Will of Iron

How my baby girl gets her way.

"Mommy, let's take some pictures together."

"Ok, you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, honey, you closed your eyes. Let's try again."

"Ok Mom."

 (Notice the folded arms)

"Bwahahahaha! I closed my eyes again!"

"You stinker. Let's try again."

 "Ok Mommy but this time let's both close our eyes."

"Ok." (I'm such a sucker)

 "Hahaha. Mommy now let's be silly"

"Ok"

Megalomaniacal MDs

In my job, I sometimes get to overhear conversations between medical professionals, usually doctors. Here's one I found particularly interesting:

First some background. The lady doctor is married to a doctor and together they have a household income of about $500k/year, maybe more. She is busy and doesn't enjoy doing mundane things. Recently, her son discovered he needed oral surgery to remove his wisdom teeth. Sadly for him, his mother hadn't really understood all the insurance paperwork when she started her job so she just selected the default insurances and went about her day. The default dental insurance was a preferred provider organization (PPO). Now, there's an Ivy League family going to Castle Dentistry and expecting the finest care. Shocked that her insurance company is preventing her from choosing a dentist, and more so that all the dentists in her plan are inadequate, she describes this unacceptable situation to a physician colleague.

This quickly devolves into a philosophical discussion about the current medical care crisis. The colleague has apparently never experienced anything like this but still attempts to commiserate. "Well you see," he says, "this is MY paradox," as if he had identified a paradox for which he was the sole proprietor, "I'm completely opposed to the way things are now, so I'm working on projects toward a new medical system. But meanwhile I'm trying to wring everything out, you know, to make a living, on our current system that I totally disagree with."

This man is a shining example of how all our problems began. Believing in something does not mean that you believe in it wholeheartedly... for everyone else.

Criminal Identification

I served on a jury today. Last night, I was explaining to my son all the roles of the various participants in a court room. This morning he sent me off with a helpful reminder. "Mommy, if someone has done a crime, they will be wearing a black shirt with a lot of pockets and black pants." Excellent. I wouldn't have any difficulty identifying whether the defendant was guilty because he would be dressed like a supervillain. I thanked him and let him know I would keep that in mind.

Tonight, he was helping me make pineapple Jello and the subject came up again. In a moment of wisdom, I informed him that the only person in my court room that fit his description of a criminal was the police officer. "Maaaaaaybe he wasn't reeeeally a police officer after all!"

Whispers in the dark

In the wee hours this morning, my son walked into my room and snuggled up next to me. He was finished sleeping, so we whispered a conversation in the dark.

We talked about his schoolmate's neck brace, how his mom loosened it so it would be more comfortable, and how my son didn't know if the child's neck was broken because he hadn't seen the x-ray.

He told me about the secret fighting place on the playground and how it's really not that secret because the teachers can see through the squares. There's mostly just wrestling and tackling, but sometimes punching and kicking. He pulls off the kids that are tackling so that they don't hurt anyone. It would not surprise me if his good citizenry is actually true.

He also explained that some kids throw rocks on the playground and this is not ok because there is someone who died from a person throwing a rock at him. After some questioning, it turns out the rock-thrower's name is Dave. He used a slingshot. "And the guy he hit was named Golliath?" I asked. "Yes, Mommy, and that is why our teacher says that we should NEVER throw rocks on the playground." Good advice.

I cherish these whispered-in-the-dark conversations. My son is not one to share his thoughts freely, even at age five, so brief moments like these are a gift. A gift I share with you.

The Big Five

My baby boy is five years old. I have no words.

Haitian Proverbs

I spent a good part of my past week at work packing up and shipping off my boss. She returned from Haiti 48 hours before the earthquake with a group of medical students. She's a doctor that was raised there and decided to return as soon as she learned of the disaster on Tuesday night. En route, she sent a beautiful email to all of the many people that helped her prepare for the trip by donating supplies, medicines, money and time. At the end of her message, she included two Haitian proverbs to sum up her feelings. I had to share these, as they are applicable in any trying situation and, from what my boss tells me, give a glimpse of the resiliency of the Haitian people.

Men anpil, chay pa lou.( When hands are many, the load is not too heavy).
Tet pa koupe toujou gen lespwa mete chapo.( As long as your head has not been cut off, there is hope of putting a hat on it.

Wise Guy

The kids and I made a late night trip to Home Depot for a plunger. On the way home, my son started talking about how he would rather be a kid than a teenager because teenagers don't get to play. I explained that teenagers do get to play, but it's a little different than when you're a kid. They usually pick a hobby, like soccer or dancing or playing guitar or drawing, and then they do that a whole bunch and it's kinda like playing. He thought for a while and then told me proudly, "I think when I'm a teenager my hobby will be studying. I bet there's not a lot of teenagers with THAT hobby!"

Tonight, he and I had one of our dozing off to sleep conversations. Those are my favorite. He'll talk about all kinds of stuff when he can't keep his eyes open. Tonight it was about dying, or rather about how long people can live. I told him I want to live to be a hundred. He said that he wants to live forever. And to stay a kid. Wise beyond his 4 years, I told him, and then he was asleep.

Ridiculously Busy

Bartender: "What'll it be?"

Me: "Chicken."

There's just something very wrong about drinking dinner in the car on the way home after work. The good news is that I went to my first dance class in over a year. The even better news is that I'm pretty sure I'll be able to move in the morning.

A Found Thought

I'm unpacking my desk today. Our a/c is out and it's warm. And a little bit dreamy. Hey, that's almost a haiku. See, dreamy.

I came across an envelope with some thoughts splattered on it, and I thought I'd share. Enjoy.

It was sunny outside

and just the right amount of warm.

We splashed in the surf

And ground oily sand between our teeth.

This day, we loved.

Good Friday they called it,

The day the irises bloomed.

Thoughts when there's no time to think

We've been a little busy around here. I'm working, Pete's schooling, our oldest is in a class that asks for volunteers. And we're moving. So instead of writing a real blog post, I've decided to jot down the first sentences of a smattering of fleeting blog thoughts. Enjoy.

1. Moving into this house feels incredible, like it's our very first house. I hope this will be the one the kids remember as their family home.

2. My son loves the house. But he still wants to move in with his grandparents and go to this mysterious thing called summer camp. He's four. I said no.

3. After changing poop diapers for 4 1/2 years, you'd think I would be ok with cleaning number two out of baby girl's little potty. I'm not. It's disgusting. We say "bye bye poop" anyway.

4. It has been suggested (again) that I could benefit from being more assertive at work. "I'm confident and I have something important to say." Apparently that's what I'm supposed to think. And I'm supposed to wear a game face every day. Um... yeah.

5. Riiiight. Niiiiiice. My son just learned to use the word "right" to mean "wrong" and "nice" to mean "not nice." There are others and he uses them often. It's one of those things that is so cute right now. To everyone else it's totally obnoxious. Peter and I laugh in code.

6. About 36 hours to moving now. At long last. I'm having anxiety attacks. The kids are acting like freaks at home and angels at school. We had MREs for dinner.

7. This is my boy on a bungee swing and some carnival rides. He is a bit of a thrill seeker these days.

This one's for Amanda

I think when your two-year-old daughter says, "I want to be her," it's supposed to be while she's looking at Tinkerbell or Wonder Woman, not Fergie. Baby girl has the boom boom pow and all, but I was hoping she wouldn't realize it for at least a few more years.

Some pics from Colorado

On the way up the mountain we stopped at a really cold stream.
This is the top of Mount Evans, where we drove up the highest paved road in North America. Pikes Peak is off in the distance somewhere. There were mountain goats all around.
This is Amber, Emily and me at Fancy Tiger, Amber's craft shop in Denver.

The importance of down time

I went on a wonderfully relaxing vacation to Colorado for three whole days. Got lots of rest. Came home to my weaned daughter and got to sleep all through the night, too. I expected to feel rested. But no. I was tired. Really tired, like beginning of pregnancy tired. I'm definitely not pregnant, so I wondered what the heck was up. I tried increasing my sleep to 7 hours. Still tired. So last night I said forget it. I stayed up late with Peter and watched one of our favorite shows--Kings. It's a great show. We fold laundry and watch it online. I was up until after midnight and woke up at 6:30. I feel much better now. Still tired, but better. Having some down time, even at the expense of sleep, is so refreshing.

McAllen Texas is the most expensive town in the most expensive country in the world

“The greatest threat to America’s fiscal health is not Social Security,” President Barack Obama said in a March speech at the White House. “It’s not the investments that we’ve made to rescue our economy during this crisis. By a wide margin, the biggest threat to our nation’s balance sheet is the skyrocketing cost of health care. It’s not even close.” Check out The Cost Conundrum

Born Again

On the way home from school, G mumbles something about not being able to remember. So naturally I ask him what he can't remember. "Being born," he says. 

"Hm. Neither do I," I think silently. But I'm not sure I ever really tried. 

"Do you remember anything about being born?" I ask. Not sure where this is going.

"No," he replies. Then, "I remember it was like waking up into a dream. Like I woke up but I was in a dream but I knew it wasn't a dream because I tried to look inside a plant but I couldn't see inside the plant so I knew it wasn't a dream."

I remember my parents saying that I said weird stuff as a kid. Once, I freaked out my mom so bad that she wouldn't put me to bed alone. She left me alone in the dark, went and got my dad, and they put me to bed together that night. 

So just to clarify, I asked, "So you remember that being born felt like you were waking up, but going into a dream."

"Yeah!" he said, like I had just hit it right on the nose.

So now I'm thinking about that movie with Nicole Kidman, I think called the Others, where the (spoiler alert) people think there are ghosts in the house but really they are the ghosts. If my son is really insightful, or has this past life memory like

 I did at his age, then does that mean that when we die it will be like waking up? Not that I'm looking forward to the day, but somehow that makes it kind of bearable to imagine. When I'm 110 years old maybe.

And on a lighter note, here is a fabulously precious photo of my lovelies riding a pretend horse.

  

Easter Pics

There are too many precious Easter pics to count from Aunt Bec, but here are a few of my faves. 

More Kid Stories

I think my favorite thing E does right now is looking for monkeys completely at random. It's a very quiet kind of looking. In the middle of dinner or walking through the halls at school, she suddenly whips her head around, looks to the side and in a harsh whisper says, "Muuuuukeys..." So I ask, also in a whisper (she's very convincing) "Where are the monkeys?"
She responds with shrugging hands and wide, concerned eyes and another whisper "I no know. Where muuuukeys?"
And then we're finished. There's no all clear, no resolution. We just move on to the next adventure.

G and I were playing rhyming on the way home from school yesterday. He's getting very good and also very creative and sometimes loses his train of thought. Say... way... hay... "Oh, hey! That means when somebody takes your toy and you don't want them to."

In my backyard, there is a porch. And over the porch is a lattice that makes shade. And hanging from a wood beam that holds up the lattice is a popcicle stick, which is attached using a long piece of tape. And hanging from the popcicle stick is another long piece of tape that dangles in the breeze. It is a windchime.

Zoo Camping

We camped at the zoo last weekend and went on a night time tour. I must have dozed off at some point because I woke up to the sound of howling monkeys. 

Deborah Conrad

This is very sad news. Deborah was a powerful force. You could grow stronger by standing next to her. Taking her yoga classes was downright inspirational. She lived and died with conviction. Her husband summed it up best in her obituary.

Hot dog night

E figured out how to use a fork. It's the little things.

I dunno why. This kid just cracks me up.