16 December 2008

115

There are only nine days until Jesus' birthday, says my 4-year-old.

There is much to do. Wrapping. Cleaning. Wrapping and cleaning. This year should be fun with both boys. But the wrapping and cleaning ... and cooking.

Tomorrow is Jack's Christmas play at school ... one perk of sending him to private school ... we can celebrate the biggies. (Of course they don't celebrate Halloween but I guess you can't have them all.)

He is the angel. I asked him how this came about and he got really excited. He set up the story like he had completed an incredible tryout.

"Welllllll,'' he practically whispered. "My teacher asked me ... Jackson, which part would you like to play ... and I said ... "The angel." And she said .... OK ... Grab the costume over there. And that was it."

Fairly anti-climatic.

So I asked him why he picked the angel.
And he said: "Because he was the one who told Mary and Joseph not to be afraid. And he helped the kings find the Baby Jesus."

Good reason.

On Saturday we went to see Santa. Jack was not excited about it. He didn't want to have to discuss his bad behavior at bedtime. After some talk he finally decided he would go ahead. After all he told me he was getting "better" at bedtime. We told Jack he had to narrow his list to three things because Santa was very busy.

His list?

  • Kung Fu Panda
  • Mario Kart on Wii
  • A Joseph

I was confused. I had to ask.

"Jack, what's a Joseph?" (Mostly because I was panicked about it. How could I not know about something like this?!)
"You know Mamaaaa! A Joseph. He was married to Mary and took care of Jesus. He was Jesus' daddy but not really his daddy. He helped God take care of him."
"Righttt! A Joseph. Why Joseph?"
"Why not?" Jack asked. "I like him."

Brennan:
He continues to be a pot stirrer. (Not sure that is grammatically correct!) He likes to pick and tease and then run away laughing. And if you don't see him -- or he doesn't think you saw him -- he will continue his "badness" until you acknowledge it. I often feel bad for Jack. He knows he can't do much when his baby pulls his hair or pounds him.

Lately, when he isn't dragging his blanket around, it's small footballs he holds like a baby... growling "hut, hut" around the house hoping his Daddy will tackle him.

03 December 2008

114


This is a picture of a baby who loves his big bro.

21 November 2008

113

The best times to talk to Jack -- when he's the most focused on talking -- is when he is in the tub or on the pot. And getting him to go potty can be a real pain in the arse. So tonight I found myself sitting on the edge of the tub in the boy's bathroom as I waited for him to take care of his business. The conversation went a bit like this:

"Why are you sitting on the side of the tub, Mama?"
"Why not? I am waiting for you to go stinky."
"I know, I know. I am working on it."
Silence.
"Mama, how do you get to heaven?"
"I am not sure. I think God comes and whispers in your ear to let you know it's time to go to the wonderful place called heaven and then he guides you there."
Silence.
"So do you think we get to fly there?"
"Probably."
"Wow. Fly. That will be great. How long do you think we get to fly? Do you think people can fly in heaven?"
"Jack, I am really not sure. All I know about heaven is that it's a great treat to get to go there and when you're there, you are happy."
"A treat? Like a cookie?"
"Um ... sure."
"Or a brownie?"
"Yes. Something that you like."
"I love brownies."
"Yeah?"
Silence.
"Wait, Mama ... what is a brownie again?"
"They are like chocolate cake only you don't put frosting on it and they are chewier."
"Right, right. That's what I thought."
Silence.
"I want to take brownies to school when I am the Razzle-Dazzle."
"That's a great idea."
(At this point I was feeling pretty great about the heaven talk. I felt like I had really been able to provide some key ideas that left him satisfied.)
"Mama? Mama? Mama?"
"Jack, I am right here. Are you almost done?"
"I am working on it. ... Mama, what does God look like?"
"I don't know."
"But how will we know when he comes to get us if we don't know what he looks like?"
"I think we'll know. I think we'll be able to tell."
"Yeah me too. I think God looks like and old man in a suit."
"In a suit, huh? What color is the suit?"
"Green and gold."
"Yeah? What kind of suit is that?"
"You know like the priests at church."
"Oh, so you think God looks like our priest?"
"Yes ... don't you?"
"Jack, I think that makes perfect sense to me."
He shakes his head in agreement.
Silence again. I run my fingers through my hair, clean my glasses in my shirt and wait.
"So, how much time do you think you have?"
"Time for what?"
"Time until God calls you to heaven."
"I have no idea Jack but when He does, I will be happy that I was chosen."
"Yeah me too. Except Daddy said I have a million years. So, I have some time."
"Yeah, a million years is a lot of time. That's great."
"Well, if I have a million that you must have a least half a million."
"Well, that wouldn't be too bad."
"Yeah, and besides, Mama. We will all end up in heaven anyway, right?"
"That's right, boo. Now flush."

20 November 2008

112

The sleeping drama continues. Each night Jack comes up with more creative and ridiculous reasons to delay his bedtime. So we keep putting him to bed earlier ... 8:30, 8:15, 7:30 ... then even 7:15 p.m.

We don't know what else to do.

We've added nightlights, orange-colored string lights (one set with jack-o-lanterns). We've threatened Santa, school, TV, Nintendo ... nothing works. He may be the most stubborn, ridiculous person I have ever met. He doesn't want to go to bed and he doesn't care about anything else.

We've cut his nap. We've cut any and all shows that could maybe stimulate bad dreams ... because he does have bad dreams, just as I do. We have added a mini CD player with only kids songs and holiday tunes ... think happy thoughts.

All you parents-to-be ... under no circumstance should you bend on bedtime when the baby is young. You think now that you won't -- just like I thought Jack wouldn't have sugar until he was in kindergarten. But when it's 3 a.m. and the baby up yet again and you and your spouse are so, so tired, a cozy bed for three seems more than inviting. But really, it's not good for anyone.

Dear Jack ...

As you grow, let's talk more about all the questions your teeny 4-year-old mind struggles to wrap around. Maybe then you'll realize there just aren't answers to all your questions about God and heaven and our relatives who have passed. For now, just rest and enjoy your childhood. Have fun with your brother. Play with your trains and read books and draw pictures of Spider-Man.

Let's shelf this for now and when you are older we can talk about how you're not invincible and let's try to take each day as a gift. Try not to worry now, buddy.

Unfortunately you've inherited guilt and worry from both your parents. The Irish curse perhaps ... one of many. But as 'Stina said to me last night: Worrying is like a rocking chair. It's not going to get you anywhere.

So sleep. Please sleep. For God's sake sleep worry-free. I wish I help you find peace -- you are only 4.

And always remember I love you. Even when I am leaning over your bed begging you to close your eyes.

Mama

P.S. When you are older and you beg to just sleep; when you waste your days away catching up on your teen metabolism I am going to remind you of these days where you deprived your father and me rest. And I will describe to you in great detail how we fretted about your bad dreams, sleep walking and your lay-it-on thick guilt trips. No need to worry about that either.

13 November 2008

111

The countdown has begun for Thanksgiving in Florida. Am I ready? Hells no. Not really sure when that is going to happen considering the husband heads into a very busy week, a weekend in PA and then we fly out. How did it get here already?

Tonight when I got home the nanny had put Brennan's hair in a ponytail. Think she wants us to get it cut? Could be a suddle hint, eh? It may acutally happen. But since he's likely my last baby there will be little cut off. I don't care what anyone else says ... my baby remember?

31 October 2008

110




Jack or Brennan?

109


Happy Halloween! Another successful year ...
(Click on photo for larger view.)

30 October 2008

108


Jack's pumpkin. He says it's laughing.
Holiday flashback: Click here.

26 October 2008

107

I'm not going to lie. I am a bit over the whole blog thing. Life is busy. I am tired and sometimes I just can't come up with anything interesting to talk about here.

I know there are little moments I am taking for granted. Things that Brennan does to melt my heart. Things that Jack says to wow me. But the moment is fleeting and I let it float away unrecognized. I know this about me lately.

Life is complicated between work, politics, money ... it's hard to get super excited about anything.

Moment to note: Brennan is currently using my laptop as a tool for a joyful game of "hiya!"

Flip on the news ... housing is down, Americans are dying overseas, people are poor everywhere. It makes it hard to count the good stuff. 60 Minutes is reporting Greenspan wasn't as great as everyone believed.

We're all not sure what will happen in '09. Let's face it, we don't have much power to control it. That's got me worried. What is going to fix it all?
Who will run the country?
How will we stand internationally?
Will the housing market ever turn around?

But ...
Two healthy boys who continue to exceed all milestones set for their age.
Three new babies this year from friends and two more in-utero.
Two full-time jobs in an economy that lost 60,000 + this year alone.

Moment to note: Two little boys screaming "Daddy!" and running to the door as Joe walks in from Sunday evening work.

And yet sometimes it's still hard to remember the good things.

14 October 2008

106

I haven't had the heart to post something here and bump down that picture of Brennan eating cake. I am sure it will go down in history as one of my most favorites.

Went to Chicago this past weekend. MSU was playing Northwestern and it was the perfect opportunity to get out of dodge. Unlike Jack who is an amazing car traveler, B is not in favor of the car ride.

Somewhere along the way Joe and I made a silent agreement we would never expose our children to a children's music CD. Literally, our boys have never spent an afternoon jamming out to some crappy, cheery, high-pitched awfulness. Instead, Jack and Brennan have only listened to our CDs. The Cure was always a must have for traveling with J. B is currently favoring Radiohead and Outkast.

Brennan doesn't necessarily hate the driving. If we move steadily -- with no red lights even -- he can go with it. But get him in traffic on Lakeshore or in a standstill on I-94 just north of Kalamazoo and he's d-for-done. The slow-building shriek and tears won't end until traffic picks up until at least 60 mph. It got so bad I almost got sick of Radiohead ... almost.

B did. He didn't want food (completely unlike him); he didn't want "Hey ya!"; he didn't want his family to poorly sing him the alphabet song. He just wanted out. And today when we ran to Walmart, he let me know quickly he wasn't interested in riding in the car.

He's not shy when it comes to what he wants.

11 September 2008

105



So ... he liked the cake.



We let him grab at the entire cake for a while ... but then I gave him his own slice.



After a while, he wasn't thrilled with the cake goo everywhere. Unfortunately, frosting sticks. And it's messy.



We quickly realized only a bath would work.
Then he felt better -- more like himself.

Happy birthday, Brennan. You're a really amazing baby.

Year 1 check-up stats:
25.02 lbs. weight 80 percent
2 foot 8.5 height off the charts
48 1/4 head circumference 94 percent

The doctor's report, "He looks terrific!"

He's exceeded all milestones for his age: fine and gross motor skills and verbal. And he's been walking for more than two months.

We're so excited. We are so blessed.

10 September 2008

104


Brennan Fredrick is 1 today.
This is his first picture sent out just minutes after his birth, Sept. 10, 2007.
(He still makes this face. Note his perfectly round head.)

05 September 2008

103


First day of school! First day of school!
Jack was very irked with me for not allowing him to wear a Spider-Man shirt. I had told him boys don't wear them on the first day. Then we saw six kids with SM gear on. He, of course, pointed out each boy.
He wasn't too nervous. He seemed a little overwhelmed, but OK. He did call me back to give him one last hug before I walked out.
I got a little emotional about it.

04 September 2008

102


Tomorrow officially kicks off Jack's school career. On Wednesday, we went to his classroom and formally met his teacher and a few classmates. At first he told me he wasn't interested in learning how to write. My pep talk must have worked because he spent his entire day yesterday working on it.

He has told me he prefers the capital A over the "baby" a.

This should be an interesting year.

27 August 2008

101


The company picnic was geared toward the whole family this year. We went to the Lugnuts game -- a first for me -- and both boys had a blast. They have the carnival-type blow-up jumpy things -- a first for Jack. They also had a huge, huge slide. At first, Jack was not interested. But after seeing some "grils" slide down, he decided he was up for it ... at least until he got to the top. Then he decided he didn't want to come down -- at all.


So we sent up a co-worker's daughter to try to convince him to come down.

Brennan wasn't worried in the least. But after everyone on the base (including strangers) couldn't get him to come down, Joe realized he'd have to go get him. The plan was to get up there and bring him down the ladder slide. But, Joe slipped.


And they rolled several times down the steep slide. Jack's face was borderline petrified. Joe just looked like he was trying to look like he was is control.



Luckily, by the fifth and final role, Jack thought it was hilarious. But when he said he'd like to try it again, I distracted him with an ice cream sandwich.

21 August 2008

100

Another 100 down.

Jack has informed us he plans to meet his wife at a dance club. This was an unprovoked, out of nowhere conversation. And when Joe asked him if he even knew what a dance club was he said ...

"Daddy! It's a place where you go and dance and play games."

That's just about right.

This weekend begins the whirlwind we like to call fall. We head to South Haven tomorrow to celebrate Ma's birthday; San Francisco next weekend to see our Cali. friends and go to the Cal v. MSU game; a wedding the following weekend; Brennan's Big Bash the next weekend ... and then every home game EVERY home game we have either people staying or meeting us somewhere. OSU will be a possible sibling weekend but also a memorial tailgate for our friend who passed away this spring; Notre Dame is our anniversary and parties all over; Homecoming brings Joe's friends into town. When will I ever have a minute to rest again?

12 August 2008

99

My integrity as a writer -- and a mother -- has been challenged. Even though Husband was in the car when his eldest son used the word "prefer" correctly, he is insistent that Jack didn't say it.

I find this intriguing considering immediately following my conversation, I said to him, "Oh my gosh! Did you hear what he just said?" And of course he hadn't because the Tigers were on the radio.

So I rehashed what he missed (including the word "prefer") and we both laughed and commented on how smart and amazing Jack is ... Apparently, he was just faking that conversation? Just nodding along? But I bet if anyone asks, he can tell you who was pitching and what the score was for the game.

Details on his son's growing vocabulary? Not so much.

And why is "prefer" so unbelievable when he's a kid who uses "actually" on a daily basis? "Prefer" is no more difficult a concept to tackle. If I were Jack, I would be insulted. He is a child who (though still confused by pronouns) understands past tense versus present tense and plural versus singular. He corrects incorrect spoken grammar when he hears it and is constantly asking me English-language questions. This boy is the product of two professional writers who have always spoken to him as if he was at least 10 years older than his actual age. Why wouldn't he say "prefer"?

So Daddy, how did the Tigs do?

Following the vocabulary theme -- Brennan now says "uh-oh." Though he has refused to say it in front of his father (perhaps because he figures it is a lost cause) Jack, our nanny and I have all heard it. It's can't be easily described but it's truly exciting to witness the teeny-tiny "uh-oh" through his puckered up baby lips after a quick toss of keys.

11 August 2008

98

In one month Brennan will be 1.

Is that possible?


***
Driving home from church Jack asked me ...
"Mama, do you know what $100 means?"
"Do I know what it means?" I asked.
"Yeah. Do you know what $100 means?"
I kind of ignored him. I had no idea what he was talking about or where he was going with it.
"MAMA! It means you can buy a lot of toys for me."
I had to laugh.
"Or clothes for school."
"Yeah ... but ... I'd prefer toys."

29 July 2008

97





Happy birthday, Jackson Thomas.
It's been an incredible four years, baby!
We can't wait to watch you grow up and hear all the amazing things you have to say.
You are quite the boy.

24 July 2008

96

What do you do when you catch your 10-month-old chewing on a used plunger? Gag and scream and rip it away from him. And then continue to scream as you literally wash his mouth out with soap and water.

What does he do? Giggle and smile.

Thus starts another football season. Joe is gone for trip No. 1 of this 08-09 sports year.

I know what you're thinking. How does this happen? How could anyone be such a terrible mother? I have been asking myself the same thing since about 8 p.m. last night.

I got home late. I thought I could leave the office by 5:15 at the latest and I walked through my door at 6:20 p.m. I could tell my pregnant nanny was exhausted and irritated when she walked out the door with minimal chit-chat.

Jack was hungry. Brennan was still taking a nap. Joe was already heading to Chicago.

I quickly fed Jack to try to allow him to eat dinner before our eating machine got up and attacked his older brother's food. I grabbed some grub and as soon as I sat down to eat, I heard the music player from his crib playing in the monitor. He wasn't crying so I let him play there as I shoved a diet meal into my mouth. Jack took forever with his dinner as he does every night but 15 minutes later, B wasn't crying yet. It was getting close to 7 p.m. so I knew I had to get him up and dinnered.

A jar of baby meat, rice and veggies and pears later, the baby was fed. Jack was still eating his dinner. It was going on an hour of eating dinner.

I suggested we go for a walk in the neighborhood before bed. Jack was excited and quick shoved everything that was left into his mouth.

Here's where the plunger comes in.

Since B has been mobile we've made a rule that the half bath's door must always, always be closed. We all know the rule. BFR likes to unravel the toilet paper, throw things in the potty and get in under the sink.

I am not sure where things went wrong. (Switch to slow-motion present tense ...)

Jack and I are in the bathroom with Brennan. He is unraveling the toilet paper -- a battle I decide against fighting right then. Jack is doing his business and I am looking for bug spray. We all leave the room. Jack shuts the door.

I put on B's socks and shoes and let him loose to play for a minute. I still haven't found the bug spray but pretty much give up on the idea. We wait for Jack (again). Jack attempts to put on his shoes. He asks me to check to make sure they were on the correct feet. I take my eyes off B to look at Jack's shoes and look up to see the bathroom door is now open. I walk toward the room and see my precious, angelic baby with the plunger end up in the air. I scream and lunge. I scream again and again. Jack runs into the bathroom and I tell him what B has done. He screams. We both scream over and over as I splash water on B's face. Brennan just laughs.
"Mama! Brennan ate stinky!!!!!!" Jack shrieks, gags and shudders at the same time.
I throw up in my mouth a little.

I then decide to put a teeny bit of hand soap on my hand and literally wash his mouth. I try to dig out the germs that might be floating in his teeny-tiny mouth; I may be still may screaming intermittently. Brennan bites me. He bites me very, very hard. And I swear. Jack, the word police, doesn't dare call me out. He is likely thinking, "Oh shit!" too.

Meanwhile, Brennan is thinks this is also hilarious.

What do you do? What do you do?!

I tried to walk it off. I tried to reason with him but all I could see (and still see) is the image of him with that thing. Is there anything, anything worse? I remember writing a blog about Jack eating a ladybug. Big deal! Big freaking deal! That was likely a source of protein. But this?!

I pushed forward with the walk. I locked up the house, grabbed my phone and keys and Jack and I silently walked outside. Neither of us spoke of the severity of what we'd just experienced. I unlocked the car to get the stroller out and realized there were no house keys on my keys. That's right because Joe gave them to our friend who's staying with us. No biggie, I thought. I will just call the two friends who have keys. Guess what? Neither have them anymore. They both gave them back to Joe months ago. Good to know. I walked the perimeter of the house. All the windows were shut. That's right. We're safe... safely locked outside! About a half an hour later, I called Joe. He was in K-zoo and didn't have his house key either. He'd left it for me ... on the kitchen table ... in the house. Nice.

Jack started to panic a little. Will we have to sleep outside? What if I have to go potty? How are we going to get in?

I noticed our bedroom windows (second floor) are open. I decide to put the kids in the sun room and attempt to jump onto the roof from the deck. If only our ladder had one more step. At one point I was hanging off the edge of my roof. Seriously, my leg was dangling. Jack was ready with the cell phone if anything happened. My three-year-old was the one who put the kabash on this idea.

"Um ... Mama ... that's just not going to work."

(Add tall ladder to my next shopping list, by the way.)

So now B is getting tired, Jack is getting restless and Joe is helpless calling me over and over.
Our visitor is working and can't really be reached.

He got home at 11:15. 11:15. Yes, I said 11:15. P.M. In the night-time. To quote Jack,"It got dark out on us."

I could have met my Dad and gotten his key in that time. I could have driven to my Nanny's out-of-town home and back in that time. If I had only known. But our friend was broadcasting a local baseball game and wouldn't you know? Extra innings!

I did take those two hours as a great time to talk to Jack about giving some of his millions of toys to charity. We were able to go through most of them and create a hefty pile to give to an orphanage for boys in Detroit. Sitting on the floor out there I realized just how many toys the boys have ... wow. Jack's only contention was they had to share with each other. We read a lot of books. And we took a lot of things out of Brennan's mouth, including a dried up leaf from a Jack art project. Awesome.

Both boys were whipped when my friend showed. And he felt terrible. He had no idea we'd been waiting that long and insisted he would have left. It was my own fault this happened. I think it falls under the "terrible mom" category. A quick change and bottle and B was in bed within 10 minutes. Jack was too wound up to go down until after midnight.

I curse road trips.

21 July 2008

95


B tried pizza ...



and he liked it!

16 July 2008

94

I know I still need to post some of the classic shots from our trip to 'gina. I just am too tired to download, upload, and caption.

Brennan is growing fast, moving and talking now so much. It's so fun. He will not speak on command but he sure knows his Dada. It's fantastic. We think he's calling Jack "Baba" but it's not confirmed. He's still a Mama's boy which I love but when it comes to saying "Mama," I am lucky to get it in a whisper.

In case it changes, I want to document this: Jack is just such a great big brother.

Everyday he shows us just what a great leader and protector he has become. He is B's most favorite person. No one can get him to smile faster, to laugh harder, to play more. He is so patient with him. And when we get ready for church, Jack always makes sure to get one toy for his baby and one for him to play with during mass.

He may have his temper flairs (thanks, Daddy) and he may refuse to eat anything but fish sticks (No.1s), grilled cheese (cheese melted) or popcorn shrimp but nobody messes with his B. He doesn't even scream that loud when B pulls his hair. And he does that ... a lot. Brennan is also a biter. The louder you scream, the harder he bites. But Jack just gently brushes him off. And then the pair laugh ... a lot.

We took Brennan to the doctor the other day for some shots. We've been really specific on his shot schedule and taking our time to get the ones we think are important in. With the nanny, we're able to have that luxury. Brennan wasn't impressed with the nurse from the start.

Truthfully, she doesn't impress me either. She's a bit crusty. He took the shots like a champ. He was mad, mostly at the surprise pain, and cried for a brief moment. I hate, HATE taking him for shots but with Jack entering school this fall, we just feel like B is going to be exposed to things that he'll need help fighting off.

Post-shot Brennan wouldn't make eye contact with Nurse Crusty. He was very angry with her. His initial feelings of her had multiplied with each injection. She tried to warm up to him but he would have nothing to do with her. As we walked out of the office he widely smiled to the other nurses and even threw up an all-arm wave.

But when Crusty tried to response, he stopped smiling, stone cold stared at her (one eyebrow up) as if to say, "Oh, don't even think I was talking to you.''
The Brennan-blood bubbled. Nana would have been so proud.

10 July 2008

93



It's been a happy 10 months (today) with you, baby!
Yea, B!

07 July 2008

92




Happy belated 4th of July.
I want to thank Aunt Trishie for her continued success in capturing the week of family activities in 'Gina. She is a photo giant and is able to capture my kids and their true personalities. As Jack said as she pulled away from Grandma Rex's Saturday, "I will really miss my Aunt Trishie."
The week of Virginia was packed full.
  • Jack went fishing, rode roller coasters at Busch Gardens, got to bring down a flag on one of the ships at the Jamestown Settlement, saw fireworks, rode Papa's tractor, played with a RC car, messed with Mugsy the dog, played Mario Cart on Wii, ate a lot of No.1s (fish sticks) and bruised up his body playing hard all week.
  • Brennan took three steps, got his two front teeth and melted hearts. He also pulled a lot of hair, ate more watermelon than legally possible, now rejects baby food ... and yesterday as Joe was walking down the stairs he looked up and said, "Hi Dada!"
Very exciting. Now I am very tired.

26 June 2008

91



It's the end of an era for me. I am for sure old. My doctor has told me I can no longer (like never, ever) drink Coca-Cola. No Diet Coke, Coke Zero, Caffeine Free, Cherry ... nada. He pretty much yelled at me for not taking better care of my kidneys. He actually raised his voice and said something like, "Do you not care about your kidneys?"

Basically, my Ks can't filter dark. Flat out. No CC, no coffee, no tea. No Guinness. (Thanks for pointing that out Dad.) I also get dehydrated very easily. I should be going at least 2 and half liters of #1 and I am barely pushing 1 liter. This stress on my kidneys is effecting all of my digestion which is why I feel like pooper a lot, have pretty constant pain, I am run down -- and constipated. (TMI?)

I sat on the edge of the examination table and just thought, damn it. What's next? I have given up everything that made me fun and young and reckless and stupid. Smoking? out. Drinking several nights a week? Out. Long nights and watching the sun rise? Yeah, right. And I am only 31. Seriously.

The waiting room at the urologist is always uplifting. I am the youngest person by at least 30 years and no one is happy. But what person with urological problems is happy? It totally bites. There's no way around it. My kidneys are not my friends. They really, really don't like me. And apparently, I have kicked the crap out of them for years. Perhaps drinking countless Cokes for like 15 years everyday was overboard. A smidge.

But some of my most peaceful "me time" moments involved a nice Coca-Cola. Driving to high school and planning my day (mostly how to get out freshman gym as a senior) -- stick shift in one hand, crisp CC in the other. Walking to class in college with frost on the top of each blade of grass, grumbling about the cold, Coke in left, cig in right. Remember when they were still in glass bottles? What was better than a freezing cold Coke out of a glass bottle while sitting around the kitchen table with family? The laughter and satisfaction still plays in my heart.

These are moments filed under "favorite."

Let's face it. Ice cold lemonade ain't going to cut it. Sprite is inconsistent. And water is ... well ... blah. I have always thrown daggers at people who gushed over water. Why have water if you can drink a nice, cold, deliciously crisp, deliciously bubbly Coca-Cola? America was built on Coca-Cola, people! It's fantastic and wonderful. It's the best. You are lying to me if you love water. YOU ARE LYING.

I am asking all of you to stop your flaunting. Put down that can of Coke and remember there are people out there who don't get to drink it. No, I am not talking about people in third world countries. I am talking about ME! Have some respect for my condition or at least have the courtesy to disguise yourself.

Coca-cola. Enjoy. Coca-cola. Sign of good taste. Coca-cola. There's just nothing better.

18 June 2008

90

I am not over the recent death of Tim Russert and I can't seem to shake it. When my boss called me to let me know, I actually screamed and immediately flipped to msn.com. And whether you're a print or broadcast kind of newsie, Russert was one of the best. Sure, it's pretty clear he was a democrat but unlike other "professionals" in the biz, you'd never know by his line of questioning.

I have become obsessed with watching the coverage and actually had to go to the store to peel myself off the tube. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a journalist, a writer and I have always been a current events/news junkie. My Papa was my role model and he hammered in the role of a reporter. It's not to cheer when a candidate wins (actually happened in a newsroom I worked in); it's not to attack because you don't agree; it's to report the news. That's it. Most journalists aren't really experts in anything besides journalism, AP Style and gossip. And truthfully, it's not their job. Their role is to report on the experts. It's to make sure the general public is informed. Tim Russert did that, and did it well.

The other day, I bawled over the interview of Luke Russert. He was on The Today Show to talk about his dad, his family, the whole ordeal. He was poised, strong, articulate. I sat at my desk crying hysterically while Matt Lauer struggled for words and this kid sat there and represented. He talked about Tim with such admiration and joy.

Today I scoured the Internet to pull a Tim quote to include in my company's next e-newsletter. Each issue I try to quote influential people like Thomas Edison, Bill Cosby, George Washington. I stumbled upon an interview he did on The Today Show in 2005 about his follow-up book to Big Russ and Me. In it, he said he received letters from people all over the country with stories about their dads that carried them through life. These were not grandiose gestures but little things that imprinted. It was really touching. Again, I sat there with tears. Lauer asked Russert about his relationship with his son. Russert said he wrote him a note the day he left for college that said, "Study hard, laugh often and keep your honor." And isn't that just it?

When I was in first grade my dad was on the school PTO. One day he had a meeting in the school during class hours. I don't know that I realized he would be there. We were hard at work when I looked up and saw him at my classroom. He was around 35, all spiffed up in a navy blue suit, red tie and he looked amazing. He held a single red rose. He walked up to my desk and handed it to me while my teacher gushed to the class. I can still see him in the doorway of the classroom. In fact, when I think of him now, that's the Dad I see. I was so happy and surprised -- and felt so lucky and proud.

I can only hope Joe and I are able to leave that sort of imprint on our boys.

16 June 2008

89


Just got back from B's 9 month appt.

Length: 30 1/4 (95%)

Weight: 22 lb, 14.5 oz. (77%)

Head circumference: 47 1/4 (94%)


Brennan, of course, did well at the appointment and flirted his head off. He twinkled his eyes, looked gorgeous and made his shout for hello. (He's way into shouting these days and he fully expects you to shout right back. It's a kind of grunt/growl thing. Then it becomes a copy-cat thing that only ends when he can't control his giggles.)

He's hit all the marks for what he's supposed to be doing right now except he's not choosing to say Mama just yet. He knows my name, he looks right at me if you say it. He's just not that into playing along with us with Mama or Dada. He says Dada when he's looking for him, quietly under his breath, but he's too stubborn to actually say it to his father.

He crawls like mad. He stands, he stretches from furniture to furniture to walk and doesn't stop even after banging himself on the head like a million times. He is able to sit without support, roll over, pivot and he'd much rather feed himself that bother with us.

Luckily, he exceeded these milestones a while ago. And looking over the next group of milestones, he's already met all but two: saying one or two words and walking.

I do think he calls his brother Ba-Ba. I could be imaging but the nanny often refers to Jack has Big Brother. I have heard her say to Brennan, "Look at Big Brother! He's so funny!" and other such things.

I am excited to see what he's going to say. It's obvious he thinks his bro is the funniest person on earth but he's also annoyed by him. That brother dynamic should be a fun mix to watch.

We did have a scare at the appointment. The other night when Joe was giving the boys a bath we noticed Brennan's head had changed shape. We were immediately worried but tried not to panic and decided to wait for Brennan's well-baby check-up. As we described his symptoms to the doctor, she grew very serious and started talking about plates fusing and X-Rays and C-Scans and surgery ... I felt panic as I looked at his fluffy strawberry blond head. I knew Hubbie was feeling the same way. I saw large staples and a scar and pure awfulness.

I think she knew we were freaked out because she quickly assured us he was on target developmentally and he'd accomplished all her checkpoints in the first minute she was in the office -- without even trying.

But the image of baby brain surgery couldn't be washed away.

Note to everyone with a baby or about to have a baby: The shape of a head can look different at different stages as the plates fall into place and fuse together properly. What Joe was worried about most was actually what's left of his soft spot. What I was worried about most was a "corner" that was actually just his plate growing and shifting.

To quote the doctor: "He's perfect."

28 May 2008

88


He is perfectly edible.

87


Classic.

27 May 2008

86


We spent Memorial Day weekend in Pennsylvania with Grandpa. Cousin Freddie wasn't interested in taking pictures during this time but see Post 85 below for a shot of him in action.

In case you are wondering, Jack is shooting webs. Big surprise.

85

It's a time honored tradition -- and a rite of passage of sorts ... riding Grandpa's tractor. I have video footage of all three boys: Jack, Freddie and Brennan. I only have video of Brennan who was napping (finally) when I thought to bring out the camera. Brennan was in Round 1 of the tractor riding and was angry with his Great-Grandpa when he wasn't able to steer by himself. Freddie was napping then. Round 2 Freddie enjoyed a leisurely ride with G2 and never once showed a glimmer fear. Jack benefited by having multiple rides.

(Please note Grandpa's shirt. That's right! Go Chieftains!)

16 May 2008

84



We all know Jack is a painfully slow, awfully particular, eater. We have to gear up to fight him through dinner. Lately, we've even had to incorporate his favorite characters as we shove food into his skinny (no butt) body.

"Open up! Mary Jane wants to see Peter Parker!"

It's a little borderline, I agree. But when you have a rail of a kid who treats eating (unless it's cookies) like torture you'll do anything to get'ter done.

Brennan, on the other hand, runs the opposite. Like is his mother, food is his friend. He will happily munch all day and is thrilled to realize you're plopping him in the highchair.

Last night, Jack dined on french toast, bananas and applesauce. We've found that breakfast foods work particularly well with No.1 and we try to squeeze in healthy elements. (Last week he ate scrambled eggs. Woot!Woot!)

But like most nights, he took forever. He took a few bites, announced he was eating, got praise and then was distracted by a toy.

But unlike most nights, his Baby Bro was already done eating and on the loose.

My back was turned only for a second to stir a crap pasta dish for the adults. I was also on the phone with my parents. (I am an excellent multi-tasker.)

I heard a shriek.

"MAMA! Brennan is eating my food!"

Apparently, Jack had run to the bathroom to wash his hands (i.e. play in the water with foamy soap) and Brennan took that as an invitation to his food.

When I turned to look at the boys, Brennan had an entire banana hanging from his two-teethed mouth. And he was giggling. Jack was trying to swat it away.

"I guess that's what happens when you don't focus on your dinner!"

I scooped up the baby (banana still in his mouth) and put him in his highchair. He quickly chomped away the whole thing.

"Brennan! You're such a good eater!"
"I am a good eater too!"
Jack insisted.

Then, under his breath as he stumped away, he muttered, "I am so mad about this."

13 May 2008

83

"Jack, will you give Brennan some puffs?"
"Of course I will!"

Yes, he really said that. True story.

Saturday, B hit 8 months. How does that happen? How is it that he's crawling like mad, into everything, squirming out of hugs and busy, busy busy? Where has the time gone?

For Brennan, no one is funnier than Jack; nothing is more fun than pulling himself up to stand; and there's no better song than the Spider-Man theme song.

For Jack, no one is cooler than Spider-Man; nothing makes him feel more accomplished than winning on his Nintento DS; and there's no one he's prouder of showing off than his cutie-a-tootie baby.

"Mama, everyone will love my brother because he is sooo cute."

These days Joe's home more but my life is increasingly busy. It seems like we're never in the same time zone.

Brennan likes to sleep in his crib with his blanky. Jack still likes to cuddle his way to sleep with Daddy putting him to bed after he's in dreamland.

The boys are amazing together. I wish they'd always be the way they are now. The purity of their relationship is almost overwhelming. I know there will be times where they won't see eye-to-eye so I try to file away the images of bath time; Jack explaining how things work and pretending he's a monkey to make his Baby Rex squeal.

And when one gets married I know for me that day will be filled with memories of Jack singing the Spider-Man song to get Brennan to do ... pretty much anything. And how Brennan always has to be wherever Jack is, painfully grabbing a handful of hair off his brother's patient head.

As I type, Jack is talking to Brennan about his messy face while he gives him baby puffs to snack on.

I lost a friend this week in a freak accident. Truthfully, I wasn't super close to him. I last saw him more than five years ago. I had tons of fun in college -- he was there many of those times. But he was part of a large network of friends I was a part of for my four years. He got a hug from me whenever I saw him -- and I am not a public hugger.

I was actually quite close to his older brother. I spent days at a time with that boy and loved every minute of it. He is who I focused on at the viewing. I realize firsthand as a mother watching brothers his loss is different from all others. I watched him float around the room suddenly all grown up. His long hair now short, wearing a blue suit. His face looking old. The sadness I felt for him was almost more than I could bare. Being the eternal optimist, I immediately thought of my boys. He will never fully recover.

And I watched their mother closely. She was in constant movement through the room, hugging and patting, making sure everyone had food being a mother of sons. It was too much for me to wrap around. She couldn't stop moving because then the reality of the day would've set in. This wasn't a wedding celebration for her second son. This was a goodbye she should never have to say. Six days later, I haven't been able to move on just yet.

The wake was a bizarre twist of a reunion with friends who I hadn't made time for in years and a sad flush of loss. Life goes on, right? We all headed to dinner, handed out hugs and went home. But how are they doing today? A week after the accident? Friday made me remember how fast it goes and how we're all barely holding on.

So I will try to grab my three boys more often; try not to worry about the daily stuff so much and tap those people who I should have been keeping closer tabs on. And I'll try not to let my life pass me by. And on those days I just can't shake the grey, I will remember the laughter between brothers.

30 April 2008

82

I am not protesting, I am just super-duper busy.

Quick update:
Jack is hilarious. He told me he plans to move to Chicago when he's "growed" up. However, he would like us to move there with him. Note to self: Remind him of this when he's 22.

Brennan ate chicken and loved it. He loves standing, wants to all the time and he's talking up a storm. Daaa-dddaaa.

18 April 2008

81

Last night Jack and I were watching a show on Noggin where a little kid was talking to his grandmother. And Jack said to me, "I have three grandmas."

I agreed. And told him how lucky he was to have three grandmas who love him so much.

A little while passed.

"Mama, how come you don't have any grandmas?"

I really didn't know how to tackle this. He's only three and doesn't really get the concept of God or heaven and his only image of death was Spider-Man overcoming a bad guy.

The conversation went something like this...

"I do. I have two grandmas. They are in Heaven."

"In Heaven? Why don't we see them?"

"Because Heaven is a far away place that is magical and wonderful,'' I said. "They are there now together watching over us."

"Watching over us?" he asked. "I want to go to there.''

"Someday you'll go to Heaven and when you do, you can meet my grandmas,'' I said. I was kind of hoping this would end it. How do I explain death and life, heaven and hell to him without freaking him out? I am a little freaked out about the whole thing.

"I have a grandpa, he's Ga's Daddy,'' I said.

"I know Grandpa! He's my Grandpa too!" He acted so annoyed with me like obviously he knew he had a Grandpa. "He's got white hair."

Silence for a while. I was busy on my BlackBerry sneaking in work.

"What were your grandma's names?" he asked.

"My one grandma we called Nana. Her name was Rita and my other grandma was named Mary,'' he said.

"I have a grandma named Mary!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, you do. Isn't that great?"

He sat there for a minute, eyes back on the TV.

"I don't want to die,'' he said, eyes wide.

"Don't worry honey. You will be fine.''

"Why did your grandmas die? Were they bad guys?"

"Jack! That's silly. They weren't bad guys. My grandma was sick and it was her time to go to heaven so she could feel better,'' I explained.

He seemed to get it. I was impressed.

"And my Nana was older. And she was sad because she missed my Papa, and it was her time to go to heaven.''

"So she could feel better too?"

"Exactly.''

"I have a Papa too,'' he said. "Daddy's daddy is Papa. But sometimes I call him Grandpa Rex."

"That's right! Aren't we so lucky we have Papas?"

"But do your grandmas even know about me? Do they like me?"

"Jack, I know they love you so much. Because you know what's so great?! They are watching over us. So whenever you are scared, or sad, they will be there to help you."

"Can they talk to me?"

"No, they can't really talk to you but when you are sleeping in your big boy bed, they give you teeny-tiny kisses on your cheeks and hug you really tight so you won't have bad dreams.''

"Will they protect me from the scary tree out my window?"

"Of course! That's their job now. They protect you and Brennan and Freddie. That's because they love you so-so-so much and they want you to be happy."

"So... they are ghosts?"

"Well, kind of."

"I don't like ghosts. They're scary."

"They aren't mean ghosts, silly. They are ... angels. They are like your own special heroes that maybe you can't see or talk to but they are there, protecting you and making you happy.''

"I know Papa."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I have seen him in my room."

"That's great. I am sure they are all there."

"Mama, he has my eyes. He is in my room when I wake up from the scary tree."

This stopped me. I wasn't sure I heard him right.

"What?"

"The man in my room is the Papa. He has the same eyes as me."

Now, I know I search for signs. I like to think my deceased relatives are around leading, protecting, listening. It makes me feel better. It makes me miss them less. This to me sounded like confirmation.

Because the thing is... Jack has my eyes. I have my mom's eyes. My mom has my Papa's eyes. They are the Cleary eyes. It's our thing. The eyes. You can't miss them. When I was younger I hated them but now I embrace them because it's our thing. It's all about the eyes.

So many times I have watched Jack play, talk, think things through and I have thought he was so much like Papa. My dad and mom have both on separate occasions said he reminded them of Papa. And since he could talk I wished that Papa could have met him. Jack's vocabulary, his observations, his sentence structure amaze us everyday and I know my Papa in particular would have loved it. He would have challenged him; groomed him.

So, that made me really happy. Insanely happy.

I hugged Jack tight.

"Aren't we so lucky we have grandparents who take care of us, Jackie?"

He squeezed me tight right back.

16 April 2008

80

Jack had a dental appointment today. You may have noticed his front tooth is cracked ... and I think it may be dying. We wanted to get it checked. Ga had been monitoring it since the crack but he wanted Jackie to go to a specialist.

For the last few weeks I have been talking to him about the visit so he wouldn't be surprised or scared. I even got him a book about going to the dentist.

So, last night I reminded him again.

"Jack! Guess where you get to go tomorrow?" It's all about the tone. I tried to act like it was the BEST-THING-EVER.

"What?!!"

"The dentist! Isn't that exciting?"

"Yippee!" (He actually says that now.) "Hey, do you think Ga will buy me a present?"

"Ga? No. Your not going to Ga. You're going to a new dentist who works just with kids."

"What? Why? I thought Ga did a good job!"

Hilarious. First of all, for weeks I had been telling him about going to a new, gril dentist. FOR WEEKS. It's obvious he had not heard me once. He's already learned to tune me out. Secondly, he thought I fired Ga. How he wraps around these concepts, I can't figure.

Then, two hands out, very serious face.

"Will she have the yucky green stuff?"

By this he's referring to the professional toothpaste my dad used to polish teeth. Jack hates it and tried to tell him about it. Since his last visit, my dad has stopped using this product. Jack gagged. He gagged a lot.

"I don't know, Jack.''

"You better tell Daddy. I don't use the yucky green stuff."

So the appointment went well.
Joe called me soon after and filled me in very briefly. The doctor is going to fix his tooth. That should be an interesting appointment. Joe will be taking him.

When I got home from work, I asked JTR how it went.

"Good,'' he said. "She was good.''

"Was she nice?"

"Yeah, she was nice."

"Were you a good boy?"

"Yeah, I was good,'' he said, growing angry I was taking him away from fixing stuff with his mini-Home Depot tool box. "I squirmed my head a little -- but not my body.''

"It happens,'' I said. "Was she pretty?"

"Yeah, she was pretty. She had gril hair,'' he said, pulling away from me. (He's into hairstyles lately.) "Can I go now? I have things to fix."

And that's all he had to say about that.

09 April 2008

79


Happy Birthday (7 months) Brennan!
We love you!

This is just a glimance of his photo shoot today. (This was a B-list shot, if that tells you anything! Mother's Day gift, check!)

07 April 2008

78

Last night when I was getting Jack ready for bed, he asked me when Daddy was coming up. I told him I didn't know.

"I really miss Daddy," he said.
"He's just downstairs. Now come on, brush your teeth," I was distracted -- and tired -- and I thought he was procrastinating.
"I really love Daddy. He's my favorite person."

That statement rang in my ears. It was sincere and true. He's 3 and not great at lying.

I gasped. Really loud. I know I did because by his reaction I know he immediately regretted saying it. I walked out the room and grabbed toilet paper. I could hear him sniffling, guilt at 3.

I asked him to brush his teeth again.
He got up without saying much, just sniffling. He went potty, brushed his teeth.

"Is this good, Mama?"
"Yes. Thanks."

I was stunned, to be honest.
But I don't know why. I mean, truthfully, Joe is more fun. He runs and plays. He wrestles and does "the claw." Everyone who meets him thinks he's a great guy. I have heard it from top to bottom, east to west. "That Joe is a great guy!" He's "Hey, Joe!"

I guess I thought my cuddle time and boo-boo kissing had earned me a higher rank.

"Can I play with your hair, Mama?"
"I don't think so, buddy."
"I'm sorry I said Daddy is my favorite,'' he whispered. "You're both my favorite."
"No, it's OK. If that's what you feel, that's what you feel. It just hurt."
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"You have to be careful about the things you say," I told him (from experience). "Wouldn't you be sad if I told you Brennan was my favorite?"
"Well, Brennan is your favorite,'' he said matter-of-factly.The room was dark so I couldn't see his expression but he sounded like he was 25 years old. So old, mature and slightly sad. It was something he must have decided a while ago. Brennan is Mama's favorite. Flat out.
"What?! That's not true."
"It's OK, Mama," he said patting my hair.
"Jack, he is not my favorite. You are both my favorites. You are my special boys."

But he seemed to shrug me off. He really didn't believe me. And it was crushing. I thought about explaining they were at different stages; Brennan needed more from me now but it just seemed moot. Nothing could fix that feeling for him. He'll likely feel it for the rest of his life no matter what I do.

Mothers crush just as easily as they put their kids back together. It's an awfully powerful, hard to manage trait.

02 April 2008

77


(This is seven pictures in and my best option. He likes to make funny faces, scrunch his eyes or do a huge ridiculous smile.)

Jack-isms

"When I grow up, I am not going to work."

"Going to bed is not fun."

"It's OK, Mama. We can just clean it."

"I MISSED! Just a
little bit."

"I don't like the '
Bama."
(This was said after I was on a week-long work trip in Alabama.)

"How about ... I have just two more bites and then I get ice cream!"

"My little cutie-
atootie. Don't worry, Mama. I will fight the bad guys. No one will steal my baby."'
(This was out of nowhere. Not sure what he's worried about ...)

Me: "Jack, can you grab the baby wipes?"
Jack: "Well, Daddy's not doing anything. He could do it."

"This is my baby. Baby Rex. But you can call him Brennan."

"I'm a hero. I am your hero. Right, Mama?"

Jack
:"Ga's ears are old."
Me: "What do you mean?"
Jack: "Ga's ears are old because sometimes he doesn't hear me."

"
Stina! You can buy me a gift the next time I see you!"

"That's just kind of ridiculous, Mama!"

(This was after he saw the peach colored Easter Bunny taking pictures at the mall.)

Me: "It's time to turn off the TV."
Jack: "What? I only need five more shows!"

"Where are you going to sleep, Daddy?"
(After he and his brother took over our bed for the 10 days Joe was on the road, he wasn't ready to give his Daddy his place back.)

Jack:"Mama. Are the babies in your belly yet? Next time I want two babies. I want a boy and a gril. The boy will be Joe and the gril can be Mona."
Me: "Mona? Where did you come up with that?! What about Katie?"
Jack: "Well, that's just kind of ridiculous."

31 March 2008

76


For my dad's birthday, my mom got him a Wii. My sister has one and we spent much of Christmas break developing tennis elbow and bowling wrist. Jack was no exception.

With Husband in Houston, the boys and I headed down to the D to hang out with the 'rents. Jack spent Sunday punching the lights out of everyone on Wii Boxing. He kicked butt. And his footwork was unmatched. The little kid was so busy all weekend, this morning when he woke up he told me, "My legs and buns hurt. Too much boxing, Mama."

I can't believe we didn't record his play. It's unmatched. He finally go Ga to partake and I think he was surprised to see how hard it is to knock out the opponent. Jack knocked out everyone he played. The final straw was when he went into 3 rounds. He screamed in frustration, "I hate 3 rounds!"

Next was golf. Let's remember he's only 3 and thought it was fun to hit the ball into the water. But when buckled down, he nailed it. He bogeyed several times and even realized the difference between tapping it in for a putt and the long shots. I do think he may be retired from Wii for a while. He was even a little stiff when he walked around.

The power of the Clause.
Last week, Jack was procrastinating going to bed. I couldn't get him to brush his teeth or settle down. I happened to notice about 6 doe outside on our lawn and quickly pointed them out to Jack.
"Oh no! Santa has sent his deers to check on me! I better brush my teeth."

The Santa link hadn't even crossed my mind. It was perfect. I have used it several times since. Thanks, Santa!

Happy Birthday Freds.
Sunday was Baby Freddie's birthday. The big 1. I wish I thought to take a camera so I could get pictures of him with my boys. I am terrible about that... it was also Uncle Fred's 35 birthday. Wow. That's kind of old.

24 March 2008

75


Happy Easter, Love Brennan.

Someday he's going to be not so happy with me for this shot.
We took others but they are on Ga's camera and I forgot to download them before we headed to the airport to pick up Daddy.

Great news everyone! The Spartans made it to the Sweet 16. Whoo-hoo!! Another weekend of no Husband. And there's a chance they will make it to the Final Four. I should have assumed this would happen. The last time they made it to the Final Four was Jack's first year. Why wouldn't it happen again in Brennan's first year?

March has blown by. I spent a week in Alabama. Grandma Rex came and watched the boys. I have had stomach flu and killer bronchitis and last night Jack woke up around 2 a.m. with a dying seal cough. Good times. Surely Daddy is next. He's already had the attack of the stomach flu... If only we can get away with Brennan not getting anything. Is that possible?

Until then... get ready:

From the banks of the Red Cedar,
There's a school that's known to all;
Its specialty is winning,
And those Spartans play good ball;
Spartan teams are never beaten,
All through the game they'll fight;
Fight for the only colors:Green and White ... jerks.

04 March 2008

74

Actual conversation... 3.4.08

"So, Mama, are the babies in your tummy yet?"
I was sitting on the laptop working on stuff for work. I wasn't sure I heard him correctly, so I ignored him.
"Mama!! 'Member?! I tollllld you. I want two babies this time. A boy and a Gril."
This is about the second time he's told me he's ready for me to have another baby.
"Sorry buddy. No babies."
"But Maaa-Maaa. Wouldn't it be nice to name the babies Jackie and Brennan?"
"Jack! We won't name new babies the same names as you and your brother."
"Why not? When will the new babies come?"
"I don't know Jackie. I don't think for a long time."
"Oh. Can we get a dog?"

25 February 2008

73

My baby's first tooth appeared this weekend. And it's darn sharp. It's a teeny-tiny weapon of mass destruction. I tied to get a picture of it, but yeah right. The boy will not allow me to keep his mouth open long enough. Soon enough his teeny-tiny tongue popped out and then tons of drool.

Oh, my, does the boy drool. Drool strings can stretch from his mouth to his toes. Literally. Because, you see, he enjoys chewing on his toes. Of course, he enjoys chewing on everything -- and anything and everything. His blanky, his sleeves, his bibs. If you wrap him up in his favorite blanket for a nap, without fail you'll find him gnawing away at it 15 minutes later.

He just such a good baby. It's amazing. So laid-back, so smart, so coordinated. I mean the kid could grab anything you put in front of him. The other day Daddy was eating fruit loops and within seconds, the boy had grabbed a purple loop and shoved it in his mouth. Soon a soggy, purple mess was all down the front of him.

His coordination just blows us away everyday.

And he's gorgeous. Stinking gorgeous.

There's no person he loves more than his Jack. 99 percent of the time it's only Jack that can get him to calm down on those rare occasions that he gets upset. All Jack needs to do is start howling the Spider-Man theme song and dance around a bit and Brennan's toothless, goobery smile and laugh come out. I really, really need to get it on camera. And he gets kind of angry if anyone sings the song besides is bro.

Speaking of that guy, Jack has announced he'd like to name a doggie Peter Parker. But he plans to call him Parker. And he needs to be black and little like Teddy. It's a priority for him these days. And when Daddy said no, he's already announced he plans to discuss this "Great idea" with Santa Claus.

The conversation went kind of like this: The two were lying in bed talking.

"Hey Daddy! I have a great idea!!"
"What's that, Jack?"
"We should get a doggie. And we should name him Peter Parker. But I will call him Parker."
"We don't want a doggie, Jack."
"Yes, we do."
"No, we don't."
"I do. Brennan does. He told me. We want a little black doggie that will run and play. He will be my best friend."
"Maybe when you are older ... on second thought, it's just not a good idea."
"Yes, Daddy! It's a great idea. I will talk to Santa about it. He will get me my Parker."
"Oh, yeah?"

21 February 2008

71

So both my boys have ear infections and upper respiratory infections. We've got a lot of drainage going on in Okemos.

Brennan has been up every two hours the last three nights. This of course means his parents will soon take on ear infections and sickness. Wonderful.

Brennan ain't so little anymore. He weighed in at 19.05 lbs. He's hasn't got a smidge of fat, he's pure muscle. He's just a big little guy.

Jack came in at 39 lbs. and is now 3 foot 4. And he is rail. He's a walking piece of plywood.

Sometimes I think about how much food are they going to blow through when they're teenagers! Speaking of food, B has been cleared.

The poor guy is starving! And very, very constipated.

We were told homemade food only. Yes, you did read that correctly.
Home... made... baby... food.
Organic only in pinches. Apparently when Gerber and Beechnut process the jarred food, the fiber is drastically reduced. And let's be honest, it's probably a good idea in the days of China-scares and 2-year-old meat recalls.

Fiber is now replacing Fredrick as Brennan's middle name.

As the doctor was explaining how to make the food and how easy it is, I felt myself start to glaze over. I nodded my head to make it look reasonable but in my mind I was just kind of wondering when I would fit that into my 50 hour work week, traveling husband and two boys 3 and under. I may have even said, "OK, right ..." a few times. I am pretty sure I pulled it off.

... Only orange-colored veggies;

I can do it all, right? No problem.


... prunes; apples, no peels; no bananas; he can't handle meat ...

Hey! It seems I will be making baby food somewhere between 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. if anyone needs to reach me.




Brennan doesn't like carrots -- in case you were wondering.

14 February 2008

70

So, I have become obsessed with the kids on YouTube. There are thousands of videos that are hilarous HIL_ARIOUS on there and I know my boys could do that well... even better.

"Charlie bit me" at http://youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM has had 6.4 million viewers... probably more now if you click on it. It's candid, it's cute and it's British. I kind of think the accent makes it funnier.

But couldn't just as easily be, "Brennan bit me" ... absolutely?! Obviously, we can't do that exact thing. And we'd have to figure out the viral marketing to get it to the 6.4 million level but ... and no offense to Henry and Charlie ... our boys are 100 times better looking. We could be talking the Ellen show or even Oprah.

Even at work we're hit the YouTube circuit. We have a contest posted there and the winner earns $1,000. All the contestants have to do is come up with the second best purpose for our boxes. Go to www.twomen.com/contest to find out more.

This evening we reviewed our Christmas videos, Brennan's first food experience, a random night here. The boys were enjoying reliving our life, I was secretly looking for anything buzz-worthy. And, I am going to say, we're close.

Now if only I could figure out how to edit and post it.

11 February 2008

69

Personally, I hate Valentine's Day. And it's not for the obvious reason. It marks the anniversary of my Papa's funeral. February, since 1996, has been a bit of a blurry disaster for me. This year, it kind of snuck up on me, actually.

Things have been crazy, crazy at work. I am juggling two little boys and Hubbie is on the road all the time for basketball. In truth, while he's always somewhere in my heart, his death hadn't really crossed my mind since February hit.

Then last night I had a long-awaited conversation with him. Please don't tell me it wasn't him because I believe he whispered in my ear last night while I was sleeping. And it's become a somewhat annual experience.

It seems like my deceased grandparents tend to show up right when I need them most.

My Gramma died when I was only 15. I was at home taking driver's ed when she lost her long, horrible battle to cancer. My entire family was in Pennsylvania. I can remember the call from my mom like it was yesterday. I was staying with her best friend. The friend later took me to see Sister Act starring Whoopi Goldberg. Bizarre. I was wracked with guilt for a long time over it. It wasn't until about a month after her death -- 4th of July weekend, that she came to me to talk. We had spent the last 4th of July of her life in Pennsylvania. This dream duplicated that holiday but it was obviously new. We sat in her kitchen and talked. And when I woke up, I felt better.

My Nana died when I was in my first year of my first job. She and I were always close. She had a soft spot for me even though she wasn't always the softest person. She didn't do well after Papa passed away and over the years following his death she deteriorated both physically and mentally. It was certainly trying on our family. However, one of my last conversations I had with her was about my now husband. She was the one who told me to go for it. And in some way because of her, she's reason I let down my guard long enough to see Husband had potential. And now we're blessed with Jack and Brennan.

So work has been hard. It's tax time, so money is a worry. And it's freezing. Life's a bit of a drag, honestly.

However, Brennan is at that fantastic stage where he's starting to babble and stare off into the distance and laugh at nothing. I like to think it's Gramma, Nana and Papa huddled over my boy cooing at him and making him happy. I know with my heart all three of them would be tripping over each other to spend time with my boys. And it makes me sad when I think about how they aren't here. So maybe that's why Papa's been on my mind.

But here's what I am trying to say -- and this is to dispute any doubts. I wasn't talking about him before I went to bed. I wasn't thinking about him, I hadn't just looked at his picture. But somewhere between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m. he decided it was time to visit his Ka-Ka-Ka Katie.

Here's what happened. My dreams are insanely clear. Hauntingly clear, actually.

I was going to my parents house for the weekend because Husband was on the road. I walked in my parents foyer to find my Papa standing there. He had on a navy golf Izod shirt, khaki pants and boat shoes. Classic. He seemed taller than I could remember but I walked into his arms and just smelled him. He had that Papa smell. If you are a family member, you know what I am talking about. I took a deep, long, breath. I buried myself in it. And then, I just started crying.

I was holding Brennan when I walked in but he had faded into the background. I immediately just wanted to sit on my Papa's lap. I wanted to sit on his lap and watch him read the paper. His passion had been passed onto me and I wanted to share it with him one more time. I just squeezed him. And I could feel his pacemaker in his chest.

Green sweater. He had a green sweater, I just remembered that. I can't describe to you the rush of relief, of pure joy I experienced. It was like his death had been a complete dream. His death was the dream, not this. And my level of excitement was unreal.

I just kept looking at his details. White soft hair, gnarled hands from arthritis, gentle eyes. Everything. He was there. I just wanted to squeeze him and squeeze him. I quickly asked him about Brennan. Did Nana know? Did she love it? The name didn't die with her Dad. He told me she did, of course she did. He told me Brennan was gorgeous. He told me he was so happy for me. He reminded me how blessed I was. He told me Joe was a good writer. All of the things I wanted to know he knew, he knew.

For some reason Jack wasn't there. And Brennan was missing ... in my mind, I thought my mom had him but she never entered the front hall. And then suddenly, just like that, I had to go. I had to pick up Jack. I have no idea where he was ... I just knew I had to pick him up. And I started to tell Papa about Jack. I told him how smart he was, how detail-oriented he was and how much he would just adore him. And he smiled at me. He knew all this.

I didn't want to go but I had to pick up Jack and I asked him if he'd be there when I came back. I begged him to stay so he could meet Jack but I knew he wouldn't be and I started to cry; and he hugged me.

And then he patted me gently in his Papa way and told me he was always with us.
And then that was it.
That's all I remember.

I woke up to hear Brennan stirring. I brought him into bed with me and I just lay there with my baby for a little while. And then in his sleep, B put his hand on my cheek.