That kind of mom...

The other day I let Danny eat some of my cake and as he was making a fine mess of himself, a friend said to me "oh, you're a Montessori mom." Since I wasn't quite sure what she meant, I looked it up and learned that:

"Montessori emphasizes learning through all five senses, not just through listening, watching, or reading."

Oh. Then I guess I am a Montessori mom. Last night while Danny was eating supper I gave him a whole juicy plum and he delighted in gnawing it while spinning it around in both hands, and basically ended the meal covered from head to toe with sticky fruit. We both thought it was great fun. (Yes, right into the bathtub he went.)

Susanne? She's not so much a Montessori mom. As I understand it, the whole experiential thing seems a bit, well, messy.

So what's the opposite of a Montessori mom? Inquiring minds want to know. ;-)

-Monica

Doth sayeth me...

I think many of our dear readers already know this lovely quote on motherhood…

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

So lovely and so true. But, if I may now amend it just a little…

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your wallet go walking around outside of your purse. ~Monica

I thought of this the other day when we had to send a check for $15.00 to our pediatrician’s office so they could fill out a form with Danny’s vaccination records. Had to be signed by the doc too or we’d have done it ourselves.

But at least for now the little guy is still totally worth it ;-)

-Monica

Happy Days!

Chopped Liver

Our friend Jenni wrote a funny post a week or so ago about how little Oscar now only has eyes for his dad. She titled the post "Daddy Worship", and I think she really hit the nail on the head about how sucky it is to experience, (I'll paraphrase for her here):

"her baby, who once lived for her, breathed for her, was nourished by her, took his very life blood from her, now forsake her for his dad."

Well, as you may recall, Danny's got two moms so we should not have this same situations. Well...
I'm no dad, but let's just say that Danny has been engaging in a similar form or worship called "Mommy love!"

As in me. Monica. Mommy. NOT mama. At first I thought Susanne was imagining things. "He does not favor me, are you kidding?" But you know what? He not only sort of does, he totally does (for now at least.)

Yesterday she left to catch a bus to work while Danny and I were still home and I swear to you if he could have talked he would have said "see ya". Short and snappy like that.

But when I left first this morning you would have thought that the stock market had crashed or something. Crocodile tears of the highest magnitude. Hmmm...maybe my stock market analogy is too close to home.

I'm sure this will pass, but that doesn't make it any more fun for Susanne. Sure, a part of me loves that he wants me all the time. But Bubby, come on now. She's not chopped liver you know. -M

P.S. By the way, I know that my time will come. Kids.

"You're too little"

I thought it twice. "You're too little". "You're too little". Then I said it out loud before my brain kicked in and I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder.

As I jumped out, someone in a gold car who was surprised by my sudden stop leaned on the horn glaring at me. I didn't care. I didn't care that I'd left my bag in the front seat. Danny was already at Jenni's so I didn't have to worry about leaving him alone but I think I would have. You see, I didn't care about anything else in that moment, except for the fact that a little boy who looked to be about two years old was in serious danger of being hit by a car.

The road that we take to drive back and forth from Jenni's is very busy. Two lanes of traffic in one direction, a median, and then two lanes going in the opposite direction. The speed limit is probably 35 but most people go faster.

The little boy was holding a broom and was on the street, on the shoulder where cars sometimes park, but not yet in front of the oncoming traffic. He was wearing a red shirt and blue shorts and had dark hair. There was no adult in sight, and I remember he was just sort of watching the cars whiz on by while swinging the broom around.

This story has a happy ending. By the time I'd taken two steps back toward him I saw a woman racing down from one of the houses and she grabbed him in a tight hug. I can't imagine how she must have felt when she realized he was there. One car had stopped right were the boy was, and put on hazard lights. Thank God he hadn't darted out past it. You know how impatient drivers seem to get ticked off and zoom around cars that stop for reasons they can't understand.

I hadn't gotten very far but I was glad I stopped. And yes I cried. I wish I'd stopped sooner. Wished my brain had reacted to the first thought I had that this boy was too little to be out there all by himself. But mostly I'm just grateful that he's okay. So very grateful. -Monica

And they called it trucky love...

When Danny's at Jenni's house most days of the week he and little Oscar have several fun ride on toys that they scoot around on. But we didn't have any, and hadn't really thought about getting one. Until this weekend that is. In the first picture above Danny looked pretty pitiful trying to ride his little toy dump truck.

Wanting to put him out of his misery but not wanting to practice conspicuous consumerism, we stopped first at a local thrift store in search of something a little bigger and well, movable. The pickings were pretty slim that particular day so we headed to Target. As you can see, Danny approves very much of his new front loader.

This boy is seriously into trucks. Any drive now involves multiple announcements that a truck or bus is in the vicinity. The announcement goes something like this..."uck, uck" while pointing gleefully and wildly out the window. I gotta tell you, I never noticed so many trucks out there in my whole life. Or balloons or flags now that I think of it...
-Monica

Awe done!

I bet you thought this meant “all done!” Such as in, “all finished” or “all set” right?

Not to Danny. We’ve been working on getting him to let us know that he's done eating in ways other than furtively (or so he thinks) tossing his food off the side of the table.

So lately when asked “all done?” he “says” something that might be construed as “all done”.

But apparently to him it means “quick, hurry up and shove more food in my mouth before they take it away!”

This boy can bring a smile to even the crabbiest mom. And that's a good thing. -Monica

Rainy Days and Mondays

On a scale of 1-10, I'd have to say that today I feel like a -2.

But Danny is actually back to his normal happy self after not feeling well for a few days last week. So I guess I'll amend my assessment above to say that I feel like a -1.

Some days are better than others. -Monica

Little Boy Blue

A week ago Danny had his 15 month check up and got his scheduled MMR (that's measles, mumps and rubella) shot. The doctor warned that some kids get sick about 7-10 days after the shot. I filed that away for future reference.

Then two nights ago while giving Danny his bath, he reached for a razor that was near the shampoo (we feel terrible about that) and before I could get it out of his hand he'd hurt his thumb. You know how paper cuts can really sting? He got a little slice right in the bend of his left thumb. The thumb he sucks on to go to sleep at night. His self-soothing "drug" of choice.

Poor baby! It didn't bleed a lot, but it definitely bled. Su and I got a band aid on it which seemed to make our poor baby feel better (he stopped crying at least) but he was completely baffled by why his favorite thumb wouldn't bend. And he didn't like that one bit. When I put him to bed an hour or so later I decided to remove the bandage because I'd read they can be choking hazards. He sucked on it and cried himself to sleep. Which made me feel like crying myself to sleep.

It seemed to be better by the morning so with another band aid in place we sent him along to Jenni's. But the poor boy was not himself. She called early in the afternoon explaining how unusually cranky he was, and how he'd sat on the floor staring at a toy for a long time and then just burst into tears. It's really unusual for him to be so inconsolable. When I arrived to get him after this conversation he was so happy to see me but it was not a good day.

This morning--more of the same. I'm got permission to work from home so he is sound asleep in his crib. We are pretty convinced that his discomfort is what the doctor predicted about the shots, and I'm hopeful that this only lasts a short while longer. The infant Tylenol we gave him is hopefully helping him rest comfortably now.

I am a proponent of vaccinations for children. As a health worker overseas I administered plenty, and I know something about how they work to help the babies form defenses against real attacks later by those pathogens. I just hate to see him feeling miserable now. But I'd REALLY hate much worse to see him with measles, mumps or rubella.

When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer working with my local health center and helping teams of U.S. surgeons who would come to do surgeries in Guatemala I saw kids with infections and illnesses that broke my heart. You never want to see a 7 year old with major burns suffer with a psuedemonas infection (also known as a blue-green algae infection) --trust me you'll never be the same again.

So, I'm trying to keep Danny's few days of mishaps and crankiness in perspective.

Counting our blessings. -Monica

Lookism

Bet you are more familiar with terms like sexism and racism than you are with "lookism". But it’s a real phenomenon.

As commentator John Stossel once wrote in an ABC News article on lookism:

“We like to think of America as a meritocracy. A lot of us think we value people because of what they accomplish, or their character, or generosity, or intelligence — that's what we thought mattered, but are we just putting blinders on?

More often than not it seems qualities other than skill, intelligence or character pay off. Here's an example. Anna Kournikova is ranked 37th in women's tennis, and has never won a major singles championship. So, why is it that Kournikova makes millions more dollars from endorsements than players ranked higher?

So why do I bring this up? This year’s presidential race. Note that I didn’t say the “vice-presidential race.” There is no such thing. But when John McCain added Sarah Palin to the Republican ticket I think it’s safe to say that there are some voters out there who absolutely “fell in love" with her regardless of what her policies, thoughts or experiences are. And they may well vote for the Republicans because of it.
Senator McCain had defended his decision to choose the undeniably very attractive Palin as his running mate based on all kinds of things like her maverick personality, her intelligence, and her ability to “shake up” the status quo.
But you see there are a few more people—men and women, out there who would have probably fit that bill. For example, Linda Lingle would been a great choice. She’s the current governor of Hawaii (pictured here).

But that didn’t happen now did it.

Is the Republican party ready to have its vice presidentail nominee be one “72 year old” heartbeat away from the presidency? I find that hard to believe. (Well that's assuming that the potential new VP would actually be allowed to lead or would just be a puppet--but that's for another blog post.)

Before Palin's election as the governor of Alaska 20 months ago, her resume was so thin that it would have been tossed out of the running for just about any senior executive position in government, industry or academia before interviews were even granted. By the way, attending six colleges in six years is not only a bit uncommon, it’s really makes you wonder what in the heck was always going wrong.

So, we now have a situation where all the Democrats I know think that the Republican ticket is just awful, and all the Republicans I know think it is incredibly awesome.

But it’s all those people who don’t quite know yet what they think that I worry about. I just ask with all seriousness that all who fall into this category take a moment to stop and check whether lookism is causing you to not see what is in front of your own eyes. Think about why you have that “falling in love” feeling. Could it be just an “ism”?.

Maybe. But like racism and sexism, this is something that can be understood. And once that’s done, we really can see people through different lenses. Just something to think about. -Monica

Please, please, please SNL?

I don't believe that neither Tina Fey nor Amy Poehler are regulars on Saturday Night Live anymore.

But they have to come back don't you agree? No one can skewer politicians (and politicians' spouses) like the cast of Saturday Night Live!

This would so be worth staying up past your bedtime. Don't you think? -Monica

Sunshine Day

On Friday I celebrated my 48th birthday (can you believe it!) It was great fun as Su made my favorite kind of cake (Red Velvet with cream cheese frosting) and about a dozen or so neighbors came by to celebrate.

Forty-eight. It’s so weird to me that I’m 48. When I was a kid, that was older than old. Some might argue that it still is.

One hundred years ago the life expectancy in the U.S. for men was 47.9 years and for women 50.7 years. By the end of the century those numbers changed to 73.6 for men and 79.4 for women. (This from the National Vital Statistics System.) That’s quite remarkable.

So my great-grandparents were very near the end of their lives when they were 48 whereas I’m the mother of a one year old. Amazing. I guess this is good news for those of us who are self-described late bloomers ;-)

On the morning of my special day, as a treat, Susanne took charge of all things “Danny” including feeding him breakfast, cleaning up, making aromatic diaper changes—all things that made it possible for me to just lay on the couch with my cup of coffee and read the newspaper in its entirety before going to work. We usually share these duties, and they don’t really lend themselves to relaxed reading.

So as I lay there on the couch, happy as a clam, I commented to Susanne that in a way, my luxurious birthday break was, in effect, just like my life used to be before we had Danny.

That was a pretty intriguing thought, but an even better thought was the fact that I would not trade my life today with anyone for anything.

And that ladies and gentlemen is the best birthday present one could ever ask for. Right sunny son of mine?

-Monica

Our sweet Jewish grandmother boy...

After a rainy day stuck in the house we were happy to go to a fun dinner hosted by Su's former co-worker Sarah and her boyfriend Jake. We had a lovely time (well except for a few Danny "love" bites--the boy is still a biter) when at one point either Su or I called Danny our favorite nickname "Bubby".

Jake thought that was awesome. As he and Sarah are both Jewish, he asked us if we knew that Bubby was what grandmothers were often called in Yiddish. Hmmm...

"I've heard of Babushka for grandmother" I volunteered.

"Well, the nickname often used for Babushka is Bubby" he volunteered right back.

We all looked at Danny, and he applauded.

Gotta love our Lutheran, former Catholic (oh wait that was me), Jewish Grandmother son!

-Monica

P.S. Sarah and Jake. Thanks! Dinner was wonderful! -Monica (Su and whats-his-name!)

Some you win and some you lose...

I meant to mention that when we took Danny to that Nationals game this week, on the subway ride there, he smiled at the Philadelphia fans crowded around us, and proceeded to raise his left hand in the shape of the letter "L" up to his forehead.

It was indeed a hilarious moment (at least for us, and in the defense of the Phillies's fans they were very understanding.)

Can't wait to see when he'll try that again. There are so many excellent targets here in DC! Have a great day everybody. -Monica

Not cool

I'm not sure why this irked me so much, but I was very annoyed last night that the little 4 month old son of the Republican vice-presidential candidate was brought to the 9:30 pm event. All I could think about was how this poor little guy was like a prop for the cameras in what was clearly a VERY LOUD venue. By the way, I'd feel this same way if the infant was the child of a male candidate as well.

I talked about this earlier today with a friend and she speculated that if they hadn't brought the baby, they could have been accused of being ashamed of him or something. I don't know about that one. Who wouldn't have understood if the candidate had said something like "at this late hour our youngest is snuggled away..."--something to that effect.

I think having a young son myself I am a bit hyper aware of things that don't seem very kid-friendly. I really don't know if the baby will be flying around on the campaign trail, but if so I really hope there is some way to build in some kind of routine.

And, is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that just about everyone except the child's father seems to be holding him most of the time. What's that all about?

Just my 2 cents. -Monica

Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks...

Danny as seen in September 2007 and again in September 2008. Both games were against the Phillies and the Nationals won both games.

Just look at that cute boy. I've said it before and I'll say it again--what a difference a year makes huh? -Monica

P.S. He's finally stopped bawling every time the crowd roars. Halleluia!

Didn’t see that one coming…

Remember Family Ties? That ‘80s sitcom with liberal parents and spunky son Alex P. Keaton played brilliantly by Michael J. Fox? For those who don’t know, much to his parents’ chagrin, the boy worshiped Ronald Reagan.

Well, on Friday, Danny and I were in the car listening to the radio as Sen. McCain introduced his pick for Vice-President. As governor Palin spoke, every time the partisan crowd clapped and cheered, little Alex P.--er--Danny H., in the back seat joined in with extremely enthusiastic clapping AND hooting.

Oh dear. Now I’m afraid to flip through the TV channels now lest I come across a NASCAR race. Just breathe Monica. Just breathe.

-Monica

P.S. Is it just me, or were there others who had never heard of the governor of Alaska before last Friday?

Isn't "Chuckle" a funny word? Makes me wanna...

I think when most people think of gas stations, their blood pressure rises and they instantly feel crabby. Why not? With the cost of gas around $4.00 a gallon, I agree that this is a pretty normal response.

But when I think of gas stations I actually usually chuckle. And why you may ask? Well, here are a few reasons.

When I was a kid growing up in the 1960s we had a gas station about ½ block away from our house. To get to it though, you had to cross a pretty busy (well, I guess busy is a relative term) street called Broadway . It was a Union Station—Spirit of ’76 with a big ball as its logo. One of my little brothers LOVED the old pop machine there. More specifically, he loved the icy cold soda pop.

So one day, Mr. Genius managed to purloin a quarter from the dresser in my parents’ bedroom. He was probably around 4 at the time. He gleefully headed down toward the gas station but stopped short when he got to Broadway because he was not allowed to cross the street alone. But his little buddy Pete who lived on that corner (who was the same age I might add) told my brother he would go across the street, buy the bottle of pop and bring it back.

Pete bought the bottle of pop alright, but stood there, across the street from my very distressed little brother and drank the whole thing. As I recall, because of his thievery there wasn’t much he could do in the way of “telling” on Pete. That was chuckle number one.

Humorous memory number two occurred in 1976. That same gas station gave out hundreds, maybe thousands of little “Spirit of ‘76” radio antenna balls to celebrate the bicentennial. (Get it? 76?) Anyway, this was of course back when most cars had those antennas that shot straight up. The idea was that if you put one on your car, you’d easily spot it when you’d look out in crowded parking lot. I must have been with my sisters who could already drive because I remember affixing the little ball to our car before we went up to our local shopping center. A few hours later when we came out I had to laugh. At least 75% of the cars now in that lot had those “Spirit of ’76” balls on their antennas. For some reason I felt sort of stupid. And as I recall, we couldn’t find our car right away.

The third story about gas stations that made me laugh was once when I was in Peace Corps a group of doctors came down to Guatemala from Michigan. I got to know the team over the week they were there and one of the anesthesiologists told me that that he was always annoyed when at parties etc…people would ask what he did. When they learned he was a doctor they almost always pressed him for medical advice or wanted to show him their body parts. So he came up with this idea to say he worked at a “gas station”. It was true. All day long he’d administer gas to people. He loved that once he started using this answer people seemed patently uninterested in conversing with him any longer. I thought this was brilliant and still smile when I think about it.

So, that’s all I got for today. Next time you go “fill ‘er up”, try and look at the bright side. There’s usually one out there somewhere. Ciao! -Monica

Uncanny?

So it's time to cast your vote. Does anyone else out there think that little Danny looks a bit like the Huggies boy (except not quite as blonde)? Perhaps I'm the only one who thinks so?

Maybe the second photo from a few months ago may sway you. (It was taken in January).

And yes. Pun intended with un "can" ny. Get it? Diapers? The "Can"? I know, I know. Not that funny! ;-)

-Monica

It's the "new" guilt

I know I’ve written longer posts before about leaving the Catholic Church when Cardinal Ratzinger was chosen as Pope. I like to think that I didn’t leave the church, it left me. Yes, he’s the one who says that gay people raising children are committing violence against those children. Ummm…I beg to differ.

But I will not start my rant on that subject now. The info above is just a prelude to this story.

A few years ago I was chatting with a Jewish friend of mine and we came up with the idea that the difference between Catholic guilt and Jewish guilt was that Catholics worry that God will be disappointed with them, while Jewish people worry that their mothers will be disappointed with them

Yes, we thought this was quite clever.

I’d kind of forgotten about this until the other day when I was telling Susanne that I didn’t know what made me feel more guilty—the fact that I was late to work way too often, or the fact that my bosses still seemed to think awfully darn highly of me.

She smiled at me and said I didn’t need to feel guilt any more.

“You’re a Lutheran now.”

Wow! Who knew!

I’m still chuckling. But…I was a bit late to work again today and I must admit I still feel guilty. I guess I’m just not really a good Lutheran yet! -Monica

Bloody Heck!

So on Friday I went to the Red Cross to donate blood as I do pretty regularly. Seems like a pretty simple way to help people in need.

The rule is, in order to donate you have to have a hemoglobin level of 12.5 or above. Susanne had even kindly reminded me to take vitamins with iron for a few days prior to going.

I came in a bit low on the first test (they draw a bit of blood from a finger) so I opted for a second test. I watched the meter clicking steadily upwards, oh so hopeful, and it stopped at 12.4.

I felt like an American gymnast in Beijing. So close! –Monica

P.S. Guess I’ll have to start eating spinach or something before I go try again.

By special request for Grandma

Grandma Ulli, your wish is our command. In addition to the Rock You show below, here is the Shutterfly slide show you asked for! Featuring, who else, your very handsome grandson! -

Danny's First "Summer Vacation"

I Muse, Therefore I am…

I guess Shakespeare already took all the good stuff about love, so there’s not much else left out there. But I decided to go ahead anyway and muse about how I experience love for the two most important people in my life. And I think you know who they are…

My love for Susanne, is powerful. Think of a magnet and steel. (Yes, yes, I do know that this is the title of a 60s rock song.) I know that this doesn’t sound particularly romantic yet, but give me a chance!

What I mean by this is that as we go through our days, two strong independent working women. We are busy doing stuff and not focused on what the other is up to every second of the day (well I’ll speak for myself ;-). And yet, as the time comes to head home, I sense in myself a wonderful pull of anticipation that we’ll be together again soon. This is where the magnetic pull analogy comes to my mind. Once we’re home we are pretty much connected. It’s a rare night of television or reading or what not where we are not in some way touching. Legs entwined on the couch—a loving touch of the hand. Yup. I love this woman so much—I still sometimes cannot believe she picked me! Sweet! *Note, I'm not sure which of us is the magnet and which one is the steel. ;-)

Then Danny. How can I say this? I feel like we are permanently connected by an invisible rubber band (I imagine it to be clear.) Even through it stretches so we can be more than 10 miles apart most days while Jenni takes wonderful care of him, I can feel that imaginary rubber band gently tugging on me almost all the time. I just want to be together with our boy again.

So when the little guy is back in my arms this imaginary rubber band can finally relax. I especially love it when he gets into his “Koala Bear” mode (refusing to dismount from his prime time spot on one hip.) Oh how I love this boy!

I feel so blessed and I’m reminded of my favorite quote by St. John of the Cross:

“If you find no love, put love there, then you will find love.”

Now if only I could be so profound. –Monica

The Milky Way

“I think he doesn’t like milk anymore.”

This was what I said to Susanne this morning after Danny had refused his milk:

a) when offered to him in a sippy cup yesterday morning
b) when offered to him in a bottle last night
c) when it was offered to him in a bottle this morning

I was definitely perplexed. I mean, the boy has always loved milk and I figured he must be pretty thirsty after having gone from about 7 pm to 7 am without a drop of liquid.

Now, Susanne and I are a bit different. I don’t think of her as the brain trust of the family for nothing.

Her response to my statement above was “could the milk be sour?”

“Well of course not. I just opened it yesterday and it’s not even expired until September 8th or something like that.”

“Did you taste it?”

Now, in retrospect I wonder why I always have to be the one to taste the foods and beverages we are unsure of, but I was pretty concerned about Danny and I happened to be holding the freshly poured bottle.

The moral of this story is that Susanne is always right and expiration dates on the boxes apparently are NOT always right.

Happily Danny gulped down a bottle of other whole milk we had that was not expired so our tale has a happy ending. But I have an oddly bitter taste in my mouth still--even hours later. I wonder, does this make me the worst mom ever or just the least deductive one? -Monica

Food for thought (at the Splendid Table)

I have a clear recollection learning as a teacher not to threaten to punish kids with stuff that was actually good for them. Such as "if you don't behave I'm going to make you do 100 jumping jacks, or run 10 times around the track." Turns out that exercise is actually good for you, so threatening kids with it can set up a very bad precedent for the future.

Likewise, it's not good to use food. Such as "if you don't finish your pasta, I'm going to make you eat broccoli!" I think you are getting the picture by now.

Which leads me to the point of this blog post. Neither Susanne nor I want to be big threateners. For gosh sakes, we watch The Nanny. We know all about "redirecting" and "time outs" and what not.

So you can imagine the horror we felt the other day when Danny for the 20th time started playing with the stereo as his fun little children's songs were playing. Almost simultaneously we cried out;

"Danny, if you don't stop that you'll have to listen to NPR!"

You see, National Public Radio (which we love) is the only station we have programmed. So in effect we threatened our son with being forced to listen to thoughtful commentary and innovative programming. He's probably now afraid of Garrison Keillor and all the pretend people at Lake Wobegon. Maybe he'll have nightmares about Science Fridays! What have we done?

In our defense, it wasn't really a threat. It was just a statement of the outcome that was most likely to occur if he continued to push all the stereo buttons in such a willy nilly manner.

Parenting. Sometimes it's harder than you think ;-)

Just some more baby love...

I just realized that the story I want to tell today is probably one of those stories best kept confined to my own heart. I even told Susanne about it and she thought it was really sweet, but even as I was telling it, I knew that my words were not able to do justice to the love that welled up in me as I experienced it.

It’s really a rather normal story—a start to a day just like most others. But in a 10 second period of time I felt emotions I’d never felt before. Feelings that were wonderful, intense, gentle and all-encompassing.

So, here’s the story. You won’t feel the magic I did. But just scrunch up your eyes and imagine if you can.

Danny is now almost 15 months old, but he’s still kind of a little guy and when he’s asleep in his crib in his little onsie, all curled up, he is still my little, little baby fresh from Susanne’s womb.

I’d been in earlier in the morning to give him a bottle and do a quick diaper change and he’d settled back into a deep and contented sleep.

Since it was time to get going though, I quietly slipped into his still somewhat darkened room and took a step or two past where he lay sleeping. I’ve mentioned before that when we come in he loves to scramble up the side of the crib to reach out for us, but usually when he does this he’s wide awake and chattering up a storm.

Not Sunday morning. I’d slid to the other end of his crib and he sensed that someone was in the room. But I’m guessing he thought Susanne or I was near the doorway. What happened next will stick on my mind forever.

With his eyes still completely closed, and I’m certain, still asleep, he began a wobbly climb up the side of the crib. Without his eyes to see, with but months of memory to guide him, he pulled his little body upward, head cocked toward the door where he figured we were. Then without a sound he reached his arms out over the edge of the crib and lay his heavy head down in them still fast asleep.

I couldn’t tell you for the life of me why this scene touched my heart so. All I could think of was our newborn Daniel just over a year ago; his eyes not yet open rooting to find his first taste of mama’s breast milk. Or in some strange sense he seemed like a little newborn animal making his first tenuous foray into the big loud world.

When I reached down to stroke his little back and rub my face into his sweet hair, I felt such tremendous love. He rubbed my face right back, and as I gently scooped him up he already had a smile on his sweet, sweet face as I kissed his little nose and cheeks and his now opened eyes.

What would a therapist say? Was it his vulnerability, his trust or his innocence that melted my heart? Oh wait. I don’t care! Some things you’ve got to just accept as the gifts they are without trying to dissect them too much. I think for me, this is one of them. -Monica

Is it Live or is it Memorex?

Do any of you remember that ad? Some opera singer would sing a high note which cracked a glass and then they’d tape her on a Memorex tape to see if their high quality recording would also break the glass? Am I dating myself?

And why do I bring this up? Well, this weekend our trip to Richmond, Virginia, we went out to a sit down restaurant. It was kid friendly which turned out to be good.

When we finally got seated—Danny is his high chair at the end of the booth, we were just perusing them menu when suddenly we all experienced THE loudest, THE highest and THE longest shriek that young Danny had ever produced.

All heads in the place turned. Was he hurt? Were we flogging him? Um…no. But you’d better believe that he was grinning ear to ear as all four grown ups tried to “sssshhhhh” him. As the closest first responder, I’m ashamed to say that my initial response was to quickly but gently cover his mouth while instantly changing his name from “NO BITING DANNY”, to “NO SCREAMING DANNY”. He totally loved it!

“ Oh, crap”. “Okay, everybody, ignore him if he does it again, he just wants attention” we all concurred. Easier said than done. You try ignoring a SCREAMING toddler who soon realizes that when mom puts her hand over his mouth that the game gets even more fun. Then there can be attempts at biting, and better yet, fun sounds like one makes while going “aaahhhhaaahhhaaahhh” into a fan.

He actually looked a bit apoplectic--as if a gasket might blow in his head, but kept that silly grin on his face.

Argh.

We made it through dinner with unbroken glassware and many sweet comments from fellow patrons who would stop by our booth on the way out to say thing like;

“Raised 6 of 'em myself, and they sure can be loud little critters can’t they?” (Can you tell we were south of the Mason-Dixon Line?)

I'm just glad he didn't practice his screech on the new baby who was sleeping oh so blissfully back at Grandpa's house.I was tempted to drug him (okay not really) for the two hour drive home but for some reason he was completely tuckered out and slept all the way home.

On the bright side, didn’t scream like that again until today. Right when I’d scooped him out of his high chair. It’s like he knew my left ear drum was right there. I’m kind of looking forward to getting a call from Jenni to see if he’s tried out his new playground voice on her and little Oscar today. Guess I’ll have to put the phone up to my right ear. Then maybe I’ll hear a bit of what she says. -Monica

Welcome to this world baby!

Melinda

Today we went to Richmond to meet Melinda -- our new sister(-in-law) and aunt. She's a sweet little angel. Su's Dad, his wife Julia, and her son David welcomed this bundle of joy on Wednesday, August 13th and she seems to be doing great. Danny was slightly more excited about the "It's a Girl!" balloon and the giant staircase at Grandpa's new house than his new auntie, but we know he'll come to enjoy this new playmate on future trips to Richmond.

All aboard!

At the Children's Museum in Boston Danny pretends to chauffeur mommy around. Does he look like he's having fun or what? Mommy for her part pretends she is not an anxious "backseat driver". Isn't pretending fun! -M

Oh...

Is anybody else who is watching the Olympics in the U.S. getting sort of sick of watching so much women's beach volleyball during prime time? I mean aren't there dozens of different sports to choose from that NBC could highlight?

I asked Su why she thought that the network was continuing with this boring programming and she pointed out that perhaps programming featuring women in bikinis appealed very much to a certain male demographic sector of the viewing audience.

Oh. I guess this just makes me just about the worst lesbian ever. It truly never occurred to me even once that that could be a reason.

Seriously, come on NBC! Mix it up will you? Really, it's just not that interesting! -M

Run Bubby, Run! (Well, walking's good too!)

Like I mentioned the other day, Danny started walking when we were up in Vermont last week. Yup. The boy can now meander. And lumber. And stomp. See for yourself. And bring on da noise!!!!

Ahhh...that explains it

Well there is a reason that Susanne continues to feel like she has morning sickness a full two weeks after the miscarriage. It seems her body still believes she's pregnant based on yesterday's ultrasound. The tiny sac where the baby tried its best to snuggle down and grow is still there--empty and sad. (Or maybe that's us?)

Anyway, it's not that unusual as we've learned for the body to take its time expelling all that once was, and there are a couple of options Su can use to speed things along, but she can also just give it a few more days and everything will resolve itself. On the bright side, she's perfectly fine physically, and there is no reason to believe that her future fertility is in any way compromised, which is reassuring.

Like I said the other day, continuing to have such bad morning sickness when you know you are no longer pregnant is rotten on many levels. I know we are both looking forward to Susanne feeling better. Love you sweetie. -Monica

Telolympics at our place

Hmmmm...not sure whether it's the fact that Susanne's been really tired and thus resting more than usual, or if there is some side of her that I've never seen. Seems she's entranced by the Olympics. She's managed to chop vegetables, fold clothes, play with Danny etc...all within mere feet of one of our two televisions the past few days. She loves all of it!

And I could have sworn she mentioned something about maybe needing a TV for the kitchen. She was joking. I think. ;-)

-Monica

P.S. And Danny now loves Olympic swimming as much as he loves Doppler. Which is a lot!

Aaaannddd we're back!

Hello gentle readers. We returned on Friday from a trip to Boston and Vermont. It was for the most part fun and relaxing and we tried to find fun things to do every day with Danny, who by the way, slept amazingly well in his little travel pack and play. He was often shaped like the letter "L" (and a few other letters at times) when we'd peek in on him but sleep he did. Thank goodness!

We went to our friend Hannah's wedding which was really nice and hit the infamous Children's Museum of Boston. Danny LOVED it! Then we drove along the shore up near Gloucester and Salem and Danny loved the water (so did we.) The last few days were spent at our friend Raquel's house which was awesome. She has a 5 year old and a 2 year old so Danny had a new supply of toys and some new best friends. Little 2 year old Sammy adored the "baby". Our baby by the way decided to start walking this weekend while at Raquels' which resulted in lots of cheering by all. He now lumbers about a bit like a baby Frankenstein. He also still prefers to drop to all fours whenever he gets a bit off balance, but he's improving every day.

Susanne unfortunately has continued to feel pretty yucky. Feeling nauseous every morning when you know you are no longer pregnant is rotten on many levels. We think that she must still have some pretty high levels of HCG (pregnancy hormones). We'll see the doc this week and perhaps he can offer some advice.

Anyway, the first few days back are often a blur. So, I'll write again when I'm a bit less blurry. -Monica

Lullabye Lunch

Thanks to all for your kind thoughts--it's been a rough week but we're okay. Fortunately Susanne is feeling better, and we've gone ahead with a trip we'd had planned to enjoy the cooler weather of the northeast.

Special thanks to Jenni for sending us this fun picture of Danny having lunch on Thursday. He often does this very fake sleepy routine when he eats--rubbing his eyes, his hair (yes usually with lots of food on them) but in reality he's far from sleepy. Except on Thursday apparently.

Be back online later. -Monica

Not so good

A few weeks ago I wrote the following in a blog post:

“Susanne and I are incredibly happy to share that if all goes well, we will welcome a new little brother or sister for Danny sometime this spring.”

When I wrote this I was careful to write “if all goes well”. Sadly, sometimes things do not go well. We are so very sad to share that this baby will not grace our lives. Su started experiencing the classic symptoms of a miscarriage earlier this week, and an ultrasound confirmed our worst fear--that this baby was not staying with us.

The human reproductive system is very good at letting nature take its course when something is not quite as it should be. But the human heart is not so good at it.

-Monica and Susanne

All the right things for the wrong reason

Yeah!!!!Tonight we are going to feast on succulent pork tenderloin, roasted red potatoes, assorted veggies and a tantalizing home made fruit pie. Sounds wonderful right?

Well, the reason we are having this feast (AKA an epicurean delight) is that I accidentally left the freezer door ajar last night. The meat, veggies and fruit were pretty soft by the time we discovered my error, so a complete inventory was conducted and the tossing of many items ensued. It wasn't a happy morning.

On the bright side, Susanne is home with Danny today so she’s cooking up all this wonderful stuff now.

On then not so bright side, sadly the ice cream didn’t make it.

Not that I really deserve any ice cream after the great Meltdown of ’08. –Monica

P.S. We had a wonderful weekend—a picnic with new friends, and then a visit to Waldorf where we shopped like mad for clothes with the help of someone with actual style. To top it all off, Danny got to “swim” with his good friend Bailey. Yeah!

It's all relative. I know, I know, but...

Young, charismatic, optimistic, and energetic. These are some of the words that pop up when you do a search on Senator Barack Obama. I think the guy is pretty amazing anyway, but even more than I might otherwise because he is perceived as being so young.

I like that you see, because I myself was not quite a year old yet when he was born.

So even though I sometimes feel old (that’s what I get for being married to someone who is much younger than I am) whenever I see him speak, I am reminded that 46 is the new 26. Or something like that. Go Obama! -Monica

Table 1 - Danny 0

So last night Danny was in his high chair as I was cleaning up after supper while Su was out picking up a few groceries. I decided to give him a bit more banana (he hadn’t eaten much of his supper and I thought he’d appreciate it.) Did he ever!

He shrieked with joy as I approached with the banana, and then proceeded to throw his head down with incredible glee. Right on to the very hard table. Oh our poor, poor baby! He was stunned, and I raced to him not sure exactly where he was most hurt. His nose? His mouth? A little scary.

I got him out of the straps and he was still just stunned--not a sound. I could see some blood on his mouth and on his shirt and held him close trying to comfort him when he let out the loudest scream I’d ever heard. Our poor, poor baby.

Fortunately the screaming quickly diminished to whimpering. Upon closer inspection I could see that it was his lip that was bleeding. We went to the freezer and got out the little children’s ice pack which he proceeded to put in his mouth. Normally, not really allowed, but it this case it was exactly what he needed.

Within minutes he was okay. His lip was a little fat last night but it's already healed this morning. But wow, I was a bit anxious. I kept thinking about how the Redskin’s former quarterback Brad Johnson once head-butted the stadium wall after scoring a touchdown. He was just so excited. Unfortunately he gave himself a concussion. And I don’t think he’s head-butted a wall since. I sure hope Danny learned a similar lesson.
Our poor, poor boy.

Danny and his table in happier times--like his first birthday in May.

Human Being? Or Human Doing?

So as humans we all have many identities right? Hair color and gender for example. But there are more examples. Level of education, profession, geographic location. We have a lot in common with others in the same "worlds".

But I was thinking about how when I trained for that marathon I posted about a few days ago, I thought that after I ran that marathon I would BE a marathoner.

But I wasn't. I was, and forever will be, a person who once ran a marathon.

So what is the difference? I've got to admit that I don't really know.

But I do know that when Su was pregnant with Danny, I knew that I was going to BECOME a mom--not just be a person who was raising a child.

And now that baby number two is incubating it dawns on me that the birth of this child will not change my newfound identity as a mother. I already am one. And that feels very different than when we were waiting for our first born.

Just a deep thought that I'm tossing around in my head today. Have a good one. -Monica

What a difference a year makes huh?

Oscarelli and Danny. Still chill after all these years (okay, one year ;-)

-Monica (with special guest Jenni visiting today)

Sort of like "Run Forrest!"

In 2001 I learned something about myself. I learned that I’m no good at making big dreams come true without engaging in a bit of trickery. (Or shall I call it “paradigm shifting"?)

Case in point. I decided in 2001 that I wanted to run a marathon. I figured since I’d just turned 40 that it was going to be now or never. I’d always been fairly athletic, but what in world could possibly keep me motivated to do all the things I’d need to do to attain this arguably crazy goal of running more than 26 miles? Hmmm???

So I decided to pick a marathon and pay to enter it. What a commitment! Money! I picked MN where my family was from, and signed up to run the 2001 Twin Cities Marathon. I paid in the spring so I had more than 6 months to prepare. I think I paid something like $80. I was on my way. I bought a book on how to train and all I needed to do now was run. A lot.

Oh dear.

Suddenly that $80 didn’t seem like that much money. If I didn’t do the marathon it wasn’t going to be the end of the world, right?

Maybe if I told a bunch of people I was going to do it I could shame myself into doing it I remember thinking. Well, contrary to my previous popular belief, most people didn’t really care whether I ran a marathon or not.

Oh dear.

So I visualized myself finishing, read copies of Runner Magazine, went to a real sports shoe store and got running shoes and even bought running attire--CoolMax stuff so my abundant sweat could wick properly.

Still nothing.

I felt myself growing more and more disappointed in myself. What did it matter anyway? But I started getting a sense that this lack of commitment on my part represented something larger.

I was 40 years old, had never been in a serious relationship, and lived in a tiny apartment. I just felt I was odd, no matter how many friends I had and no matter how well I’d done in school or career-wise. Somehow I’d always imagined sharing my life with someone, maybe owning a home. That all seemed very, very impossible. And far away. Maybe because I had a problem with commitment.

For some reason this all morphed into a renewed desire to really do this marathon.

I thought about signing up to do train with a group, but that just didn’t feel right to me for this. It was more of a solitary journey for me I guess. I first decided that I trusted the plan laid out in my book I’d bought. I needed to run anywhere from 20-60 minutes 4 out of the seven days of the week. It was all spelled out for me.

So first thing I decided was that all runs were half of that time (at least in my mind). What this meant was that a 40 minute run was really only a 20 minute run somewhere and then I could lope on home (still jogging of course). Not a 40 minute run which seemed really overwhelming.

Somehow psychologically this helped me a lot. And I decided I could plot my runs to hit a goal and go home. I picked the Embassies of Washington. If I needed to do a 30 minute run, I’d tell myself I was going to Ireland (that meant running to the Irish Embassy, touching the gate and running home.) The next time in was Lithuania. Whatever worked. This was quite entertaining as I’d try to learn what I could about those places.

For the really long runs (you know 30 minutes which were really 60 minute) I’d catch the bus outside my apartment and ride all the way up to Silver Spring so I could do a 60 minute run down 16th Street which was slightly downhill. This way I was running home the whole way which I loved.

And the best thing I discovered that really worked for me? I decided to commit, not to running, but to getting up early and putting on my running clothes every single day I was scheduled to run. I did this religiously and was 100% successful at this (I even laid my clothes out the night before). You see, I always reserved the right to get into my running clothes and then lay down and go back to sleep, but I never did. I ran every single time. What the heck? I was already up right?

So…to end my long story. I ran the marathon. My goal was to finish—and I did. (Thank you, thank you). I took me close to six hours and thousands of people beat me, but I was so happy!

I learned that I can do anything I set my mind to as long as I commit to the right things. The little things that truly drive my behavior. I also learned that after you run so far your thighs feel like wet bags of cement for several days. (Wait, first like wet cement and then like dry cement, especially going down stairs.) I also learned that after you run 26 miles and 385 yards, you sweat everything that was ever in you out of yourself and the smell of your clothes is, well, indescribable. I think it's possibly your very essense. I wouldn't recommend trying to bottle and sell this. ;-)

You may wonder what kept me going, lo those many miles. Well, you see, I loved the poster that was made to commemorate the 20th Twin Cities Marathon and I bought it the night before the race. But I told myself I couldn’t frame it and hang it up unless I finished. It’s here in my office now. It’s a good reminder that I can do anything I want. If I can trick myself well enough! –Monica

P.S. In 2002 I bought my first home (after engaging in lots of paradigm shifting) and met the most wonderful new neighbor two doors down. Her name was Susanne. ;-)

The Name Game begins again...

Picking out baby names is incredibly fun I think. I’m forever offering new suggestions to Susanne and am hugely entertained by the Baby Name Wizard where you type in any name that comes to mind and it does all this fancy shmanzy wizardy and shows the popularity of the name dating back as early as the 1880s. (Try it!) Which brings me to my latest name I’m in love with that is not going to happen: Linus.

You see, one of the most brilliant men to ever live was Linus Carl Pauling. According to my friend the internet, Pauling was awarded the Nobel Prize for Chemistry in 1954 for his study of the nature of chemical bonds, especially in complex substances. His ideas are fundamental to modern theories of molecular structure. He also investigated the properties and uses of vitamin C as related to human health. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace in 1962 for having campaigned for the control of nuclear weapons and nuclear testing.

But does anyone think first of Linus Pauling when they hear the name Linus? Nope. You guessed it. They think of Linus Van Pelt, who inspired the term "security blanket" with his classic pose. Again, from my friend the internet, I learned that Charlie Brown’s little friend is the intellectual of the gang, and flabbergasts his friends with his philosophical revelations and solutions to problems. He suffers abuse from his big sister, Lucy, and the unwanted attentions of Charlie Brown's little sister, Sally. He is a paradox: despite his age, he can put life into perspective while sucking his thumb. He knows the true meaning of Christmas while continuing to believe in the Great Pumpkin.

I happen to believe that Linus is a very likeable character on Snoopy and would be a really cute name for a little boy.

However we need a quorum of two (if that is possible?) to select a name and Susanne isn’t really liking Linus.

As Charlie Brown would say, RATS!

Of course she doesn’t like my idea for naming twin boys Mortimer and Lester either (More and Less, get it?) Although I actually can see how this could be psychologically hard on poor little Les. Oh well. I suppose the name Bart is completely out of the question right? ;-) -Monica

He's our Doppler Doodle Dandy!

At first we thought it might be a coincidence, but now we are pretty sure it's a fact. Whenever Danny sees Doppler Radar, he drops everything and focuses on the screen. It really seems to instantly calm him down.

He really doesn't watch too much TV. At 7:30 he watches Jeopardy with us most nights, and other than that just snippets of news as we click around. But whenever we get to see Doppler Radar he loves it. As a matter of fact on this lazy Sunday afternoon as I write this he's sound asleep in his pack and play the basement where Susanne is fixing some stuff, after being lulled to sleep by the Weather Channel.

What a sweet boy huh? -Monica
(We think so!)

Mein Gott!

Or you might say Dios Mio! Or Oh My God! That is if you spoke German, Spanish and English. You see, that’s my problem.

I guess I feel like I’ve got English down pretty well by now. You might not be that impressed with my often nonsensical word order patterns, but my vocabulary is pretty darn good, and since it’s my native language, I am exceedingly confident speaking it.

Which brings us to Spanish. After living in Guatemala for two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer more than 20 years ago and later living and working at a naval base in Cuba (long before it became a symbol of our country’s flaunting of the Geneva Conventions), I spoke Spanish a lot. Still can. But now things are not flowing so well. And why you may ask? Is my brain getting older? Well yes, but that’s not the problem. The problem is Duetsch.

I’ve been trying to learn German since I met Susanne—mostly informally and with the Pimsleur Method CDs (which are quite good by the way), and I recently took a real class and have improved my speaking abilities somewhat. But it seems I've developed a new language that no one can understand that I’ll call Spanman.

It’s terrible. I speak Spanish every day just gossiping with a woman who works with me and now I say “mit” instead of “con”, and “Vo ist” instead of “donde esta”. Don't even get me started on saying "und" and "y" at inopportune times. It’s nuts.

It's really rather frustrating. I am pretty sure now that the better I get at speaking German the more my Spanish will decline. Interestingly when I'm trying to come up with a way to say something in German I never think of Spanish words. It's like my brain wants to default to the German now. Great! Or shall I say “OH, MEIN DIOS!” -Monica

P.S. On the bright side Susanne speaks all three of these languages very fluently. So I guess she understands my Spanman. Small consolation.

CJ reacts to news of baby #2 on the way...

Hmm...On a scale of 1-10 I’d say this is a…

Are you sitting down? No really. Are you sitting down? (I know, I know, chances are high that you are if you are at your computer.) Okay, here goes. Susanne and I are incredibly happy to share that if all goes well, we will welcome a new little brother or sister for Danny sometime this spring.

Can you believe it! We didn’t really plan to be coy or secretive about our efforts to have our second child, but then again, we didn’t feel compelled to share what was going on with too many people. For gosh sakes, we hadn’t even told our parents that we were trying again. (They sure know now!)

We are both so delighted. Having this child is not an attempt to make our family “complete”—I wouldn’t say that, although we have definitely always envisioned having two.

I guess the feeling that I’ve had since we first saw the line on the pregnancy test late last week is joy. Joy that this is really happening. Joy that conception occurred! Wow!

What I don’t feel at all is smugness. Like, “hah hah” we got pregnant. Not at all. I’d say just about the opposite of that. I want for everyone who yearns to hold a child in their arms to hold that child. And love them forever.

So…thank you God for this precious, precious gift. Please keep Susanne and the baby safe and healthy, and please bring to everyone who is waiting happy news this time around okay? Thank you, thank you, thank you! -Monica

Stupid is as stupid does...

So this what my bike looks like. The one I haven’t ridden in about two years, but did again yesterday after our nice neighbor gave it a full tune up. Around 5:00 Susanne yelled into the house that Greg had just brought the bike over and it was in perfect shape. Yea!

So like a kid in a candy story I hopped on it and rode down the side walk checking the gears, the brakes etc…perfect. I’d hopped down on to the street and came back toward the house and attempted to gracefully hop up over our little---maybe 4 or 5 inch high curb.

Apparently if you don’t pull the front wheel up high enough to clear it, your bike will to come to a complete stop when you hit said curb. But your body will continue forward, head over heels onto the ground. And, important note. If you weigh more now than you did when you were let’s say 10, you will hit the ground with more force than you may recall.

On the bright side, my femur is NOT broken. It only feels broken. And I’ve got a huge knot of angry muscle tissue to show for it right where I was pinned between the handlebars and the curb (or ground-it’s a bit of a blur.) Fortunately Danny and Susanne (mostly Susanne) were there to help extricate me from my folly

I really shouldn’t use the word “stupid” for things like this though. I’d like Danny to know that people aren’t stupid, but sometimes people do stupid things.

Umm…like a one year old tearing pieces off of big leafy plants and then trying to “put them back” on the leaf. Wait. That’s not stupid. That’s just adorable. Right? -Monica

Must blog...

Does anyone else out there feel guilty when they don't blog? I do. I guess it's because I love when I click on familiar sites that have new stuff to see which makes me want to return the favor. Let's see--I've got approximately 5 minutes before I have to go to a meeting so I'm just going to do some live blogging here.

First thing that comes to mind is that when Su took Danny out of the car when she got home last night she stepped on a WASA (Water and Sewer Authority) switch cover that was in the front yard of our neighbors house. When the water company needs to turn on or cut water service, they remove the cover and using a long tool, reach down and turn a small valve. When she stepped on it, it tipped from flat on the ground to perpendicular, and she basically fell into it. It's a very small yet deep hole--about 15 inches in diameter and 2 feet deep.

She ended up with her entire leg up to her thigh down the hole. Not cool at all. Besides getting a bit scraped up, she also nearly dropped Danny. In fact he did hit the ground rather hard and it was his crying that alerted our neighbor Greg who ran over to help. He coudn't believe what he saw. It all happened so fast. Thank God both she and Danny were okay. She could have broken her leg or worse. And I don't even want to think about how hurt Danny could have been if she'd lost control of him when falling. I was upstairs when she got home and didn't hear any of this.

So. It's time to end this blog post. Moral of the story. Beware the holes with covers. -Monica

Lovey

So have you ever heard of a "lovey"? Apparently it's a favorite soft and cuddly item that your baby gets attached to. I must admit I'd never heard of the term until I became a parent, but I'm well acquainted with the concept. Some of my brothers LOVED their brown blankets and as I recall sort of dragged them around everywhere.

So Danny has a couple of cuddly, soft "loveys" like the one pictured here, but he's decided that his real lovey is our shirts.

He likes nothing better than to stick one thumb in his mouth and with his other hand get a hold of one of our shirt collars. You've never seen such a blissful face on a child as he snuggles up to his chosen "victim".

One slight problem. Most of the times kids use these special items to self soothe and put themselves to sleep. Rut Roh! -Monica

Please rise as you are able...

As we go through life we all meet people who touch us deeply. Sometimes it’s a person’s intellect, or their wittiness, or their kindness…in all honesty it doesn’t really matter what it is that makes us come to love them.

As I think about my life, there is definitely a special group of people who have taken up a permanent place in my heart. Unexpectedly running into them or getting a call or e-mail from them makes me smile. Learning of their happy news makes me gush with enthusiasm. And conversely, receiving sad news about them overwhelms me with sadness.

Yesterday I learned that a dear man who was my boss for several years fell off his roof. His name is George, and I don’t know the details of why he was up there (perhaps cleaning gutters or fireworks?) but I know that he’s in the intensive care unit with multiple fractures and serious brain injuries.

Have you ever heard of the theory of hubs and spokes? Think of someone you know who walks into a room and everyone lights up. That person is a hub. George is the epitome of a hub. The rest of us are spokes who circle around him and bask in his energy. We are drawn to people like him because they brighten our worlds.

I am praying with all my heart that George recovers from this terrible accident. I dreamed last night that he was fine and we were in his hospital room and I was kidding him about gravity. “How could you have forgotten about gravity?” I remember kidding him in my dream. He came back with some clever remark about Newton’s Law or something. It was very sad to wake up and realize it was just a dream. I guess I’m hoping it was a sign. A sign of conversations yet to come.

Get well soon dear friend. The world’s not as bright as it was before you went to sleep. -Monica

Priceless

Air – $1.50 to fill tires (I'm not kidding!)
Water – $1.00 for a small bottle of drinking water

Food – $4.00 extra for chicken with your already expensive entree

Priceless — apparently not so much anymore

Danny's First Independence Day Parade

The Eyes Have It!

I do not believe that neither Susanne nor I is colorblind. That being said, just about everything that I think is grey she believes to be beige, (or is it the other way around?) and everything that I believe is dark blue she believes to be black.

And we both register complete disbelief at the others' perception every single time.

On the bright side, perhaps she perceives my greying hair to be beige ;-) Can one have beige hair? -Monica

Look moms! I can make the bunny clap hands!

A tutorial on how to fold a fitted sheet...

I was delighted to see a comment on my last post from someone I know IRL (that’s “In Real Life” for all out there who can’t figure out all this IMing mumbo jumbo.) LOL. "Laughing Out Loud". There. I have officially used all the little IM slang I know.

Anyway…the comment was from my friend Beth who I met in 1983. She was a 14 year old high school freshman and I was her teacher (at the ripe old age of 21.) It was a wonderful school--an all girls Catholic School with about 50 kids in each class, and to this day, I still keep in touch with many of my students. It was a very special time in my life. I taught there for 4 years and then headed off to Peace Corps. That same year, that crop of freshmen graduated (including Beth) so in some ways I went through the same formation as they did in those four years. I know that seems odd, but it wasn’t. Oh, and they decided that I was peppy, so since 1983 I’ve been know as Pep. Seriously. The nuns even call me that still.

This was many years before I ever figured out I was gay—that took me until the late 90s to figure out. I also must say that growing up in a fairly conservative Catholic environment, my former students have been overwhelmingly accepting of my being gay and I am proud to continue to count Beth and Amy and Marg and Jess and Karin and Laurie and so many others as wonderful friends.

Anyway, fast forward something like 25 years here we are. Beth and her husband live in Australia (their blog is in our blogroll) and it’s very fun to have blogs to keep up with the funny and poignant things that go on in each others lives.

So…when I wrote about “pilling sweaters” yesterday, Beth wrote a funny comment and lamented that "if only someone would write about how to fold a fitted sheet". So here we go… (teaching, always teaching ;-)

Beth, just fold it in half and then gently roll it up. Shove it in a drawer and when you later put it in the bed it will look perfectly ironed anyway when you stretch it out.

What’s that? The sound of dozens of cyber gasps? (Including my own dear wife’s?)

Oh wait. You must fold it like a flag. Perfectly. Tightly. First the rounded edges must be attacked and mastered. Once all four are creased and laid flat you may proceed (preferably with a willing partner) to fold the sheet perfectly in half, and then half again. Then you insert one perfect folded corner into the other and smooth the whole sheet to perfection.

Then you shove it in a drawer and when you later put it in the bed it will look perfectly ironed anyway when you stretch it out.

Does this help Beth? ;-)