Just catching up on TV.

Monk series finale, part II.

Wow. That’s the way a television series should end. It made me want to buy all 8 seasons and watch them consecutively. Monk is an amazing character.

White Collar – the fall finale, which is just brilliant marketing to make us care about the upcoming gap in episodes, was breath-taking. I’m hooked. I call mercy. Oh basic cable, you are amazing. It reminds me of watching a movie and loving the characters so much I want to see more of them. To see the little stories about out-sized characters, to get to know them the way a television series can. And then it actually happens. The show has gone on and filled us in and delighted me. And Peter better not turn out to be bad or I’ll be crushed. Ah drama.

And watching Community, I vow to start using “Congradu-horrible.” and from now on I want to describe my job as “I do officey things for the Dean.”

Television was not my only weekend distraction.

We saw Santa at the park. Bella was mildly alarmed. She sat on Miranda’s lap and Henry sat on Santa’s knee.

Ho Ho Ho

I kept snapping away, never getting a golden shot. Hard when no one really smiled.

Merry Christmas

We saw snow flurries, causing Henry to be convinced he could make snowball out of the tiny fluff that accumulated on the edges of the lawn. He couldn’t.

I finished my Blook club selection.  I wept. It wasn’t a cleaning cry.

We went to a baby shower, which was pleasant and low-key. Miranda was so hoping we’d play the “identify the smooshed candy bar in the diaper” game. We didn’t, so everyone else was happy. Three of us bought the same bouncy chair off the registry. It felt more than mildly ridiculous.

Jolly Old St. Nick filled our stockings Friday night. No rotten potatoes or coal to be found.

A sent us an amazing advent calendar sewn on a pair of pants. It is crazy delicious.

Turn your head, I am too lazy to load PhotoShop to rotate it.

Henry had three meltdowns. The imminent risk of having St Nick not bring him anything did not dissuade him from tantrum #1. I think being good in school all day and all week just saps him of his patience at home. Despite being normal and understandable, it is still frustrating.

We have 7 helium latex balloons on our ceiling, “favors” from the shower.

Bella was far more social at the Santa event than at the shower. She was awake when we arrived at Santa and had taken a  nap before. For the shower she slept in the car on the way. Just a planning point for the holidays.

The early darkness is so draining. The power of positive thinking can only do so much. While we contemplate our small attempts to bring light into the great barren darkness, say with a candles for Chanukah or Christmas, the Solstice or Festivus, I did try to think of how awesome and early you could watch fireworks. In winter. I think I vaguely understand that near the equator they have 12 hours of day and 12 hours of night. All year long. Fireworks at 7 sounds so blase I might need them every night. Just to make it a something. If I liked fireworks.

Bella is walking! I should record a video of her walking. I have taken several still camera photos, but honestly, I have pictures of Bella standing. And some pictures of Bella fallen over.

Henry is mostly recovered. The fever is gone. The cough lingers. At least we’re in an upward trajectory.

And Miranda…poor Miranda keeps getting stuck with outside activities. Like a very fun birthday party at a p[umpkin farm…at which it snowed. And tomorrow, she’s going on a nature hike. I better find her winter boots. Or buy her winter boots. Something I probably should have thought about YESTERDAY.*

Rob is off to Vegas for work. If only his job were gambling…Vegas show reviewing…Vegas showgirl reviewing? We will all miss him. And he’ll avoid the pre-winter weather we’re enjoying.

I know, I know, October can be the second month of winter around here and that’s if August is warm. But I don’t like it. We’ve had a freeze. Now warm up for a few weeks. Alas, the weather has no Problem Solver interface.

*Am I the only person who uses the Adam Sandler in the Wedding Singer voice whenever the question is “thought about that yesterday!” (The scene when Robbie is screaming at his would-be-bride, Linda, after she stands him up at the altar?)

Henry is sick. Ragweed blew by the house in September; our allergies flared. Our = Miranda, Henry and me. And maybe the baby. I recovered far more quickly that I expected. Miranda and Henry started a cough. It lingered. Miranda started to recover early this week. Henry…Henry did not. He threw up Tuesday night and started running a fever. He has been home from school for two days. We visited the pediatrician on Wednesday. He diagnosed the fever and new heavy congestion as a cold.

This is usually when moms sigh. Unwell kid for 3.5 weeks…please don’t send me home without hope. And the doctor came through with an awesome cough medicine, directions to Sudafed and Tylenol as needed, and instructions to call if the fever isn’t gone in 72 hours.

For every child whose parents pushed the Tussin as a cure-all (Chris Rock made it funny, if I remember correctly), it is worth knowing that the children’s prescription Tussionex (cough relief plus antihistimine) does not taste terrible. Henry doesn’t even mind. I am concerned that the doctor promised it would help him sleep and that is not happening. The pharmacist told me that this is a very serious drug and to be very very cautious.

Henry is a cheerful sick kid. He misses school. It takes him until about noon to wonder why Miranda and Papa aren’t home, because isn’t it Saturday? That said, he is droopy. He won’t nap, but he rests a lot. I want him to be well again, to start eating real meals, to go back to school to his friends, star words, and fabulous teachers.

Meanwhile, Bella has been walking more and more. She is fascinated to have Henry home with her. She is also grumpy and hungry and doesn’t want to sleep. I don’t know if she is so busy trying to make her legs walk the way she wants them to that she can only use her happy dimples to escape ire for crawling under the changing room door at Target. She climbs up to the first landing on the stairs to the 2nd floor whenever the gate is open. Then she “uh’s” until I find her. We have this ridiculous round hole in the door to the basement. My dad put clear plastic over the hole to prevent Henry from getting his head stuck. That has saved Bella from imminent doom. She loves to look at people as they disappear into the basement. She yells and pounds on the plastic until they return to her view. She loves macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, meatballs and cheese. She does not like chicken or turkey, which is new and odd. She has figured out how to push her shopping card and her riding Winnie-the-Pooh-mobile. She can stack the ring toy. She loves to empty my purse and take the insoles out of my shoes. She thinks she is adorable in a hat or hood (she’s right) and loves to take her cowboy hat off and on, off and on. She is driving my mom and me crazy with the not napping, but she makes up for it.

1. On Friday morning, I noticed that my bright yellow bag of chocolate chips had a little brown corner that said “all natural.” Now I love chocolate chips. Have them in pancakes most mornings. But all natural is not their selling point. A marketing has been led astray there by some weird market research numbers. Especially because I think in the world of chocolate, some parts of the world (I’m looking at you, France) would have us Americans call our product “chocolate” for its lack of cocoa butter content.

2. Henry wants to find a Pokemon of Megatron from Transformers. It would be a wild, Pokemon, of course, according to Henry. And the trainer would yell, “Megatron, I choose you! ” And it amuses him so much he could fall down. ROTFL. And it was very important I knew that at bedtime tonight. I think there is a  joke here I don’t get, but that rarely stops me from laughing. Sadly.

3. I am addicted to Method bathroom wipes. And I ran out. But this summer, I bought the Costco facial cleansing wipes, which comes in 5 or 6 convenient containers. Today,  the bathroom sink was dirty. So I said, why not? And the facial wipe did a shockingly thorough job. So thorough, I think it cleaned faster and harder than the Method wipes. Just now, it looks like maybe the finish on the sink isn’ t nearly as shiny. Hmmm, I put these wipes on my face? I may need to reconsider that.

4. I decided to check pour Numb3rs on prime-time-on-demand after a well designed promo spot. (market research for the good). I had watched the pilot of Numb3rs in its original viewing, found it interesting but not compelling enough to seek out and never watched it again. I laughed at out loud when one of the math theories they used to catch the “random” serial killer was the very same math theory described in the very first episode. They even referenced it, “do you remember that case?”  What are the odds? What at the odds? I suppose David from the show could tell me….

5. Chevy Chase on TV, weekly? Community is not as a guest spot? The celebrity gossip suggests he is as much a jerk as the characters he laughingly portrays. Without the laughing. I psychically predict at a later date he will make a contract demand and be replaced by another actor, Valerie Harper style. Is Dick Van Dyke still in action?

6. Despite television’s place in my thoughts, I have been busy. We went to fundraiser for a worthy cause that opened with a tequila tasting. That is definitely an approach to get people drunk enough to open their wallets. Then today I sat in the woods while Rob did an orienteering course. There was nearly as much drunkenness on that course as the night before. Significantly less wallet opening. So is life.

At the dinner table tonight, all 7 of us in attendance

Rob: so we just need to find a couple of schmucks to watch the kids and you can join me in Vegas for a weekend.

Sarah: No, we need to find some fabulous, experienced, caring babysitters to watch the kids.

Miranda: No! I want Grandma to stay with us!

**************

Henry has 3 dollar bills fanned out in his hands. He keeps saying “I want to go to Vegas!” My mom asks him what he would do in Vegas. He isn’t sure. I say, well, he’s got the dollar bills, he’s ready.

Miranda had a fabulous birthday. I think we will spend a week recovering. Around 7 tonight, I was convinced that it was Friday night at least.

The pre-birthday week has been fraught with bad sleeping, no sleeping, stomachaches and the like. Of course, now we’re staring at the pre-start of school week, so I don’t think trouble is gone for good. My latest technique has been total body relaxation. Just like in yoga class, first relax your toes, then your foot, relax your heel, and on upward. When I was young, my mom could lull me to sleep saying nearly anything. It was her voice. So when Miranda was wee and sleeping poorly, I tried all of the tricks. Songs. Stories. And Miranda convinced me my voice did not have that effect on her. At all. And I have tried the relax your feet, now your ankles, etc. in the past, No dice. This week, it has worked for 3 nights running. The staying asleep did not work the first night, it worked beautifully the second, and the third is tonight and I am typing away rather than sleeping. Dumb!)

Tonight, I am lulling Miranda with my voice. Your feet, legs, relax your stomach, up to the shoulders, down the arms. And as I headed back up the arms and to her neck, I catch myself saying “your book list.” And I realize I have lulled myself half to sleep and am having a weird dream about libraries. Or book stores. Luckily, Miranda was asleep. Score!

———————–

Meanwhile, across the hall, Rob has bent his long standing “no talking after lights out” rule. No talking turns into some talking. Some giggling. Then usually Rob falls asleep and the child does too. I try to rouse him. Unless I think he’s really tired. Can I just say, we’re not great at bedtime. We’re not running a zone defense, we’re much better at man-on-man. Unless I don’t understand my foodball. Maybe we are running zone? Either way, Bella is downstairs with my mom while we are upstairs with the big kids.

Tonight, Rob had a funny story. He and Henry were discussing all of the things that didn’t exist when Rob was a kid, ’cause 35 is ancient, you know? They discuss walls, beds, ceilings, clothes. All, sadly, existed. Henry thought he had trump with what about the shiny round things that have movies on them? Rob conceded, but pointed out they did have VHS, the same technology Henry still uses sometimes.

Even Rob thought Henry had him beat with this one.

H: Did they have macaroni pizza?

R: Huh?

H: Macaroni pizza!

R: I guess not, what is macaroni pizza?

H: Pizza with the round things. I love it!

R: Round things? Like meat?

H: Yes

R: Pepperoni pizza? We had pepperoni pizza!

Rob recounted the conversation to me, so the dialogue is loose. But I really wish Rob had thrown in a Mr. T voice to pity the fool who didn’t think we had pepperoni pizza. Of course, Henry wouldn’t know who Mr. T was, so that would be purely for my amusement.

And aside to say that Romano’s in Cedarburg does have a mac and cheese and a mac and meatball pizza. And Henry and I have discussed this pizza. I don’t think we have ever eaten it. Henry also talks about macaroni pizza all the time. I usually tell him that the place we’re getting the pizza from today doesn’t have macaroni pizza and besides, macaroni pizza is weird. Now I feel like I have wronged him. Now wonder he thinks pepperoni is scarce.

We spent last week at a cottage in Waupaca. It was a family affair – us, my parents and my grandparents. The cottage was on a pond, the water was weedy but it was sandy underneath the muck. And the 3 inch fish were eager to eat our worms. Or hot dogs. Or bread. And there was even a  turtle to lure to the dock. There was a canoe and a pedal pontoon boat. Rob paddled or pedaled us around the pond, through the channel and into the bigger lake to our north. Other than the near-death experience, the trip was a rousing success.

I thought that the worst was going to be the crib at the cottage. It was not solid or stable. We had been debating trying to tighten it up when I put the drop side down and then up. And some of the spindles gave way on top. I felt like I dodged a bullet – Bella would not and did not sleep in the crib. Phew.

Last Sunday, I tried fishing with my pole and promptly got snared in the weeds. After playing on the pedal pontoon for a day, we decide to try fishing off of it. Miranda and I will fish off the back and Rob and Henry will sit up front and pedal us around. The front has seats the back has a platform. We had put a person on the back and it seems to balance out fine. We didn’t notice the small metal on metal warning not to put people on the back.

loading up

We have done some mental math to say that Miranda plus Sarah is heavier than Rob plus Henry. But this picture shows the boat is listing backwards before I even get on.

I get on. Miranda and I put our feet out. I retrieve my fishing line from the snare. I notice that we had a ton of weeds trailing behind us. But we keep going. We get past the weeds by the shore, toward the deep middle of the pond. About 10-15 feet deep we figure.

going down

I can remember getting the fishing line undone. I remember telling Miranda we’ll be more comfortable with our legs uncrossed. I remember the lurch of the boat as Miranda and I leaned forward. And trying to right ourselves. And realizing that we were going under. Primitive mother-bear instincts kick in. I remember being under water and having a scratchy cloth in my hand, realizing it is Miranda’s life jacket. I pull. I swim up. I am in a life jacket. I pull up and up. And then Miranda and I break surface. Miranda climbs on top of me. I realize that my life jacket is not as snug as a life jacket should be. I have enough adrenaline that I consider swimming the 25 (40?) feet back to shore with Miranda on my back. Can I just say that Miranda is a far better swimmer than I am. She’s in lessons. She’s awesome. She is completely freaked out.

We’re above water. The boat is upside down. I see Rob, who had slid out on the other side of the boat. My grandparents and dad were watching us pedal out, first in delight and then in horror. My grandfather figures the boat went from listing backward to completely flipped over in 3 seconds. I see Rob. And then I scream, “Where’s Henry? Henry!” I have this crazy idea he is on the other side of the boat, but really Rob was on the other side of the boat. Henry is upside down in the water.

Henry and Miranda had their life vests on. We figure Henry was not upside down for long. His life jacket pushes him up against the boat, but no air pocket, darn it all. Rob starts reaching under the boat. He find him and untangles him from between the front  seat and front shelf. He pulls him out. Henry comes out of the water with a still face, closed eyes. Rob’s heart stops until Henry opens his eyes. He says a word. “What?” I think, but really all I remember is it that it was a word, not a cry. And that that meant he was still thinking. As soon as he was out and crying, my heart started beating again. And then I needed Miranda not to be on top of me.

Henry was under water for about 30 seconds. He held his breath the whole time, so that makes us think it couldn’t have been the 3-5 minutes it felt like. I screamed loud enough to alert my mom and a neighbor who came down to the water, hopped on his tiny pontoon and tried to rescue us. My mom thought Henry must have playfully jumped off the boat and was horrified to walk down to the water and see the boat upside down and the people in the water.

now what?

We hoisted the kids onto the upside down boat. I started pulling seaweed off. There was a lot of it. We tightened my life jackets and wondered whether it was worth Rob diving under the boat to look for his. The neighbor offered to push us to shore. And I was so high on adrenaline, I said no, we’re fine. The children were alive. That’s all that mattered.

The neighbor watched us swim the boat most of the way. And then he helped us push it the final 10 feet. We handed the kids up to my mom on the dock for showers and hugs and probably chocolate. And then my grandfather and father helped us flip the boat over with a  rope. And we took showers. And put on dry clothes. And I was a bit manic and blase and OK about it. Until later when my hand that I pulled with started to ache – I think I sprained the muscle between my thumb and fingers. An ace bandage helped. My middle finger on my other hand still feels sprained. I had a set of bruises. Rob was OK until bedtime. At bedtime we both felt crazy with the what-ifs.

Miranda wrote a book about the incident. Henry asks about when he was stuck under water – he was pretty shook up. Rob started having sinus pain that laid him out. His whole body ached.I was so glad I had no foolish ideas about taking the baby along on the pedal boat. Both of my shoes popped up (who knew Merrills floated?) as did Rob’s Keens. My fishing pole was lost to the depths, but we retrieved the kids’ poles, the tackle box, Rob’s life vest.

We very much had that sense that you have to get back on the horse again, although I don’t think we did more with the pdeal boat than sit at the dock with it. When Rob and I went out later that week, I fished with his pole.  And caught the line for my pole. So even that we recovered.

The rest of the week was nice. The next worst thing that happened was having to go to Culvers to check my email on because I went after the library and its free wi-fi closed. I got lost no less than 67 times. I found my way all but one of them. One damn time I had made a complete circle and had to start over.

Rob and the big kids ran their appropriate triathlons on Friday and Saturday. And that was good. Maybe a story for another night.

A near miss in every way. Rob and I discussed whether we were lucky and dumb or unlucky and smart…we rescued the children, but it would seem we put them in peril. I still think lucky.

I finally had to give in and write down what Henry has been saying. He has been talking non-stop. I don’t know if this is a factor or summer, being 5, being 5 1/3, having Miranda and me and Grandma and Bella all to himself all day – is it the estrogen, Henry? because Grandpa could make time for you, really, or some ungodly combination. In any event, Henry starts talking long about 5 am and rarely quiets until after being shushed at bedtime. It is amazing that I took Henry to speech therapy at 18 months because he didn’t talk at all. I met a mom shortly after he started who suggested that quiet men were pretty norma Her husband was 35 and he talked as little as possible. The quiet man days are over.

If you were to meet Henry tomorrow and he didn’t know you and love you, you’d probably think I am exaggerating. I do exaggerate, but not so much this time. But if you met Henry, he’d clam up. He’d hide his head behind me. He’d barely whisper to me, much less tell you about the time he had a dream about cheese. But that’s neither here nor there. My grandfather, who can at times be impatient and doesn’t let on that he is a very good listener, showed Henry (and Miranda) how to make birdhouses out of real wood. And since then, great-Grandpa had moved into the ranks of people to be showered with Henry’s voice.  He was a tad overwhelmed by it on the last visit, to put it delicately. At least he could turn off his hearing aid if he wished, but then he would miss out on some gems.

[I digress to say that as I typed up that paragraph, I could only think of Mary Poppins and the song Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. And how the guy who sang "I said it to me girl and now me girl's me wife...and a lovely thing she is too" got more than he bargained for. So did Grandpa.]

After his Monday T-ball game (no one lost and that’s grand), the flavor of the day at the frozen custard stand was white chocolate pecan. And Henry started laughing. White chocolate is pretty funny.

NB: Rob says it “pa kahn,” I say it more like “pee-cahn”

But pecan! Like at the zoo.

What?

White chocolate pecan. The bird with all feathers.

What?

Pea-can!

Do you mean peacock?

Yes.

Oh, a pecan is a nut, not a bird. Bird ice cream would be yucky, don’t you think?

But funny!

——————————

Henry: Who’s the mayor of our family?

Sarah: Um…

H: Is it Papa or Grandpa?

S: Why not Mom or Grandma?

H: Well, the mayor has to kill the chipmunks.

S: Kill the chipmunks? What?

H: To be the mayor.

S: Is that what mayor’s do?

H: Well, you have to beat them at ping pong.

S: the chipmunks? And Papa or Grandpa would be good at that?

H: Yes.

——————————

Sarah: …and that’s a cousin.

Henry: Who are my cousins?

S: Well, on Papa’s side, you have lots of cousins. Remember, at Uncle J’s – cousin J and J and J?

H: Oh.

S: And on my side, you have J.

H: Who’s on my side?

S: Well, they’re all on your side.

H: Oh.

S: When you get married your family is your side and your wife’s family is her side.

H: Hmmm. Why isn’t my teacher at SafetyTown married?

S: T?

H: Yes.

S: Well, T is still pretty young (13-14 is my guess)

H: So he can’t drive yet?

S: No. 2-3 years away.

H: I can’t wait to get my drivers license.

———————————

When Henry isn’t talking, someone else usually is. On our way to the River Edge Nature ride last Sunday, Miranda and I recapped the civil war, Dr. King, the Revolutionary War, evolution and libraries.

Bella has her first top (right I think) tooth peeking out. She has been crabby. She is still doing very slow cruising. She can climb all of the steps. She almost fell into the bathtub head first. She is about 90% weaned. She wants to keep up with maaa-maaa (mom) and aaaa-nnnaaaa (Grandma). And Miranda and Henry should not leave her alone, ever.

Happy Independence Day, America!

1 – On Rob’s birthday, I was flipping through the radio and came across this song. I had to buy it on Amazon, burn it to a  CD and play it for him as drove to a hotel. I had been on the fence about having a birthday getaway and this song pushed me to make the reservation.  I sincerely hope Hallmark buys all rights to this song, which is kind of lame but will be perfect for one of those music playing cards. I want to see this in stores by next May. Get on it American Greetings! Beat Hallmark to it.

2 – I got a Nintendo DS for my birthday. I love it. I like it so much,  I started wishing it did more things. Like had Wi-Fi internet access. And maybe mobile phone capability. And an address book. I think I like the stylus, a throw-back to the Palm Pilot. If only it had its own kooky little shorthand system. I want Nintendo to buy Apple and fix all of the things I hate about Apple. I find the all white sleekness of Macs sort of pretentious. But I love it on the Wii. I think the touch screen on the iPhone and iPod are just going to get dirty. I am even tired of the “i” in everything. But I don’t hate the Wii, with its crazy double “i.” If Nintendo won’t do this small favor for me, I hope they start selling phones.

3 – And I am so late to the party that the new Disney tween show Jonas is an attempt to recreate the magic of the Monkees. But I did think it right away. But now that we all acknowledge it, really, Jonas, you want, at best, one of you to have the career of Davy Jones?

4 – Miranda has hatched a plan to get another American Girl doll. She is going to earn money from chores all summer, plus using birthday money and First Communion money. She is debating between Rebecca, Molly and Josephina. Josephina was winning until we discussed pronounce her name in Spanish.

5 – Henry loves T-Ball. He invites all of you to come to his games. Every Monday night, June 15 through July 28th.

6 – Bella can now crawl around the house at twice the speed of last week. Which still means you can walk faster. She thinks electrical cords are very interesting but reacts to us when we say no. At least she slows down enough for us to redirect her.

We built two raised beds for the garden this year. And raised beds require extra ground to, well, raise them. And through an annoying quirk, the delivery trucks have an 8 foot gate in which to drive to the backyard. This limits our choices of delivery trucks. We had 5 yards of ground barely squeak through the gate a week or 2 ago. Henry thought he had the worlds by the tail. A mountain of dirt! He was suitably crushed when we* shoveled the dirt into the garden beds.

We have a sand circle underneath the play structures. When we added the monkey bars last year, we needed more sand to go under it. But for various reasons (cheap, lazy) I stalled on the order. But it seemed perfect to entertain Henry for the last week before school ended. And so yesterday, the sand man (I laughed all day as Henry waited for the Sand Man to come) brought 6 yards of sand. Still an 8 foot opening, but a different truck.

Henry was the king of the sand hill for about an hour before he came over to my mom and said he found a thing. It was grey. And had lots of little holes in. You know, like where the, hmmm, what are they called? They live it in. After some miming, my mom guessed he found a  hornet’s nest. She freaked out a little bit. She hurried over and said, now where is it?

H: It was under the fort in the playset.

Grandma: [looking] I don’t see it.

H: Oh, I picked at it and it fell and I threw it.

Grandma: Ahhhhhh!!!!!!

And then my mother stepped on and broke the nest. And it seemed old and defunct. And not like it had hornets in it when he threw it. And then she scared the pants off of him. She seriously and thoroughly warned him that bees nests are nothing to mess with. That only grown-ups and preferably Grandpa should poke at them. And that he should never throw one.

And it worked. Henry is now very afraid of bees swarming him. [less afraid than he's be if he had been swarmed by bees] He is afraid of the playset. The yard. The grass. Even his beloved sand pile.

Sigh.

Miranda has been iffy on the great backyard all year. Too much texture. And bugs. She has been jumpy about the bugs getting her. My grand summer gardening experiment is going to be like an episode of Scooby Doo, with M&H playing Shaggy and Scooby and the bugs plays the ghosts. I better stock up on Scooby Snacks. And hope that Bella isn’t playing Scrappy Doo.

* A footnote for everyone who knows us in real life, Rob did not shovel any of the dirt. We in this case refers to me and my parents.