I’m Starving

It’s a saying we use all the time: “I’m starving”.   We say it when we’re the tiniest bit hungry or when it’s past meal time or when we just want to eat a lot of food (which for me is frequently).   We’re not starving, we’re just hungry.   If you’re reading this blog, you’re likely not in a situation where you’re literally starving.   You hopefully have the means to eat and drink when your body needs food.    Still, it’s a phrase that’s highly overused.

On Sunday my daughter couldn’t eat anything after dinner time because of her procedure the following day.  We finished dinner at around six-thirty and she had some juice shortly before bed.   The next morning she could have clear liquids up until nine o’clock in the morning.   She drank a decent number of calories before we went to the hospital, but because there was no food, she told me she was hungry about seventeen times.   So many times in fact that I suggested we head over to the hospital early so I could get her mind off the hunger and to the toys she likes to play with in the pre-op rooms.

While we were at the hospital she informed me several times that, “my tummy is telling me I’m hungry”.   She knows and understands she can’t eat until after the procedure on account of how many times she’s done this by now, but it didn’t stop her from complaining.    Considering I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before as well, I was in agreement with her.

There was a NICU patient with an emergency that Dr. Trese needed to see before us, which absolutely takes precedence and we certainly don’t complain about little tiny babies getting emergency care they need, but it meant an even longer wait for us.    By the time my daughter went into the OR it was past 3:30PM.  

The procedure was quick and she recovered swiftly from the short time under anesthesia and we were off to the mall to get the one thing she wanted: Chick-Fil-A.   The line once we got there was exceptionally long seeing as the restaurant had just opened.   There must have been forty people in front of us easily.  

We eventually got our food at almost six o’clock, nearly twenty-four hours from our last meal.    It was good.  It was delicious.   I was a very happy person as I sat there eating and watching my daughter get Polynesian sauce all over the table, her face and her arms as she ate her nuggets.

We had been hungry, that’s for sure, but we weren’t starving.   We weren’t even close to starving.   Not having enough food to sustain your body is no joke and something awful no one should have to endure.   It’s a giving time of year.  Hopefully much of the giving will be able to be used to feed people for more than just the holiday season.

The Big Boy Update:  My son is now obsessed with Harry Potter.   My husband finished reading the first book last night and they started in on book two tonight.   My son has decided he wants to have a Harry Potter birthday party.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  In one of those non-sequitur comments children are so famous for making, my daughter asked me in the car yesterday, “mommy, why is Dolly so big?”   Dolly is a doll (Dolly is her name) that is about four feet tall.   She’s floppy and can easily fit into a bag, but she’s pretty big.   She is much, much bigger than any of the other stuffed animals we have.   I told her I didn’t know.  Sometimes as a parent you just don’t have a good answer to those “why” questions.

And Now For Something Completely Different:  You don’t realize how much you appreciate Poopourri until you’re in a hotel without any.

Stuck on the Plane

My daughter and I took our time this morning getting ready to go to the airport.  She wanted to eat at the little bistro at the front of the hotel, saying their chocolate muffin was delicious.   We had coffee, orange juice a banana and a muffin while we sat by the fire in the lobby.    Then we went back to pack up and head out.

We weren’t able to get seats on the plane due to over booking, but I wasn’t overly worried we’d get on the plane due to offered incentives.   I also wasn’t too worried we wouldn’t get seats together because usually people don’t want to sit beside a five-year-old without their mother.  (I would have been fine with someone else entertaining her for the flight and knowing her, she would have made a new best friend.)

We got to the gate with plenty of time to spare given the inbound plane was delayed and we had an extra forty-five minutes before boarding began.   We got those seat assignments (together) without even a question asked and when boarding began we got on the plane and settled in for the reasonably short flight home.

When we landed I texted my husband who said he was leaving the house as I sent the message.   I figured we’d get to the pickup area at about the same time.   It was then that the captain came on the speaker, telling us there was a problem.

The problem was the entire airport was out of power.   There was a regional outage (meaning larger than the airport).   The airport did have generator backup running, but it didn’t run everything and for good reason, power went first to things like the traffic control tower and other essentials.  

What was out of power for the time being was the gangway, which needed electricity to move from its parking location to connect with the side of our plane so we could disembark.   We were right there at the gate, but without power, we weren’t going home yet.  

Most of the passengers were understanding (because how can you get mad at the airline when there’s a power outage they have no control over) but some passengers weren’t so understanding.    I was just glad we were home, or almost home at least.

There was conversation between the pilot and the ground crew about getting a stairway up to the plane, but as there was no ground entrance for us into the terminal it wasn’t a straightforward solution.    In about twenty minutes they were able to divert power around and we were able to get into the terminal.

It was interesting what did have power when we got inside.  There was reasonable lighting and planes were still planning on boarding and departing from the lit monitors and announcements I heard.    The moving walkways and escalators didn’t work but that was just more walking for everyone.   From the looks on their faces I could tell there were serious problems for some passengers…the Starbucks concession didn’t have power.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was glad to see both my daughter and me when we returned home today.  He did a lot of hugging and smiling at us.   He was happy to see us, but it was clear he was trying to ingratiate himself with us so he could ask where his Lego Dimensions present was.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter and I were in the pool “at Detroit” as she calls it, going back and forth between the hot tub and main pool.   I like sitting in the hot tub because, well, it’s hot.   My daughter, not so much.   She told me, “I’m attracted to cold” and headed off to the main pool, which she decided was her house.

Good News, Stable News, It Might Be Bad News

If my daughter was trying to win an award for the most complex eye case, I think she could well be in the running.   We had an EUA with her retina surgeon today.   The total time with her doctor today was five minutes discussion before the procedure, a fifteen minute procedure in which he looked at her eyes and a ten minute discussion afterwards.   That’s thirty minutes of incredible expertise, hampered in half by my questions to gain a grip on what’s happening.

First, the good news:  six weeks ago we came to Detroit well ahead of schedule because my daughter’s vision was decreasing and we didn’t know why.  Her pressure had dropped to six in one eye and I think zero in the other eye, which is respectively bad and abysmal.   He artificially increased the pressure with Healon and set a recheck for today, six weeks later.   We all hoped the pressure would maintain.   Today she had a pressure of seventeen in her left eye, the highest number I’ve ever heard, and thirteen in her right eye.   This is good news.   Long term her eyes may never be able to maintain pressure on their own, but that can be managed with the Healon.

The stable news is her clouding lens (or cataract) in the left eye.   Dr. Trese said he couldn’t get much view into the back of her eye as a result, but it doesn’t look much more clouded than last time he saw her.   He can’t see in well, but she can see out far better than he can see through the short distance into the back of her eye.

She does however have some new vessel growth around the iris area.  We’ve seen this before, way back, when this all started late last year.   These aberrant vessels grow to try and get more oxygen to the eye.   He said they’re very small and shouldn’t affect her vision much and they’re also small enough to hopefully not impede the eventual removal of her natural lens.

I asked him if once a cataract starts to form, does it ever stop progressing or will it always continue?  He said it will likely continue to get worse, but for now he doesn’t think it should be addressed.   Removing her lens will disrupt her main vision so waiting until the procedure is necessary is the most prudent course.  He plans on discussing the latest situation with our pediatric ophthalmologist to plan for the future and to determine who is best to do the procedure.   As an aside here, he was very impressed with what he saw her doing visually when he came into the room given the state her eyes are in.

The, “it might be bad news” part is the right eye.   To sidestep for a minute, what can the right eye see at this point?   The right eye was more damaged having only light and dark perception last year.  Her retina is now attached and the rods and cones have had time to heal, but she doesn’t seem to be seeing much of anything with the eye.  Recently she’s let us patch the left eye for upwards of twenty minutes to get some exclusive use of the right eye, but when we’ve done so she seems to see almost nothing and uses the skills she’s gained over the past year to navigate as she moves around

Today he said there were two things happening in the right eye, specifically in her field of vision.    While the retina is lying in place and flat, there is one large fold right at the left front of her eye.   It’s the area of retina we would use only for extreme peripheral vision but in this case, it’s folded in and is  blocking the left side of her field of vision.   He drew this diagram:

What’s the “Baby Swiss Cheese” part, you say?  I’m glad you asked, because that’s what he talked about next.  There has been cellular growth from the area in which they removed her natural lens.  This happens in a percentage of patients and in the case of my daughter, that cell growth has created a matrix with small holes in it, making it “like trying to look through Swiss cheese”, Dr. Trese said.   Then he clarified his statement saying, the baby Swiss kind with the small holes.

So even if she can see with the right eye, it’s not getting much chance to be able to see with what’s going on in the front areas.    Dr. Trese wants to perform surgery on her right eye on December 12th to remove the cell growth and see if the retinal fold to the left is in any way attached to the cells, possibly freeing it up to flatten back out.   There’s a also chance that fold is from her retina stretching while being detached in which case it will likely remain as is.   One good bit of news though is the PFO heavy substance in her right eye, which was put int to help flatten the retina, is still there and might help flatten the remaining fold.

So, silver lining?  Can the right eye see but hasn’t been given a chance to or is all this on an eye with a retina that just doesn’t work any more?   We won’t know unless we try.    So it’s back to Detroit in two weeks for eye surgery.    Best Christmas present yet would be some returned vision in her right eye as a result.

And on a final note… as we were at the mall after the procedure, I got an unexpected text message from my daughter’s Pediatric Ophthalmologist asking how things went.    She is one very kind and caring doctor.  It always amazes me how doctors who take care of so many patients have time to remember you and check on how things are going.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was unable to focus at school the last time my daughter and husband were in Detroit.  This time he said he was going to work on something special for his sister and me while we’re gone.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter said so many things that were funny today but I’m going to put the one here that was the most touching.   We went to the mall to eat after her procedure.   She had brought her panda purse full of pennies for the fountain.   She not only likes to throw them in, she likes to makes wishes.   I sat beside her for a while, listening to her make a wish and then throw a penny in.   Not one wish had anything to do with her vision.   She’s not mourning the loss of her vision, it’s just her reality.   What is apparently wish-worthy is for Avi be her best friend at school, for Madison invite her over for dinner and for her brother be happy about the present she’s bringing home for him tomorrow.

The ICE Car Experience

I haven’t driven an ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) car since April until today.   At home we turn on our little electric cars and they glide silently out of the garage (with the exception of the radio blaring to some children’s song).    There is no rumble of the engine at any time because there is no engine, only a motor.     It's become something I’ve gotten accustomed to and until today I hadn’t been reminded of the differences.

Today was not unlike the first day I drove our Tesla Model S insofar as the experiences of driving electric and a gas-based car are different.   I remember being in awe of how different our new car was in little ways from my eight cylinder enthusiastic gas consuming BMW.   After that, for a year-and-a-half, I transitioned daily from the electric car to our Honda minivan without thinking much of it.   When you’re driving both types of cars you just accept the differences because that’s how each car drives.

Today my daughter and I arrived in Detroit for another one of her eye evaluations.   I got into the rental car, put the key in and turned it on.   It was a 2015 car but I worried for a second if it was in proper repair because the rumbling was, well, rumbly.   That’s known as an "engine idling” and is normal, I reminded myself.

Then I put the car in reverse and was surprised because I took my foot off the brake and it started moving backwards.   Creep, or idle speed, is something an electric car doesn’t have (unless it’s on a hill).  This creep thing got me for the first few stops going forward too.   I stopped at the check out gate for the rental car place, took my foot off the brake and had to quickly put it back on again.

Then there were the brakes.   I mentioned in a post right after we got our first electric car how regenerative braking caused a significant reduction in the need to press the brake pedal.   If you use regenerative braking to as much potential as is reasonable, you regain charge on the battery and reduce wear on the brake pads, which is like a double win.    A gas-powered car goes faster, not slower down a hill and doesn’t slow down much without you pressing the brakes to prepare for that upcoming red light, sharply turning off ramp, etc.

And the last thing, which has absolutely nothing to do with the electric car, but is a feature I’ve gotten accustomed to is the keyless ignition feature.   Lots of cars have this: you keep the key in your purse or pocket and press a button or some other option to start the car.    I got out of the car today to get my daughter and it wasn’t until I leaned in to get my purse in the passenger seat that I realized I’d left the keys in the ignition.   I was so used to our cars simply locking up after the key was out of range I completely forgot.   How embarrassing.

It’s been half a day now and I’m back to not thinking about driving an ICE car.   We have two days more in Detroit with my daughter’s EUA in the morning.   Hopefully it will be just a look and he won’t have to take any action.   If her pressure is good we’ll may be able to move forward with having her cataract removed in the left eye.    But more on that front in tomorrow’s blog post.

The Big Boy Update:   My father-in-law had gone upstairs with my children for bed the other night.   Papa suggested my son go and pee before sleeping.   He told Papa, “I can handle it, I don’t wet my bed”.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Thanksgiving morning my daughter was very excited to have so many family members in town visiting.   My husband and I were being exceptionally lazy, taking a rare opportunity to sleep in (until eight-thirty) since other people had gotten up early.   My daughter got onto the bed, stood at the foot and said, “when are you going to come join the fun?”

Balloon 1, Lamp 0

We had a lamp accident today.  I should have seen it coming, it was my fault, I have to admit.   I’ve been ordering all sorts of fun little things in the mail and one of the items was a ten-pack of very large balloons.   They’re bigger than the punching ball balloons you may have played with as a child with the rubber band attached to the end.   These balloons are over two feet across once inflated.

With these big balloons slightly under-inflated they’re resilient and exceptionally bouncy, so we started playing bouncing games in the house.   We had fun with the first balloon for almost a week until my daughter decided to lay her entire body on top of it and bounce up and down until it burst, which was a surprise to her but not to the adults in the room.    The second balloon had a “no body slams” rule and we proceeded to come up with all sorts of games with the most popular being a point system for hitting the balloon hard enough to tag the ceiling, the railing of the second floor bridge in the vaulted area of our living room and most importantly, getting on or over the bridge for serious bonus points.

My son was perhaps the best at this game, possibly because he refused to have his points reset after each game, tallying up over two hundred by the time the lamp incident happened today.    I had gone out and called my husband to ask about lunch plans when he put my daughter on the phone as she was crying miserably.   She said the lamp had broken and then said some other unintelligible words through her tears.   My husband got back on the line and talked about the shattered ceramic lamp base and the cleanup process which was underway.

I changed my shopping plans and headed off to find a replacement lamp.  My husband sent a picture of the remaining, matching lamp with height dimensions.   I was lucky in that I found a reasonable priced replacement at the first store I went to.   The lamp was in a set of three, which was nice because we’d still have matching end table lamps and an added floor lamp for a spot that sorely needed light in the living room.

I came home and we’d assembled the lamps in short order.   We’re not sure we like the new lamps as much as the old ones because they aren’t quite as large and our living room, being a two-story valued space needs big feeling lamps to fill the space, but we like them and we’re going to see if they grow on us.   The floor lamp added a nice touch to the room as well.

My husband said the broken lamp wouldn’t have happened in most cases.  Indeed, the lamps had been hit by the balloons before,  but because they were heavy and big, it just off-kiltered the shade a bit which was easily righted.   My daughter did some sort of slam dunk at just the right distance to cause the lamp to crash.    But to be sure, the balloon was “accidentally” popped and thrown away, thus ending the game.

Not an hour later, my neighbor’s daughter was in the house and had found one of the smaller, punching bag balloons from somewhere else and hit it in the living room—right into the new lamp, which fell over and crashed onto the floor.   The bulb broke but thankfully the lamp survived.   That balloon suddenly suffered another deflation at the hands of some scissors.   Now we get to see how well the lighter lamps (which look quite nice) manage with two five-year olds in the house.

The Big Boy Update:  Uncle Bob and I were in the craft room this evening doing some wrapping when my son came in.   He saw cardboard boxes and went to my jewelry plier drawer.   He asked if he could do “plier work” on one of the boxes.  I let him select five different types of pliers and sent him to the front porch with a cardboard box.   He was out there happily for some time mangling the box in all sorts of ways.  He asked me to keep the box for him so he could do more “work” on the box tomorrow.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   Not knowing what my daughter can and can’t see sometimes makes simple observations interesting.   She was at the park late this afternoon, walking along, holding Uncle Bob’s hand.   She said to him, “your shadow is so long”.  It’s exciting to know she can see some things, I just wish she could tell us what the world looks like through her eyes.

Do Aliens…

Children say the darnedest things.   Wasn’t that an Art Linkletter saying or the name of a show?  I didn’t understand it until I had children and now I understand it and it makes so much sense and it’s great.

As adults we have brains full of lots of things.   We have brains constrained by what we’ve learned and observed over the years and what we know to be “the way things are”.  It’s why we don’t think to ask why the sky is blue, because we already asked that question long ago.

Children aren’t hampered by knowledge.   They don’t know how things are suppose to work and they don’t have years of observational data on how our world behaves.   The result is interesting questions and funny statements.

On Tuesday my daughter asked me, “do aliens grow smaller or bigger when they have a birthday?”   You can follow the logic, right?  She knows children grow bigger as they get older because we just measured her height on the wall and marked off another year in her closet.    She knows about aliens because even Mickey Mouse Clubhouse has an episode with “Martian Mickey” and aliens are mentioned in all sorts of places.    But do aliens grow the same as we do?

How do you answer that question though?    We try to always be honest with our children and we try to keep fantasy to a reasonable minimum, because we know children are trying to make sense of the real world and throwing in imaginary characters and places only makes things more confusing.

So I told her we didn’t know the answer to her question.  I explained how we, as humans, hoped to find other forms of life, but so far we haven’t been successful.   My daughter and son asked questions about where aliens might live and how we might meet them.    I told them there were people who dedicated their lives to looking for signs of other life in our universe and that if we did meet aliens some day, we could find out if they grew bigger or smaller on their birthdays.

The Big Boy Update:  My son asked for me to come up after Grandpa had read a story to them tonight.   It turns out he didn’t like the color of his bed sheet and wanted it changed.   It was dirty and in need of being changed so he and I changed it together.   As we were finishing he said outlaid to himself, “ugh, my tongue is dry as sand”.   He went to the bathroom and got a drink of water from the sink and then went up to bed and went right to sleep.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  At dinner tonight my daughter said,  “there are two kinds of sweet.   Candy is sweet because of the taste, and I’m sweet because I’m nice.”

Except for the Yeast Rolls

Today was a lovely Thanksgiving day.   We had my parents, my in-laws, two of my brother-in-laws and some close family friends over for dinner, socialization and camaraderie.  Everyone was in good humor, starting with the sampling of the champagne (or sparkling wine) selection we’d been collecting over the past several years.

My husband and I had been given a bottle of sparkling wine at our wedding, nearly seven years ago, from the Bellagio in Las Vegas.   We’d never gotten around to drinking it and that bottle had collected along with four other bottles of sparkling spirits since that time.    We started with our wedding bottle and made it through four bottles before dinner was through.   I think, on the whole, our wedding bottle was the best, although perhaps I was somewhat biased by the occasion on which we got the bottle.    I wasn’t alone though in thinking it was better in quality than some of the other options.

I was excited because finishing by finishing up those bottles, we were going to gain not one, but two door shelves in available space in our refrigerator in the garage.   Those shelves had been occupied by bottles for years until tonight and I, for one, am looking forward to using them for other purposes.

There was one calamity with our dinner though—dinner rolls.    It was my fault I suppose.   My husband had phoned, asking if we needed thirty-some rolls from Costco on his trip on Wednesday.  “Seriously?” I think I said, commenting on the thirteen guests and the overabundance of bread products in our house already.    So he didn’t buy the rolls and as a result, we were bread-free for our Thanksgiving meal.

This lack of bread was no problem to me as I find the bread the most mundane and least exciting item on the menu.   I prefer to spend my stomach space on dishes people have made for the occasion instead of bread from a store.   But some disagreed with me.

I was the brunt of incessant “lack of yeast roll” jokes all night.   It was great.   Although I’m not completely sure if a few of our guests are planning on boycotting Thanksgiving dinner in the future unless there is a guarantee of rolls, buns or some sort of bread item to go with the meal.  

Good times.   Good food.   Good family and friends.   Even if we didn’t have rolls…

The Big Boy Update:  This morning I said to my son, “good morning”.   He turned around as he was walking away, thought and then said, “good morning and happy Thanksgiving.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  “It’s not fair” is my daughter’s new saying.   As I’m writing this I have heard her say it twice already.    It must be a five-year-old thing.

Woe Is a Day Without Pants Pockets

I am telling you, if there is to be a day my children are bound to say the cutest, funniest, most outrageous things, it is sure to be a day I don’t have a pocket in my pants large enough to hold my cell phone.  

Today we were at the house all day so I wasn’t worried about losing track of the phone.  If anything happened notification-wise, I’d get the passthrough information on my Apple Watch.   If I needed to take a call and I really wanted to talk on my watch, I could do that (I typically don’t want to do that because holding my wrist to my head isn’t all that much fun.)

Most of the people involved in our day were arriving at one point or another thus signaling the start of our Thanksgiving long weekend.   It was a fun day, it was a happy day—it was a day full of children crying at each other at eight-thirty in the morning because of some sort of insult or intentional injury due to hard feelings.

I think that may have been the overriding theme of the day: “I don’t like what you did and I’m going to exact revenge on you as a result.”   We have six children in a four-house proximity, all of whom move in and out of our house as the flow of friendship moves them.    And all of them seemed to have short tempers today.    I say this as the one adult in the area who had equally poor temperament today.   I don’t know what it was, but I was on edge.    So my apologies to the my children who are reading this years from now, because yes, I was in a crappy mood today.

But enough of that, let’s talk about blog-worthy sayings.   There were a lot.   There were at least five, maybe more, which is a bumper crop in the land of blog ditties I try and capture each day.   Only on account of my new pocketless pants, I got none of them written down.      Tomorrow, there will be pockets, that’s for sure.

The Big Boy Update:  My son said, “turkey makes me sleepy.”  I told him there was scientific evidence behind his statement that made what he was saying true.  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter thinks my name is in Malted Milk Balls.   I hated to correct her, telling her they weren’t actually called “Mama Milk Balls”.

My Little Punishment

My daughter had her five-year wellness check yesterday.    I don’t think they were called, “wellness” appointments when I was a child so if you haven’t heard of the phrase before it means the periodic appointment children have with their pediatrician to check on how things are going.   Growth metrics are collected, questions are asked, the child is looked at and talked to and you, as a parent, have an opportunity to ask about all the things you’re concerned are indicators your child may not be well or normal or is it a bad thing that you can’t get them to eat peas?

It’s also your chance to ask questions like, “why does my son prefer to stand around in soiled pants for hours instead of just going to the bathroom when he needed to in the first place?  In the case of my daughter conversation tends to be around her eye situation, particularly and especially when there is a new doctor (because your old doctor retired) and a medical student in the room with you.

We were told there would be shots in the case we’d like to prepare my daughter.    Then they decided to get a blood sample from a finger prick to check for iron levels.  We did prepare her for the shots, which she was not thrilled about, but understood they had to happen, we all got them and the pain would be over quickly.  

We also told her there would be a little “poink”, as she likes to call things pointy, that would be on her finger first to catch a drop of blood.   I’m going to jump ahead and tell you that this little tiny poink turned out to be one hell of a problem.    But at the point of explaining what would happen to my daughter, it was just a little prick and a drop and it would all be done.

The nurse came back in and my daughter wasn’t thrilled, but was manageable.   The “Poink” machine jabbed into my daughter’s little tiny finger and she went nuts.   She was screaming and kicking and fighting and, woah, we were telling her, it was over, no more pain, just collecting of the blood.   She only needed to stay still so we could get a few drops of blood into the collector tube that didn’t hurt at all and we would release her.

We were holding her because she was combative and bleeding quite freely.   The poink happened to hit just right and we had blood—and it was going everywhere.   It wasn’t so much overall, but it was getting on my hands, my husband’s hands, the nurses’s hands and of course my daughter’s hands.    There was far more blood than would have been necessary to collect in the little tube if only she had calmed down for twenty seconds.  

She yelled at us to let her go.   She screamed that it hurt.   She cried out in general insult and injury.    And by the time she relaxed enough for us to get the tube up to her finger, there was enough clotting factor in her blood that we couldn’t get a drop down into the reservoir for the test.  

We moved on to the shots, which were very fast and involved screams for less than thirty seconds as my husband, the nurse and I held her down so she could get them done quickly.   My daughter fought well though or it would have taken only ten seconds.

With a bandaid on her finger and one on each leg, we took her back to school.    I found out later that her legs did hurt her during the day when she was playing outside.   I apologized to her because I didn’t think the shots would hurt after they were done.   We try to be honest with her because she needs that honesty with all the medical intervention she’s had and I felt badly I hadn’t thought to tell her she might have some soreness later in the day.

As she was talking to me she told me, “and my little punishment hurt too.”   What?   I had to turn around in the car to find out what she was talking about.   She was pointing to the finger that had the prick on it.    I realized she thought we had been saying, “a punishment” when we’d been saying, “a punch test”.   I told her we weren’t trying to punish her at all.   I hope she understood.  

Later in the day I heard her talking to herself as she was playing an imagination game.   She talked about how she had had two shots and they didn’t hurt at all.”   She was definitely putting on a strong face for her imaginary friend.

The Big Boy Update:  My son told me the other day, “I have the most magnificent teacher, Miss Cathy.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  I told my daughter that, “her little punishment” was not intended to be a punishment at all and we never want to hurt her.   I hope she believes us, although with all the medical things happening to her, sometimes it’s hard to convince her of our good intentions.

What Does It Look Like?

We have no idea what things look like to my daughter.    She can’t tell us what things look like in comparison to what they’re supposed to look like because she doesn’t know what they should look like.   We know she doesn’t have a simple prescription-based solution where a lens correction would fix her vision problems.   We just don’t know.

She has a wrinkled retina on which the images coming in to her eyes are distorted, only we don’t know how much those images are distorted.   And by images, I suppose I mean image, since her right eye really doesn’t see anything measurable at this time.   As an aside, maybe the right eye can see things but the brain isn’t paying attention to them or maybe the right eye will begin to see things in the future or maybe it won’t ever see anything again.   For now, let’s just talk about that one, left eye and see what it might be seeing.

This is the view from our front porch.   The top is the actual view and the bottom is my husband’s estimation of what the view might look like.   We think it may look more like the right side of the picture (which is more obscured) than the left side.    For instance, there is a small path light pole just to the left of the walkway at the mulch line.    My daughter has no idea that’s there and has run into/over it before.

This second view is our kitchen.   My daughter is low down, just like the picture.   Her colors are off so she sees things not true and sometimes gets colors wrong.   Again, the right side of the picture is more distorted and may be a better idea of what she is and can see.

My husband had an idea to try and make some guesses at her actual vision and decided to take some pictures into Photoshop to see what he could come up with.   They’re a good guess I think, although I think they likely show more than she can actually see.   Still, she seems to be able to navigate around with the information from the bottom halves of the pictures, so maybe it’s not too far off. 

The Big Boy Update:  My son wanted to take our triangular prism to school today for show and tell. We don’t let them take things to school too often but this seemed like a good one to allow.  I told him to be careful and keep the prism in the protective container.   He agreed.   My husband, before we had gotten into the car had further told my son four times to be careful with the prism.   I asked him to give it a rest, because he was going to be careful and the repeated reminders weren’t going to make him any more careful and were conveying the message in fact that we didn’t think he was trustworthy or careful enough to be entrusted with the prism.   Furthermore, it was a $10 prism and we could get another one if something untoward happened to our current one.     I picked up my son from school with a bandage on his thumb, an incident report from his teacher and some very kind words from her that there had been an accident with the prism.   I told her (and my son) it was okay, we’d get another one.    My son had been upset about the whole thing and hadn’t been able to focus for much of the day after the prism incident.   We talked and he had, indeed, been careful—only he was excited too, especially since the prism was so interesting and he didn’t ask to take things to school very often.  He knows we’re not mad.   I told him I put on my holiday wish list not only a triangular prism, but a pyramid prism too.   Maybe we’d get both, who knows?

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter had her wellness check today.   There was a finger punch (one of those quick stabs) to get a few drops of blood for an iron test.   My daughter didn’t hear what we had called it (a quick punch) and thought instead she had had, “my punishment test”.   

Old Lollipops

My children were talking about lollipops in the car yesterday after a birthday celebration.   My daughter was excited because there was a lollipop tree at the birthday party cooking class company.   It was a lot like P.T. Barnam’s “See the Egress, right this way” type of thing.   The children were told if they headed over towards the door (thus leaving the party area) they would find a lollipop tree they and could select a lollipop to take home.

Or beg to eat the lollipop right away is more like it as every child was asking their parent the same thing.   My daughter was excited by that tree because we have one during holiday times at our house. She wasn’t able to see that the tree at the birthday celebration was a tall log with holes drilled into it and was wholly unlike the tree we have at home.   The concept was the same and she asked me about when and where Gramps got our tree (she knows he gave it to us).   I told her a little about the history and then my husband and I got into a side discussion about lollipops.

We knew the ones we’d been putting on the tree weren’t new as we had put them in the attic and then put them back on the tree last year.   They were holding up fairly well though, considering they hadn’t crystallized and were looking new-ish, at least visually so.  

We decided I’d better order some more for this year’s tree.   I remembered the only place I’d been able to find them easily was on Amazon.   There are a lot of fancy, varieties these days so if you only want flat, round, single-color suckers like we used to find decades ago, you have few vendors to select from.  

I searched around and yet again, had to look for a while until I found just basic suckers.   I was about to purchase the suckers when I noticed a note at the top of the page from Amazon: “You purchased this item on November 20, 2010”.  

That means I’d found the same lollipops, only they were much older than I realized.   They were, in fact, five years old.   They were so old that when I originally purchased them, my daughter was only nine-days old.

I’m glad we decided to order some new suckers this year.

The Big Boy Update:  My son came around the corner saying, “I command you to destroy all the ladies with glasses!”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was going to do her patching work yesterday when her friend, Madison, said she wanted to do it too.    The two ladies got on their patches and I thought they were going to have a good time, but about two minutes later Madison said she was done and so my daughter decided she’d had enough too.    Maybe we’ll get more time in on the patching front later today.

Practice Thanksgiving

Tonight was “Practice Thanksgiving” or “Friendsgiving” with our friends.  My husband worked all day on the turkey and just as it was finished being carved and placed on the platter, we dashed off in the car, trying to get the turkey to the party while it was still hot and juicy.

We’ve done this for a good number of years now and I’ve started looking forward to the “family recipe” dishes people bring to the meal.  I ate some of everything and overate by a large margin for the day.   I’m trying to keep my eyes open as I write this.  

My son was pre-medicated with Benadryl as our friends have six cats (they adopted the sixth cat only today) and my son has a histamine reaction to cats.   By the time we were wrapping up with dinner, my son and daughter were tired and ready to go home.  

We have leftover turkey and a carcass.   I’m thinking about making stock tomorrow—something I’ll need to figure out how to do.   I may not though as we have a busy day with my daughter’s birthday party and a cake/cupcake decorating class at the house that my husband is giving to a friend’s daughter.

Off to bed with me—a food coma is calling softly to me to go to bed.

The Big Boy Update:  Yesterday I came in to find my son looking at his iPad.   He looked up, hopeful he wouldn’t get in trouble and said, “I’m looking at my iPad because today was Friday.”   He was correct and he is allowed to use his iPad on the weekends, so I told him he was correct and it was fine to use his iPad as long as he didn’t complain about putting it away when it was time for his music lesson.   He agreed and when Chelsea arrived he calmly and without complaint put the iPad away.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter said in the car on the way home tonight, “hey day, you and Papa are twins.   Papa has car candy and you have car candy.”  

Numb Toes

I still have two toes that are numb on my right foot from the Rock & Roll marathon this past Sunday. This happens sometimes when I run for long distances, particularly if those long distances are on pavement instead of trail.  

I also have a few pair of high heel shoes that do the same thing in an even shorter period of time than long runs take.   I’m not sure what is pressing on where and why the numbness takes multiple days to return, but it’s not painful at all, which is nice.   Typically I won’t even notice when the feeling returns, I’ll realize a few days later that things got back to normal.

Does this mean wearing uncomfortably high heels and running long distances are bad for me?   Could this well be an excuse to become a poorly-dressed, lazy person?   Tempting, definitely tempting…

The Big Boy Update:   My son got in the car today and asked me, “is your head edible?”   I told him I wasn’t sure, if it was, what did he think it would taste like?   He thought about it and then said, “skin, bones and blood”.   Then we voted not to eat my head.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter likes to stand on her toes.   She curls them under and stands up on her feet, making it look a little like she a dancer in point shoes.    I used to love to do the same thing when I was a child.   It was comfortable and felt good to stretch my toes.  

It’s Just Code of Ethics…

As of today I’m officially a REALTOR®, meaning I’m a licensed real estate broker who is a member of the local, state and National Association of REALTORS®.   In order to join the organization, which provides access to the multiple listing service for our area I needed to attend two classes and, of course, pay membership dues and initiation fees.

The first class was training on the multiple listing tool, Paragon.   The second class I wasn’t able to sign up for online and I wasn’t sure when it would be available.   When I checked in for the class yesterday afternoon the lady helping me asked, “are you attending the orientation session tomorrow?”

Tomorrow?  I pull out my phone and check the schedule—it’s my daughter’s birthday celebration slam in the middle of the day—a celebration we’d scheduled with her teachers a while back.    The next opportunity to take the orientation class was December 1st.   What to do?

Things were discussed on the phone with my husband, emails were sent to my daughter’s teachers and I had a conversation with the admin about the possibility of coming a bit late in the morning instead and would that be okay, seeing as it was my daughter’s birthday celebration and I couldn’t miss it.

She said, “well, it’s just code of ethics…”.  That gave me pause.  I was a brand new agent and ethics was a big topic during my pre-licensing class and is considered to be of high importance among the real estate community—and she just told me I was making an ethical decision to miss a portion of the class.

So I fretted, but I didn’t have much of a choice.   My daughter’s birthday celebration was moved to first thing in the morning and I drove straight to class straight away when we finished.    I was fortunate with traffic, ending up only fifteen minutes after class start time.

I sat down to look at the agenda for the day and noted the first half of the day was all dedicated to, “Code of Ethics”.   The day before she hadn’t been criticizing or judging me, she was telling me what topic I’d miss.

The Big Boy Update:  My son asked yesterday, for the first time ever, “can I have a bath?”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We’re always wonder if my daughter is seeing more things or if she’s synthesizing other data to come to what appears to be a vision-based observation.   The other day she said, “I see you in the mirror, Papa” from a distance she normally wouldn’t have been able to see from (we think).

Salad For Lunch

My daughter was the first to like salad.   Really like.   She would take over our salad bowls at the sushi restaurant we frequented until we started ordering her her own.  My son wasn’t that interested in salad until relatively recently, but of late, he’s been an enthusiast.   So yesterday I packed them each a small salad for lunch, adding their favorite oil and vinegar dressing on top.   I told them about the salad in their lunch boxes and they responded positively.

Today when they got home I expected to find full containers of salad but no, they’d eaten pretty much all of it.   They aren’t allowed to throw any uneaten food away so parents can get a good idea of what their children are eating and if they’re packing too much food.

I asked them this evening if they’d like salad again for tomorrow’s lunch and they both gave me an emphatic, “yes”.   This is going to make packing healthy lunches that much easier.  

The Big Boy Potentially Ambidextrous Update:  Remember how my son was being switched from left-handed to right-handed writing?   His main teacher as well as his occupational therapist are now not so sure.   But they’re not sure so they’re going to let him go for a bit and see what develops.   From his OT teacher, “he is demonstrating equal grasp maturity and accuracy with both hands.  He may be one of the few truly ambidextrous people.”   They’re looking at strength and handedness in all tasks as they continue to evaluate him.

The Tiny Girl Eye Patching Chronicles:   Remember how we’re not certain if the right eye is able to see things but the brain isn’t paying attention to what signals the eye is sending?   This is called amblyopia.   Her doctors and we aren’t seeing dramatic signs of vision improvement and haven’t done a lot of patching.   Patching her without knowing if it was helpful fully blinded and frightened my daughter and we all agreed it wasn’t time yet.    Only a few days ago I tried patching her again.   Did she see much?  Not that I could tell, but she wasn’t scared.   She wanted to go to the basement (and needed a lot of hand-holding help to get there) but then she started playing a game on the couch she knew from feel and forgot about the patch for a good fifteen minutes.    She even agreed it would be fun to patch again.   Tonight she reminded me about patching and spent even longer with the patch on.   My husband waved a large, green balloon in front of her face and she didn’t see it, but when asked, could identify the color once she knew it was there.    She’s using trailing behavior to run her hands down the wall to help know where she is, but she’s not scared.   When she asked if she could take the patch off tonight I told her to go find dad in the bedroom and tell him first—and she did.    We’re going to try some more and see if anything develops from it.

You Don’t Sound Like Mommy

My husband and I flew home from Las Vegas overnight yesterday, arriving mid-morning at home.   We got an update from Nana and Papa on how their five days went with our children (fabulous) and other items we needed to know about food, clothing, mail, etc. before they headed home.   We are so very fortunate to have grandparents who are willing (eager even) to take care of our children while my husband and I galavant off across the country to run in races, gamble and drink beer with friends.

While we were in Las Vegas we had an opportunity yesterday to catch up with long-standing family friends of mine who we haven’t seen in several years.   The conditions under which we met weren’t ideal as their vacation was unexpectedly extended due to their son having unexpected, emergency surgery shortly after they’d enjoyed a Cirque du Soleil’s ‘O’ show at the Bellagio.   Their son is recovering well and we were fortunate to be able to join them for a delightful dinner at a Thai restaurant just across from their hotel last night.

You know you’re getting old when you look at the children of your friend’s and they’ve grown two feet.   You know you haven’t seen them in far too long when you tell their daughter you’re going to give her a hug and she says, “I don’t remember you”—and yet gives you a warm hug anyway.    We left the evening making plans to see each more frequently.   I hope we can do so, although living states apart always makes things more challenging.

Back to arriving at home though.   My husband and I were looking forward to getting in the car to pick up our children after school was over.   We tried to nap because sleeping on a plane is bad at best and not at all at worst.    We got to school and were hoping for excited cries of happiness from our children.   My son, upon seeing us, cried because we weren’t Nana and Papa.   It would appear Nana and Papa did an all together better job of being parents than we normally do.   My son did agree he was happy to see us, but them wanted to make sure it was only nine more days until Thanksgiving because that’s when Nana and Papa had told him they’d be returning.

My daughter got in the car next and squealed her excitement at seeing us, and then talked about all the fun she had with Nana and Papa.   But my children weren’t happy at me.

While I’d been gone my cold had moved from place to place, finally settling in my throat upon which it wreaked havoc on my vocal cords.  My voice was in and out and scratchy when it was in and neither child liked it one bit.   They told me I didn’t sound like Mommy.   My husband and I explained how my throat was a little sick with a cold.   We had them put their hands on their throats and talk to feel how it vibrated so they could feel the part of their body that was sick in me.    In the end, they decided to keep me since I assured them I’d be back to normal in a few days.

The Big Boy Update:  My son took a bit to get over the lack of Nana and Papa after we got home today.   His father and he spent a lot of special time while I went out with his sister.   When we got home they’d built a fort from sticks and balls covered with a blanket.   Then they built a rocket ship fully seven feet tall from straws and connectors Aunt Rebecca, Uncle Dale and Olivia had sent as a present to his sister for her birthday.  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter and I went shopping to get her favor bag items to hand out at her birthday party this weekend.  On the way home she told me she was planning on marrying her brother and having three or maybe four children.   She thought a little more about it and said maybe she’d marry Silas’s mother instead, and got upset when I told her Silas’s mother was married to Silas’s father.   Then she decided to marry Nana, but again, was disappointed when I pointed out Nana was already married to Papa.   In the end she is going to think out this marriage thing for a bit longer before she makes her final decision.

Carl

Yesterday I ran the Las Vegas Rock and Roll marathon.   I had hoped my running buddy would be coming to run with me but she didn’t want to.   I had some other friends who were planning on attending initially but their plans changed.   The only people who made the trip this year were two of our best friends.   As a result, we had four days together in which we had a lot of fun and laughs.   I’m glad it worked out that way.

There was a drawback Brek and I discovered when we got to the race start—we weren’t going to be able to start near each other or even at the same time.   I went up with the marathoners and she waited for her half marathon group to start a bit later.   This is when I met Carl, or possibly when Carl met me.   He was an older, Middle Eastern gentleman who decided after meeting me to take my hand and pull me up to corral five, because he said we were going to pace fast and would need to be up front.

I told him I’d try, but I had a cold (notice the breaking voice) and he was asking me to pace a full two-and-a-half minutes under my normal pace.    The race started and I tried, truly I did.   Carl said he wasn’t going to leave me, but he eventually did, although it wasn’t until after four or five miles.    During that time I’d managed to keep a 10:03 minutes/mile pace which for me is pretty good.

After he went on a head I put in my headphones and ran alone.   I looked ahead, thinking of Carl from time to time and tried putting on a burst of speed each time.   If it wasn’t for the water/hydration stops I could have kept a better pace, but I was sweating a lot as the day was warm and I was overdressed.

I did well pace-wise up until about twenty miles, at which point I lost speed significantly and just wanted to be finished.   My husband messaged me at mile twenty-five because he was worried I was slowing down so.   I told him I was find, just exhausted and I’d see him shortly.  

Through the whole race I thought of Carl and tried to be faster than I felt.   He was ahead, but he was still with me.  Even with the cold, I ran under a five-hour marathon, which was good, but I’d hoped for 4:40 or less. There’s always next year though…

Carl texted me today to see how I did.   How sweet.

The Big Boy Update:  At the Veterans day parade my son went to the other day he saw a tank and a helicopter.   He was duly impressed to see them up close since he’s seen many in his cartoons but none in person.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter went to a local parade with my in-laws for Veterans Day.   She loved the bands and music, even getting out into the street one time to dance.

Fitness Update:  Rock and Roll Las Vegas 2016 yesterday with at 4:56 finish time.

RNRLV

Tonight is the Rock and Roll Las Vegas marathon, half marathon and 10K.   My good friend is running the half marathon, my husband is in the 10K and I’m in the marathon—or rather I’m signed up for the marathon.   I’m debating on running the half since I’ve got a cold which is dragging me down.  

I think my body is fine to run the marathon distance: I haven’t been sore from the New York marathon a week ago and I’m recovered on all fronts other than the pesky cold side of things.   At any rate, I won’t know which race I’m running until this evening when I reach the half/full split.   At that point, I’ll have to make a decision one way or the other.  

I’d really like to run the marathon: the course has been changed since last year with less hill climbing, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say, “less long, gradual slope climbing” and more downtown/strip areas.    It should be an easier race from that perspective, but I’ve got a cough and my voice is cracking and, well, this cold is just making me tired.  

On an entirely other subject, I have a bruised knuckle.   My right index finger’s third digit is a nasty shade of purple.   It appeared yesterday, looking like I’d punched someone or something but only made contact with the index finger knuckle.   Since I haven’t punched anyone or hit anything, it’s a mystery.   It hasn’t hurt and is fading today, but it’s a strange random happenstance with no known cause.   And I do like to know why.

The Big Boy Update:  Papa sent me a text telling me he had been reading Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone to the children yesterday.   After he had finished reading, my son explained how the movie was different than that part of the book.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was at Nana and Papa’s piano this morning.   After playing the high notes she moved to the other end.  After hitting a few keys she told Papa she was playing, “bad guy” sounds.

Which One Is It?

This afternoon as I was taking a break from very important Las Vegas vacation activities, I thought it might be a good time to call and talk to the children.    I called and my mother-in-law answered.  She  gave me an update on their day and then asked the children if they wanted to talk to me.  

I spoke with my son first.   He was interested in telling me about something that happened…oh, wait, he got distracted and handed the phone over to his sister.   She told me about a few things that happened and then she, too, left the phone to get back to the very important business of being on vacation with Nana and Papa (also, I think they had the iPad at this point).

My mother-in-law talked to me some more as my husband came over.   I asked him if he wanted to talk to the children and he said sure.   My daughter came back on the line and I asked her if she wanted to speak to daddy, to which she said, “yes”.   I gave the phone to my husband who started a conversation with her.

About two responses later he mouthed to me, “which one is it?”   He didn’t know which child was on the line.    This happens to all of us I think.  My daughter and son can and do sound very different, but they can also sound a lot alike.   It’s hard for us as parents to even tell them apart.   The good thing is, they never seem to be bothered if you think it’s the other child, they just laugh and tell you you’ve got it wrong.

The Big Boy Update:  The children went fishing on the lake today with my in-laws.   When they came back to the dock, my son offered to jump out and help tie the boat off.   He doesn’t yet know how to tie the ropes, but he did jump out and help hold the boat to the dock—not bad for a five-year-old.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   While out fishing on the boat today, my daughter’s line got caught under the boat.   This isn’t a good thing as fishing line wrapped around a boat propeller isn’t ideal.   Everyone looked and listened for signs as they moved the boat around to try and free the line.   My daughter heard it against the boat hull she said.  They were able to untangle the line and free the boat and head back to shore.

Five and Five

Today I have two five-year-old children.   It’s always fun to tell the children how they’re the same age for the next month.    They’re older and a little more savvy now so they get into the, “but I’m five and three-fourths and she’s only just five,” conversations.

My children are with my in-laws while my husband and I are in Las Vegas for the Rock and Roll marathon.   We called the children a bit ago to wish my daughter happy birthday and tell them we missed them.   They were happy to talk to us, but it was apparent fairly quickly they were busy with other things.   My son, for instance, said, “mom, do you want to talk to your favorite friend, Papa?”   I told him sure.   He realized he didn’t even know where Papa was a that point so he offered up Nana to talk to me next.

I’m glad they’re happy and having fun.   We’re getting together with close friends for dinner shortly.   We haven’t had a chance to spend much time with our friends lately and are looking forward to the next few days.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was pointing out one of his classmates as we drove off after school.   I wasn’t sure which one he was talking about so he helped me by saying, “see that lady in the brown skin?  She’s just beside her.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter wanted to know where dad had gone the other night.   She was in her bed with the lights out and the door to their room shut.  I told her dad was in the basement and hadn’t gone anywhere.   She said, “but I heard the door wobble.”   Their bedroom door upstairs will wobble in the frame just slightly when the front door or garage door are opened due to a change in pressure or air flow in the house.   I told her dad hadn’t left, Walter had come over to work on their pinball machine.    My little girl is paying attention to things other children with sight might not notice.

Just About Five

My daughter will be five-years-old tomorrow.   My husband and I leave to go to Las Vegas in the morning for the Las Vegas Rock and Roll Marathon and a fun weekend with friends.    We celebrated tonight with my daughter and my in-laws since we’ll miss seeing her tomorrow.

She wasn’t upset because her birthday party isn’t for another week, her school celebration is next week, she’s going to have a fun weekend with Nana and Papa and she’s already gotten several presents.    So to her, the actual day of her birthday isn’t the only thing about turning a year older.

She decided she wanted to go to a hibachi restaurant tonight (“the place with the fire in front of you when they cook” was the phrase she used).   Nana and Papa arrived and we headed off.   She did have a good time at dinner and so did my son.  

We came home had Hello Kitty Carvel ice cream cake, she opened a present of two dresses from Nana and Papa, there was a bath and then two tired children went to bed.   Now I have to get myself ready so I can get up at far-too-early o’clock to head to the airport.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was manic this afternoon.   I’m not sure what it was, but he was particularly excited at dinner, yelling out to the hibachi chef how he was hungry.   After he had been served a few things he said out loud, “it’s the best salmon in my life!   It’s the best food in my life!”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  After my daughter was done eating dinner she and my son wanted to go play outside the restaurant on the sidewalk with Nana.   It had gotten chilly so I asked my daughter if she wanted her vest.   She said no, turned to keep walking but turned back again and said, “remember, I’m never cold”.

Neither Key Nor Meter Stopped Them

Today is my mother’s birthday.   I called and had a chat with her earlier in the day while the children were at school.    When they got home friends arrived before we had a chance to call and talk to Mimi and then after the friends had left the children went to get dinner with dad.

They got home with hibachi food bags and my husband’s cell phone rang.   He was off on a work call for some time during which the children and I ate dinner and talked about our days.   They like to do the “up and down” parts of their day a lot, with my daughter typically having several “up” things because lots of things make her happy—that and she likes to talk about her day.

When we were done eating I told them we were going to call Mimi and wish her a happy birthday.   I put the cell phone on speaker, placed it on the table and both children hovered around it, waiting for Mimi to pick up.   When Mimi picked up the phone they said hello and happy birthday and my mother told them she was so pleased they’d called.

Then, they sang the happy birthday song to her, just the two of them.  My children weren’t particularly on key or singing in the typical time.   They weren’t even singing the words at the same time, but it was…dare I say it?…”precious”.   I wish I could have recorded their little song.  

The Big Boy Update:  When I told my children at dinner it was Mimi’s birthday, my son asked me, “is Mimi celebrating with anyone today?  Is Gramps clapping for her right now?”   I told him I’d write the questions down for him and he could ask her when we called.   He forgot to ask her while we were on the phone, so I told him I’d write his questions in this blog post tonight so Mimi could let him know.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter wrote her name in braille three times today.   She’s done it with assistance before, but this is the first time she’s done it all by herself, including the leading character that indicates a capital letter is to follow.

Other Marathon Memories

Just a smattering of things/thoughts from the NYC Marathon on Sunday I didn’t get into the post yesterday…

Busses are loud:  I was trying to nap on the way to start village in the bus.   Have you ever been lulled to sleep by the vibration of the engine in a car or vehicle?   This bus was both loud and shaky.    It also uses fossil fuels.   Someday maybe we’ll be in electric busses, moving much more quietly to and fro.

Multi-national event: I heard there were race participants from something like one-hundred forty countries.   Throughout the event, from the expo the day before to the start village and at the finish line we heard pre-recorded announcements in many languages.

Bye Bye Beatrice:   I mentioned yesterday we had planned on donating things like our outerwear to one of the charity bins before the race start.   I am easily cold or chilled and I didn’t want to part with my $10 jacket I’d gotten from Wal-Mart.   It made no sense to keep it as I was already getting hot in the start lanes and we hadn’t even begun running yet.   I tried tying it around my waist and a man behind me said, “you’re killing me with that jacket.”   That one comment started a jovial conversation across four of us.   We’d come back to the jacket from time to time and because I was the brunt of most of the conversation, I told them I’d named the jacket ‘Beatrice’ and I just wasn’t sure I could let her go.   After about ten minutes more of laughter and protests on my part, I ditched, ‘B’ (as she’d been nicknamed by then) into a donation bin to cheers from my new found friends.  

The Depths of the Porta Potty:  My best friend commented on this and I agree, she’s right:  you only step up one small step to get into the porta potty, and yet the “material” below looks far deeper than the distance from the top of the seat to the ground.   Is it an optical illusion facilitated by that blue black liquid, or is it our fervent wish that things are farther away than they actually are?

Good Luck:   We were wished good luck by many people before the race on Saturday.   I’ve told people thanks before and explained how we don’t run fast but we make it there eventually.   This weekend I decided to cut the speech short and just summarize by saying, “we don’t need luck, we just need lots of time”

The Big Boy Update:  Tonight in the tub either my husband or I said something, I’m not sure which.   My son piped up, “grown-ups can even be funny sometimes.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter plays doctor apps, animal apps, and educational apps on the iPad.   She was showing me a frog on one of them the other day and said, “do you know what this frog needs all the time like me?  Eye drops.”  Speaking of eye drops, we did three drops in ten seconds tonight.    She is pretty much my eye drop hero.

Post Race Tiny Run:  Two miles today.   Not too sore, but neither of us really felt like running, we just wanted to test out our muscles.   We’re doing post-race okay.

Dark to Dark

I’m back home at a computer with a full keyboard at which I can type at full speed tonight.   I love my iPad, but it’s not the ideal device to type long blog posts on (and you know how I like writing long posts).   I have a lot more energy today too, which helps because I could hardly type straight last night.

We got up yesterday morning to run the New York marathon in the dark at four-thirty AM.   It was daylight savings which gave us another hour of sleep but we were in the dark from the point we got up, through the cab ride to the bus and most of the way to the start village on Staten Island.  Once there we checked in with the clear bag of belongings allowed per security protocol and headed to Charity Village where we met our friends from the Hole in the Wall Gang charity we had helped raise money on behalf of the event.

We hydrated, ate food and waited until 10:30AM to get in queue for our starting corral.   We ditched hats, jackets and other items that kept us warm which we planned on donating as the weather warmed up for the day.   It was sunny and about as nice as we could possibly ask for on race day by the time we crossed the start line.

I’d heard the bridge was challenging but I couldn’t imagine why until I ran it.   The Verrazanno bridge is about two miles with the first mile uphill.   You’re not warmed up and it’s just a long, steady slope for those who don’t run hills often.    It was a great way to start the race though with a spectacular view:

We hydrated every mile at the water stations, which turned out to be a disadvantage when we realized we were over-hydrating and therefore had to stop at a port-a-potty several miles in.   Where we stopped there was a long, long, barely moving line causing us to have a 21:44 minute mile (ouch).

The hydration stations were somewhat of a mystery to me in that there were no trash cans.   Our sitter, Morgan, was working one all day and she told us the reason they were all wearing volunteer rain ponchos was because they were going to get splashed all day from runners who threw their cups on the ground.

Why not some big trash bins?   Every stop there were sweepers and people working with rakes to get the squashed cups off the road.   I would have done my best to get in or near a trash receptacle if there had been any in evidence.

We spent a long time in Brooklyn and were amazed at the number of people, bands, children, signs, free food from strangers as we ran past.   We were close to the last corral which means folks had been cheering for hours already, but they were still there, still cheering us on.   It was quite motivating.

We passed through Queens and then crossed the Queensboro bridge into Manhattan and had even more crowds cheering for us at that point.    It was a happy run the entire time.   The participants were from something like one-hundred-forty countries.    This was the fortieth year the race has gone through all five boroughs and many older people had bibs on their backs saying, “24 NY Marathons and counting” or other equally impressive number.

We left Manhattan to enter into the Bronx where we’d heard there would be the least crowds cheering, but we were met with bands, orange slices, bananas, pretzels and goldfish as well as still-cheering spectators.     After a short time we crossed back into Manhattan, heading south to Central park.

This part of the race was the longest mentally because you feel close to being finished, but you’re not.   It was also where I threw a temper tantrum because I made a setting change on my phone and watch and unknowingly caused it to drain power to fast and die at about twenty-three miles into the race.   My best friend told me it was okay to which I said something probably very rude indicating I was mad and to leave me alone for a while.  

She did and I got over it and we ran on.   We ended the race on Central Park South, turning at Columbus Circle back into Central park and across the finish line.    It was just about dusk at this point.   But we weren’t done.   Oh no, there’s about two miles of walking through the park to get out of the cordoned off area before you can get back to your hotel, taxi or find friends.    They provided recovery bags of food and drinks, a very nice poncho and medical support for any who needed it.

What we didn’t fully appreciate until we were tired and desperate to find our way out of the maze at the end of the race (which we’d been forewarned about) was the wisdom of the hotel we were staying at.   Friends who’d run the race before had suggested it.    Low on fuel and energy, once we exited the race area we were only a few blocks from our beds and a shower.  

By that time we were in the full dark of night.   We left for the race in the morning in the dark and returned to our hotel in the dark—but we ran in the light.

After we’d had showers we caught up with Morgan, who took care of both my best friend’s and my children all summer and who had given us drinks at the mile nine hydration station.   She came to meet us for dinner, taking a night off from her studies at Pratt.   We had a delicious Indian meal (even more delicious because of how hungry we were) and caught up on each other’s lives.

Then we both slept soundly until the alarm went off to get up and head to the airport to come home to see our families.   It was a fun weekend but I’m always glad to be home.

The Big Boy Tiny Girl Google Trillion Welcome:   I got home this afternoon from New York, having been gone for three days to run the New York Marathon.   I picked up the children from school and was greeted by happy smiles and a welcome home from both children.   As we were driving away from school my son said, “I love you a google trillion, mom.”  My daughter, not to be outdone told me she loved me a ‘google, google trillion”.   My son said that number wasn’t possible but gave in when his sister was emphatic it was, indeed, a valid number.   With that information, he told me, “I love you a google, google, trillion, trillion, billion/“

New York Marathon Update:  Feeling fine today after the 26.2 plus bonus walking miles after the race.   Tomorrow I might be sore; typically it’s the second day that I can tell how the run really went.

New York City Marathon

I'm tired, it's late and I have to get up early to catch a flight home so this is a quick post until I get to my computer with more hours of sleep behind me. 

The race was great.  We had fun, met lots of nice people, were cheered on by throngs of onlookers, many with funny signs, a surprising portion making fun of Donald Trump. It was a long morning to get to the start lines but we had good weather which made it a more pleasant wait.  

We had long porta potty lines which jacked up our tptotal run time eve though we ran many of the miles faster than our typical pace. We happily finished the race just before dark in Central Park,   

Our friends had told us which hotel to stay in because it is cery close to the finish line ejecton point out of the park.  We stumbled back to our room and sat down for a while.   Then, we had the most delightful dinner with Morgan, our sitter who is adored by our children.

Next, I'm going to bed.

The Big Boy, Tiny Girl and Neighbor's Children Update:  Nana came to visit with Papa today.  Nana is a lot of fun.  She was so much fun that everyone wanted to sit beside her or on her lap, including our neighbor's children.   I'm not surprised, Nana knows how to make children happy. 

Marathon Update:  I ran the New York Marathon today and had a blast.  I'm not sure about doing it again, but it most definitely was a fun experience. 

To the Convention Center and Back

It was an early morning, heading to New York with my best friend to run the New York marathon tomorrow.  I'm tired as I write this (in a taxi) so I'll make it brief.   It's been a busy day.  

We arrived in the city and headed straight for the expo to pick up our bibs.  After looking around, we left, went to the hotel, got lunch and came back when our room was available for check-in. As we were looking over our things for the race tomorrow, my friend noticed she had the wrong bib.   

We had to go back to the Convention Center to make a swap.  Fortunately her bib was still there and she had returned the man's one she had by mistake.  As we were about to leave we we're talking about how timing had worked out as the other man hadn't gotten there yet to pick up his bib—at which point he walked up to the table beside us to check in.  

In over fifty thousand runners, what a coincidence.  

The Big Boy Update: I asked my son how it went during playground time at school the other day.  He told me, "well, I didn't really do any roughousing".

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  my daughter was playing on a  huge leaf and mulch pile under old growth trees in an area she didn't know recently.  I noticed she wanted a stick to use to fill her way around.   The cane work has taught her to use her other senses to find out about her environment. 

Tomorrow We’re Off

Tomorrow my best friend and I are heading to New York to run in the marathon.  Tonight is a chaotic mess getting ready for the trip in small part but mostly the fun of our movie night friends here.   It’s fun chaotic.    I just found out our friends are pregnant and we’re all excitedly talking about babies and the fun of having children.  

The Big Boy Update:  My son has a new trick.   He’ll say, “hey mama, look at that!”  He will point to something in the next room and then run when I look away.   When I turn around he’s gone and I exclaim, wondering where he went.   He laughs, immediately giving away his location, and then tells me he got me.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  my daughter likes to store socks as well as ice cubes in the back of her tricycle.  Fortunately she doesn't store tHem both at the same time.

Chaotic Closet

I’ve been asked to help out at school.   It was just a query at first, wondering if I’d be available at the end of the school year to assist in the reorganization of the toddler classrooms shared closet.    The end of year was when they thought they’d have to do it because they needed to purchase bins, file folders and other containers and they wouldn’t know how much was available until they found out how many gift cards they might receive over the course of the year.

Typically, children in the classroom present the class with a “class gift” at their birthday celebration.   The children enjoy giving something to their teachers for the class.   Since we’ve moved into our newly built school there have been a lot of needs to finish outfitting the classrooms.   An empty, large closet wasn’t the most conducive to organizing and storing material representing an entire year of toddler education.

I wasn’t able to wait.   I messaged Kica and asked if I could come in and look at the situation.   It was (as my son told me), “a nightmare”.   I would agree heartily.   I thought I could help and I thought I could do so without that much cost.   I didn’t ask permission, I just said I was coming in and I’d lock myself in the closet while class took place.

The teachers laughed at me when they saw me arrive with a few bins I had to test sizes.    I ended up leaving the closet open and talking to all the inquisitive toddlers who were interested in what I was doing.

That was yesterday.   Today I made big progress.  Teachers were coming in and out of the area I was working in throughout the morning and afternoon.   Every time, they’d look in and tell me how happy they were and how they couldn’t believe how much room there was just from the work I’d done so far.  

Tomorrow I’m hoping to get things more in order so I can start to figure out where best to put things.  I’ve got to tell you—I’m so happy sitting in that closet, organizing materials and putting things in order.  I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

The Big Boy Update:  I heard my son say, “that’s the smallest person I’ve seen in my life.”   I looked over to see him watching a mother holding and rocking a newborn on her chest.  I told him he used to be that small.   I’m not sure he believed me.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  While I was organizing the closet today when one of my daughter’s teacher’s came into the room.   She’s been one of the teachers in the main school day or after school period with my daughter for the entire time she’s been at the school.   She said my daughter had just said, “Miss Pearl, you’re everything to me.”

All The Powers in the World

My children have a game they play when getting out of the tub.  It’s mostly my daughter’s passion, but my son has helped expand the game.   The real problem is my husband though.   He’s just too good at the game.   He’s so creative.   So far I don’t think I’ve seen him play the game the same way twice.   Why is this a problem?   Because when dad isn’t around, my children expect me to play the game and try as I might, I just can’t do it as well as he does.

Here’s how it’s played:  first, you have a small little girl who wants to play “the egg game” each and every time she gets out of the bath.   She wants to jump out, curl into a ball on the bathmat and be covered by her towel.   At this point she’s an egg.   She needs to be hatched, which is where my husband comes in, coming up with various ways to knock on an egg, talk to it once he hears the peeping or squeaking sounds it’s making and then be happily surprised when the baby turtle, giraffe or alligator pops out of the egg.  

Activities then revolve around getting pajamas on, drying hair, brushing teeth, doing eye drops but with the child being that particular animal.   This can be particularly challenging when you have a bouncing type of animal, which they all are in the case of my daughter’s.  

The game has gotten more complex lately in what animal the children are picking.  It wasn’t enough to be just a lion.   The lion had to have the power of fire and the dolphin needed the power of water.   These powers were sometimes able to be defeated by other powers (so my son told my daughter) so they needed secondary powers to counteract that.   In short order the battle of powers was settled evenly by each child saying something like, “I’m a baby elephant and I have all the powers in the world!”  

It didn’t stop there though.   Just tonight I heard my daughter hatching from her egg proclaiming in the fastest voice she could muster, “I’m a baby turtle with all the powers in the world and all the colors in the world and all the foods in the world.”   Her brother told her about several things she forgot to add, which means tomorrow we’ll have even more powerful animals hatching in our bathroom at bedtime.

The Big Boy Update:  I was wearing a ball cap today.  I rarely wear one but today turned out to be that rare day.   As my son was getting ready for bed I asked him if he thought I looked good in a hat.   He said he didn’t think I did, so I took the hat off, asking if that was better?  He said, “now you look like the Mommy I know.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter wanted to go outside and ride her scooter before dinner last night.   I opened the garage doors and told her she could go ahead, that it was okay.   Instead of being happy, she cried out instead, “but nobody’s going to supervise me!”

Meeting a Friend

This isn’t about catching up with a friend, it’s about meeting a friend for the first time.  I think I told a story about a year ago in which one of our friends in the neighborhood heard about my daughter’s sudden vision loss.   He got in contact with me and told me we had another neighbor who was a retina surgeon.   He said he’d let her know about me and was it okay if she got in touch with me.

Last Labor Day at around dinner time she called me.   She took time out on a holiday to talk to me about what was happening in my daughter’s eyes.  I took notes—furious notes—because I didn’t know the medical terms in lots of cases and I wanted to make sure to get down all her suggestions and advice.   She talked to me like a friend, not like a doctor who was telling me matter of factly the situation.   She understood how scared I was and how lost we felt as parents, not knowing what was happening with our child.

We were on the phone for quite some time and at the end she told me she was there if I needed anything.    In the past year I’ve contacted her several times, once I remember in complete panic, when we were scared things were suddenly getting worse.    Each time she gave me the advice I needed and the support of a fellow mother.    She was such a comfort.

Here is the thing though—we’ve never met.   We keep meaning on meeting and almost met once I think at a neighborhood function, but we missed each other.   Last nigh however, we finally met.   I was out on the street, handing out my inoculations (adult beverages) and she stopped me and said, “I’m Lisa”.   I think I may have hugged her a bit too hard, but I was so very glad to see her.

We caught up quickly on the latest with my daughter’s eyes.   We had to catch up quickly, what with the chaos of Halloween surrounding us and her children heading down the street without her.   Folks I have to tell you, had there been a pop quiz on eye terms related to my daughter’s condition we discussed, I think I would have gotten a ninety-five percent.   I’ve learned a lot over the past year.  As we got to the cul-de-sac I met one of Lisa’s children, her daughter who also four-years-old.   She knows all sorts of things about eyes because she’s interested in her mother’s work.  I suspect she might know more about eyes than I do.

I gave Lisa another hug and we made plans to get together for coffee or a play date or something sometime soon.    As she left I had a big smile on my face.   It’s so nice to meet a friend you’ve been wanting to meet for a long time.

The Big Boy Update:  My son got a card game in a happy meal today.   You lay out the cards and select two that have something in common, naming what that commonality is.   I picked the bamboo and tree cards and said, “these two are plants”.   My son said, “can I pick the lion and the tiger cards?”  I told him sure, what did those two have in common?   What he said was not what I had expected.   He told me, “the lion and the tiger are both predators.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was helping me make lunches for tomorrow.  She decided quesadillas would be nice so I got out the cheese slices and asked her to cover up one tortilla and then we’d put the second one on top and microwave it to melt the cheese.   She’s done this before and solves the cheese coverage problem in her own way.  Instead of using as few, large pieces as possible, she prefers many, many smaller pieces.  She tears up the cheese slice square into small bits.   She was in the midst of this today when she said, “mommy, do  you know this thing is a trapezoid?”  I looked over and yes, she was holding a regular trapezoidal-shaped piece of cheese.

Final Taper:  We ran five miles today as our last, pre NYC Marathon, run.   Less than a week away now.   I’m looking forward to the weekend.