tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10532600098248779332024-02-09T16:58:08.501-05:00Day by Day...Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.comBlogger259125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-43942403116248105552012-03-02T08:47:00.001-05:002012-03-02T08:51:50.925-05:00Little TigerOne of the things that we perpetually try to instill into our young man is to think about how other people might feel. I guess that's my little attempt at raising an empathetic child who realizes that he may not, actually, be the center of the known universe and he may, actually, share his existence with other humans. We're working on it, and some days are more enlightening than others. But, to that end, I want to make you aware of an absolutely INCREDIBLE set of humans.<br />
<br />
Short back-story: Matt and I went to this little private (religiously affiliated) university in the middle of corn-fields Indiana. The people there were, and remain to be, amazing people. Not your typical run-of-the-mill undergrads, but truly people with the ability and the desire to find ways to leave this world better than they found it. It's one of those places where, if you went there (or somewhere similar), you get it. We made some wonderful friends and have stayed in touch with a number of incredible people who have already made a difference. While I could go on about the inspiring things that many of our classmates have done with themselves, I wanted to share one of their challenges.<br />
<br />
One of our college classmates recently had a baby. Much earlier than he or his wife were expecting to have a baby. His wife was having some issues with preeclampsia and needed to stop being pregnant in order to remain alive. So, her doctors delivered their little girl at 25 weeks 5 days via emergency c-section about 3 weeks ago. Don't worry, they're hanging in there. In fact, they're doing pretty well. G and his wife have truly shown their finest colors along this journey so far, and have decided to share it through a blog. So, go read it. Http://mommyofelise.blogspot.com (don't know how to make a hyperlink on this device...sorry) If you want the whole story, you have to read from the beginning, but, you won't regret it. It is written quite well and will probably elicit a tear or two, as you will undoubtedly be touched. For me, it shows that when you can't control the situation itself, you can control how you react to it (my dad's 'Happy Idiot' philosophy). And G and J's response to this situation is inspiring.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-19517144473123666932012-02-26T10:26:00.000-05:002012-02-26T10:26:29.107-05:00Try AgainIs anyone out there actually still keeping this thing on their radar? I guess we'll find out!<br />
<br />
So, blah, blah, blah, I stink at blogging these days. Quick update: umm, life rolls. <br />
<br />
Matt finished his MBA program last spring. I am still so proud of him, his committment to himself and our family, and his achievement. I remind myself of this when we make the loan payment each month, but the changes are worth every penny. <br />
<br />
I've resumed my MEd program and might be about half-way-ish done after I finish this current course. I think. Maybe. Not entirely sure. <br />
<br />
We have settled into the house with my mom, and it seems to be working out well. I have a whole raft of good feelings about my Dearly Beloved in relation to this situation (and a crap-ton of gratitude for my in-laws for raising a kid with his priorities in order and the responsibility to Man-Up when the manning needed to be upped), and we haven't killed each other yet.<br />
<br />
Max and Jackie are doing really well back in these parts. They've got a little apartment with their cat, and super jobs that do more than they could hope for, in this economy. Jackie has the extra bonus of the free/ridiculously cheap chocolate supply that she shares with us freely. Mmmm...chocolate.<br />
<br />
All of us have made less of ourselves. Apparently the stress of the past couple of years got to us all and we turned to delicious fried foods for comfort. Since then, we've all been working to find other ways to cope. And make our asses smaller. Thanks to Jackie and myfitnesspal.com, we have lost an embarrassing quantity of weight. I have dropped 37 lbs, Mom has lost 42, Jackie has lost 30, and Max has lost 30-ish, too, I think. We have also turned some other friends on to this site, and they're making less of themselves too. It's remarkably do-able, so check it out, if you'd like.<br />
<br />
And, other things too. Joseph is 4. He has asthma (diagnosed in October). I'm led to believe that it isn't the friendly "take a shot of albuterol every once in a while" kind of asthma, but more the "stay on top of these meds and symptoms or you'll land your butts in the hospital and maybe on a ventilator" kind of asthma. So, we're trying to stay on top of it. But, boy, do I hate the asthma. Otherwise, he's a normal kid. <br />
<br />
I've been knitting up a storm this winter, and have recently taught myself to crochet. I'll post more on that because I'm having fun with it.<br />
<br />
But for now, I'm going to go clean myself and enjoy the rolling ocean outside my door. Vacation. Florida. Palm trees. Pelicans. Life is good. I hope that today is kind to all of you.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-71644562752102976402011-10-03T20:24:00.003-04:002011-10-03T20:24:59.234-04:00HiatusHi. I'm back. For now, at least. Not sure how I'll be able to keep this up, but I'm here for now. Sorry I kind of peaced out, there. But, you know, I had a lot to deal with. I'm still dealing, but we'll try to multi-task for a bit and see how that goes.<br />
<br />
You up for it?Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-37055906925454414322011-05-17T11:03:00.001-04:002011-05-17T11:04:19.431-04:00Becoming Stronger<span style="font-size: x-small;">You know that old saying, "That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger?" Well, I think that I am becoming stronger. I hope. Maybe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The past couple of weeks [months] have been a serious shake-up in our routine, and we seem to be readjusting at least functionally, if not well. Max and Jackie returned to NH on Easter with a truck full of stuff, a car on a trailer, and hopes of establishing their adult lives closer to their families. We unpacked them and made a half-hearted attempt at moving some of our stuff the next day with their truck. The big push to get us out of our condo came the following Wednesday, and we've been sleeping at the house since then. It's a mess (that would be an understatement, actually), and we've still got stuff at the condo, but we're getting there. We get closer every day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">What's this, you say? We moved? Why, yes! Wait, you did that just weeks after your dad died? Why, yes! And, you moved into the house that your parents have lived in for the past 20 years (and your mother is still living in)? Why, yes! With all of the crap that you've been collecting for the past 10 years of married life? Why, yes! And, all of the crap that has accumulated for the past 40 years of your parents' lives? Why, yes! And, the crap that's left over from your grandmother who moved 70 years of life in Chicago into the house? Why, yes! Does this sound like a lot of crap? Why, yes! Oh, and your brother moved back to NH after being in OK for the past 6 years? Why, yes! And, we're thrilled to have him and Jackie back, too. And, Joseph had to change day care providers (didn't mention that one, did I?) as soon as we all got back from Cleveland? Why, yes! And, when people told you that the grieving process was going to be harder than you imagined, you thought that you'd make it more difficult by tossing in a move, too? Why, yes! Does that sound like it might be a teensy bit much for one small group of people to handle all at one time? Why, YES!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">So, we're becoming stronger. I hope. I think. Maybe. I, personally, am just trying not to do permanent emotional damage to The Boy as we all jockey for position in our new arrangement and determine what our new roles and responsibilities will be. I'd like to stay married, too. That'd be ok. There has been a lot of whining, crying, and yelling. And Joseph has been upset too. We'll get there. I hope. I think. Maybe. Wherever 'there' is...</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-13329866350906688012011-04-22T19:46:00.000-04:002011-04-22T19:46:24.827-04:00Easter bunnies<span style="font-size: x-small;">More Joseph cuteness to make you smile.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Boy and my mom dyed eggs the other day (Monday?) because we happened to have the time and occasion. We dyed a dozen eggs and he stuck them up with race car stickers and all that good stuff. Because what else says 'Easter' but some Nascar-infused egg decorations? My mom (Ma) put them all back in the carton and put them in the fridge and told Joseph that they'd be safe from the silly bunnies in the fridge. He wanted to know why the bunnies wanted his eggs, so she told him about the silly game that the bunnies play at Easter where they find your eggs and then hide them all over the place for you to find. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">He was not a fan of that whole situation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">When she came over to our house the next night, he exclaimed, "Ma! You need to go to your house to check on our eggs and see if the bunnies got them!" Then, as we drove up to the house on Wednesday, he was looking all over the yard for the bunnies that wanted to hide his eggs. He ran in the house and checked the eggs in the frigerator (his word) to make sure that the bunnies hadn't gotten in to take them. Can you tell how his little mind is working? We tried to tell him that it was a silly game and they weren't going to keep his eggs. We even told him that sometimes they leave extra eggs with candy and toys in them. Still not buying it. We assured him that the pets would keep the bunnies out of the house, and even if Scout let them in (because she's a friendly little pug) the bunnies couldn't get the eggs because they don't have thumbs to open the frigerator. That seemed to work. He spent a good few minutes after that explaining to the cats that the bunnies couldn't get in and hide our eggs since they don't have fumbs (no "th" sounds for this kiddo yet). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">We're in trouble once he starts to think about what Santa does, and I feel bad for the Tooth Fairy. That is a pretty sketchy deal, though. We'll see how he does on Sunday.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-6386990628563729752011-04-21T18:06:00.000-04:002011-04-21T18:06:47.529-04:00Misery loves company<span style="font-size: x-small;">Okay, so maybe that title is a bit dramatical, but, it seems to be the case. I promise not to dwell on my grief over losing my dad too much, but I do miss him more than I can even express. I know that it's going to be a long process, and I know that we have been so fortunate and lucky in so many many aspects of this whole situation. Actually, I promise nothing. This sucks.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">At any rate, another teacher at school who has become a friend lost her dad the day that my dad went into the hospital--March 18. His passing was quite sudden, although he had been plagued with health issues for a while. My heart broke for my friend, her mom, and her family while we were desperately trying to write another ending for our story. Obviously, these pages had been written long before, and our journey has taken this path. When I finally came back to school, this teacher friend came down to my room and we were both able to talk about what we were both going through with someone who truly knew how the other's heart was aching. At that moment. While I am so sorry that my friend is going through this at the same time that I am, it has provided a certain amount of comfort to know that there is someone that I can chat with who has the same questions, concerns, fears, and sadness that I have. I don't even feel the least bit bad about crying in front of her, and that's not something that I let many people see. So, in this respect, my misery cherishes her company, and I'm chalking her up on my list of fortunate occurrences during this crappy situation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">On another note, I've found myself forcing myself to remember things about Dad. I think it's kind of funny that it's taken me until now to realize some of these things. Like, he always called me "sweetie." Always. I never quite realized this until I was laying in bed and making myself remember his voice. I was thinking about how he always greeted me on the phone with a chipper, "Hi, sweetie." And the last thing that he was able to say to me was, "I love you. You're doing a great job with that little boy." I know that doesn't have much to do with anything, but I don't want to forget.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-47332232701773874042011-04-14T07:50:00.000-04:002011-04-14T07:50:49.614-04:00I say 'Tomato,' you hear 'Tornado'...<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm stepping outside of my grief for a moment to share a smile. This does require a bit of a back-story, though.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">1. Matt was a meteorology major when we were in school. Since we went to school in Indiana, he was able to partake of various storm chasing opportunities and even spent a couple of weeks one summer driving all over Oklahoma, Texas, Kansas, and other assorted flat and tornado-prone states chasing the elusive funnel cloud.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">2. Joseph has never been afraid of storms. Until a couple of weeks ago. For some reason, he decided that thunderstorms made him 'a little bit scared.' Matt explained to him how we all like thunderstorms and when he was in college, he would drive around to find the big thunderstorms. Both of us love a good thunderstorm, so The Boy is going to have to get over that. We'll get there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Now, the rest of it: Joseph and I were driving to my <strike>folk's</strike> (dammit, this sucks) mom's house last weekend and we were talking about planting a garden this spring. He decided that he wanted to plant pumpkins, because he likes pumpkins. We discussed beans, peas, and cucumbers, too. He wasn't as excited about those, but could deal with it. Then I said that we could plant tomatoes, too. He pauses and comes back with, 'I don't love tomatoes.' I responded with something to the effect of, well, you don't have to eat them, but it will be fun to watch them grow. He says, 'I'm a little bit scared of tomatoes.' I'm baffled. He keeps explaining: 'My daddy used to put on his hat and his sunglasses and go and find the thunderstorms, and I'm a little bit scared of tomatoes.' Lightbulb. I promptly called Matt and explained to him that, unbeknownst to him, he had been chasing the elusive tomato all of those years ago. I've been a little slow on correcting this misconception because I think that it's just so darned cute! I'll probably rot for that. Oh well, I can deal with it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I love my kid.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-71879022279526070942011-04-08T11:11:00.009-04:002011-04-08T21:58:17.255-04:00The rest of the Pulmonary Fibrosis story<span style="font-size: 85%;">Well, long-ish story short, we lost Dad Thursday March 31 at about 8:25am. That seems to be all that matters in this journey, but I would like to pick up approximately where I previously left off for anyone who may be interested.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Dad's cardiac catheterization came back clean. He had a 35% blockage, which, for a 63 year-old, isn't too bad. If he'd had a 70% blockage, they would have either had to do a by-pass or an angioplasty at that point, which would have put him on blood thinners for 6-8 weeks, and then a revisit of the qualification process. Luckily that didn't happen. So, that went well. The final hurdle at that point was the consultation with the thoracic surgeon. The surgeon came by and visited on Friday and we were assured that everyone would be writing up their reports as quickly as they could. The transplant team normally meets on Monday mornings, but they were approaching my dad's case a little differently and were applying for expedited listing with the state and all that good stuff. I got a call at 9:17 Saturday night (funny how you remember some of these things) telling me that my dad had been listed on the lung transplant list and that his 'number' was 92.33. The coordinator said that this was a high number, but we were hopeful that this meant that his wait would be shorter. So, he was on The List, which was where he wanted to be. Now, we waited.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I had noticed over the course of the past week of his hospitalization that it seemed that his disease was still progressing, since the treatment that they were having to use was becoming more and more intense, but we were hopeful and his mood was great. We decided, and he told us, that we needed to go back to our lives while he and my mom waited. We left my mom in Cleveland on Tuesday and headed back to NH, and Max and Jackie went back to OK. That was a really difficult ride for all of us because we knew what we were driving away from. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I went to work on Wednesday, but kept my phone close by. When I came back from lunch, there were two messages on my phone, a text message, and an email from Matt simply telling me to call him. My stomach dropped. I knew that if it were good news, the message would have been different. With my fourth block class waiting patiently, I called him. The news was tough to take, that Dad had had a rough night and probably wasn't going to make it. I quickly explained to my class that I had to leave, they understood, the teacher next door watched them, and I bolted. Once I got home, I repacked a suitcase and bought a plane ticket back to Cleveland for that night. My flight left at 6:30 and got to Cleveland at 11:00pm. For the second time in a little over a week, I was flying to Cleveland. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I was able to talk to my mom, my cousin, and Max a little bit while things were being coordinated and found out that Dad had been struggling the previous night and they called my mom down to the Clinic at about 6:00 Wednesday morning. They'd had to put Dad on a BPAP, which is a pressurized breathing mask thing. He hated it, so in order for him to be able to relax into the machine, they'd had to sedate him a bit. He was still able to wake up and respond a little bit at that point. Because of the progression of his disease and the weakening of the rest of his systems, though, the transplant team could only give him until midnight before they'd have to take him off of the eligibility list. Max and I were on our way, and landed in Cleveland shortly after 11pm. My uncle picked us up and took us straight to the Clinic. We saw Dad and he woke up a bit and squeezed our hands. He knew that we were back. He knew that we love him. He knew that we're proud of him. It was so hard to see him that way.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">The Clinic has a hotel that is literally a block away, and another uncle had gotten us a room there for the night. My mom was exhausted. The MICU doctor was trying to get us to take the mask off and let him go at that point, and none of us felt like we could make that decision at 1am. So, my mom and I went and crashed for a bit while Max stayed with Dad. My dad's family (his sisters, their husbands, and their kids) have been absolutely incredible throughout this whole crisis, and I have no idea whatsoever how we would fared without their constant support, love, and assistance. Two of my dad's sisters stayed with him for most of the night, my uncle and cousin were in and out, and he was never alone. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">My aunt called us back to his room at about 6:30 Thursday morning because Dad's heart rate was getting pretty high. We knew that his systems would just shut down as they were on overdrive compensating for his lung disease, and it seemed like this was beginning to happen. We were able to decide at that point that we needed to let him go. He needed to rest peacefully. He had been through enough, and there was nothing more that could be done for him. He had signed a DNR and we had explicit instructions from him to fight as hard as possible until there was no hope, and when that hope was gone, we were to let him go. Once he was taken off of the transplant list, there was no hope for him, and we needed to let him be at peace. He had also told my mom that he wanted to give the BPAP 24 hours, and that was at 8:00 on Wednesday morning. His nurse made sure that he was comfortable and sleeping deeply. We cried. We prayed. We cried some more. We prayed some more. And finally, his respiratory therapist took the BPAP off. Within 5 minutes, he was gone. Without any question, ever, that was the worst thing that I have ever seen in my entire life. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Everything since then has seemed like a blur. We slept a little. We cried some more. We made some plans. We cried some more. We laughed a little, then cried some more. You get the idea? </span><span style="font-size: 85%;"></span><span style="font-size: 85%;">We had a memorial service for him in Cleveland for his family and some friends in that part of the country this past Monday. Matt's folks came out from Chicago, as did his roommate from college. It was great to see them, although it was such a sad situation. Max, my cousin, and I all spoke on his behalf.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">We all drove home to NH on Tuesday and started putting things back together out here on Wednesday. We've got another memorial service for him tomorrow (Saturday) at our church here at home for his friends and clients in the area. His boss wrote a beautiful tribute that was sent out to all of his clients, for whom he was still actively working. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be rough. But, we'll make it.</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">There is so much more to this process, and we're all so sad. I'll try not to be Debbie Downer, but this is so unpleasant. I know that he was a Believer, so I feel certain that he's found the best campsite by the greatest fishing hole, but we miss him down here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Again, please leave a question if you want or need to. If there is any way that I can help someone else who may be facing this situation, I would truly love to do that. It's been a rough road, but it helps to know that someone else has walked it before you.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-19701568429953557972011-03-23T15:51:00.007-04:002011-05-17T11:13:15.298-04:00The real story: Pulmonary Fibrosis and the Cleveland Clinic<span style="font-size: 85%;">I've been beating around the bush for a while with the back story of the situation behind a lot of the stress that we've been feeling. Well, here it is. Get comfortable.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">My dad is sick. Not like 'I'm not feeling so well, so I think I'll stay home today' sick. Like, </span><a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001134/"><span style="font-size: 85%;">idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis </span></a><span style="font-size: 85%;">sick. The short version of that is that his lung tissue has been turning into scar tissue over the course of the past couple of years which has made breathing and all of the activities associated with breathing (like continuing to breathe) much more difficult for him. Oh, and they have no idea what causes it, how to stop it, or how to treat and/or cure it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">When he got his initial diagnosis of this fine mess back in January 2009 we didn't quite know what to make of it. We knew that he was having a harder time doing the things that he used to enjoy, and over the past couple of years the list of activities that were being compromised grew and grew. After our fabulous vacation this summer (which we are soooo lucky to have been able to take), he had a lung biopsy in order to confirm the idiopathic nature of his disease. It was confirmed and no one had any damned clue why this was happening to him. He's never smoked, he's never abused drugs (or even taken any, to my knowledge), he's never worked in an industry where he would have been exposed to any fungi or other harmful inhaled things. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">We knew, when we all started reading about this, that the only ultimate treatment option was a transplant. That seemed so science-fiction and surreal at the time. Two years ago we had no idea how quickly the disease would progress and how the rest of him would fare throughout this process. Every patient has a different experience. Some people decline, then plateau, and remain on that plateau for years and years and years. We're guessing that this was what happened with Dad, too, but he started falling off the end of that plateau in August. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">We have been so fortunate and my dad has advocated for himself so well throughout this whole process, despite the fact that it has been so difficult. He tracked down the best pulmonologists in New Hampshire and a pulmonologist for himself at the <a href="http://my.clevelandclinic.org/default.aspx">Cleveland Clinic</a> who is quite experienced with this disease and works with a team of lung transplant doctors. My uncle and cousin were instrumental in getting him an appointment with this doctor and his team, and my dad started visiting them over a year ago. He entered into the clinical trials that they asked him to be a part of and he's followed his doctors' orders to the letter. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Enter this past week. Tuesday, after visiting with my folks at their house, Matt and I went home and discussed that Dear Old Dad didn't seem to be doing so well. I cried. Finally. And a lot. Saturday morning, I got a tearful call from my mom saying that Dad wasn't feeling so well and wanted to go to the hospital. So, we called for an ambulance transport and he was taken to a local hospital where he was monitored and treated as best as they could treat him. When we checked in, the admitting doctor in the ER seemed to think that we were full of crap when we told him about Dad's disease and that he needed to be transferred to the Cleveland Clinic and to please call his doctors there. Of course it was the weekend, and things happen so slowly on the weekends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">So, they kept him for the weekend and treated him as best as they could. We said, on Sunday, that the best thing that could happen for him would be for him to be transferred to Cleveland on Monday, be qualified and on the list for a lung transplant by the end of the week, and [although we would feel terrible for the family who had tragically lost their otherwise healthy 40-something 6' something male in a car accident] he would have a new lung or two in a couple of weeks. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Monday morning, the people in New Hampshire started talking to the people in Cleveland, and by 1:00 that afternoon, his transfer had been approved. My mom decided that she would be more of a hindrance than a help in the private jet that they were sending, so she put me down as his travelling companion. I bolted to the hospital after school (with the clothes on my back, and the crap in my purse) for my journey to Cleveland while Matt picked up Joseph, packed for all 3 of us, picked up and delivered the dog and cat at my folks' house, and hopped in the car with my mom.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I can't even begin to express my awe and appreciation of these rock star EMTs. They rolled into this little hospital in NH in their big black <a href="http://my.clevelandclinic.org/departments/criticalcare/global_care_transport/default.aspx">'Critical Care Transport: Cleveland Clinic' </a>jumpsuits and their reflective armbands and all that stuff looking like they were ready to take over. Which is exactly what they did. They spent an hour stabilizing Dad on their machinery and loading him onto their equipment. We had an ambulance transport to the local airport where a private jet was waiting for us. They strapped him in there, and we were on our way. This was the smallest plane that I have ever been on or will probably ever fly on in my entire life. There were four seats. I took a picture while they were finegaling Dad into the plane. It's a crappy picture and it's on my phone, but it was an incredible process. Joe and Jonathan were our transport EMTs and they were absolutely amazing. I fell in love immediately. They watched him constantly and were tweaking this knob and fixing that dial throughout the entire hour and a half flight to make sure that Dad stayed comfortable and safe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">When we got to Cleveland, another ambulance was waiting for us, and he got admitted to the heart/lung transplant wing. This was midnight on Monday. After the transfer, we were all absolutely wiped, and his doctors decided that he needed to be monitored more closely to make sure that he could stabilize faster and more safely, so he was moved to the ICU. He landed in the ICU at about 2:30 Tuesday morning, and he's been there since then. He seems to be much more comfortable here, and it seems that he's bounced back from the stress and turmoil from the transfer. His color is back, his mood is great, and he's anxious to move on to the next step.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">We've been chilling in the family waiting room for his group of ICU beds for the past three days while Dad gets poked and prodded and consulted and met. He's had a pretty consistent parade of doctors, nurses, therapists, social workers, and all kinds of people since he's been here. Our consistent goal has been to get him tested as quickly as possible so that his case can be reviewed by the lung transplant team and hopefully approved as soon as possible. We've learned that the team meets Monday mornings at 7am, and we despirately want him to be on the next meeting agenda. We've been interviewed by the social workers and she has filed her report, which we understand was favorable. They know that he has a strong support network that will help him as much as possible post-op. He's having a heart catheter this very moment, then the cardiologist will weigh in with his/her opinions about the strength of his heart to withstand the operation. Depending on how that procedure fares, he'll meet with either the cardio-thoracic surgeon, or the thoracic surgeon probably (hopefully) tomorrow. These are the last major hurdles for his eligibility. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">We've all been kind of on edge the past few days, and are starting to realize the intensity of this marathon. We know that even if he qualifies, there is no guarantee that an appropriate match will be found. But, we've got to take things one step at a time, and we are truly doing everything that we can for him. I know that there are many more pieces to this puzzle, and I am happy to answer any questions that I can, so please, leave a question and ask. If we can help anyone else who may be going through this process also, we would be happy to do exactly that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Don't forget to catch <a href="http://daybydaywithme.blogspot.com/2011/04/rest-of-pulmonary-fibrosis-story.html">the rest of the story</a>.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-55537752513244927942011-03-17T08:28:00.002-04:002011-03-17T08:40:01.430-04:00A Good Cry<span style="font-size:85%;">I've always been the type of person who kind of holds in stress. I feel this need to be all things to all people, except myself. I hold myself to pretty high standards and am pretty proud of my abilities to meet most of them. It sounds like I'd be a typical Type A personality, but I really don't think that I am. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyway, since I can remember (and since my mom can, too) I've known the therapy of a good cry. But, due to the variety of hats and masks that I wear on a day-to-day basis, and the shear lack of time where I get to truly take off those hats and masks, I haven't been able to allow myself the vulnerability of a good cry. Until last night. I found myself alone in the car headed to a destination where puffy, red eyes wouldn't be conspicuous, and I just let it all catch up with me. It felt really good (until I was reasonably certain that I was going to vomit...then I had to take a step back). But, since I don't/can't do this so often, I've had a hard time shutting it down and have found myself kind of weepy today. I had a terrible time sleeping (since my mind was still running through the various stressors and the implications of those situations) and have added tired and hormonal to my already fragile existance today.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In short, my head and my skin are not happy places in which to exist today. The good news, though, is that I get to/have to don my teacher hat until 7:30 tonight, where I switch into my mother/wife hat, and I probably won't have too much time to actually think about things for the duration. I know that may sound lousy, but when you can't particularly change the situations that are causing the stress/anxiety/sadness/anger/frustration, we just play through.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-84479239592996361712011-03-08T08:10:00.003-05:002011-03-08T19:33:17.651-05:00Like Me<span style="font-size:85%;">You know what? I like me. This dawned on me this morning. I know that it may sound trite and perhaps a bit conceited, but I like me. I think that, at 32, I'm allowed to admit that, too.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It's taken me a loooooong time to figure out that there aren't a lot of people out there that are a lot like me, but that's ok. There are a lot of people out there that are kind of like me, and that's good. It means I'm not a total freakazoid nerd-face loser chick. And that's good too. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Or maybe I am a total freakazoid nerd-face loser chick. I don't know that I particularly care. I'm ok. I'm not perfect, by any stretch of anyone's imagination. I'm sure that it wouldn't take long to compile a mile-long self depricating list of things that I could do better. But we certainly don't need to do that now, do we?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I guess that I've just learned to like my good traits and not focus on my imperfections. I've decided that I'm not half bad. Again, not perfect. Yikes. Not perfect. But, not too shabby, either. Hopefully my kid grows up to feel that way too, and I think that you should take a moment to reflect on the things that you do well.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-88224754109941178932011-02-18T09:01:00.002-05:002011-02-18T09:18:29.185-05:00The Grand Illusion<span style="font-size:85%;">My dearly beloved posted this Styx lyric as his facebook status this morning, and I have a feeling that it's in response to a brief chat that we had this morning: "...if you think your life is complete confusion because you never win the game. Just remember that it's a Grand Illusion, and deep inside we're all the same." I know that this is his way of acknowledging that, like my mother's mantra, things are never the way they seem. I know this. My heart knows this. My head acknowledges this. It doesn't keep my imagination from wandering a bit and wondering what it might be like to be inside someone else's skin sometimes. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Truly, I am not complaining. I know that I am blessed. I know that I am so very fortunate in so very many ways. I also know that we have worked DAMNED HARD to create our fortune (no, I'm not talking about actual money), and that we have been lucky to have the support and love of our families. But, I'm tired. And I'm angry. And I'm sad. And I'm angry. And I'm frustrated. I don't even know why I'm so angry. I guess I thought that things would be different. Despite the fact that my heart knows that this is how life goes, my head is imagining something...different. So, it's good to remind myself that everyone is dealing with something. And, that which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. There's just a lot of stuff out there that can kill us, though.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If this whole deal has become frustratingly vague, I apologize. I've been mulling over a "bare all" post, and have a feeling that it's coming. I just don't think that I'm ready yet.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-65806879175831920472011-01-21T07:22:00.003-05:002011-01-21T08:25:19.957-05:00A brief reflection<span style="font-size:85%;">We've had an interesting run lately. It's winter, so it's snowing. Apparently, it's snowing a lot. We're home today on Snow Day #4 in the last week and a half-ish. We're going to be in school until July, I guess. I've been cooking and knitting and reading and thinking. I shared a bit of the cooking and knitting with you earlier, so I'm going to share a bit of the thinking today.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Maybe it's the time of year...long gray days with really cold nights, but loss has been on my mind lately. My friend Kate rather eloquently posted her recent thoughts on loss and </span><a href="http://accordingtok.blogspot.com/2011/01/things-time-doesnt-heal.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">the things that time doesn't heal</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">. Really, though, this is something that I've been rolling around for a while. Maybe not 'loss' specifically, but moreso the tremendous effect that health and family have on our lives, and the degree to which most of us take those things for granted. I've recently learned that one of my parents' friends from my childhood died suddenly last fall (he was 57 and left a wife and 3 kids ages 28, and 24 yo twins). A sorority sister of mine tragically lost her son at birth just last weekend. And our family is facing at least two different illnesses/diseases that have helped us all prioritize our lives and realize what is important and what isn't. With this in mind, I'm going to venture to say that a LOT of what we place in high regard really doesn't matter at all.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I know that, again, this is a big ol' welcome to our 30's and the stuff that goes along with a more grown-up life, responsibilities, and outlook on things. But, I don't particularly feel like age needs to be the motivator or determinator for people to make decisions for and with other people. There are far too many examples of hideously self-centered leeches of all ages, and we probably needn't look too far to find someone that fits that bill in our own lives. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So, I guess that what I'm trying to say is to just get over your big bad self. Life is all too fleeting and moments pass way too quickly to spend too much time on yourself. Now, don't go thinking that I'm saying that you need to neglect yourself and all that crap. Just keep it in balance. Be thoughtful of others. Be kind. Be considerate. Be grateful. Be polite. This may be coming across as my lecture on a soapbox, but I'm really just journaling my thoughts and recording a reminder for myself. If you feel the need to better yourself and live your life for someone else, then that's a bonus too. I'm sure that someone who loves you will be grateful for your thought.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">After all, you can't take it with you and you're not really gone until no one remembers you. Hopefully those memories are kind.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-51646994908222135792011-01-15T12:52:00.003-05:002011-01-15T13:22:33.643-05:00Knit Cactus<span style="font-size:85%;">I've created my very first pattern! Don't get too excited, it's really nothing fancy. But, I've been on the prowl for a cute little knit cactus pattern and have been unable to find one that doesn't require buying a<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Funky-Knits-Knitting-Know-How-Things/dp/1596680032/ref=sr_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1295115022&sr=1-9"> whole book</a>. I didn't feel like doing that for one little cactus. So, I got to crafting. Here's what I ended up with:<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562479078060365698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Rj3ZmoqmyuGGTgwMXzPUJzSHO0IuwTfhO3opHdpV9yZ1jkA31Ywsyk4rIvsCsHpMVd-dm5taFY_yvZuZglCZWpmrXEx8id5S2KzxNHAQUOzjtnGenh7AQM9LVv7MSc_GPJTAlpNoovg/s320/IMG_3097%255B1%255D.JPG" /></span> <div><span style="font-size:85%;">Isn't it cute? You can make one too! I'm planning on making some more of these...if I come up with anything exciting, I'll be sure to share!</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Materials, Needles, and Finishing Bits:</span></strong></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Lily Sugar 'n Cream 100% Cotton yarn; Worsted; Dark Pine</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">US 5 double-pointed needles</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">yarn needle</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Flower-shaped Brads (found in the paper-crafting section of your local crafty store)</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Polyfill</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">1 1/2" terra cota flower pot</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Cardboard</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Hot glue</span></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Pattern:</span></strong></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">CO 18 sts, divide evenly on 3 dpns.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Join to work in the round, being careful not to twist stitches.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Work in P2, K1 ribbing until piece measures 2".</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">*P2tog, K1* 6 times (1 round).</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">*P1, K1* 6 times (1 round).</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">*K2tog* 6 times (1 round).</span></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Finishing:</span></strong></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Cut a short length of yarn and thread through remaining 6 stitches. Pull tight and thread through to the inside. Tuck loose ends of yarn into the cactus shape.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Choose a flower-shaped brad and insert near the top of your cactus. Stuff with polyfill. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Cut a small circle of cardboard that covers the base of your cactus and rests about half-way down your flower pot. Hot glue the base of the stuffed cactus to the cardboard round.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Place a bit of stuffing in the bottom of the flower pot. Hot glue the cardboard round into the flower pot.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Enjoy!</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">I feel like I need to put some statement in here asking you to please not distribute this pattern as your own or sell it for profit. Thanks.</span></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-54204043095107160842011-01-13T12:34:00.005-05:002011-01-13T13:05:01.824-05:00Cream of Chicken and Wild Rice Soup, aka Heaven, in a bowl<span style="font-size:85%;">I'm on Day 3 of my quarantine with The Boy, so I've been cooking. He's got a nasty cold/cough, and I'm hoping that he doesn't spike a fever later today. Provided that he stays fever-free, we should be able to break our quarantine tomorrow. I've even been able to luck out of this with only one sick day, thanks to Snow-mageddon 2011 that dumped somewhere in the realm of 18" of snow on us.</span><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">I meant to cook on Day 1. But, that turned into a doctor's visit, a run to the drug store and grocery, a nap, a movie, and 4 loads of laundry. Day 2 was Snow Day 1. Having completed a variety of menial chores on Day 1, I just moved into the kitchen. Now that I'm up to Day 3 and Snow Day 2, I'm back to inconsequential puttering. I love inconsequential puttering. So, here's the fruit of my labors. Please note that this could be fancied up a number of ways, and I'm all for shortcuts, so I'm giving you those.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Cream of Chicken and Wild Rice Soup </strong>(aka Heaven, in a bowl)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">1 medium onion</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">3 stalks celery</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">10 oz fresh mushrooms (or less if you don't love mushrooms like I do, or canned, or dried...whatever)</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">1 Tbsp vegetable oil</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">4-6 cups chicken stock</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">1 box wild rice mix with seasoning</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">1 tsp salt</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">2-4 tsp ground pepper</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">2 Tbsp butter or margarine</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">2 Tbsp flour</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">2 cups fat free half and half (or milk, or cream, or whatever)</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">1 can chicken</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Chop the onion, celery, and mushrooms. Cook the onion and celery in a stockpot with the oil for a few minutes. Add the mushrooms and let them cook together for another few minutes. Add the chicken stock (or hot water with boullion or chicken base, like I did) and bring to a boil. Add the wild rice with seasoning packet, salt, and pepper to taste (I like pepper, so I used a little more). Simmer for 15-20 minutes or until the rice is mostly cooked. If it looks like it's getting too thick for your taste, feel free to add some more chicken stock (I like mine a little soup-ier, rather than stew-ier). In a separate pot, melt the butter and mix in the flour. Wisk in the half and half and heat the mixture until it's bubbly and has thickened. Ladle a couple of scoops of the hot soup into the milk mixture and mix it all together. Add the milk mixture to the big pot and mix. Drain and chop the chicken from the can (you could certainly use leftover chicken parts or a rotisserie chicken, or cook a chicken, or whatever). Add it to the pot, stir, and heat it through for about 15 minutes. Enjoy. Mmmmm...<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561732715256464402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwp6EBkzPpuOtYS_JYUNKUuja1_WWAXmh60mIqyQQa5Nu6qrYa_BE2Mmh21LqKdl65KxUR5cTRUdCqvb2wdbdQ4UuIL8q9jAxBK-DeYQhKLcec-KdYG9bX1gggUHzhWIae0haFfQARFV4/s320/IMG_3094%255B1%255D.JPG" /></span></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-24348087232241206492011-01-06T08:58:00.002-05:002011-01-06T09:35:05.474-05:0015 Step Program<span style="font-size:85%;">While scrolling through my Blogroll the other night, I happened upon a link that Brenna over at </span><a href="http://www.suburbansnapshots.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Suburban Snapshots</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> had posted. Brenna's pretty cool because she keeps it real, her kid's about The Boy's age, and she lives in NH. So, I lurk on her site. This link was to a woman named Allison's blog called Motherhood, WTF? Seriously, how could I not click?! She's also got some fabulously real parenting experiences, which I appreciate. So much of Blog-land seems to be this sugar-coated, my-life-is-awesome, see-how-cool-I-am stuff, that I truly appreciate real life stories. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">With that in mind, I'm sharing the 15 Step Program that Allison at </span><a href="http://motherhoodwtf.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Motherhood, WTF</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> posted. It's funny because it's true...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Thinking of having kids? Do this 15 step program first!<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 1:<br /></strong>Go to the grocery store.<br />Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head office.<br />Go home. Pick up the paper. Read it for the last time.<br /><strong>Lesson 2:</strong><br />Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and berate them about their:<br />Methods of discipline. Lack of patience. Appallingly low tolerance levels. Allowing their children to run wild. Suggest ways in which they might improve their child’s breastfeeding, sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior. Enjoy it because it will be the last time in your life you will have all the answers.<br /><strong>Lesson 3:</strong><br />A really good way to discover how the nights might feel…<br />Get home from work and immediately begin walking around the living room from 5PM to 10PM carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 8-12 pounds, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly. Eat cold food with one hand for dinner. At 10PM, put the bag gently down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep. Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1AM. Set the alarm for 3AM. As you can’t get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and make a drink and watch an infomercial. Go to bed at 2:45AM. Get up at 3AM when the alarm goes off. Sing songs quietly in the dark until 4AM. Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for work and go to work (work hard and be productive) Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Keep this up for 3-5 years. Look cheerful and together.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 4:<br /></strong>Can you stand the mess children make? To find out…<br />Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains. Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer. Stick your fingers in the flower bed. Then rub them on the clean walls. Take your favorite book, photo album, etc. Wreck it. Spill milk on your new pillows. Cover the stains with crayons. How does that look?<br /><strong>Lesson 5:</strong><br />Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.<br />Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out. Time allowed for this – all morning.<br /><strong>Lesson 6:</strong><br />Take an egg carton. Using a pair of scissors and a jar of paint, turn it into an alligator. Now take the tube from a roll of toilet paper. Using only Scotch tape and a piece of aluminum foil, turn it into an attractive Christmas candle. Last, take a milk carton, a ping-pong ball, and an empty packet of Cocoa Puffs. Make an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 7:<br /></strong>Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van. And don’t think that you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don’t look like that.<br />Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it there. Get a dime. Stick it in the CD player. Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seat. Sprinkle cheerios all over the floor, then smash them with your foot. Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 8:<br /></strong>Get ready to go out. Sit on the floor of your bathroom reading picture books for half an hour. Go out the front door. Come in again. Go out. Come back in. Go out again. Walk down the front path. Walk back up it. Walk down it again. Walk very slowly down the sidewalk for five minutes. Stop, inspect minutely, and ask at least 6 questions about every cigarette butt, piece of used chewing gum, dirty tissue, and dead insect along the way. Retrace your steps. Scream that you have had as much as you can stand until the neighbors come out and stare at you. Give up and go back into the house. You are now just about ready to try taking a small child for a walk.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 9:<br /></strong>Repeat everything you have learned at least (if not more than) five times.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 10:<br /></strong>Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is an excellent choice). If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat. Buy your week’s groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys. Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.<br /><strong>Lesson 11:</strong><br />Hollow out a melon. Make a small hole in the side. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side. Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane. Continue until half the Cheerios are gone. Tip half into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air.You are now ready to feed a nine-month-old baby.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 12:<br /></strong>Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street, Barney, Disney, the Teletubbies, and Pokemon. Watch nothing else on TV but PBS, the Disney Channel or Noggin for at least five years. (I know, you’re thinking, What’s ‘Noggin’? Exactly the point.)<br /><strong>Lesson 13:</strong><br />Move to the tropics. Find or make a compost pile. Dig down about halfway and stick your nose in it. Do this 3-5 times a day for at least two years.<br /><strong>Lesson 14:</strong><br />Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying ‘mommy’ repeatedly. (Important: no more than a four second delay between each ‘mommy’; occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet is required). Play this tape in your car everywhere you go for the next four years. You are now ready to take a long trip with a toddler.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lesson 15:<br /></strong>Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually tug on your skirt hem, shirt-sleeve, or elbow while playing the ‘mommy’ tape made from Lesson 14 above. You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I hope that this made you smile a bit because laughter is a wonderful thing. It's good to laugh at ourselves a bit. The alternative isn't as much fun.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-32243900918833680292011-01-02T20:49:00.003-05:002011-01-03T09:45:49.611-05:00Out with the Old; In with the New<span style="font-size:85%;">I feel like I'm supposed to reflect and resolve and all that stuff. Seems to be the thing to do around this time, I guess.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">So, 2010.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm pretty sure that I resolved last year that we would ring in 2011 in a new home. Well, that was a fail. I'm also pretty sure that I was all gung-ho about bettering myself through the MEd program that I'd started. Fail again. I took the first term off because I was going to concentrate on selling our place. Fail. Then, I took the summer off because it's crazy. Fail. Then I took the fall off because our lives are a total shit storm. And, I'm not taking a class this winter for the aforementioned stormy reason. But, the good news is that Matt only has 2 classes left until he finishes his MBA, which he will do this year! Chalk that up on the resolving thing. We'll move that down to the 2011 chapter. I probably wanted to be healthy last year. I sucked at that. I'm a stress eater, and despite my efforts to go from my couch to a 5k, I'm definitely puffier and squishier than I was last year. Again, refer to the storm portion. I don't want this to sound like I'm just griping about 2010, because there were some good parts. We took a total kick-ass vacation with my folks, Max, and Jackie. My kid cracks me up on a regular basis. We have wonderfully loving and supportive families. We both still have our jobs and we can pay our bills and, despite our debt, we seem to be mostly stable. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Moving on to 2011.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I feel fairly certain that 2012 WILL find us in a different home. We may still own this one, but we'll be residing in a different one. Matt WILL finish his MBA, and that WILL be awesome! I'm so proud of him and this one. He's been working on it for a while now, and the growth that he's shown has been so neat. Hopefully I can resume my degree next fall. Then there's all that healthy crap that I'm supposed to do--eat less garbage, move my butt, etc etc. So, that's on there too. We will stay married another year. I feel certain of that. We will face some tough situations. We will laugh. We will cry. We will make it. I'd be lying if I said that I was all roses and sunshine and over the moon excited and optimistic about 2011, because we've got some Real Life on our horizon. But, we'll get it done. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Bring it on, 2011. We're ready for whatever you've got to bring. Almost. Sort of. Not really. But, we'll do our best.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-91297315096747033822010-12-27T08:43:00.002-05:002010-12-27T08:46:10.526-05:00And to all, a good night.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhyphenhyphenPwL4MvYkQk1mw5UIj9h61v0up2CbXi4IQd_stmYhxGzxaJOmhcrmqZKwaxw5UbqqGQ6R5ort0N69U-Q4VamQBDu0xr5RxnERh7027HpPxMLwEGWDlYGuQm1cqWNnBi5LDmTRoMD_E/s1600/Christmas+2010+Joseph.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555357789921543730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhyphenhyphenPwL4MvYkQk1mw5UIj9h61v0up2CbXi4IQd_stmYhxGzxaJOmhcrmqZKwaxw5UbqqGQ6R5ort0N69U-Q4VamQBDu0xr5RxnERh7027HpPxMLwEGWDlYGuQm1cqWNnBi5LDmTRoMD_E/s320/Christmas+2010+Joseph.jpg" /></a> <div><span style="font-size:85%;">I know that it's a couple of days after Christmas, but I wanted to post a picture. I haven't done that in a while, so here's The Boy with his Ladybug Pillow Pet. He's been lusting after this for a bit, and loves his new friend. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">I hope that you all had a Blessed Christmas and wish you all the best in the New Year!</span></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-3730125688527559662010-12-19T20:24:00.002-05:002010-12-19T21:02:45.200-05:00Frissmas<span style="font-size:85%;">I need to take a few moments to reflect on this season, lest it go by way too quickly and I get caught up in the chaos that is day-to-day life. I know that I'll blink and it'll be March.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For starters, I don't recall loving Christmas in recent history as much as I am absolutely adoring this season. Honestly, in order to really love parts of it, I've got to just chuck other parts of the cluster that has become our lives, but I'm pretty proud of my ability to do that in short bursts each day.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyway, being 3 at Christmastime must be magical. Being the parent of a 3 and watching the magic is about the greatest thing ever. He loves every minute of it with such a pure and innocent adoration and amazement that it warms my heart each day.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">We put up our tree shortly after Thanksgiving and his birthday, which I have completely neglected mentioning on here. Hey, he turned 3! For real! (We had a big tractor party with his little friends, and Baba and Pimpop visited, and it was fun, and he turned 3.) He helped me hang all of the "fragiles" on the tree, and most of the ones that won't break are concentrated on one or two branches at perfect 3-year-old eye level. He put the star on the top and helped Daddy set up the train around the bottom. Then he helped Matt put up the Baby Jesus House. He thinks that Joseph is him ("That's me!"), and realizes that Christmas [Frissmas] is Baby Jesus's Birthday. We've explained that everyone gets presents on Baby Jesus's birthday. He asks to go home the "special way so we can see all the Frissmas lights" almost everyday, and exclaims, "Frissmas lights! Oooh, look at that one! That's awesome!" from his back seat viewing position. And, his visit to Santa nearly brought me to tears.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Matt had one of his holiday concerts last weekend (we could actually go to this one since we'd spent the last one in the emergency room), and Santa showed up at the end. So, Joseph listened carefully and clapped appropriately throughout the whole concert and, when the last song was finished, yelled that "Santa's here, now!" He had it all planned out: he was going to ask Santa for a pick-up truck. So, we go down to the church basement, where Santa and his elves had brought cookies and hot chocolate to share with all of us while we waited for our visit. He insisted on a chocolate chip cookie, which he refused to eat. Upon questioning, he said that it was for Santa. Everyone else in the basement was chomping on the cookies for themselves. Not this boy. He brought a cookie to Santa. He was quite wary; he's a pretty serious little kid sometimes. But, he mustered up all of his courage, and Santa was so patient and kind (a right jolly old elf) that he eventually climbed up there and explained to Santa that he wanted a red pick-up truck. When Santa sent him on his way after the requisite pictures, he got about 15 feet away and nearly burst into tears because "Santa did not give me my pick-up truck." Apparently he was expecting it immediately. We explained that Santa had to find the right truck for him and would deliver it on Christmas Eve. Choking back the sobs, he decided that would have to do. I've since learned that Santa is bringing him a red pick-up truck because red is Santa's favorite color. If I could find the stupid cord for the camera, I'd load a picture or two. So precious.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The whole gifting situation is hysterical, too. My mom took him shopping for us a couple of weeks ago. Not wanting to go to the mall or a big box store, she took him to a local little gifty shop that has all kinds of cute little things. He would have nothing of any of it because he insisted on getting us tractors. She tried to distract him with the giant cage of flying birds (yeah, real ones), but he told her after a couple minutes that, "We need to go to a different store so I can get tractors for Mommy and Daddy." No changing this kid's mind; he has the strength of his convictions. When we picked him up later that evening, he came running up to us exclaiming that, "I bought you tractors for Frissmas!" </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm creating a Pavlovian response to the Salvation Army bell-ringers, too. We put money in the red can every time we walk past them. Every time I ask him why we're doing that, and he says that it's, "So that other boys and girls can have a good Frissmas." He does pretty well picking out gifts for other people, too. We're giving some trucks and airplanes, but they're personally chosen trucks and airplanes.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">He's been such a good helper with lights and baking and shopping and cards and all that regular holiday stuff. He loves the music and the movies. I think that "Dominic the Donkey" is his favorite song, and he loves the "Polar Express Train" movie. So sweet. And (I don't even feel a little bit guilty saying this) I'm so glad that I don't have another child this Frissmas so that I can capture as many of these little moments as possible. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">My short term memory is mostly goo due to the hideous amounts of sleep that I'm not getting and the fact that I've been sick since the beginning of November (I really wish I was exaggerating about that), so hopefully this brief documentation of this season will help me recall it all someday.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">What are you loving this season?</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-23392568472210764822010-11-18T19:20:00.005-05:002010-11-18T19:39:39.376-05:00Things to make you smile<span style="font-size:85%;">Joseph is convinced that labradors, as in the retrievers, are actually called leopard-dogs. We've been watching <em>101 Dalmations</em>, and he gets very nervous when the dalmations dress up like labradors by rolling in the soot, and have to hurry to make it to the truck to get back to London. It's like the story is going to end differently this time...they might not make it! Ah well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And, we were at the mall last night getting our Christmas pictures taken [because I'm feigning normalcy and competence] to beat the rush, and before our appointment at Foto Folks, we were killing some time on the silly little rides. You know the ones that cost 75 cents and move back and forth for like 3 minutes while some kid sits on it and pretends to drive? Yeah, those. Well, mom was cheaping out on the 25 cents/minute and holding out for the $2 carousel bribe ("Do you want to ride the carousel? Then you'd better do what the Foto Folk tells you to do! And smile!"), so he was just sitting on them while they were not moving. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">These 5 or 6 high school kids were hanging out by the rides while we were climbing all over them and trying not to get the Pretty Christmas Shirt filthy prior to the pictures. No big deal. They had a look and attitude about them like they might not have a strict practice of making the best decisions, if you know what I mean. So, The Boy was climbing around and asking if we could turn the race car on, to which The Mom replied that, "I don't have any money, sweetie." Lies. Like I said, I was holding out for the big bribe. Well, these kids who kind of looked like they couldn't have given a crap about anyone besides themselves, start fishing around for change. One of them comes over to me with a handful of change and offers to pay for the kid's ride. I politely declined and explained the whole bribery situation, which they pretended to understand. But, it was so sweet. My heart was warmed. It was so kind and their simple gesture has stuck with me. I hope that I can remember to pass it on when it's my turn...my brain is such a wasteland these days, that might be hoping for a lot.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Oh well. Here's a cute picture. That should make you smile too. Who loves tractors?<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541053602898500706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1JV47ebTZgpFshwBKRls0hc3BKKGrLzTZV-fTnwMMzy6fCJzIPOu2bLbfEvIvLeD3lgnCDzuJ45emq34Fys3cSorhlUgIipiP6J94eKfiCOvF9Yf9ymdaXJ1IEulKljwHxCcfLfL5DA/s320/IMG_2821.jpg" /></span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-82488991993902932952010-11-02T19:50:00.003-04:002010-11-02T20:01:16.428-04:00Me 'n Paula<div><span style="font-size:85%;">Remember that old song "</span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbknGnZXHUk"><span style="font-size:85%;">Opposites Attract</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">"? Really it's the 'two steps forward, two steps back' thing that's running through my brain because that's how I feel like I'm living these days. It's ok; I know it is. I'm really not complaining, but some days are better than others. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Seriously, though, you should just click on the link and take a moment to remember yourself in tight-rolled acid-washed jeans, mall bangs, and waaaay too bright clothing. What's that? You don't remember wearing those things in 1989 because you were too young/not born yet? I'm sorry. You missed it. Blame your parents.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">In other news, we had a nice Halloween. The Boy dressed up as a gray kitty and went trick-or-treating at Matt's school. The kids in one of the dorms decorate and hand out candy and it was cute. He wasn't real crazy about the whole experience, but we got it done. He seems to like the candy (that which won't kill him), so I guess it went well. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">See how cute he was?<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535106601263173938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMz5AKZt11NbPhj9YuK6wS9hSM8iVi3ffVT-I2AeXyNTJIvCzN3Wux_2d2D3-4KTHxB8et2VGTg4q24rHbZ_DWAEXGwIoFWi-xbSv9wKgsKhw4TuclI-IevjRX0r1ZmPRwALz_PEOgoM/s320/IMG_2931.jpg" /></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">That's all. Now we're gearing up for the next thing...whatever that will be.</span></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-61808552760787605102010-10-17T10:09:00.002-04:002010-10-17T10:30:30.439-04:00Right<span style="font-size:85%;">Again, busy...deal. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Perhaps because of this, I'm kind of starting to doubt myself for a number of reasons. I used to think that I could deal. You know...with "it." Whatever "it" was. I frequently tell myself to "get a helmet" and all that "that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger" bullshit. But, I might be just about "full." I'm grateful for my abilities to recognize this and am hopeful that I'll be able to act on this recognition and be able to start saying "no." </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Now that the damned </span><a href="http://www.nashuatelegraph.com/news/880138-196/star-gazers-set-their-sights-on-evening.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">Star Party </span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">is done, I can breathe a little easier and move on to the next thing, at least with my job. I do, still, love my job, the people for whom I work, and the people with which I work. I feel like it's nicely predictable, too. And, the unpredictability is predictable, if that makes any sense at all. I've been in the game long enough to know what to expect, even when it's unexpected.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It's the rest of this crap that's throwing me off. I used to relish the Unknown and thrive on the challenge that the Unpredictable would present for me. The creative problem solving surrounding difficult circumstances would energize me. I've gotta tell you, though, lately it's just flat-out scaring the shit out of me. Sorry for the harsh language, but, that's about it. Matt and I have been making some tough decisions lately, and we routinely come back to what has become our working mantra: The right decision is not always the easy decision. So, we're moving forward making the right (we believe) although definitely not easy choices. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm going to take a moment, too, to dote on my fabulous husband. I cannot imagine a better partner and co-pilot for this journey that has become our lives. I would say that I lucked out, but I really don't think that luck had too much to do with it. We chose, and we chose wisely. And, we [hopefully] continue to make good choices. Hopefully we're teaching our spawn to make good choices, too. Let's not romanticize this too much, though. There are definitely days when I want to run away to the local pastry shop and bury my head in a vat of frosting.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">But, it's ok. We're ok. It's going to work out. Welcome to our 30's. I whole-heartedly belive that this is part of the natural progression of life, and that the choices that we make along the way define who we are and our priorities. So, we're up for it. We're prioritizing, and we're going to make it. It's not going to be easy, but it will be right. Saddle up.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-3155866192923353842010-09-30T20:38:00.003-04:002010-09-30T20:45:46.909-04:00Busy<span style="font-size:85%;">In case you hadn't gathered, we've been busy. And school started. And the car broke. And my computer broke. Then Matt fixed the car. Then we've had something scheduled every weekend since August. Then Matt fixed my computer. And I'm planning a Star Party. And somewhere along the lines I purchased 300 glow-in-the-dark necklaces, 432 silly bands (which also glow in the dark), 72 head boppers, and 600 star stickers. Did I mention that I've been busy? Oh, and then we had an offer on our house. Then we didn't. Now we've got stuff scheduled for every weekend in October. So, we'll be busy. But, now that my computer is back (for the time being) I'm going to try to click out some drivel more than once a month...for the 10 of you that may actually read this.</span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-11598495208219575232010-08-30T19:20:00.004-04:002010-08-30T20:09:48.095-04:00Boob Tube<span style="font-size:85%;">There are a few things rolling around in my head today as I'm returning to my normal scatter-brained working mom self. But, I wanted to take a moment to confess one of my vast imperfections.<br /><br />Ready?<br /><br />I like TV. My kid likes TV. We watch TV. Probably too much of it. We watch it as a family, though. That should count for something, shouldn't it? In the realm of things that I could be doing to screw up my kid, I feel like this isn't at the top of the list. It's not like I'm teaching him how to weigh out a dime bag or shove merchandise in his diaper or something. We just watch TV. I even wait until he's asleep to partake of Jersey Shore. I know that I mentioned that before, but that place is just like a train wreck--you know it's a hot mess, but you just can't look away! We stick to kids programming mostly while he's up, and he really doesn't watch gobs of it.<br /><br />Some of the tastiest words that I've eaten lately have involved Dora. I'm sure that I made some crack at some point about the annoyingness of Dora the Explorer and how that would never play in my home. Because, really, that "Doo doo doo doo Dora..." song is pretty friggin annoying. But, as far as kids shows go, it really isn't that bad. Actually, *gulp* I rather like it. And, Joseph likes it. It has created a couple of interesting scenarios, though.<br /><br />For starters, he's going to be 3 at Thanksgiving. While he's a little chatterbox and pretty much speaks constantly from the moment he gets up until he talks his kitties to sleep at night, he sounds like a little kid. He's missing some notable sounds still (j's, l's, and k's at the beginning of words, for example) and it takes a moment for the unaccustomed ear to decipher his ramblings. One of those educational things that Dora does is infuse Spanish into her explorations. Well, considering that it periodically takes 3 repetitions of the same phrase to decipher "juice" from "shoes" (I know, you'd think that the context would be a giveaway, but "I don't want ___!" or it's partner "I want___!" can lead you astray) in English, you can imagine what this is doing to our conversations.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And, something that I just get a kick out of is when Joseph starts screaming at the TV. Dora and Boots tell him to "Say, 'MAP!'," so he does. He ends up shrieking when they tell him to say it louder. Please reference the Spanish language portion of this post to help you imagine my confusion at some of the things that they tell him to say. Perhaps the most obnoxious part is that I end up with their traveling song stuck in my head ("Come on, Vamanos! Everybody, let's go!") for hours after wards.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Then there's the part where Matt's head blows up just a little bit. I need to preface this all by saying that Matt is a great dad. But, we weren't even out of the doctor's office before he was on the phone to spread the word that "It's a boy!" He only freaked out a little bit when I put nail polish on him. It was blue, and it was just on one finger. And, when I sent him the picture of Joseph in blue high heels at the shoe store, he confessed to wearing his mom's shoes (once he stopped shrieking, I think). So, when Joseph started telling Daddy about Dory and I had to clarify that it was Dora as in The Explorer, and not Dory as in the Ellen DeGeneres fish from Nemo, his initial response was along the lines of that being a girl's show. To his credit, he never said that to Joseph and he hasn't said it again. He even brought him a Dora cup from the cookout that we were at when they ran out of juice boxes and he was thirsty for the car ride home. It has since become one of the boy's favorite cups in all of its pink and purple glory. It's fun to watch my football-loving, grease-monkey, beer-drinking, man's man of a husband swallow his pride and turn on Dora on demand for his little boy.<br /><br />However it rolls, we've broadened our horizons and welcomed the Dora and Boots into our homes. Any other thoughts on that dynamic duo? Or, what do you partake of that you had previously sworn off?<br /></span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1053260009824877933.post-59635839589849307372010-08-26T21:09:00.003-04:002010-08-26T21:35:59.631-04:00Adventures<span style="font-size:85%;">This summer has been full of adventure of all kinds. Particularly, my mom and I tried to make an effort to go somewhere with Joseph each week that he would like. As you may have garnered, it's been a busy summer, so we missed a few in there, and spent a few of them on a big boat. But, I wanted to recap our assorted adventures. I've got pictures, but they're still on my camera. I'll load them up when I get a chance.<br /><br />We started at Charmingfare Farm. I had heard from some friends that it was pretty neat, so we headed over there. Joseph got to ride the pony twice and we took a tractor-train ride. Other than that, it was a farm. For those of us from the midwest, this was kind of a downer. They had animals and plants. And they charged admission. Oh, and they had lynx. And the lynx cage had a very large pile of feathers in it. And two lynx kittens. That part was kind of entertaining.<br /><br />Then we went to Chicago for Baby Frankie's baptism. That was an adventure all by itself! We got to go to ice cream and saw some baby ducks in a fountain, and we went to a bbq where Joseph learned how to use a squirt gun. Important life skill.<br /><br />Then we went on a boat. The cruise, itself, wasn't terribly kid-focused, but I think that he had a lot of fun hanging out with all of us and going new places. He did get to play in a fountain in Germany, and that seemed like a lot of fun.<br /><br />Then we came home for a few days. Then we went to Missouri for some friends' wedding. Joseph carried a very important pillow and did a very nice job. He also played a lot of cars with Baba. We swam in the pool and managed to hit the St. Louis Zoo before our flight home. The zoo was a hit. He liked the monkeys.<br /><br />Then we came home, again. Then we went to the Roger Williams Zoo with some friends. He liked the elephants (eih-fants) and the goats (they were climbing on their rocks and butting their heads--he thought that was funny).<br /><br />Then we went to Storyland. He didn't like the long car ride up there, but had a good time once we got there. He got to drive lots of cars and play in little houses. It was the first time that we'd all been there, and it was pretty cute.<br /><br />We had two barbecue's in one weekend where Joseph got to run around with a lot of little kids and just be a little kid. Between that and some other play dates, I think that we might need to look into a little kid's golf set and maybe a little trampoline. A swing set may be in order, too, if a location can be found.<br /><br />And, we probably just got home from our last summer adventure. We drove up to Lake Winnepesaukee and rode the Scenic Railroad. It was cute. Then we played Skee-Ball in the arcade and rode little kid rides. Joseph won a calculator with our tickets that he thinks is a cell phone, so he spent the ride home saying 'Can you hear me?'<br /><br />So now, school starts on Monday. I don't think that I'm ready, but I'm not not ready...if that makes sense. It'll be okay and it'll be fine to get back to that routine. September is always exhausting, but we always make it.<br /><br />Stay tuned!<br /></span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16023753662641000103noreply@blogger.com1