Report

After Michaels first day of school, I asked him how it went.

Mommy: What did you do there?
Michael: I don't remember.
Mommy: You JUST left, and you don't remember? I am worried about your memory.
Michael: I remember. She just bossed us around to do a bunch of stuff.

Meet the Teacher

Michael has his first real day of school tomorrow, but today was 'Meet the Teacher' day. He was quite nervous, but while we were there he decided it was really fun. His teacher, Mrs. Kravitz, was super nice, too. Believe it or not, we had HOMEWORK. Ugh. Add it to the list.

Yes, Baby. He Can.

Tonight while I was putting Michael to bed, I talked to him about our Aunt Maxine, who he loves. She has been very sick and probably won't be with us much longer and I was trying to explain to him that he won't see her again, but that we can always love her. He thought about that for awhile and asked, "What is heaven like, mommy?" I told him that I didn't know, that we don't get to know until after we die, but that I imagine it is the nicest place that we could possibly think of. He thought about that and then asked, "Mommy, can God fly?" To which I answered, "Well, I bet he can, yes. I think he can do anything." Michael looked at me hard with a furrowed brow, like I might be a little crazy. He then asked incredulously, "Can he do a back flip?"

Dad Entry #32

Megan is a pacifier connoisseur. The other day I grabbed a ‘paci’ out of the cabinet and she complained about the color (it was blue; she prefers pink). Then, after one taste, she grimaced and said, “It has a crack.” It did, in fact, have some holes where she’d bitten through it. She’s also rejected paci’s because of a brushed, matte finish on the tip that changes the texture. She prefers the smooth-tipped variety. These are the details that can ruin an otherwise familiar, satisfying experience. We’ve compared the paci habit to smoking before, and now, with her connoisseurship in full swing – and the paci about to go away for good, she only gets one at nap and bedtime now – the parallels to smoking are more obvious than ever. Smokers have preferences too, their brand, package type (box / hard pack / soft pack), and other options like lights, ultra-lights, mediums, menthols and 100’s. Does anybody smoke unfiltered anymore? The variables, the recipe, have to come together just so. There’s a ritual and, of course, the addicted need the fix they crave. Another similarity I noticed: Megan handles paci’s with amazing dexterity now. When she first gets one, there’s an urgency perhaps, not to mention countless repetitions behind her. If she pops one in her mouth and it’s rotated or askew she rights it instantly, snapping it into place with her lips and a little suction. Yep, same as a smoker on that score. I’ve seen smokers light cigarettes in windstorms. Confidently. With their last match. No problem even as swirling, high winds are scattering debris around them. Steady as can be they flip out a match, strike it in cupped hands, move the cigarette tip into the flame, inhale. And they do this without breaking eye contact with you while you’re talking. Impressive.

We went to the horse farm again. Michael is a regular Lone Ranger now. He will likely be too big to ride in the Derby some day (when I imagine an adult Michael with other jockeys, Will Ferrell in the movie ‘Elf’ comes to mind). But Michael is quite comfy on animals that, frankly, scare me they are so powerful. Next we’ll teach him how to shoot a Winchester Repeater while on horseback, or maybe do a little calf roping. He could join the rodeo. Or lead a posse. I’ll join. I bet vigilantism is back in vogue because of all the superhero movies in recent years. Of course, Michael’s crew would be tougher than Billy the Kid’s Regulators in the Lincoln County War. Although the theme at the horse farm is distinctly ‘Tombstone’ and not ‘Lincoln County’ since Diane and Kirby’s horses are named Wyatt and Doc.

The Newest Obsession

Lego® fever has gripped our house with a fervor. And hand in hand with that, Star Wars. Michael has become quite the creative battle station builder. From two vantage points (please note impaled alien):

She Bit His Ass

Today we went to lunch with our friends Stacy and Charlie at Steak 'n Shake, which was nice to begin with but even nicer when the manager comped our meal due to the few hundred ants we found under our table noshing on a french fry.

When we got home, I told the kids to go wash hands while I put things away. Shortly after that I heard silence, then a scream, then crying. I came to the kitchen where Michael was sobbing and standing on the stool in front of the sink with Megan loitering nearby looking guilty. I asked Michael what had happened...if Meg had hit him. He choked out, "She....she....she BIT me!" When I asked where, he pointed to his tush, where I did in fact find teeth marks.

I have been sitting here for a full minute trying to figure out how to end that story, but I find myself unable to say anything else about it.

Rocking with Dinosaurs

A girlfriend of mine hooked me and Michael up with tickets to Walking with Dinosaurs. It became a little date-day for the two of us. We started at Spunky Dunkers, which is (no joke) the local donut haunt. Michael took one bite of his chocolate long john and said, "MOM! My tooth is coming out!" While the tooth did not let go completely, it is in fact, barely hanging on. So number three comes on the heels of losing number two.

We went downtown to my old neighborhood, Wicker Park, which has gotten over-the-top cool. We stopped at the farmers market and the great park they built for the kiddos (finally...it was a hazard to life and limb when I lived there). Then we headed to the United Center for the show. We had amazing seats, right up front. The dinosaurs were unbelievably lifelike (we can only assume) and Michael asked several times if I was sure they were not real. He didn't seem too frightened, except for one point when the T-Rex stood looking at all of us for awhile...he screamed, "He thinks we're FOOD!"

Speaking of which, we finished up the afternoon with a stop at Costello's in Roscoe Village, one of the very best sandwich shops ever. Michael was thrilled that we had pigeons eating scraps from right under our feet. And with the cookie he didn't know came with his sandwich. A sweet ending to a perfect date.

Clean Bill

The docs called today and the EEG was completely normal. For those of you that did not know, Megan has had two seizures recently, which we are fairly certain are directly related to being mowed down by Michael on his big wheel (accident!) and hitting her little baby head on the pavement.

So the course of action is...drum roll please...wait. That's right, wait and see if it happens again, at which point we will embark on a medical mystery tour of MRIs and cat scans and more wires and sedatives. Hopefully the seizure road ends here.

EEK! It's EEG Girl!

So Megan was a CHAMP. She stayed awake all night with no real moments of fading. Amazing. At about 5 am, we hit the Dunkin' Donuts and Walgreens to browse. She got a Cars sticker book and was quite content. She thought it was so neat to be up all night...but the promise of a nap at the hospital was so alluring that she actually wanted to go there before the donut shop! Once we arrived (and took a ride on a sweet little cart like the airports have), we got her all hooked up 'á la WALL•E' (to make it less intimidating) and she fell asleep about five minutes post light-dimming. Good girl. And now she's back to sleep, hopefully for several hours. Results pending.

It is 2:09 am...

and Megan and I have been awake for an hour and a half! We're up for the night of no-sleep EEG prep. Right now, Meg is eating grapes and cinnamon toast and playing with a stacking toy. Thought everyone might want to join in on the fun. If we're both awake (and we better be) I'll try to post again later to show how pathetic we look. This is the BEST NIGHT EVER.

A Gem

A few days ago, Michael and I were sitting at the table discussing our family tree. We talked about how mommy and daddy have a mommy and daddy...and "who are they, Michael?" He correctly answered those.


Then the line of questioning got a bit tougher.

Me: "And who do you think Grandma's mommy is?"
Michael: "Grandma Bev!"
Correct!

Me: "And what about Papa Mike's?"
Michael: "Grandma Marilyn!"
Correct!

Me: "And his daddy?"
Michael: "Papa Byard!"
Correct!


Then Michael's young, but typically impressive, brain gave away its limits.

Me: "You know Papa Byard has a mommy and a daddy, too."
Michael: "Were they prehistoric men?"

Dad Entry #31

Last night before bed, I challenged Michael to a round of “I love you more than….” I led off with an impressive volley of massive quantities. “Michael, I love you more than all the water in the ocean, all the stars in the sky, and…” – my kicker – “all the Legos ever made!” I figured this was unbeatable, and the Lego reference sheer genius. (Legos are the most popular toy at home lately). But Michael is a cool cat. He kept his composure, and very shrewdly countered with, “Daddy, I love you more than a hundred and a thousand Jupiter's.” Hmm. A hundred and a thousand. Maybe that’s 1100 technically or maybe it’s simply the largest amount, numerically, Michael could conceive of and express. Maybe I should teach him millions, billions, trillions and tell him, “Daddy deserves at least a trillion Jupiter’s, Michael.” But here’s why Michael just might’ve outdone me anyway: Jupiter is the largest planet in our solar system! Much larger than Earth and all its oceans and Legos. And the reason I know things like the relative size of Jupiter? Because I chat with Michael every day.

I'm Grooming him for Greatness

Yesterday Michael called to me from the playroom, "Mom! I made something that looks like a building!"

I didn't know how to respond since he has built things that actually ARE buildings many times now. Out of curiosity, I went in to him and he handed me this little Lego® creation. I asked him what on earth he meant. He explained that he meant it looked like a thing ON the building that I stop at sometimes near his preschool. Chase Bank.

http://www.chase.com/Chase.html

Tales from the Car

Exchange in the car:
Michael: Mommy, I do NOT like Megan. I do NOT like anything about her.
Me: Wow, Michael. That's not the nicest thing to say. That might make Meggie feel sad.
Megan (spaced out until this moment): Yeah, Michael, that makes me sad. It makes my head hurt. And my hands. And my knees.


Statement in front of Target:
Michael: Mommy, guess what? As I get bigger, my heart gets bigger and that means I can love people more! I already love Grandma and Papa Mike and Grammie and Papa John...and now I have room to love Gretchen, too!
Me: Oh, she'll be so happy to hear that, Michael.

Little Einstein

It is shocking, really, when you consider what this generation of kids will know about computers at such a young age. Michael has mastered my mouse, inspired by the Lego® website. Not PBS Kids, as I would have hoped, but Bionicle and Mars Mission Lego® sets have captivated his little technological heart. After a long day of surfing, I think I will have to limit screen time.

That's Right

So this photo does not even begin to tell the story of Megan's obsession with band-aids. You see four, maybe five if you look closely, on her left arm...but in reality, there were at least ten on there. All on one arm. It's a good look and does not garner stares (at me) at all when we go places.

A Little Laugh Helps...

At the kitchen table this morning, Michael looked at me very wide-eyed for a moment. Then he said, "Wow. I just had a burning hot pertz. Burning hot like a lava pertz." Most of you are familiar with what a pertz is (if you know my family), but if not, I assume you can sort it out with minimal effart. I mean efFORT.

Dad Entry #30

Michael had a great week at Gramma’s. It’s Papa Mike’s house too, but Gramma gets top billing, kind of like A-Rod gets a little more attention than Jeter now at Yankee Stadium. Both are still All-Stars. But even with Gramma, Michael had his moments; their relationship was stressed a few times in their 8 days together. At one point Michael declared he and Papa Mike should “put Gramma in jail.” That was after Gramma ended playtime in favor of bedtime. Or maybe she made him ‘go potty’ which Michael refuses to do until his eyes water and he pees “like a firehouse” as Papa Mike recalled. Michael asked every night how many days he had left, followed by negotiations for more. Michael cried on Saturday when he realized the clock was ticking down on his last day.

Megan and I joined Michael and company for the weekend. Uncle Bill drove the boat fast at Clear Lake! The kids loved it, but Megan was especially breathless when recounting the details to Mommy! Both kids swam and played in the sand so much we’re still finding grains of it in places like ears, scalp, under nails, in every crack and crevice. Actually, that’s not true, the sand is gone since I scrubbed the heck out of them immediately afterward. But it was indeed trapped in many places.

With Gramma and Papa Mike, Michael did the movie theater, the aquarium, the zoo, the Mall of America amusement park, Cleary Lake (not to be confused with Clear Lake farther south in Iowa), and Aunt Jenny and Uncle Scott’s house with Alissa and Elle. Michael and Alissa play well together, as do Meggie and Elle. Cute. Michael and Alissa scuffle and scold each other on occasion, but based on the many hours they chose to play and swim together, they are fast friends. Good times.

There were four big dogs at Clear Lake though, and I don’t blame Megan for not trusting an animal that bit her. She wasn’t afraid of Belle at Gramma’s, but Belle is the most passive pet in the world. You can steal Belle’s food, tug on her ear, and poke her in the eye and she will only smile. Megan loves Beller-Feller (and doesn’t do any of those things to her, I was only making a point). Megan’s even forgiven Zeke, I’m told. But she screamed whenever a dog sauntered too close to her, or stood in her way, at Clear Lake. The cabin there is pretty cozy, so this was nearly 100% of the time. She swatted at them a couple times which I observed with raised eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. I like the fact she wasn’t submissive or defenseless! That-a-girl, you swat anything that bites you! Of course I didn’t want them to ‘swat’ her back. But I was right there, she was swinging at them with one arm while clinging to my leg with the other. I do love it when she clings to me!

Another One Bites the Dust

Well, another of Michael's pearly whites has jumped ship. This one fell to a DQ dilly bar while in Minnesota with Grandma and Papa Mike. They noticed a bit of blood on his ice cream and saw that the tooth was gone...but gone where?! We're pretty sure it went down the hatch. They had to employ some creativity for the tooth fairy...I can't wait to hear about it in the morning. Thanks for the photo, Papa!

Dad Entry #29

I haven’t posted a journal entry in over a month. Well, I read this today online and I have to post it. This is an excerpt from an article entitled “My Father: The Outlaw” by Juan F. Thompson, the son of Hunter S. Thompson, “I understood him when I became a father. Only then could I understand how completely and totally a father loves his child, from the day he is born, and how that love just increases. A couple of months after my son was born, I called my father and told him that I finally really understood that he loved me and always had. He didn't say much, something like, "Well…uh…good. Did you see the Raiders game on Sunday?" It was okay. He didn't have to say anything more. I understood.” My sentiments, exactly. About love between father and children, I mean. My father is, and always has been, expressive and affectionate so that part doesn’t apply to me, just the fact that experiencing fatherhood puts the feeling, the love, into another place in terms of realization or recognition, like going from black-and-white to color, 2-D to 3, like thinking about sky-diving vs. doing it… whatever. In fact, not that long ago, I scribbled this onto a piece of paper, “Just imagine if God loves us like we love our children. Just imagine.” That’s a rather pleasant thought, actually (sorry, I feel a sudden need to sprinkle levity) and when held or achieved or believed, even the slightest bit, not much can disturb.

We saw Kung Fu Panda the other day. Right in the middle of the movie, Michael turned and said to me emphatically, “You were right, Daddy, this IS a cool movie!” It was a little too much stimulation for Meggie, though. Her eyes were very wide during most of the film and when I whispered a question to her once or twice like, “Are you okay, Love?” or “Po is funny, don’t you think?” she chattered on, mostly gibberish around words like ‘fast’ and ‘loud’ and ‘flying’ and ‘crash’, for several moments in response while I tried to get her to lower her voice in the theater. I love sitting by Megan at the movies. Of course, her knees don’t bend over the edge of the seat. They don’t reach the edge of the seat. Her feet barely do. We can fit a little bag or bowl of popcorn in between her short little legs though and she’s quite happy. So cute.