You're Original, Cannot Be Replaced

Yesterday, Griffin turned nine. Nine!

Which means he's old. And I'm freaking old.

It's harder to write about my boys as they get older; it's a respect thing, I get it. And I share what I'm told is okay to share.

Being an SPD kid is not fun, everything is bigger. Disappointment is harder, hurt feelings are more tender and the bests of days is joyously awesome. It's a roller coaster for all of us, and overall it's an amazing ride.

Soccer is still awesome and you're excited to try out a kids' curling class.

You like to be busy (heh, I think you get that from me) and want every moment of every day planned. You also get quite upset if plans fall through (again, from me) and we commiserate together.

We're more alike than you care to admit, being a Daddy's boy now. Beyond the eyebrows (which you ask for me to trim, but tweezing and waxing are not allowed), we both have problems finding our Nerds (it gets easier as you get older, I promise!), we're tenderhearted and heart on our shirt-sleeves kind of people. We're both sarcastic and "love" to use air quotes.

You love art and architecture, and you got a couple of books to inspire and get your creativity going. You create games, characters and stories. You should really write them down more - the oral histories you are coming up with will be lost if you're not a bit more careful.

You're an amazing big brother and love your little brothers so much. Although, you openly hope Emerson will pester Darwin, to give him a taste of how he pesters you. And no, I don't plan on having another baby so Emerson can get a taste of that medicine. Crazy kid.

Happy ninth birthday Griffin! Our family wouldn't be right without you here!

'Cause the Boys in the Hood are Always Hard

The plan was to write about Valentine's day. Just let the record show, that I had a plan. And it fell through. 'Cause that's what life does: it jumps up and bites me in the ass.

My overly-rosey cheeked babe got a little too rosey last week, his cheeks started to flake on Friday. Got worse on Saturday, which is when Aaron got home. Started to ooze on Sunday and by Monday morning was just... too much. Too, too much.

Called in, got an appointment, took him to the doctor. They started a round of antibiotics.

Not good enough.

The oozing got worse. Thick. Yellow-ish. Beading like an ice-cold drink on a warm summer day.

Trust me, this is not for the faint of heart:


That's not lotion. That's ooze. Think, crusty, stick to everything ooze.

I wanted to call the doctor yesterday, but knew we should ideally have 48 hours of antibiotics in him.

He was even worse this morning. Of course, he spent his night screaming.

Called, got an appointment, took him back today. Swabbed his cheeks for testing (results hopefully Friday). New antibiotic, new steroid, new antihistamine. Aaron worked overtime, is headed to pick them up now. Constant nursing and car rides are the only thing that calm him down. He doesn't like acetaminophen nor ibuprofen and spits them up.

Sigh.

Then, this evening Darwin didn't have his glasses on 'cause he's been wearing them so tightly, he's cracked the skin above his nose and it won't heal.

At dinner, he thought it would be "funny" to put the fork up to his one good eye and pretend to be in jail. I calmly moved it and took it away and then gave A VERY LOUD DISCUSSION ON WHY WE DO NOT PUT ANYTHING CLOSE TO OUR EYES.

(Short story: Darwin lost vision in his left eye after an accident when he was 15 months old. Long story here.)

This caused Darwin to cry a lot, but for Griffin to completely lose it.

Between the two boys, and the baby not being held, it was a round robin of crying over here.

'Till the Princess is Annoyed

What the frack apple jack? Mama's bloggin'? NO WAY!

Yes, way. 'Cause I FINALLY GAVE UP and went to the doctor. Who was all "Giiiiirrrrrlll, you got a sinus infection." And then they swabbed my nose and made me hang around and BAM, I got a great big prescription for antibiotics.

Forty-eight hours later and I'm magically feeling better. IMAGINE THAT.

Other than being sick around here (and let's be honest, very little else has been happening so just amuse me, mkay?), we've been working on getting Emerson to sit. Above, yes. That's how he "sits." Not upright, hunched over like an old man. An old man I surround with pillows.

Also, hello gluten-, dairy-, soy-, nut-free certified organic brown rice cereal! (Say that three times fast.) Baby likes to EAT.

And thanks to the cereal, Mama has rediscovered her mastery of getting poo out of clothes. Hello, blowouts. You can go away now.

Emerson makes Wookiee sounds. This rocks for two reasons:

1. Wookiee sounds. From a baby. Awesome.

and

B. We call my dad "Wookiee." Good to know the Capello genes are alive and well in my light-headed, light-skinned babes that look nothing like their Mama EXCEPT FOR THE EYEBROWS, I KNOW.

In fact, the Wookieeness is so strong, when he watches this he communicates back:



(Fast forward to the two minute mark if you're impatient.) (But if you don't like that song, I don't think we can be friends.)

In other news, I would like to announce that not only did we have a full week of school (no! snow! days!), Griffin and Darwin were also healthy enough to attend school all week. To have both boys at school five days this week is a first since.... December? (I'm ignoring the fact that Tuesday was a half-day.)


On my agenda this weekend?

- make handmade Valentines for my four boys

- continue to feel better

- sleep!

- celebrate Aaron coming home from a business trip tomorrow afternoon

- kick Aaron out of the house if he's still sick

- watch the snow melt!

Our Bodies Going Num-Num-Num-Nu-Nu-Nu-Numb

Last weekend (yes, as in over a week ago) we celebrated my birthday.

Normally not writing about my birthday would be A Major No-No but this year I have decided, woe, I am old, so screw that.

Also? All my gifts were purchased at the hardware store.

My boys have class.

Oh. And Darwin did get me a highly inappropriate card (Oedipus complex much?) that Aaron didn't even catch on until I sat him down and explained it to him.

Lordy lou.

So, anyway. Yes. My birthday. Then the next day, all hell broke loose.

"All hell" in this instance being some hybrid of the flu and head colds and stomach viruses and acidic drippy noses and AREN'T YOU GLAD I'M NOT WRITING ABOUT MY BIRTHDAY?

Let's do this another way...

Family: sick

Griffin home from school for four days.


Baby ran fever, got snotty and broke out in a rash.

Aaron got sick.

I got sick.

Darwin has a perpetual drippy nose.

Emery and I spent four hours at urgent care yesterday.

Big snow and ice storm coming.

Typical January.

No Principals, No Student Teachers

The boys are still in jammies. Why? 'Cause we had another snow day today. Two last week. And? We just got a call that our trash service isn't running for the rest of the week, maybe next week.

Kansas? Mother Nature? You can stop now. Please.

In other news. Ever try to take a picture of a happy baby without a flash?


I'm sorry. That's just pure awesome.

And when he gets tired of the clickity-click-click-click?


Emery is not amused. Nor is Kylie. But more because that little human stole a lot of her attention. Bitter much, puppy?

And yes, I did make him that bib. He's such a drool-y, puke-y, gnawing-y baby he has to wear bibs at all times. We average four a day. And guess what? I despise bibs with velcro. Can't stand them, they chew up whatever they are washed with. Which means they get washed alone.

So, yes. I made Emerson a bib with a snap. Because snaps rock!

And yes, snaps do rock! But you know what else? It took me over an hour to make a stinkin' bib. All those carefully (or, ahem, not-carefully-enough) curves take for. ev. er. to mange. And I have a quilt to work on.


I am unofficially (and I mean, very unofficially) participating in the postage-stamp quilt along. Of course, it just added to my pain when I was told by the old biddies at the local quilt shop that a two-inch-square quilt is not a postage stamp quilt. It has to be one-inch or less.

It's hard not to tell old biddies to shove it.


In any case, I have three sets of strips together (after I spent over an hour getting reacquainted with my seam ripper). Fifteen more sets to go.

So maybe, maybe? I'll have this quilt top completed by May. Maybe.

We Gon Light it Up Like it's Dyn-O-Mite

We're on our second snow day here.


The chatter of three kids is amazing.

They are vocal little buggers.


The two big boys just came in from the snow. The babe is upstairs talking to his mobile. I'm drinking hot tea and eating a brownie. Don't tell.

I did something a wee bit crazy on Sunday. I decided to make a postage stamp quilt. Crazy, I tell you, simply crazy. I expect my fabric in the mail any day and I fully anticipate driving you all crazy with it as well.

You are welcome.

Hard to be Soft, Tough to be Tender

Confession: none of our Christmas decorations are put away.


It's driving me crazy.

But, Griffin is sick and it's a full-time job just keeping him away from Emerson. And keeping him away requires a lot of dude!'s and honestly, I fully expect to pull my hair out 'cause Griff can't remember anything (including properly English, as he just asked, "Dad where be at all day?") and I'm starting to feel like a valley girl 'cause you know once I add too many dudes! to my vocabulary like and totally are gonna start following it up quickly.

Dear Universe: I would super-appreciate it if everyone in my home was healthy. And if they could please structure their sentences in a proper form, that would be a nice shiny, sparkle-y bonus.

For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

I'm the first person to admit I like things shiny and new. New years are no exception.

Usually, I'm happy to see a year go: I like the promise of a fresh start and the (happily) unexpected. But 2010 was a fantastic year to us, and I am a wee bit sad to see it go.

In January, we found out we were having a surprise! baby.


In February, Griffin turned eight.


In March, Aaron (who's from Michigan, 'cause you know no native Kansan is this crazy) and Darwin built the most gigantic snowman.


In April, we spent an obscene amount of money and had two dead trees removed. (Two days later, a huge wind storm would have surely made one of them crash into the house.)


In May, the boys gardened while I was on bedrest. (Notice how I'm not talking about the crazy-awful pregnancy.)


In June, Darwin turned six. Six!

In July, I was tortured by something horrifically frightening in our garage.


In August, I completed my first quilt...


... and days later we welcomed Emerson.


In September a water-main broke, which is located under our driveway.


In October, we visited the pumpkin patch (hands down, my most favorite day of the year).


In November, we celebrated Thanksgiving (and was extremely grateful to have Aaron home since being gone since Halloween).


In December, we went to Michigan and relished our Daddy time as he was hardly home this month.


January is already full of big excitement and plans - Aaron's already booked out for the month (but some of it will be home!), I received a rockin' promotion with my company, Griffin and Darwin continue to stump us with their intelligence and humor, and Emerson squeals. No, I mean, squeals!

Happy new year! May this be the best one yet!

Just Think What Tomorrow Will Do

Presents were wrapped, cookies were baked and clean laundry was chucked in the playroom to be dealt with on another day.

After the last few months, the holiday was frazzled. But that's what holidays are suppose to be, right? Frazzling?

[Just nod your head in agreement, mkay?]

The last week of December is my favorite, it's finally an opportunity to relax. Time to play with stuff, to hang out as a family and put some damn laundry away.

Seriously. It took me five damn days but now all our clean laundry is put away. Not a single laundry basket is in use.

Just don't ask that situation in a few hours.


So now we're lego'ing, reading, not watching the clock, eating leftover cookies and one person in particular is teething.

Yeouch.

I'll Do Anything That You Want Me To

Nope. Baby's not any better. Two showers daily is my minimum and I still smell like vomit.

Happy holidays!

Coming home from Michigan, Emerson stopped pooping right. And did you know? That day after we got home Aaron went out of town again. Which means he was home the weekend of Halloween, Thanksgiving weekend, 36-ish hours one week and with the family for his sister's wedding in Michigan. That's it.

So four days after we got home I took Emerson to the doctor 'cause he was pissy. And I mean piss-say. And he's not a pissy baby.

Before we left he had... you know. "Done his business" and his "business" looked like shredded tree bark. The doctor ordered x-rays, said he had some bits of constipation, gas and fluids and should be better in a few days.

A few days later she called and ordered us to the hospital for emergency x-rays (have I mentioned Aaron was out of town?) after a radiologist looked at his first batch. Nothing worse, but nothing too much better. So I volunteered to eat a dairy-free diet to see if that helped.

I've been on this dairy-free diet (which I know I'm doing right 'cause Griffin and Darwin have been diary-free FOREVER) for 10 days and now I'm getting sick (I'll save you the details, but yes! my digestive tract!), Emerson's kinda doing better with his digestive tract but not significantly better (hello, more shredded tree bark lookin' stuff and pissy baby today!) and did you know? Christmas Eve is tomorrow, Aaron just got home Sunday and I have so many godddamn hormones running in my bloodstream, all I want to do is cry BUT I CAN'T CRY 'CAUSE I HAVE TOO MUCH TO DO.


But all my babies are alive. And healthy. (-ish)

So we're having store-bought cupcakes for holiday desserts. I'm only making two types of cookies (which, let's face it, it may get cut down to one), some presents are gonna be grouped together for less wrapping and I'm gonna do my best to stop freaking the fuck out and try to relax until we see the pediatric gastrologist in February.