About that flu shot, and everything else....

Took the boys to the doctor for their flu shots, and to see if someone could look at Elias since he's been coughing to the point of throwing up for the past 2 days. (This isn't cause for panic, but I figured since we were already there...) In order to hype it all up, we sang the "Doctor Song" the whole way there, paid $5 for parking, and went inside the empty office waiting room. We took off coats, got comfy, started watching Sesame Street on the TV, then I was called up to the desk and told by the receptionist that the boys' health insurance had been terminated LAST MONTH. I stared at her for a minute, certain that the top of my head had flown off of my body and was spinning wildly just above me. I marched over the the courtesy "call you insurance and ream them out" phone next to the desk, only to be reminded casually by the recorded voice that it was a holiday and their office was closed until Wednesday. Why is it these things always seem to happen on a Friday or a holiday?


Defeated, I put the kids' coats back on, only to then have to contend with a bitterly wailing Kindred. "I neeeed to see the doctor!!!" he cried. "We have to see the doctor!!" He was devastated. Betrayed. I even tried to tell him that he would have just gotten a shot anyway and we could come back when we had the money to pay for it, but he would not calm down. The security guard offered him a candy cane and tried to ask him about Santa, the other moms there tried to console him, but he sobbed, tears dripping onto the carpet under his feet. I felt horrible. It was such an ironic moment, me feeling badly that my son could not see a doctor to get his flu shot because he was so devastated. Shouldn't I feel relieved? Alas, no. I take him by the jacket sleeve, because he's pulled his hand as far away from mine as he can manage, and walk him slowly out to the car. I resolved to go to the welfare office right away and have Kindred sob on them and Elias cough on them and plead with them to look at their darn paperwork correctly and to turn my very eligible children's health insurance back on.

So that's what we do. Of course, my caseworker is out until Thursday, but I met with a supervisor after 45 minutes or so who told me this would be resolved as soon as the caseworker returned to work, and that she was very sorry. That was slightly helpful.

When I got home, I called the insurance 24 hr hotline and asked why no one had mentioned to me that the insurance was terminated when I'd talked to them at least 5 times this month (fighting an out-of-state emergency room bill). The service rep was not informative. Apologetic, sure, but not smart.

For Pete's sake, it's Christmas Eve. I don't want to be yelling at people. But I also don't want to get crappy news, especially unreasonable preventable crappy news.

I really hope the rest of the day looks up...and that my children refrain from breaking limbs or catching pneumonia for at least 2 more days. I will brace for the inevitable and try to appreciate the good parts of the days to come. Because they are, and will be, good days. My little family will be together, and we will celebrate that, and love on each other, and I'm so looking forward to it.

I will post happier things tomorrow. Enjoy your day, sings carols, light candles, snuggle with someone, and listen for sleigh bells in your sleep tonight. Merry Christmas.

Non-sequitur

Our tree. We decided to go with a standard formerly-alive cut tree this year, although it was a dilemma. We probably won't do it again. (One of the songs on the aforementioned Christmas compilation has a chorus that goes "Kill a tree, kill a tree for Jesus. Then drag the thang home, spray it with white foam, smother it with decorations, Nana's handmade creations. Kill a tree, kill a tree for Jesus." Ouch.) We will try to purchase truly living-in-a-pot trees in the future. Perhaps have one that lives on the deck that enters our home for a few days each winter for honor an decor, and then back out it goes. But for now, the tree we have is, as Michael puts it, a handsome tree.

This is cute Dada, holding cute Elias. I wasn't kidding about the Snoopy hat, was I?

Kindred might as well be a teenager for how much he likes to talk on the phone. Seriously, the other day, he talked to Grandma, PopPop, Big PopPop, Great Grandma, and then Grandma again until her phone battery died.

I'm being serious here. I pulled a pitchfork out of the wall today. That news is unrelated to the cute picture below.

When Kindred saw me get the camera to get some shots of the tree, he ran full speed into the living room, posed, grinned and shouted "I'm readyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I'm readyyyyyyyyyyyyy."I got a massage today to remind my shoulders where they are supposed to sit on my body. They had forgotten.

It's almost Christmas Eve, I obtained the butter cookie recipe that has otherwise vanished, and I don't have a darn gift wrapped. The kids get flu shots tomorrow. Merry Christmas, guys. I know. Poopy Mama.

Ok and finally I'm adding this link because it made me laugh and laugh. This is from Kate's blog, and the treat is in the 2nd paragraph. Enjoy! (And don't read my comment. It's crude, and I'm sorry for not sending out Christmas cards, and I wish I were a person who made time for making cards for all of my wonderful friends, but I'm not but I'm hoping to when my children are grown-- or at least when they can feed themselves and use the toilet. So look forward to Christmas 2014.) (Not that Elias is going to be 7 before he is potty trained....) (OK, I'm going to bed now.)

Sick Day

Kindred was feeling a little sick on Thursday, so he had a sick day home from school. (It isn't surprising that he was snotty and coughing. Apparently several children from his class went down last week.) So the three of us had a classic sick day. Elias was only allowed to get out of his PJ's because he spilled milk on them from his cereal.

It was a day for eating toast after waking, lying on the floor moaning and then eventually throwing up the morning drink of water.

It was a day for playing with new Christmas motorcycles with your brother!

It was a day for raising hands high...

and tackling your brother!

It was a day to lounge in the clothes drawers.

It was a day to hide under Elias' bed.

It was a day to listen to kid's music LOUD and watch the visualizer on the computer and show our bellies.

It was a day to play with and try very hard to share trucks.

It was a good day to stay home.

He's feeling much better. Mama, on the other hand....

WHO woke you up?

Me: Kindred, you're awake early from your nap. Who woke you up?

K: The monster. He was jumping on my bed and he woke me up.

Me: The monster? [I've never heard this before.] Where did he go after he jumped on your bed?

K: Ate the mirror, over there, but he didn't like it b/c it was too tasty. He spit it out. Then he came out and he ate (dramatic pause) Elias!

Me: Ate Elias??

K: (laughing) Noooooooo! Then he ate the ducky. Then he ate the gate. No, he kicked the gate down. Then he fell down the steps, and broke.

There was continued imagining: "Then he.... then he.... Then he...." and somehow an alligator entered the story and the monster in a box. Then I lost track.

11,609

As of today, I've been alive 11,609 days. (I can tell you the breakdown of minutes and hours, but it just starts to look like a bunch of numbers.) How do I know this? The date calendar here. Why did I want to know this? Well, I got a paper cut yesterday, a really deep one, and I came home and told Michael that I had never in all my days had a paper cut that bad. So he challenged me on exactly how many days that is. I tried to do the math myself but was off by about 400 days. So I went online, where one can find the answer to all things, and I got my answer.

Somehow I feel like I should say something deep and profound about this information. But I have no thoughts. I just want to install my new thermostat, take a shower and go to bed, preparing to wake up and face day 11,610.

My Nose

It's Monday, so that means I have the children, both of them, here with me when Michael goes to work. Once again, I had not gotten to bed earlier than 2:30am-- but the reasons for this were quite noble: I went to a show where I gathered contentedly with friends, most contentedly with one especially old friend, and then I came home to find Michael on the phone at 1am in the basement. There's only one person in the world who would call to for a cheerful chat at that hour, the primary reason being that he doesn't (sometimes) do his math quite right with the time changes. Who can blame him, really? I think there's a 16 or 18 hour time difference between here and New Zealand. (In other words, it's midnight here and it's already tomorrow night for them. I couldn't get it right either.) Our favorite Kiwi in the whole wide world, Carey, had called to catch up, and it was fabulous to talk with him.

(Note of interest: Michael and I, when we were married in 1999, took a 2-week honeymoon to the lovely country of New Zealand, where we met up with aforementioned friend, Carey, who gave us a grand tour of the south island in his little car. (He actually had wisely made us promise individually and before we were engaged to each other that we would honeymoon in New Zealand.) We stayed in hostels and his parents' farm, we went spelunking in wet suits, we saw mountains and beaches at the same time, we went to castles and watched albatross nesting on cliffs and sea lions playing in the waves. We rode a ferry to the north island and took a train to Auckland. You know, among other things.)

So anyway, back to Monday. I had a meeting for work in the morning, and when I came home, Michael had dinner brewing in the crock pot and mixing in the bread machine. What a welcome sight! He packed up and left shortly for work, and I herded the children together for lunch. A late lunch. Elias' morning nap had been too short, and Kindred announced over and over that he wasn't hungry until I told him fine, he just could go straight to bed. An hour later he was still eating. Nice ploy, kid. The ol' "I'm hungry Mama" job to get out of a nap, when you are made to feel like sending him to bed before he's done is just like starving him.

Eventually, the three of us start to head upstairs when I notice that Kindred has a wet spot on the back of his pants, and a real stink coming from.... Let's just say the last time this happened I had to wash everything down to his sneakers. I order him upstairs and into the bathroom, and turn to gather Elias, who has found my cellphone and can't wait to call of his best friends, say "Ahhhhhnnhsingggtydll" into the phone and hang up, promising to call them back later. I don't have those kinda minutes, so I approach him to retrieve it. And here we go. Thus begins the afternoon/evening of "I'm going to tear my face to shreds and beat my head about the ground if I can't have what I want." He actually runs backwards in angry protest and falls and traps himself, by his cheek and jaw, between the recliner and the magazine rack. I pick him up and hold him close to me and rock him and kiss his red cheek and examine his bruised jaw as he sobs, all the while seething, saying, "I'm so mad at you you know you can't have the phone and why don't you look before you throw yourself to the ground?"

This scene repeats, with the adjustment with a few minor details, throughout the rest of the day, and with no predictable pattern. Seriously, for a sanity break, I filled the tub at 4:50pm for what I deemed a "morale bath." Both kids splashed around happily until dinnertime.

Anyway, Kindred's 'episode' wasn't really that bad, and I was able to get him into bed sooner than I'd hoped. He didn't sleep, of course. But I left him to be quiet in his room because Elias had pulled another drama-fest so I just took Elias onto my bed with 50 books for a snuggle and reading session. Then I put him down for a nap as well in my room. It took him 45 minutes to fall asleep. I got some computer work done, and went in to visit Kindred who was standing, gazing out his window from behind the drawn blind, singing "B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-OOOOOOO!!!!" at the top of his lungs. Since no work had to be done for dinner, I smiled and crawled into Kindred's little toddler bed and pulled his lamby fleece blanket over me. He noticed me and got me his pillow which he had thrown on the floor, and then argued with me about being covered. He insisted that I should NOT be covered, and I had to start fake-crying so that he would let me have the blanket. (He actually put his arms around my neck and said, "Ok mama, you can keep the covers on.") I laid there and either slept or came very close to it while he played for 30 minutes by himself in his dark room. Then I felt him come close, and could feel tiny touches. My hair, my eyelashes, my lips. And finally, my nose. Then something in my nose, soft and tickly. Whatever it was, he left it in there. I popped my eyes open and rubbed my face, asking Kindred what the heck he put in my nose. Straight faced, he replied, "A little fuzzy." He turned and pointed to the corner. "I got it from the floor, off of the carpet, over there."

Well thanks, kiddo. Nap's over.

A Few of My, well, Favorite Things

* Elias shakes his head back and forth when he means "Yes! Yes!" He knows he has to do something with his head to answer a questions, but he is obviously confused, and his first instinct is to communicate "no" even if that isn't what he means. When we watch him shake his head vigorously when we ask if he wants to eat (and he always wants to eat), we direct, "Say YES, Elias." So he bows down and up from the waist like he just completed a duel in karate.

* Hot showers

* When Kindred sees Elias get hurt, he rushes over and attempts to comfort him, asking sincerely, "Are you OK, Elias? Are you OK, baby? Are you OK?"

* Good photographs

* When the boys read together. Sometimes Kindred reads to Elias, and sometimes they snuggle close to each other to see the same pages when someone else reads.

* When Michael tells me I've done a good job at something and means it.

* Elias tries out sign language, and he remembers a lot. But he can only do one sign at once. In other words, he can say "more" and "please", but he has trouble putting the 2 together. Except when it comes to the sign we have for Great Grandpa Dave. We call Grandpa "PopPop" so Great Grandpa is "Big PopPop." I wish I could describe how Elias does it, but he does. He says, "Beeee Bobpbop" and he signs right along with each word. Then he grins.

* Stuffing. Vegetarian or otherwise.

* Kindred will burst into song out of the blue. From the garbage truck song to the doctor song to the down at the station song. He sings and sings.

* When I come up with a smart, funny and well-executed blog posting that it seems lots of people enjoy.

* There is a Christmas song that I find hopeful and moving unlike any other. It was on a compilation CD given to us by a friend of a friend whose party we'd attended in Eugene, Oregon while we were on our road trip. If you want to hear it, and the story behind it, click here. (I am not especially fond of the video and would encourage you to just listen to the words without watching the scenes and dramatization, but this video includes story that I had never heard before, so I decided to link to it. If you want a more pure presentation, click here.) The song is called "Christmas in the Trenches" and is performed by John McCutcheon.

* Elias in his snoopy hat.

* Going to bed before 2am.

* Times like last night. I had stayed up until 2am finishing auction stuff, and Michael had stayed up even longer finishing other work. A little before 4am, I hear a little voice through the monitor. "Mommy?" I wait to see if Kindred is talking in his sleep. Then it comes again, louder. "Mooommmy?" I drag my inadequately rested body out from under the covers and find Kindred lying wide eyed on his bed. "Mommy, I'm awake. I want to sleep in your bed."

I know he's too awake to actually fall asleep in my bed, but what else was I going to do? I agreed and he followed me. He climbed in between Michael and I. I told him I would send him straight back to his room if he made noise. He said quietly, "Okay, Mommy. No screaming, no talking, no singing, no being loud. Okay." I snuggled him in and closed my eyes. He stayed quiet for a long time, moving just a little. Then I heard him turn. I felt two little hands on my cheeks and his lips pressed right up on mine. I opened my eyes and he smiled. "I needed to kiss you, Mama," he whispered.

Today is the day...

...that Elias will play with a broom around the house--

--and hopefully get some things clean instead of get himself or anything injured.

...that Kindred will go to school without hesitation or tears (and chow on his PB&J for lunch).

...that after he's done playing with the broom, Elias will stand on the Christmas decorations. And then we will go upstairs and he will entertain himself by running back and forth from the office to his room, "speaking" to me with flailing arms and jibberish and laughter.

...when I will truly and fully appreciate these items by taking a long hot shower, since it's been a week since I've been able to do that in my house:

(Don't worry, I showered elsewhere.) (Once.)

...that Kindred and Elias will tear apart my cupboard and play peekaboo games with each other when Kindred gets home from school.

...when I will try to not think about this most recent pipe leakage, believing that someone will return to fix it tomorrow.

...when I will get excited about the little tree that Kindred and I decorated yesterday with Care*Bears and presents and snowflakes, and not (Ffil, I'm sure you will love this) flags, although he now thinks that flags go on trees that are decorated (thanks to my mother in law and her 4th of July tree). He even kept looking at the snowflake that fits nicely on the top and saying, "Now it's time to put the flag on top!"

And finally, today is the day that I would, if I were you, put in my bid at the Auction for Collaborative Arts, in case you were waiting until the last week. There's only 2 days left and there are a lot of wonderful items that haven't even been bid on yet. You could be that happy winner. So hurry, hurry!

(Sorry about all the auction plugs, but I am the auction coordinator, and besides, making money on this auction really does mean that Michael will get paid to do the things he loves to do, so I'm a fan. And I'm jealous 'cause I can't bid on anything fabulous myself...)

Giving Thanks

Here's to giving thanks, and not ranting. (I will give an update to the heat saga after the pictures.)

We had a lovely thanksgiving feast, prepared mostly by Michael and a very little bit by me and our guest, Scott.

At one point early in the meal Kindred decided, unprompted, to put his napkin on his head. And there is stayed.
(Don't I look skinny in the picture? It's just a camera trick, but still...)

And here it is, the center piece: The Tofu Turkey. It was especially good this time. Michael tries to make it better every time, and this one was by far the tastiest. Great job, Love!

We had a delightful meal after watching the Thanksgiving Parade on TV, and followed the feast with football and eventually the Peanuts Classic Thanksgiving movie. Kindred was entranced, mostly with the Snoopy parts. It was a good day. Wished I could've given thanks for a dishwasher. But that's coming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, so here's the heat update. We have heat. It took the guys 16 hours-- they were here from 11am until 3am-- but it works and we are toasty warm. However, the hot water tank began to leak when they turned the water back on to restart the system. And the thermostat is having issues, and there is now water leaking from a pipe they had messed with upstairs, and it has created a sizable bubble on my kitchen ceiling, dripping into the giant popcorn bowl on top of the shelves. So we have had warm bodies but no warm baths, for 5 days now. We are hoping for a fix on Monday. So there you have it. Our house does not seem thankful to have us.