Marbles

It’s funny how much trouble a couple marbles can cause. The other day, Finn and a neighbor were outside throwing a silver marble around. Somehow, Riley got into the mix and took the marble to try it out. The neighbor, proud marble owner, became instantly angry and proceeded to start calling Riley names like “dummy” and “meany”. His dad jumped right on it and told him to stop, but he persisted in his argument that Riley was a dummy.

All of a sudden, Finn turned sixteen before my eyes and hurdled to Riley’s defense. From his tiny three-year old body he belted out, “NO SHE IS NOT! RILEY IS NOT A DUMMY!”

It was so cute that the dad and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I told Finn it was okay and that we were handling it.

“No it’s not okay! He is saying my sister is a dummy and meany and she is NOT!” He exclaimed.

I think the shock of Finn’s involvement was the catalyst to ending the whole minor offense and everyone quickly went back to playing, as kids do.

Ten minutes later, Finn chucked our neighbor’s silver marble over the fence and into the brush, never to be found again.

Fast forward about five hours. Just as we are ready to leave to pick up the girls from school, Finn emerges from upstairs saying something about the marble in his tummy.

Ugh.

This is another marble that has been showing up in odd places around the house for the last week and apparently, it seemed like a good idea to put it in his mouth. And swish it around. And he sucked it right in.

After a quick call to the doctor and realizing that there was no imminent danger, we settled into the fact that we will now be scoping out bathroom visits for the emergence of a turquoise blue flattened out glass marble, you know, the kind you put in the bottom of vases. Ugh again.

So for as much as I thought my little man had grown up early that morning, I’m thinking not so much.

Still, here are the pictures from yesterday - the day I brought my last baby to the first day of preschool. He loved it.

Finnism

I just went to the bathroom and Finn followed me in.

He said, "Do you want privacy, or me?"

I couldn't say I didn't want him, so I said, "Oh either way is fine."

He closed the door behind him, turned and said, "Hmmm, now where can I sit?"

Will I ever have the bathroom to myself again? Is this too much to ask??

Farmer Finn

Here are a couple shots of my sidekick working in the garden. He seems to enjoy it as much as I do!

Fall Forward

It was a great summer, but school is back in session now and fall routines are underway. As I scope out crock pot recipes (the only option other than frozen pizzas due to afterschool activities) and purchase white boards and three-tiered wall filers to try and keep myself organized, I wonder how people do this with any more kids. To top it off, my feast or famine career is in feast mode. This is, of course, what I’ve been working for, but with my sitter back to school, there’s just no time and other plans will have to be made. Soon.

In the midst of it all, I’ve so enjoyed my solo time with Finn. His ultra-cute three-ness was lost a bit in the shuffle of his sisters and the thirty-some other neighborhood kids this summer. I’d forgotten how great it is to just have one little pal to bum around, jump on the trampoline and run errands with. It truly seems like utter simplicity.

So, as the girls move up and on and hit the books, Finn and I will enjoy our two hours of slow-it-down living each day, until school starts for him next Wednesday. And I’ll run around like a chicken with my head cut off for the other twenty-two.

Here are some shots of the girls’ soaking wet first days of school.

Pain, Understood.

I love the phrase “you learn something new every day.” Or at least I did. In the past, I had no idea what people were referring to when they said they had back pain. Sure, I’ve had my share of aches and pains, but nothing constant or life-altering. Until now.

I cannot function. I want to cry all the time. I consider myself one tough cookie, but this is beating me. (I am venting so look out!) For three weeks, I’ve had an annoying soreness in my upper back between my shoulder blades, but this week, it has kicked in to some sort of sheer and awful pain radiating outward from the center of my spine at the bottom of my neck.

I can’t see a doctor until Friday, so in an attempt for any sort of relief I saw a chiropractor yesterday. Unfortunately, he was not able to move anything around in a way he was happy about, so the only relief I’ve had was from the four year old c-section vicodin I took last night. I can’t tell you how good it felt to have the edge taken off. And I only have two left! (Can’t take ibuprofen because it worsens my colitis.)

My kids, obviously too young to understand, are upset with me for canceling a swim date at a friend’s house today. I have several other weekend plans that I will change as well; I can’t handle the thought of cleaning the house or cooking to entertain this weekend, nor can I imagine attending a party that I really want to go to, because I can’t turn my head in either direction, much less stop furrowing my brow from this smothering pain. I am totally overwhelmed.

Isn’t this uplifting? All I want to do is crawl under the covers until it’s gone. I cannot wait to see that doctor.

Lake Gaston 2009

I think I live all year for this trip. Even the car ride was good with the new souped up van. I’m sure that I was the most impatient of everyone, only on the way home, my mind already racing into phone interviews and deadlines, not to mention school supplies and schedules. Changes are on the horizon.

But for one week each summer, thanks to Alby and Mary, we get to savor the season, reconnect with family and just spend time enjoying life together.

I used to think that there was some kind of family nirvana I was working towards. You know, a space in life where everyone is happy and peaceful and satisfied. I realize now that that kind of euphoria might be waiting in another life for me, but here I’m glad to count my blessings. Our vacation bliss was of course interrupted with the occasional fight or tattletale. There was some bed-wetting due to late nights, botched bedtime routines and too much soda pop. They didn’t magically become perfect listeners as we hit the waters of Lake Gaston.

What happened was they smiled for long periods, laughed and learned new things together, reveled in each other accomplishments and got 100 percent of mom and dad for eight straight days. And we got them. At their best.

I am so grateful.

This year marks our seventh year of what will now be an anchor in my children’s memories and life, a tradition in the truest sense. I hope they will always love to go as much as they do now. I know their Daddy and I will.

Here are a few of our favorite shots from this year…

Dog Days of Summer

This summer has been a blur. For sure because of the kid-craziness that accompanies this time of year, but also because of an eight-week struggle with our puppy, Jesse. On June 1, she began having all sorts of recurrent and seemingly unrelated problems including eye, ear and skin infections, unstoppable vomiting and other GI symptoms. After a million useless tests (they were sure the vomiting was from a blockage), lymph node biopsies for possible lymphoma (all her nodes were enlarged) and eventually a full GI work up (yes, endoscopy and colonoscopy included), we finally have a diagnosis. Jesse has inflammatory bowel disease, just like her human mommy, but hers is caused from a severe allergy to proteins used in dog food.

Her inflammation is so severe that she’ll be on eight medicines for the next two months, including several that I have taken for years on a regular basis. The chances of me contracting this disease were so small, but to actually choose a dog who has it? I can’t imagine how small the chances of that are! Luckily, in dogs, this is an acute condition and once we find the right food and taper her off the meds, she’ll live a normal life with no meds and a boutique dog food. Could be worse.

Until then, the poor thing is enduring prednisone at high doses and most of you know how I feel about that drug. I can tell Jesse feels the same way. And the kids are under serious training measures to ensure the dog does not eat table scraps. This, by far, will be the most difficult part of the process.

So without further ado, I give you the new face of inflammatory bowel disease…