A Word Aptly Spoken

When we were in Virginia last week, I came down with a virus. The first day the fever set in, we were driving to check into our hotel. Caed picked up on my less than stellar state and asked me what was wrong. I replied that I was feeling sick.

Here’s the conversation that followed:

“Do you have a feber (fever)?”

“Yes, I think so hon.”

“You’re not feelin’ dood?”

“No, not so much.”

“Don’t worry, mom. When we get to the hotel, you can sit down, and rest, and I will take care of you.”

At that point, though I was exhausted and febrile, I could have jumped for joy at having such a sweet son.

Later that week, he remembered that he hadn’t taken care of me when we got to the hotel. He said, “Mom, I was going to take care of you when you were sick, but I didn’t, because I was too busy takin’ care of baby Dani”.

And while that was funny to hear, it was a tad bit true, in the sense that, when we got to the hotel, he entertained his overtired sister with a game called “crawl under the tunnel”. The two of them essentially did laps underneath the half table in the suite, while I unpacked enough to get us through until morning.

Gotta hand it to that kid. Just as my fever was spiking and my spirit was waning, he picked me up and kept me going with a few kind words.

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Sherdian Takes a Stroll

It’s official, folks. Our darling bundle of terror is now on two feet. Notice the props she’s using--a purple purse and a fireman’s gear bag. Interesting fashion choice But you know what they say....”one kid’s firefighter bag is another girl’s Louis Vuitton duffle”.
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This About Sums It Up

Never before have my kids been so simultaneously exhausted. Our 10-day excursion to the DC area to see our old friends and neighbors, and to squeeze in some meetings for my work, concluded with a drive home for the record books. The kids slept half of the drive, and I glanced with jealousy in the rear view mirror, wishing I could join ‘em in their slumber.

The week began with a visit in our former neighborhood. We stayed in the home of two of our gracious (and brave) neighbors while they were away. I attribute bravery to these kind souls simply because they have no children, and yet they opened their home to ours. Their house was impeccably clean and perfectly decorated with lots of breakable valuables. Glass trinkets. Pretty vases. Artwork that literally hung at Sheridan’s eye level.

We slept comfortably, and then during “waking hours”, we imposed on our neighbors with kids. They let us in to play at all hours, and it was just like old times. We enjoyed every minute we had in our old neighborhood--so much so that I found myself wishing we could move back. (Thoughts of which were quickly extinguished after my Tuesday a.m. commute).

Highlights of our trip include a playdate with “friends from mommy’s old work”, a playdate at Kendra’s house, and a trip to the Air & Space museum with Max. My camera eluded me for most of the trip, so I don’t have much in the way of pictures. But though there is no proof of all the fun and mayhem, I assure you it was most decidedly an exciting (and exhausting) trip.

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It's the Cocoa Talking

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Caed and I had a little conversation over hot cocoa last week, and he had some cute things to say.

It’s a tad hard to understand everything he is saying in this clip, but it just struck me so funny as he gabbed on and on while sipping cocoa.

A few notable quotes: When asked what he was going to do when he was grown-up, he said “Listen to kid’s words”. I think he was referring back to how at school and at home we use the phrase “listen to my words” (usually said by the one in charge). Not sure what he means by this....perhaps that when he is grown-up, he will give power to the people and let the kids have the last say?

He also told me that he could not share his hot cocoa because of germs on his cup. And that he wanted to be a doctor, like daddy, not work on the ‘puter, like mommy. Be forewarned that the clip above is ridiculously long (i.e. even the grandparents might get bored).

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Make it Stop! Make it Stop!


This is in direct response to the previous post. The weather outside is indeed frightful....but inside it’s not entirely delightful. (Read: two very wiggly, energetic kiddos, and one mom with a raging cabin fever).

And since we DO have places to go, let’s NOT let it snow, let it snow!

When preschool is cancelled, it means I can’t “work on the ‘puter”, or see the dentist, or get my haircut, all of which were scheduled to occur today. So I take yet another day off from work and bemoan the fact that I must live another day with frumpy bangs and split ends.

Now, we have been told by friends, neighbors and strangers in the grocery store that this winter is by far the worst they’ve seen in many years. We had the second snowiest December on record, and Jan/Feb are looking to follow suit. The old time Maine-iacs are hearkening back to the “early 80s” to recall a winter that was quite this stormy.

And if this is as bad as it gets, I suppose it really isn’t THAT bad (comparison being made to Cleveland or Rochester where the sun disappears for half the year). We still get our fair share of sunshine. It just seems to storm on the days that I have a lot planned.....whether it be conference calls, doctors appointments, haircuts, or as was the case today, all of the above.

So I want to go on record. Enough is enough. We live way up north. We get it. It’s gonna be “wintery” for a while. But for the love of all that’s sunny...someone PLEASE make it stop!!!

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Let it snow, let it snow!

We had some fun in the snow this morning. If it’s gonna be cold, we might as well have snow! Caed demonstrates his snow angel technique and declares that the snow tastes like “watermelon” in this February flick...
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Peekaboo Sheridan Style

We recently captured the final seconds of a very long round of peek-a-boo with Sheridan. The funny thing is, she is the instigator--the one who likes to hide and “surprise” us by poking her head around the corner of the office door. This game usually ends when she decides to (a) climb the stairs (hence we must go after her), or (b) Caed comes into the room to compete for attention. video

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Look-it the Legos!

“LOOKIT!! LOOK what I BUILD!!! TAADAAA!” Caed said as the great lego master unveiled his work. And surprisingly enough, it survived the evil swipes of Sheridan just long enough to complete the photo shoot.

Yes, indeed. Caed loves to build things, be it with legos, train tracks, blocks or random tupperware. Will he be an architect? A structural engineer perhaps? I may be biased, but I think this lego tower rivals the architectural genious of the famous Art Vandalay (the fake architect alias of George Costanza).

Anyway, this is what you do in the winter when you live in Maine. Build stuff, take a picture, knock it down. Repeat. Hold onto your legos, folks, because it doesn’t get more exciting than this! (At least not in February).

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The Demise of the Dry Clean Only Duds

I should have known better than to put on dry-clean only clothes this morning. It is tantamount to pre-registering my children for Hurling Together (a mommy & me course to explore the techniques for gagging, spitting and spewing. Clean up tips included in this not-to-be missed 24 hour session).

This morning I made that careless and fabric-fatal mistake, donning a wool skirt that hadn’t seen the light of day since the tech bubble burst.

I had it all planned. I would dress Sheridan first, and then put her down for a quick nap while I made myself (and Caed) presentable. Everything was going swimmingly until I decided to wear a skirt and “real shoes” to church, in lieu of my usual jeans and Merrells. That’s when it all went horribly wrong. From down the hall, I heard the dreaded noise of nausea enacted. And knew in an instant that I should never have pulled the skirt out of the closet, much less put it on.

We spent the remainder of the morning hosing Sheridan down in the bath and laundering every last piece of fabric within a 6 foot radius of her crib. Then the vomit watch began. Would it happen again? If so, when? And where? (Lord, please let it be the tile or hardwood, not the carpet, PLEASE not the carpet). The dog was sequestered so as to remove any temptation to help “clean up” in case of another episode.

Thankfully, there was not a repeat of the regurgitation. I’m afraid I have to categorize this episode as “self-inflicted” vs. the stomach bug. Sheridan, after all, has a history of eating paper. One more event such as this and I might have to check her into rehab. “Hi, my name is Sheridan, and I can’t stop trying to eat inedible substances.”

But the damage was done--both to the skirt--and to our lovely morning. Caed, in fact, spent the first 20 minutes of naptime wailing (loudly!) that he wanted to go to church. Then when he woke up early (only after 20 minutes of rest), he started crying again, remembering that he had to skip sunday school. He picked a fine time to get all pious on me. And no amount of bible quoting (i.e. “do all things without grumbling and complaining” or “in everything give thanks”) could reverse his tirade of tears and disappointment.

Later that day, we piled into the car to pick up Dad from the airport (another long story for another day). And this time, I wisely opted for denim duds.

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