After a particularly bad day of infighting amongst the little people, K looks deep into F’s eyes and says:
“Baby. . . . .I *guess* you are my favorite baby in the whole town. I’m never going to say bad things to you.”
Pure.
Love.
or something.

Explain this:
How can K remember the words to the TingTing’s Great DJ song (which he’s heard twice), but not be able to identify any of the alphabet (which we’ve worked on considerably more than twice).
Is this good or bad, I ask myself.
And like most things in parenting, it just is.

The house across the street is vacant and for sale because Margaret, who lived there from birth until death, died.

K says that when he grows up, he is going to marry F and they will live across the street in Margaret’s house. Unless Bob or Mike (our left and right hand neighbors) die, in which case they might live there instead.

I’m crying uncle and the winter has technically not even begun. We have had colds for 2 weeks. F’s seems to have moved deep into her chest but I really don’t want another doctor visit where I’m told, “This seems to be . . . .a cold.”  The night-time hacking in our house is both stunning and tragic. PleaseGod we will get better. T and me being sick is one thing; Kentucky and Fried are entirely another thing.

Add too to our list: corneal abrasion. Yes, dear Kentucky somehow scratched his eyeball. Last Thursday, he made it through lunchtime at school and then T went to get him. He wouldn’t open his eyes, he was screaming in pain, it got worse and worse. Through the night Th, he woke every 1-2 hours screaming. It was a long night. Realizing at that time that it might be more than pinkeye, we took him to ped at 820am. She couldn’t see what was wrong and so sent us up to opthamology. K had his eyes closed the whole time and mostly was sleeping. Well, except when he was screaming and kicking the poor doctor. I’m sure she’s been kicked before. Right? Maybe?

So the whole family waited for TwoHours to see opthamologist. I have to say though that he was almost worth the wait because he was awesomely awesome with K. Honestly. He was absolutely, bar-none, the best. Best.

Anyhoo, he looked and put drops in and looked again and even got K to put his face in the big machine so that he could look into his eye with the blue light. Diagnosed an abrasion. Put more drops into screaming K, then some ointment into more-screaming K. Then we left.

K slept all day Friday. All day. It was kind of freaky. (And blessedly quiet now that I think of it.) He screamed a little more that night, but was definitely feeling better. Improvement continued as we put the ointment in his eye for 5-7 days. Well, except on the 6th day when I was putting the ointment in, as he lay in bed, at night, in the dark. . . . I poked him in the eye with the ointment tube. Yep. The little moments that make me question, seriously, my abilities as a mother.

For now, he is better.

My parents took K/F to the apple orchard for their halloween festivities. K had an exceptionally good time and didn’t want to leave. So he cried, his big realllly sad cry. A man working there said, “*someone* doesn’t want to go home! heh heh.”

K cried all the way to the car, then didn’t want to get into the carseat. So my mother told him that they were leaving and if he didn’t get in the carseat he would have to stay there and get a job.

K stopped crying and starting walking back toward the barn. My mother said, where are you going. K said, to get a job.

yep.
true stories, all.

we were all riding in the car last night, october 30, 2008, looking for HALLOWEEN decorations. that’s a big deal (see previous entry). K/F are in the back seat, T is driving and i’m just riding along. T thinks he is being sneaky, having brought a handful of snack-size candy bars and surreptitiously unwrapping and eating them while driving.
K says, “dad, what are you doing?”
“nothing.”
“dad, what’s that noise?”
“nothing.”
“dad, what are you eating?”
“my dinner.”
“dad. . . . i smell candy.”
who gets points for winning that one?
ha.

menards
K is all over halloween. Every time we venture out of the house, on foot, in car, on bike, in stroller, we must search out halloween decorations. Then, when we find them, we must pause discuss them for at least 15 minutes, evaluating both their strong points and their deficiencies.  We are halloween lurkers. In front of some houses, we have sat parked 3 or 5 or 7 times. Lurking.

And then we went to Menards.

Over the weekend, K, F and I went to buy a light fixture for our naked (and dim) dining room. Imagine our great surprise (!) and delight (!) when we saw not only a menagerie of halloween decorations, but little wonderland of CHRISTMAS TOO!!!!

We had to walk through, slowly, examining perusing pontificating. We were there for a longggg time. Even before we left, K was making plans to take dad back there to see everything. Indeed he asked 3 times that day if we could take dad back there, right now. But actually dad wasn’t even home; he was out of town for the weekend.

His favorite halloween thing was a little rock+roll skeleton with blue hair, a suit, and black boots. When the button was pushed, the little skeleton danced, sang, bobbed his head, and tapped his boot.

His favorite christmas thing was a blow-up chimney, into which an upside-down blow-up santa disappeared (and then re-appeared). Second favorite may have been the upside down christmas tree– pure novelty enjoyment.

Who would predict that such free fun could be found so close to home.
Menards.

You are so lucky.
You are so lucky.

She says it all the time, T’s mother’s cousin Margery, when referring to K/F. I always thought she just meant it conversationally, like your kids are cute and you have a nice little family, a boy and a girl, how nice.

Then last time she added a bit about a family she knows whose 4 year old has leukemia. Then she mentioned another family, with a young boy who died from cancer. She, Margery, is of course fighting her second bout of cancer herself–  surgery and radiation. And finally, dumb me, I get it. I am SO LUCKY.

I am trying very very hard to say this every day. I am SO LUCKY. I will myself to stop worrying about all the possibles, and eventuals, and maybes in our future. Truth be told, I know nothing of our future. Anyone could get sick at any time. Anyone could die. But for today, I am SO LUCKY, because we are all ok.

We have everything we need.

I love my babies. I love my kids. That said, these past couple of days weeks are killing me. I am so tired, like bone tired. Even when I get enough sleep I am bone tired. I know from reading other things on the www that I’m not alone in this. My situation is not unique or special or noteworthy in any way, except that it’s mine.

Oddly, I don’t type this to complain, but rather to marvel. Marvel that this parenthood thing has been going on for so long, with such apparent success. I mean, the species has not faltered due to lack of reproduction, in turn due to parenting being so damn hard.

I know that perhaps my age and our current familial situation likely has something to do with my fatigue. We have separate schedules. We are essentially taking turns being single parents (and with that statement I will piss off all the truly single parents). I am relying on my parents for childcare every week lately. They have been happy to help thus far, but I don’t want to suck them dry. I want them to have the energy for and luxury of being grandparents.

My father said to me the other day: These days will pass quickly; ENJOY them. That made me sad because it says that to an outsider, I’m not enjoying this. Though I am. When I’m not worrying about something, or tending to a sick one, or re-doing our budget to see if we can afford food AND daycare, or trying to pick up for the millionth time the ten-millionth toy, or basket of laundry, or pair of shoes. I do so enjoy them when I get a little sleep and don’t have the other pre-occupations. I love to sit and play ball with F. I love to read to K. I love to have time alone with each of them. I love to lay on the bed with them and hug. I love to go for walks and to the library. I love them and they bring me such joy. I can’t believe they’re my kids; I can’t even believe I HAVE kids some days. But here are these 2 little wonders who are so smart and funny and cute and precocious that they fill my heart.

My friend keeps saying that we’re in the vortex, lay flat, lay low, wait to be shot out of the tornado. And from experience, I know that is true. Once F is one year old (in 5 weeks), I will begin my slow ascent back to normalcy. I can stop pumping, can breast feed at will, with leisure. Can stop freezing milk and washing bottles. She will slowly transition to her own crib. As we get through this first year, I’ll have a better idea of our finances and how they have been affected by adding a person to our lives. I won’t need to worry so much about medical issues; she will have made it to one year. As our house/yard become more lead-free, I can cross that off my list of worries. As she gets older and I can leave her without her crying her head off, I will not feel so pressed to rush around squeezing in housework as able. Even this makes it sound a little like I’m just wishing away their early childhoods. But I’m NOT. I am simply trying to make it out the other side.

In the meantime, I try to act somewhat sanely and balance at least a little. I’m not doing so well, I know, but I will do better.