Blog Stew

If you could read my mind and see all the great blog posts I have mentally compiled over the last few weeks, you would be impressed.  I am certain of it.  Truth be told, I quite often think of things about which to write, but then life gets busy (which is kind of an understatement), and I get tired and it never gets posted.  Alas, I will try to catch you up.  I'll start with most recent and work my way back. 

1.) I find it my calling this summer to bring back the friendship bracelet.  (Did you see the last posts about the projects?  Add this one to the list.)  Actually, I decided on a whim to buy some clearance skiens of embroidery thread a few weeks back and have made several little bracelets since.  I'm trying to recall the cool techniques I once knew, and started on this one last night.  First, it's about an inch thick and features 18 different threads.  Second, it takes about an hour per inch.  This one is intense, but it'll be great once it's done.  And then, my sister will likely make me cut it off for her wedding.  Maybe I should look into a clasp for this one...

2.) Recently (as in maybe a year ago and worsening since), we have noticed that out little Patrick sometimes seemed to struggle with his sense of hearing.  Sometimes, he would repeat what we might have said to him and it was something not even close.  Then, he would just look at you and nod inappropriately, turn his head to one side when you were talking to him, and cup the back of his ear to "catch sound."  Naturally, we brought this up to his pediatrician, who did an in-office hearing screen.  He failed his left side four times.  Womp, womp.  So, yesterday, we went to the audiologist.  Initially, I was really nervous, full of guilt, and worried about our little guy.  Over the past two weeks leading up to the appointment, I started to feel better.  (It helps when your dad and best friend are both physicians.  I like to get my answers early.)  According to the tests yesterday, Patrick's nerves are great.  He can actually hear very well.  However, his inner ears are full of so much fluid that one eardrum has no movement at all.  The ENT doctor told us that it is like trying to hear through a mass of cotton balls.  Easy fix: six weeks of a steroid nasal spray and tubes if that doesn't help alleviate some of the fluid. Outstanding.  Relief.  Here he is in the soundproof booth, playing the hearing "games" with the audiologist:

3.) In one short week, our Hatch (-Baby-Angel-Face) will be eight months old.  In a word, joyful.  He's a joy to have around and emits an aura of joyfulness from his very core.  For that reason, when we had to choose a patron saint for him, we chose St. Philip Neri, patron saint of Joy.  He is a pleasure to have in our house.  We have learned that he is a little scrappy (probably a necessary trait, being relatively petite and the youngest of three boys), and does bite, but he's otherwise pretty great.  At seven months, he learned to unsteadily crawl, which has now evolved into a funny little breast-stroke "pop." He moves, though.  He has two teeth (very sharp little suckers who are especially unwelcome during the groggy 7am feeding), can sit up pretty well, and is starting to pull himself up.  His vocabulary now consists of three words: Dada, Mama, hi.  He gives a good, strong belly laugh and is very, very ticklish.  He thinks his brothers are hilarious, even when they are tormenting him, and he and Patrick seem to share a special little bond.  (Interesting, too, because their personalities seem to be fairly similar in the vocal/social/friendly aspects.)  He's growing well, though is a little tiny.  He has beautiful, straight, very shiny auburn hair, which I would guess will end up being very dark and most similar to my sister's hair.  He's precious.  (Naturally, all three of these boys are.  At least, I think so.)  Here is Hatch's funny little "crawl":

4.) The older boys have made it their summer mission to catch every bug/slug/creature in our backyard.  They occupy their days with the trampoline, water tables, hoses, and digging and scouring for bugs.  Patrick has deemed himself "The Slug Hunter," and, honestly, he can find slugs anywhere.  Leo is fearless and bare-hands any bugs (the biting/stinging ones and the hairiest of hairy included) and brings them inside to show me.  Ew.  Snips, snails, and puppy dog tails... They almost require daily baths now, and then the bathtub has to be scrubbed out at the end.  I have a feeling this will be a way of life for many, many years.  Here is Patrick with his first slug, who was later named "The Dead Guy" because, well, this is the last picture of him looking this good:

4.) I am a really good singer, and Leo has discovered a true appreciation for my hidden talent (I hope you can read the sarcasm there):

5.) This summer with boys is looking to be an excellent one.  I'm excited about all of stuff we will get to do together.  I have made a "Summer Bucket List," which was adapted from one I read in a magazine I picked up at the store last weekend, but we have successfully crossed a few off the list.  Here is a final pic of the boys with two of their best friends, ending a long, lazy Memorial Day with an attempted Movie Night/Slumber Party.  (Attempted because the serenity in this photo lasted roughly 90 seconds before this Slumber Party turned into a Daddy/Son Wrestle Fest).

Projects, Projects, Projects

If I had a theme to this year, it would be this: Projects.  Granted, we are less than six months in, but if the last half goes anything like the first, we have ourselves a theme.  If you've known me for a while, you know I can't turn down a project (especially the kind that come in a ready-made kit.  And especially if it's a plant in a box.  Ask my sister about that.)  Now, I can't say that all of these projects have been a success...I can't even say that most of them have, but the list of attempted "things" just keeps growing, and, in turn, so do I. 

First on my list (of attempts and of failures):  My pumpkin plants.  Actually, these are Patrick's pumpkin plants, as the Easter Bunny left him in his basket.  I had grand plans for these pumpkins and we planted three seeds.  We grew three plants.  I have since killed all three plants.  (In addition, I have killed three hydrangea plants since 3/20.  The first one I actually killed in two days.  I believe that to be a record.)  Thankfully, Patrick has hope.  The brown, wilted remains of the plants are still on the back porch in hopes that they can be revived.  Eventually, when he isn't looking, it would be nice to switch them out with three healthy, thriving plants, but I know I'd probably kill those, too, and the effort would just make no sense. 

Secondly, and one of my first successes, I barreled my own bourbon...and rocked out some pretty delicious stuff.  Now, you may be thinking, Does Catie drink bourbon?, and the answer to the question would be no.  However, I would like to, and when I found out that my beautiful friend and her husband had this cool business venture (Risky? Whisky.  Check it out here: www.i-byob.com.), I absolutely had to check it out. Now, if I had to do it all over again, I would read the tips available on the website and added in some vanilla or the like, but as it is, it's pretty good.  Adam loves it.  He's teaching me to sip on it...and I'm working on it.  (Our plan is to do the Bourbon Trail later on this fall, so I am easing myself into the acquired taste.) I did have pictures of the project at it's various stages, but I have replaced my phone since then...and have yet to recover my old pictures.  Trust me that it was a success, though.  This project comes highly recommended.

I started my birthday project, which really did go pretty well.  I learned fairly far into it, though, that 32 acts of kindness is a lot of work.  A lot.  So my project remains unfinished.  I did have a couple of kind acts here and there, but none so noteworthy as of recently that I felt the need to record them.  I try to be nice in general, but I kind of felt like that was a generic "out" for what should have been memorable acts.  I thought about sending cards or gifts to 10 or so random people to actually finish my project, but that also seemed a bit generic and, well, desperate, so I didn't.  Then, I got a call from my neighbor:

I have to preface this by saying that I live by a handful of elderly people.  And that I, with every ounce of my being, love eldery people (probably even more than I love babies...which is a lot.)  The elderly women walk up and down the street during the day, visiting one another.  They know exactly what is going on with everyone in the neighborhood, they attend neighborhood meetings and host bridge club.  They are, in a word, adorable.  So, on Sunday morning (after my sister's bachelorette party, so you can imagine how I was feeling), when my phone rang and it was Mrs. L next door, I knew something was wrong.  We call each other four times a year at most.  It's generally something like "Did I close my garage door?"  or "Can you call the power company for me?" or "Did you get your mail today?" or "Do you have any lime juice."  I had just talked to Mrs. L earlier in the week about something mundane, but knew that her 86 year-old husband was ill.  So, when she called again a couple of days later, I just sort of knew. I ignored her call.  (Terrible, I know, but review how I said I was feeling. I was in no condition to handle bad news.)  When I finally started to recover that evening, I nervously called her back.  She was sobbing.  "Bob died."  My heart broke, and there we were, two crying women on the phone, trying almost entertainingly to have a conversation.  (Interestingly, I had not seen Bob in a while and sort of wondered to Adam not long ago if he hadn't died earlier.  The fact that he hadn't and I wasn't a completely negligent neighbor was actually sort of a relief.  Selfish, I know.) 

Mrs. L invited me to the services.  She invited me to the showing, to the funeral, to the graveside services, to the luncheon, and to the family get-together back at her house.  She asked me to bring her dinner and to come over and visit more often.  She was lonely, she said.  With Adam gone most weeks, I am lonely, too.  So I decided to make Mrs. L my project.  I had grand intentions for us.  (I should mention that in addition to my affinity to ready-made projects, I am also a bit of a dreamer.)  I envisioned us having tea on her back porch, of her making cookies for the boys while I tidied up her house and brought in her mail.  In my daydreams, the kids never broke anything and I didn't even break a sweat in her house, which is kept at a balmy 80 degrees, so you can see that my envisioned relationship was nothing more than a dream.  Still, I was intent.  So, I called a few days later.  No call back, which in a way was strange, especially considering that she was by herself and I knew she was lonely.  When the ambulance showed up very early the next morning, I stood at the window for several minutes before heading over.  (I don't want to be a nosey neighbor, but I also didn't want her to be by herself.)  She had fallen and hit her head.  She is still in the hospital.  So, now I am torn between wanting to take care of her and not wanting to look like the intrusive neighbor.  Bleh.  Social norms and expecations are stupid.  What do I do?  I'm not giving up hope that I can at least help her out, but I am not exactly sure how yet.  Still, there we are: kind of back in Project Be a Good Person Limbo.

As far as other projects, Patrick and I have been painting quite a bit.  I am working on a diet overhaul (lost eleven pounds!), moved Leo to his new room, tried with decent success an ombre effect to my own hair, have started to potty train (almost a giant failure, but not giving up just yet), and have a couple of events in the books to plan.  This summer should be a good one, for sure.  At least that is my plan...my biggest project of all. Ready...go!

Twenty Things

20 Things a Mother Should Tell Her Son

1. You will set the tone for the sexual relationship, so don't take something away from her that you can't give back.

2. Play a sport. It will teach you how to win honorably, lose gracefully, respect authority, work with others, manage your time and stay out of trouble. And maybe even throw or catch.

3. Use careful aim when you pee. Somebody's got to clean that up, you know.

4. Save money when you're young because you're going to need it some day.

5. Allow me to introduce you to the dishwasher, oven, washing machine, iron, vacuum, mop and broom. Now please go use them.

6. Pray and be a spiritual leader.

7. Don't ever be a bully and don't ever start a fight, but if some idiot clocks you, please defend yourself.

8. Your knowledge and education is something that nobody can take away from you.

9. Treat women kindly. Forever is a long time to live alone and it's even longer to live with somebody who hates your guts.

10. Take pride in your appearance.

11. Be strong and tender at the same time.

12. A woman can do everything that you can do. This includes her having a successful career and you changing diapers at 3 A.M. Mutual respect is the key to a good relationship.

13. "Yes ma'am" and "yes sir" still go a long way.

14. The reason that they're called "private parts" is because they're "private". Please do not scratch them in public.

15. Peer pressure is a scary thing. Be a good leader and others will follow.

16. Bringing her flowers for no reason is always a good idea.

17. Be patriotic.

18. Potty humor isn't the only thing that's humorous.

19. Please choose your spouse wisely. My daughter-in-law will be the gatekeeper for me spending time with you and my grandchildren.

20. Remember to call your mother because I might be missing you.

My Leo

It's almost incredible to me that it's been two years since you were born, Sweet Leo.  Two years ago today was your due date.  Two years ago today was Mother's Day, and two years ago today you were nine days old.  At the same time, it feels like we just laid eyes on each other and that you have been here my entire life.  You are, in a way that only you can be, a complete enigma.

You and me, two years ago today

 I would attempt a birthday interview with you, but I know how it would
go.  Despite my questions, your responses would be along the lines of:

-Did you see that bug?  There he is (and you say it so that it sounds just like "areas.")

-I want to watch a show.  Cars.  Now.  Sit, Mommy, sit. 

-No, Mommy.  NO!  Mommy, NO!  AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

-L. E. O. That's Leo.

-Sawwy, Mommy.

-No.  No.  Noooooooo.

-I want chocolate milk and a snack.  (Or, in Leo language, "I want
knock-a-moke-an-nack.")

-I want to eat. Hungry, Mommy.  Cookies and (s)nack, Mommy? 

Leo, Mommy, and Daddy 5/9/10

Leo Walden, you march to the beat of your own drummer.  You don't care
much what anyone else is doing, you do your own thing.  (Your Uncle Wes calls you "Honey Badger, as in "Honey Badger don't care.")  You do everything.  You are up here, down there, over that-a-way and back here again in less than a second.  You can douse the couch in hairspray and coat the toilet in Aquafor in the same day.  Rather, in the same hour.  You continue to surprise me with little gifts in my drinks.  Whatever I'm eating, you want.  It doesn't matter if it is exactly what you have on your plate, you want mine instead (we share this trait.  Apparently, food envy is hereditary.)  You make me laugh.  All day long.

May 2011, One year old

You won't remember these first few years together, but your dad and I will.  I will always, always cherish our frequent high-fives, fist-bumps, head-butts, and couch tosses.  I will miss knocking on your thick little skull like it's the front door, only to get a slight look of annoyance from you out of the corner of your eye.  I'll miss the way you snuggle into my neck and how you say "Love, Mama"  ("Fwuv, Mommy.")  I'll miss how you refer to yourself as the baby.  ("The baby is so tired.  The baby is so bad.  The baby did it.  The baby watch a show.")

Leo, 18 months

You see, you'll have to grow up.  As much as I cannot wait to see who you turn into, I cannot bear the thought of your growing out of my arms.  As aloof as you can be, you are still my little lap-boy...well, not so little, I guess.  We lovingly call you our Man-Child, because as large as you are in size, you are also in personality. You're a 22-year-old frat boy in the body of a two-year-old boy.  See?  An enigma.

Easter, 2012

Leo, it won't be until you have your own children that you will be able to recognize the true joy you have brought into our lives.  From the minute you were born, I felt lucky to be chosen to raise you.  I can remember the exact feeling that washed over me the minute I laid eyes on you.  You and I share a secret that is only ours to share.  I don't even know what it is yet, but you and me?  We get each other.  I may say that I don't know where you came from (in terms of this big attitude of yours), but that's not the truth.  I know exactly where you came from.  You are my kind. 

Classic Leo

On your birthday, I kept reminding you what day it was.  You didn't really care much, aside from the ice cream cake we had.  I wanted something from you.  I wanted you to say or do something very cute and birthday appropriate, so that I had a clear memory of you on your 2nd birthday.  And, never one to disappoint, you gave me that.  I asked how old you were.  Matter-of-factly, while grabbing yourself, you proudly said, "I'm two.  And I have a pee-pee."  Yes, you are and yes, you do, my little
buddy.  Thanks for being you.  There isn't another baby in the entire world I would want you to be.  Happy birthday from your mother...your biggest fan.

Oh, Just a Little Of Everything

My favorite text today went like this:  "I'm in need of a Walden Family Digest post.  Please and thank you."  Here you are!

Where do I even start? So much time has lapsed that I feel like I've lost my page in a very long book.  Where did I leave off?  Let's just get to it.

1.) Our house is on the market.  It's clean, organized, and ready for a buyer!  So far, we have had great feedback (the only negatives have been the size.  We know that already.  Can't change it.)  I'm as excited as I am indifferent about moving, as it just occurred to me that we will have to pay for our new home.  Oops.  Oversight.  I would like to keep my little mortgage, yet get twice the home.  Is that possible?  No?

2.)  In getting the house ready to sell, I have become obsessed with home-made cleaning products.  How are these not the norm?  They work better than anything I have bought from the store, and cost about $0.50-$1 to make.  My favorites: 1/2 Dawn Dish Soap, 1/2 White Vinegar.  This works especially well on toilets and on soap scum in showers.  Also, it smells just like SweetTarts.  I credit Jamie Shartzer for this.  Blue Magic, this stuff is.  As an all-purpose cleaner, I use 1/2 vinegar, 1/2 water, and the peels of several oranges or lemons.  It needs to sit for two weeks, but it doesn't matter too much unless you really want to get rid of the vinegar smell.  (I kind of like it.  It reminds my of my grandparents' house.)

3.)  Teeth!  We have teeth in this house!  Well, naturally, four of us have at least most of our teeth, but our tiny baby is not the only one without any more.  He's the latest teether of them all at 6.5 (almost seven!) months, but we have two tiny teeth finally poking through his little gums at the very same time. (He is already a biter when he nurses, so pray for my nipples.)

4.)  Related or unrelated to the teeth (and I hope related), our generally happy and mild-mannered little guy was introduced to formula recently with very terrible results.  After asking my brother to watch the kids overnight while I was working and Adam was out of town on business, it dawned on me that it might be a little weird for him to handle my breastmilk.  So, I figured maybe we would try formula for sitters and the the feeding Adam has to do while I am gone at work three nights a week.  Sadly, Hatch reacted terribly.  I can count on one hand the number of times he has been fussy in his short little life, and yesterday was one of them.  He was pitiful.  Obviously, he was in pain, but I'm wavering between whether it was teeth or belly pain.  I nursed him all day yesterday.  ALL day, in an effort to soothe him.  Today, I gave him some Tylenol and he's been asleep since 9am.  My poor little buddy.  I have a good supply of pumped milk, so we'll just go back to that.  Also, when did formula get to be so expensive??  I choked when I saw the price sticker.  Highway robbery.

5.)  Hatch has also started to crawl!  I wouldn't say he is a "crawler" just yet, but he can get up on his knees, rock for a few seconds to gain momentum, and crawl short distances before flopping on his ample little belly and smiling ear-to-ear at his accomplishment.

6.)  Lastly, but definitely most importantly, welcome to the world little Louie Edward!  We have been waiting for you!  (We gained a new nephew this week.  A new, much-anticipated, perfectly perfect nephew. ) 

Original Posting Date: April 15, 2012

As I sit down to write this, I am so tired that my mind feels a little like it is running on auto-pilot.  Despite the amount of caffeine I have had tonight, I just cannot wake up my brain.  On the flip-side of that coin, I cannot make my body fall asleep.  It's a difficult dilemma.  However, it offers me time to update my blog, even if it may or may not make complete sense.  I can edit later, I suppose.

Obviously, I worked this weekend.  I work every weekend, and while that may sound painful to most, it's actually very nice.  Very, very nice.  The night staff is great.  The weekend night staff is excellent.  That, and I feel like I barely work at all, since I am home all week and don't have to miss but one day with the kids.  (Granted, this means I only really sleep as a means to catch up between my two back-to-back shifts, but it works for now.  I have noticed that my eyes always appear a little tired, but there are probably several contributing factors for that.)

On Saturday morning, I walked in the door exhausted.  Adam probably knew because I think I mumbled a string of maybe four words before picking up the baby and heading back to the bedroom to nurse him.  (Our routine is such that Adam knows to hold off Hatch's breakfast until I get home, when I can feed him while laying down together and simultaneously fall asleep.  Adam will sneak in the bedroom and check on us until Hatch is done and he takes him out of the room and lets me sleep in peace.  Like a well-oiled machine, we are.  Sometimes.)  However, I just couldn't sleep on Saturday.  As tired as I was, I could nap for an hour and then would get up.  Fall asleep again and wake once more.  Up to eat.  Up to pee.  Back to sleep.  Up once more because the boys don't understand "quiet" and down again slumped over on the couch.  Sad, really.  The saddest.  However, with both of the older boys down for a nap, Adam picked up the baby and was out the door to run errands.  In peace and quiet, I was able to squeeze in a little bit of sleep in his absence.  When Adam came home from his errands, he was beaming.  "I just bought you what might be the best and most thoughtful present I have ever given you," he said.  (Knowing Adam, I honestly prepped for him to pull out a dancing and singing animal from the seasonal aisle at CVS.)  However, what he pulled out was actually "the best and most thoughtful present."  A super-nice new pillow and a sleep mask.  Sounds ridiculous, right?  Only, it's not.  Adam can tell you.  He was sound asleep on the pillow (but minus the mask) about 20 minutes after he pulled it out of the packaging.  I had my own spin with it today, though, and I can assure you...it's fabulous.  The mask does wonders, too.  I may look ridiculous and slightly diva-esque, but I care exactly not at all.  I am so excited for what these two items have in store for my immediate future.  Truly.

I found out very shortly after starting the night shift that the working itself is not too bad.  Staying awake is generally not a problem.  However, the drive home is the pits.  It's not ok.  Borderline dangerous.  Yesterday was the worst it's ever been, and I believe I dozed off a handful of times.  Thankfully, I'd like to tell myself it was when the car was stopped.  I hope that's the case.  (I promised Adam I would just pull over and sleep next time.  Also, I promised I will no longer turn on the seat warmer.  I don't think that helps much.)  Today was actually good.  I felt not-so-bad driving.  I was driving and singing and dancing, all to keep myself focused and moving.  And I did.  Two miles past my exit.  Hmmm.  C-.  But I made it home and did not fall asleep, so I should get extra credit points for that. 

I make this sound miserable, but it's not.  I'm figuring it out.  I keep telling myself that it's not forever, it's for now.  And, for where we are in life right now, the sacrifice is worth it, just as long as I can stay away for my drives home.  I'm working on it.