed in small places that he calls "clubhouses".

When your child is quirky, he may grab everyone's attention by yelling,"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have a little song I'm gonna sing for you today called...HOT LOG!"

When your child is quirky, he insists on wearing the strap from his bicycle helmet on the front of his chin drum major-style (otherwise, "it feels too chokey!")

When your child is quirky, you may find yourself giggling because he says things like, "You're not the boss of me...TANK TOP!" with a straight face, and in all seriousness (I'm still chuckling over the randomness of that one!).

We find ourselves describing our middle child as quirky a lot. But what it really means is that he's a one-of-a-kind kid who has a zest for life and a huge imagination. We love him an awful lot. In fact, we think we'll keep him. When he's not causing us to bang our heads against the wall, he's giving us a good laugh - and he's one heck of a snuggler!

The Boys Figure it Out

It's hard to believe that Gavin has been home for almost a week now, and that he's two weeks old. It's even harder to believe how much more grown up the boys seem now that we have a teeny one in the house.


My first baby. I can't believe he was ever my baby. How did he get so grown up? He spends hours holding his baby brother, stroking his hands and singing to him. And yet, I love getting a glimpse of the little boy he still is...

My first day home from the hospital, I was standing in my closet changing my clothes (privately, I might add) when Kirby came barging in. As he began to speak, his eyes wandered down to my lower abdomen, where my C-section incision was very visible and held together with steri-strip tape.

"Oh Mommy," he said softly, covering his mouth with both hands. "That looks like it hurts. Is that where they took the baby out?"

"Yes," I told him, "and it does hurt".

"It makes my feet feel wobbly," he said in a shaky voice. Afraid he was going to faint or vomit (which would not be uncharacteristic) I hurried him away and told him not to look anymore. As he exited my room, I heard him run into Connor.

"Connor, come here...there's something you have to see!"

And this one, who just can't be 4 1/2.

My first night home from the hospital, I began to set up the breast pump I would have to use throughout the night to pump milk for Gavin's bottles in the NICU. As I was getting everything in order Connor wandered into my room and asked what the machine was for. I tried to explain to him by using just the bare bones of facts (I figured I didn't want to give him more info than he needed).

"This is a machine that's going to help me collect milk for Gavin when I'm away from him and can't feed him myself," I explained to Connor.

"Oh. How does it work?"

"Well, the machine works the same way as a baby does to take milk from my breasts," I told him.

"So...you put that on your breasts?"

"Yes," I answered, wondering just how much longer Connor was going to make me drag out the explanation. But to my relief he just turned on his heel and left my room.

"HEY KIRBY!!!" He yelled in what we call his "whisper 2000" voice. "Mom's got a machine up here that sucks milk out of her breasts for Gavin!"

I cringed as I thought of my father-in-law dozing on the couch downstairs, knowing that any sense of delicacy I had managed to salvage up to this point was slipping away thanks to Connor. While he did leave me alone during the times I needed to pump, he became fascinated with the bottles of milk that would be on my nightstand first thing in the morning, left from my last pump of the night. Each morning he would come in and ask if he could take them to the refrigerator.

"Milk delivery!" He would announce to the rest of the family who were sitting at the breakfast table. "Coming through with milk!" (Connor does nothing subtly).

Opening the fridge that first morning, his eyes popped as he caught sight of the six other bottles that I had put there during the night.

"Kirby look!" he exclaimed to his brother, holding up the two bottles he had carried. "Mom's milk...and she has a whole collection!" he said fanning his arm a-la Vannah White under the six other bottles.

Hidden Graces

Today Connor had the usual series of morning melt-downs, brought on by:

1. having to wear brown cords
2. having a long sleeve shirt on
3. the hood on his jacket not being "right"

I got in the car feeling like I just don't know how to mother a child like this. He's so loving and snuggly and fun - and smart! But, when he's frustrated, nothing I do or try seems to ease his frustration.

Husband packed both the boys and me into the van and instructed me to go to mass (Thursdays are school mass days), clear my head, and get a new perspective. Thank God for that man. He stays so calm and collected! And he was right - it was just what I needed. As I sat there, with our beautiful boys on each side of me holding my hands I thought, "Okay Lord, I can do this. For some reason you chose me to be the mother of these boys, so you must have thought I was a good match for both of them". Just then, Connor looked up at me and asked me to snap his pants. As I leaned over to fasten them, he cheerfully said,

"Mommy, I'm really having fun wearing these pants! In fact, I really like the pants and the shirt together!"

Seriously - what do you do with that? Laugh, or cry?

R & R For the Whole Family

This past weekend was a four-day weekend for us, with the boys off school Friday and Monday. Our whole family (and by whole family I mean my sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, mom, etc.) headed to the Western Slope to enjoy a quiet, scenic weekend at my sister's employer's ranch. We had a wonderful time hiking, horseback riding, having a campfire, playing games, and laughing together. Okay, I laughed and played games (and studied some), Husband and the boys did the rest! The boys and their cousin were in heaven as they got to run, climb fences, jump on the trampoline and hang out with the ranch keeper's son. Truly, I was given a glimpse of how I think all boys are supposed to live. It's a shame our lives are so compacted now, and our sons are expected to do most of their exploring and playing in confined spaces. We are grateful to my sister for making the trip possible and we so appreciate her employer's generosity.

With the close of our weekend came Connor's realization that he had to go back to school. He's really done great with school so far, but on Monday night when he kissed Husband goodnight, he said, "Goodnight Daddy, I'm not going to school tomorrow!" Hoping he'd forget about it, we both put on our sunniest faces yesterday morning as we greeted him and tried to help him get ready. He began his day complaining of a headache and mentioning over and over (and over) that he did not want to go to school. Remember, this is the child who tried to fake sick through the entire year of preschool last year! Bearing that in mind, I packed him off to school. About 30 minutes into the day I got a call from his teacher saying he was crying and said his head hurt and he wanted to go home. I assured her of his ability to con his way out of school and we agreed to talk later. When we spoke 2 hours later, she told me she thought I was right - that Connor was faking sick in order to go home. You've never met a kid who loves being at home more than him. I suppose I should take it as a compliment!

When I picked the boys up for school he was a bit lethargic, and didn't act as happy to see me as a boy who had spent the whole day trying to get home should act. As a reward for making it through the day, I drove the boys to a local clinic to get their flu shots (okay, I must admit that I felt really mean about doing this to Connor). On a whim I asked the nurse to take his temp and lo and behold - a fever of almost 101! The poor kid hadn't been faking it at all! So today I am spending the day at home with a little boy who is missing a field trip that he had really been looking forward to. The thing is, I think he's happier being at home sick than he is even going on a field trip - even with a fever, sore throat and headache! I'm sure that will change if he has to get a throat culture or his nose swabbed at the doctor's office!

I can't lie; I'm glad for the day at home, just as I was when Kirby was sick last month. Connor doesn't seem miserable, and it's one of those grey, chilly fall days where it just feels good to hunker down in a cozy house and study (yes, study). I will spend today catching up on the two assignments that are due tomorrow (yikes!) and making my little guy feel special...but not so special that he never wants to go back to school!

The boys and their cousin show off their big find during the weekend- a horse skeleton.
As you can imagine, they now consider themselves paleontologists...
never mind the fact that we're pretty sure it's not a prehistoric horse!

Coming to Terms

It's become very apparent to me that, although the boys are completely excited about the upcoming birth of their little brother, they truly do not understand what it entails. In the car yesterday, Connor asked,

"Mom, the day your baby comes out of your tummy, can we take him to Chuck E. Cheese? You can come too!"

Connor is obviously on the "stork" end of the spectrum - he assumes our little bundle of joy is just going to somehow magically arrive one day. Kirby however, is savvy enough to understand that there is a bit more involved. He gets the fact that I'll need to be in the hospital for awhile. He followed Connors comment with...

"Dad, remember when Mom had Connor and you took me to do something fun? Can you take me and Connor to do something fun while Mom's in the hospital having the baby?"

"Kirby!" I said. "I need Daddy at the hospital while I'm having the baby. I can't do it alone!"

"Why not?" he asked quite innocently.

I tried to use my most chipper voice to casually mention that it was kind of a big deal to get a baby out of a mommy's tummy, and sometimes it hurts a little, and it would be nice to have his dad there to hold my hand.

Sometimes, I think about the stork, and I kind of start to trip out. It's a little bit like Santa Claus. I find myself asking, "Why not? Maybe he's really real." I think it's pure denial about what is waiting for me in three months.

The Miracle of Parenting

The miracle of being a parent is that, in spite of the fact that our children may give us a hard time going to bed, or may throw convulsive fits because we tuck them in the wrong way, we are still eager to see their little faces in the morning.

Husband took the boys to school this morning and I was at a training all day followed by class this evening (so he picked them up and fed them, too). I got in my car to drive home, completely exhausted, and found that I was excited to get home and tuck my little angels in to sleep. Of course, as is often the case in parental-land, I got home to find one of the said angels confined to his room and in bed early for being mouthy and disrespectful to his dad (I hate to name names, but I know you're going to think it's Connor, so I just have to clear him and say that, no - it was Kirby). Disappointed, I went upstairs to tuck him in. When, shortly afterward, I tucked Connor in, I was met with protests over the style of tucking-in that I was using. I was giving a tummy rub when he really wanted a back rub. I brought the sheet up to his chin too early (excuse me - but that's the way he usually likes it!). Refusing to be prey to his control issues, I said good night and walked out, which resulted in screaming and crying for about 10 minutes (and no - I did not go back up. I stuck to my guns, thank you very much).

Isn't it a miracle that, in spite of all that, I've already been into their room to peer at their sweet little sleeping faces? I'm even excited to see them tomorrow morning. I guess it's God's way of making sure we don't take the little guys for granted!

Words Mean So Much

On the way to school the past couple of days, I've heard a couple of interesting things:

Connor (during morning prayers): "And God, please help all the sick people in the world to stay away from us so we don't get sick."
Last I heard, he was praying that God would help all the sick people in the world get better. I guess with age comes cynicism?

Kirby (while listening to Billy Joel's song, The Entertainer): "Mom, how come we sing, 'I've played all kinds of palaces, SEEN all kids of girls', and he says 'I've played all kinds of palaces, LAID all kinds of girls?"
I should probably explain. The boys LOVE this song - I think because of it's funky, outer-space-sounding keyboard lines. We've been singing along to this song heavy-duty for the past couple of weeks, with the boys constantly asking me to "play it again". I thought if I simply sang loud enough, and added gestures implying that Billy Joel has, in fact, "SEEN all kinds of girls" (that would be the universal hand gesture for binoculars), the boys would never notice. Perhaps that was a bit naive.

I told Kirby: "That's just another very rude, very grown-up way of saying that he's seen a lot of girls when he's been traveling the world. It's not something to be repeated at school, and if I catch you singing his rude adult word, then we're not going to be able to listen to the song anymore, okay?"

To which he replied: "Uh, so when he says 'what the HELL, you know it's just as well...' we should probably just say HECK like we have been right?"

I think he got my point. I'm going to have to scan the rest of the CD - I'm not sure I want him asking what "Come out Virginia, don't make me wait, you Catholic girls start much too late" means either!

Compliments

Should I be flattered or disturbed that Connor just said, "Mommy you're hot! I mean burning hot!"? And based upon the context of the conversation, no - he wasn't talking about my internal body temperature.

Times like this make me really wonder if I can handle 3 boys. But then, there is only one Connor!

An Unorthodox Moment

Monday was my monthly exam with the baby doctor, and I found it necessary to take the boys. I checked before-hand to make sure there wouldn't be any sort of examination. I know some people are okay with their kids in the room, but it's not a boundary I'm comfortable crossing. Regardless, it was neat that they could be there because they got to hear the baby's heartbeat.

As we were leaving the house, I asked both the boys to go potty (anticipating my trip to pee in the cup at the doctor's office, and not wanting to share that time with my children!). Connor went, and Kirby insisted he didn't have to go. When I checked in, the first thing I was asked to do - as per usual - was leave a urine sample. I handed the boys, who were settled in watching TV, my purse and said, "Watch my purse, I have to go to the bathroom and I'll be right back."

"Oooh, I have to go too!" said Kirby.

"Me too!" piped up Connor

What? I thought I had anticipated this and nipped it in the bud? We all traipsed into the bathroom, and after the boys went, they chatted away as I picked up a cup and began to write my name on it. All of a sudden, the chatter tapered off and Kirby gave me a suspicious look.

"Uh, what's the cup for mom?" he asked.

"Well," I explained, "I have to pee in it, and then the doctors will test it to make sure that I'm healthy and the baby is healthy." (I honestly don't really know what the heck they test for, or why they take a urine sample, but it must be important, right?)

Kirby like that. "Cool," he said. "Can I try it?"

"Oooh, can I hold the cup?" Connor asked with too much excitement for my comfort.

I did the trick, all the while trying to ignore the boys' gaping stares. Then, I opened the little door in the wall and put the cup in the two-way cupboard. This completely baffled the boys, and as they started to question me, I told them to listen. We could hear the nurse opening the door on the other side. I said, "Look!" and opened the door to an empty shelf.

"Where'd it go?" they asked.

I couldn't resist. I proudly told them, "The pee fairy took it!" then had to giggle at my quick wit. Kirby saw right through that but Connor, completely taken in said:

"There's a pee fairy? Does she leave money?"

Kid In a Jam

While I was on the phone with our health insurance company today, I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the front yard, where I knew the boys were playing. It was more than the typical screams that can result from one brother taking the other brother's bike, so I ran outside. At the end of the driveway, right by the curb, I saw Connor splayed out with his bike lying on top of him. My immediate thought was that somehow a car must have hit him, and my heart went up into my throat. Upon closer inspection, what I found was a little boy with his leg stuck in a very strange place:And I mean, it was stuck! No amount of turning or twisting would get it out. Fortunately, our neighbor was home and had rushed over when he heard Connor scream. He ended up having to take off the training wheels, remove the chain, and rotate the pedals backwards after which the little ankle slipped out quite easily. The whole ordeal took about 15 minutes, at least half of which Connor spent blasting out my eardrum as I tried to calm him.


Thank goodness for neighbors! This is one I would not have been able to figure out myself (I was lobbying for removing the pedal, but I think it would have been harder).

Next on the docket? Calling the insurance company back and waiting on hold - again!

Accolades

Connor to me, when I sunk the ball on a particularly challenging hole on Wii Mini Golf:

"Yay!
Let's hear it for the
pregnant girl!!!"

First Things First

There are so many things to post about, but first I have to tell the story of the lemonade stand. I hope I haven't built up this story too much, but it really must be told - if only for posterity's sake, so that the boys will have a record of it when they are older.

Our garage sale day dawned early (my mom had us up and lugging junk out onto tables at 5:45am). As we prepped for the sale, the door to the garage suddenly swung open and there stood Kirby in his pajamas, eyes sparkling and a huge smile as he assessed our progress. "It's garage sale day! Lemonade stand day!", he said. Clearly, you can see that he had filed the event in his mind somewhere between Christmas and going to Disney World. At about 9:30am, we put a table at the end of our driveway with two little chairs, a large Igloo cooler full of lemonade (CountryTime, because I'm so fancy - but wouldn't you know two neighbor kids told me I should give their moms the recipe!), a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and Connor's cash register. Kirby created the signage for the cookies and lemonade, and I included a sign letting our neighbors know that the boys would be donating the proceeds to the St. Vincent De Paul Society (or as Connor says, "The St. Paul Uh-sigh-tee), our church's food pantry.

The Boys Open Their Sales Day

Kirby Oversees the First Sale

Sales were steady, and they were one quarter at a time. It was fun, as a parent, to see our two boys working together for a common cause. Of course, Kirby had designated himself as the "Head Boss" and Connor as the "Assistant Boss". Kirby, having to leave for a birthday party at 11, reluctantly turned the operation over to the Assistant. That is where I got my first big surprise: as I looked up at one point from my conversation with my mom, we saw Connor, from his chair, stop a large group of people who were walking on the sidewalk. "Would you like to buy some lemonade?" I heard him ask one of the grown-ups. I almost fell off my chair! I hate to compare children, but Connor usually takes his cues from Kirby, and Kirby would never have approached people like that (like his mom, he's afraid of rejection). The man stopped, thought about it for a moment, and then said yes. "How many would you like?" Connor asked. I was all smiles as I heard the man order 8 lemonades, but Connor took it right in stride. He got up from his chair, walked around to the front of the table, counted out 8 lemonades, and poured and handed them out. He very somberly collected all of the money, and called up to me for help when two of the girls came back to buy cookies and needed change.

Connor Serves up 8 Lemonades

Note the cell phone (not operational) sitting on top of his cash register. He was prepared for anything!

For the next three hours, I was continually surprised and proud as I watched him single-handedly man that lemonade stand.

The kid never left his post. It was hot and sunny and he was focused. My heart just about burst.

See the notebook he's writing in? He was keeping track of how many people came - purely his idea.

At the end of the day, Nana helped Connor tally up the earnings, which came to $36.00. That's a whole lot of lemonade and cookies!


I thought one of the neatest parts of the day was when Kirby came home from his birthday party and asked Connor to show him how much money he had made. Connor punched the button to open his cash register and Kirby's eyes bulged when he saw all of the money in it. He was genuinely proud of Connor and told him what a good job he did. At that point, the boys comfortably slipped into their more familiar roles of Head Boss and Assistant Boss.

The End of an Era

*I wrote this blog last Thursday, and was waiting to post it with photos. That won't happen for awhile - I'll blog on that soon.

Okay, "Era" might be a slightly dramatic word to describe the three years we've spent at Gethsemane Lutheran Preschool, but then, I'm a slightly dramatic person.

Today is Connor's last day of preschool, and he is overjoyed. He's got visions of the two of us spending every day together as a "Connor and Mommy day". Faithful to the bitter end, he never gave up his quest to try to get out of going to school. As recently as two weeks ago he faked a headache, and even this morning he begged me not to go. It might be tempting to think, "Poor kid, he really must hate school!", but don't be fooled; he does great once he's there. Connor's problem is that he's not still in my womb. He would be perfectly content to park it there for the next 10 years or so, I'm afraid. At the very least, if he could get his umbilical cord back and just be attached to me, I think he would settle for that. So, while he ran around excited this morning because it was his last day, I walked around the house sneaking into corners to have a cry and trying to hide my tears.

Change is hard for me. Have I mentioned that before? It's possible that I am inappropriately attached to Mrs. Matzke, the world's greatest preschool teacher. I already mentioned (in my last post) how fabulous she is, so I won't rehash it. I will just say that I will forever be referring to her combination of compassion, steadiness, wisdom and sparkle as "The Matzke Factor".

Now...moving on to a summer of enjoying my growing boys and their passion for adventure and laughs. I hope I can keep up with them!

*Note that I'm fine now. I just needed to spend Thursday living in the emotion of the moment. I eventually do come around to change. I'm just a little slower at it than I'd like to be!

For a Mother's Love

It has come to my attention that someone in this household hasn't yet learned to effectively communicate his love; and no - it's not Husband (he's pretty good that way). The Little Patient hasn't complained of any pain until early this morning, but he has definitely been out of sorts, and by out of sorts, I mean grouchy, and by grouchy, I mean - MEAN. Actually, he's really only been mean to me. My mom says I should take it as a compliment; that kids sometimes take things out on mommy because she's an easy target, a safe place to vent some frustration (or in this case, pain). If that's true, then right now I'm feeling very loved. Maybe that's how I'll try to look at it from now on.

A Little Patient With Lots of Patience

Wow! Husband and I are both amazed at how well Connor came out of his surgery. His post-op nurse said she's never before seen such a great "wake-up" from anesthesia after a T&A. I hate to brag, but our Little Patient is being an absolute doll, charming all of the nurses with his pleases and thank-yous - even within 10 minutes of waking up! I guess it helps that we expected the worst (Kirby was miserable as soon as he woke up from his) and got the best.Here are some photos of our day:

Connor with our friend, Dr. Kim Nelson.
We are thankful that it was her performing the surgery!

Getting Ready to Enter the Op Room for Anesthesia

Within an hour of surgery, the Little Patient was
already smiling and holding his own oxygen.

Things Connor loves about being in the hospital:
having his own TV, getting to pick out the movie and
channel by himself, a tilting bed, endless juice, and
getting his own knife (he was very excited to cut his mac & cheese!).

So, it looks like we'll be heading home later this afternoon, instead of having to spend the night. I think even our Little Patient is surprised at how good he feels, especially given the following conversation:

Me: "Connor, what do you think of the hospital?"

Him: "Good."

Me: "Do you remember anything about your surgery?"

Him: "Yes, I remember they took out my tonsils, but I didn't feel it. And Turin said they were going to suck out my brains, but they didn't!"

No wonder the kid got so nervous before the surgery that he couldn't stop shivering...he thought he was going in for a full lobotomy!

Something I Haven't Mentioned...

There's something that I haven't written about yet that has really been weighing on my heart. Connor is having surgery on Tuesday morning to remove his tonsils and adenoids and put a new set of tubes in his ears. I know this is a very routine surgery, but when a parent thinks about kissing their child goodbye and trusting them to someone else's care, it's a very scary thought.

Connor will be at Children's Hospital, getting what I know is the best care. We're lucky to have a good friend performing the surgery and she adores him. While I know that there is always a slight possibility of routine surgeries having complications, that's not what is bothering me. It's the moment that Connor wakes up and comes out of his fog and realizes how much pain he's in. The thought of that makes my heart want to burst. 

When Kirby got his tonsils out two years ago, I had no idea the full extent of what he would go through during recovery. Now, I do know and I wish I didn't. Oh, I know that this is all for the best, and that Connor will be much happier and healthier once we get this taken care of, but it doesn't stop me from thinking of how changed his little world will be when he wakes up Tuesday morning. I am trying to keep this in perspective, and am thankful that this is a tonsillectomy and not something more serious. While I'm at the hospital Tuesday and Wednesday, I will be praying for some friends who have spent a lot of time in hospitals over the past few months, as their daughter, who is the same age as Connor, fights leukemia.

The Boys Speak Out

Sometimes, kids just say the darndest things. And I know that sometimes I should be just appalled at what comes out of their mouths, but truthfully, most of the "naughty" stuff is also quite funny.

Today, as the boys and I were getting out of the van after school, I asked Kirby to be sure and pick up his hat and gloves and bring them inside. I guess he must have answered me, telling me that he had already put them in his backpack, and I guess I didn't hear it. What I did hear was that when I repeated my instructions to him, his reply was "I told you I put them in my backpack - woman!" Now, how do you respond to that? Upon uttering the last word, Kirby gave me a sly look and a cautious smile, as if to see how well that went over with me. Of course, I could hardly stifle my laugh as I told him that it was inappropriate for him to address any female in that tone (I think he got my drift).

And on the cute side...I had to laugh out loud when Connor told me today that he didn't want any more of his hot chocolate: "I guess I'm just not a hot chocolate kind of man." Now seriously, where does a 3 year-old get that?

Connor's Idea of a Good Day

Today Gramma and Pop-Pop head back to New Jersey. We've had a wonderful 2 weeks with them. The boys have gotten to do all kinds of fun things, we've enjoyed some great meals out, and Husband and I have welcomed the company and all of the help with the house and the kids that their visits inevitably bring.

As sad as it always is to say goodbye, today was kind of bittersweet, because it's the first day that we've had no company and that I've had no school, so Connor and I get a day all to ourselves. This morning, when he sat up in bed, he rubbed his eyes and posed the question that I hear so many mornings:

"What are we going to do today?" 

"Nothing", I told him.

"Are we going to be together?"

"Yes", I said.

A huge smile spread over his face. "Goody!"

My sentiments exactly. Sometimes all we need to get filled up is just some quiet time with the ones we love doing nothing - together. Today I vow not to get on the computer again, not to do any more housework, and to just revel in a little boy who, for right now, wants nothing more than to be together with me.