Ten Things Tuesday - june30

As I continue my new endeavor into the world of blogs, I stumble upon many great women doing awesome things day in and day out. XBox Wife runs a blog that includes Ten Things Tuesday - What are you thankful for Today? (see side button)
In our crazy hectic lives we often forget to be thankful for what we have and instead chase the greener pasture over there. Starting today I am going to list my 10 things each Tuesday as a reminder that there is a lot to be thankful for - even if the economy is down and your hubby is out of work and medical bills need to be paid.

I am grateful for:

• my husband, who works hard everyday taking care of our boys and me
• our boys, all three are miracles in and of themselves
• for having lost a few along the way, because it made me appreciate life so much more
• a job that gives me the flexibility to do balance my love of work and love of home
• summer, my favorite season of the year
• all the extra squash my hubby had me plant - we'll have enough to share
• the ability to keep our home when many around us are not
• the day lilies that are starting to bloom in the front yard
• days of sunshine, so the boys are not stuck inside all day
• Independence Day - for giving us all an opportunity to celebrate our freedom and thank someone who helped or is helping us keep it.

toothless tooth fairy

A friend is getting ready for her child’s first tooth loss and posted the question on facebook "How much does the tooth fairy pay?" 16 people answered, and I was shocked at the range. Non parents were up for a quarter or two, but the parents were paying up to $20.00 for a first time tooth loss. $20.00 buys diapers and formula for a week. $20.00, to a five year old is a gold mine, and can buy 20 toys at the dollar store that will only get stepped on.

Our tooth fairy is cheap in comparison. Not as cheap as those non parents, but a lot cheaper than $10 or $20. Our tooth fairy brings $1.00 for each tooth, no matter when or how it is lost. There have been times when the tooth was not placed under the pillow (ADVISEMENT: Teach them to put it next to the pillow, less likely for the tooth fairy to wake them). Instead a note to the fairy on how the tooth was lost.

Twins are odd creatures. Each, individuals in their own right, sometimes my mirror image boys have similarities that are on the verge of eerie.

T1 lost his first tooth in the summer before Kindergarten. We knew he and T2 each had a loose tooth, but his was looser. One day while eating lunch at preschool, his bottom left central incisor fell out. Not knowing any better – he swallowed it. When I came to pick them up that day, he was distraught – how would the tooth fairy know he had lost a tooth? Would we have to get it out of his stomach? Quickly I soothed him and explained we would not get it out of his stomach, that the tooth fairy understood and would take a note instead. That night, we sat down and wrote a note to the tooth fairy about eating his tooth and would she please forgive him. In the morning, $1.00 was found underneath the pillow, and the note had disappeared. T1 was thrilled – and said he wouldn’t be swallowing anymore of his teeth.

A few days later, I arrived at school to pick them up and found T2, toothless. His bottom RIGHT central incisor had fallen out. This was his first tooth loss. I asked where the tooth was and he said, “Well… it fell out while I was eating lunch, and I swallowed it. But we can write a note right?”

“Yes we can write a note.” I said while thinking how odd that they both swallowed their first tooth, which were mirror image losses.

Other than a dimple in a cute little chin, What's more adorable than a toothless grin?~Azu "Betty" Espezia

Little Man's Creed

About a week ago, Little man was playing with a car. I know, nothing special. When he was done, he left it on the floor and walked away. T2 came by and picked up the car.

From the other end of the house, around the corner, through a wall – Little man KNEW. Someone had his toy. Immediately he walks out into the living room and begins to look for suspects. Within seconds T2 is spotted and a SQUEAL erupts from little man’s mouth. He sprints (ok runs like a duck) for T2 and tries to take it from him, all the while screaming “MINE.” I, as the most level headed, fair, Mommy yell over Little man’s screams, “GIVE IT TO HIM!”

Like a good son, T2 does as he is told and then comes over to ask why can’t Little Man share? I laugh, and then I bring out the scrapbook from when he and T1 turned two. On the very first page is the toddler’s creed with a picture of the twins innocently sitting beneath it. I had him read the creed and we talked about what it meant. Then I explained, while Little man is learning to express himself and share, there will be LOTS of tantrums. We will not let him hit or fight for what he wants, but sometimes, when the toys was Little man’s to begin with, it is easier to just give it to him. T2said he understood and then asked if he acted like that when he was two. I laughed.

A few days later my hubby and I were discussing Little man’s tantrums. He said he didn’t know if he was going to make through them. I told him it could be worse. He looked at me with a blank stare and asked how.
I smirked and said, “he could’ve been a twin.”

THE TODDLER'S CREED

If I want it, it's mine.

If I give it to you and change my mind later, it's mine.

If I can take it away from you, it's mine.

If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

If it's mine, it will never belong to anybody else, no matter what.

If we are building something together, all the pieces are mine.

If it looks just like mine, it is mine.

road trip

Tomorrow we are going to the beach. While I love the beach, and spending time with my boys, getting there is a production.
First I pack for all 5 of us, to include the
clothes, diapers and wipes,
sunscreen (I love the new spray on stuff!!!),
bathing suits,
sheets/towels (because I would rather haul it home than stand around doing laundry on our last day),
rainy time activities (it never fails), board games, movies, cars, cars, and more cars
soap, toothbrushes, etc.

Then I pack the suburban. I love my suburban, it is now my dream car. The twins are in the way back with an isle to walk down so they don’t climb over the seats. Bradley gets the middle, and adults only in the front. Before I can pack, I have to clean it out first. This is where it gets scary. Now I am not known for the cleanliness of cars, but you never know what you will find lurking beneath the sheet across the back seat (put there for easy clean up of spills). Something round and fuzzy, once kin to a chicken, now gone on to a greener place. Pieces of toys, the cups I told them to take into the house. Multiple matchbox cars. Sticky purple cup holders that must be pried out and washed in the sink. Spit balls, straws, and then way down in the cracks between the seats I can see French Fries. (Ever notice how they don’t mold – yet we feed them to our children) I’ll never get them out of there, unless I plan on taking the seats out – not going to happen. So after a quick wipe down, shake off, because it is not going to get washed (dirt hides the scratches from not paying attention when we open the doors like we were TOLD to do) – I pack. Making sure we have everything we need, from snacks, to drinks, to movies.

Ahh movies. I believe the best invention of the 20th Century was the in car DVD player. We didn’t use to have one, and by the time we got somewhere I would be so worn out from refereeing fights that I wouldn’t claim my own children. I don’t like television as a babysitter, I’ve been known to lock my kids outside on a beautiful day and make them drink from the hose when they were thirsty. (For all who think this is cruel, they were in our yard, were allowed in for bathroom breaks, etc, and I could hear every squeal of delight or terror – but my door was no longer revolving). But in a car I believe in DVD players, if possible get one with multiple head phones J (ours are now broken). Then they can watch their movie in peace and you can sing to the radio without shouts of “Mommy, stop singing, you hurt my ears!”

Who are these kids,

and why are they calling me

Mom?

(my bumpersticker)

Happy 2nd Birthday

It is hard to believe that Little Man is two years old today (we are ignoring the fact that the twins will be 7 soon).
Of course every parent says it is hard to believe that their child is __ age. But Little Man carries a special story with him. He is my miracle child. While carrying full-term for me is a miracle in and of itself, Bradley redefined the term.
After having a rough first trimester, Little Man started to calm down and grow, and grow and grow. Every time I went in for a checkup they would tell me how much more he had grown past his gestational age. He was a week big, 2 weeks big, 3 weeks big. My doctor even gave me a term for it (not that I remember what it was). I knew he was going to come early, he was big, strong, healthy and ready to see his family. Little Man's due date was June 6, 2007, but after having the twins at 36 weeks, an extra 6 weeks of pregnancy sounded too long for me. At 39 weeks I was ready to pop, they told me he was 8 lbs. 8 LBS!! I knew that if I waited full term I'd have an 11 lb baby like my brother was. I did not want an 11 lb baby. I started walking stairs at lunch, eating spicy food, basically doing every wives tale there was on how to jump start labor. Of course nothing happened. At 40 weeks, they told me he was 8 1/2 lbs and gave me the choice to induce labor.
"Where do I sign up?"
I was scheduled for 7:30am on Tuesday, May 29, 2007, the day after Memorial Day. Dear Hubby dropped the twins off at day care and my mother in law took me to the hospital. It was a great day - and relatively easy. I had an epidural and started pushing about 3 o'clock. I won't gross you out with all the gory details. I will say that when he finally arrived at quarter to 4 and the doctor lifted him up for me to see I was in shock. HE WAS HUGE. My frame of reference is a little skewed as the twins were only 5lbs each when born, but that was a big baby!!!
9 lbs 4 oz , blue eyes, blond hair, just like his brothers and just like his Daddy. He was perfect. Although he did cry for two hours straight, but only because he was hungry. After that he never fussed, slept great, and was the apple of his Daddy's eye.
Everyone who came to see us thought he was beautiful, so I am not being biast. The day after was going well until the pediatrician on staff came into my room. She said "your son has a heart murmur. We found it in a routine exam, and it may be nothing, but we want to run another test, an Echocardiogram, just to be sure." I had chosen the hospital we were in for health reasons. Because I knew from previous experience, they were thorough and my son would be in the best hands. I didn't even call John to tell him about the test, because she said it may be nothing.
Two hours later a pediatric cardiologist walked into my room and I knew the pediatrician had been wrong from the moment the cardiologist introduced himself. No one should ever have to meet a pediatric cardiologist. He told me that my son has a rare (1 in 20,000) congenital heart defect known as Ebstein's Anomaly. Our son's tricuspid valve is not closing properly, leaving an opening for blood to leak back through the valve and into the right atrium. As a result, the right atrium becomes enlarged and if severe enough, congestive heart failure can result. Luckily our son's condition was not that severe. The cardiologist told me his right atrium was enlarged and our son had constant backflow. The doctor was great, he drew pictures and sat with me for over an hour.
It didn't matter. I lost it anyway; I thought it was my fault. Then he told me, no one knows what causes this defect. He also told me that CHD is the most frequently occurring birth defect, and is the leading cause of birth-defect related deaths. I was shocked. How could I not know? Over the next few days my husband and I did a lot of research and what I found was startling, not just about my son, but about all children with CHDs. According to the American Heart Association about 40,000 babies are born each year with heart defects. And nearly twice as many children die from congenital heart disease in the United States each year as die from all forms of childhood cancers combined.
The first few weeks of Little Man's life were tough.
We questioned everything. Would he have surgery? Would he be able to play sports? Would he get tired too easily?
We had to rearrange our world. We had to have and appointment with the pediatric cardiologist and got to watch the backflow on the echo. I had to switch insurance policies as quickly as possible to make sure Little Man would be covered no matter what happened. We learned what signs to watch for, how to take his heart rate. In July he had to go on a heart monitor for about a month because his heart rate was so high. It was hard, but I knew people were worse off than us. I knew that there were worse cases who were having to have surgery right then. We were lucky. We went back for our check ups at 3 months, 6 months, a year.
His first birthday was when we found our miracle. We went to the cardiologist for a echo to see how he was doing - and the defect was all but gone!!! The doctor said that he wouldn't even say he has a problem now and to come back in 2-3 years!!! Shocked, thrilled, releived, were only some of the emotions we were feeling. We had witnessed a miracle in our own son.
So today, we celebrate our miracle. I love you Little Man!

Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

ewwww

Gross \'gros\ adj 1. lacking knowledge or culture, unrefined 2. boys

I believe we have well mannered children. Even Bradley (who will be 2 on Friday) says peas, tank you, and welcome. I work hard to make sure they know proper dinner etiquette, to say yes sir and yes ma’am and how to ask for something. Others have expressed their admiration in the level of manners our boys exhibit.

They should have been there for breakfast. Breakfast is very relaxed at my house, the twins are up first and I make lunches while they eat at the counter. Tyler wanted to tell me what his friend had taught him at school, but it required getting up and giving me a demonstration.

“Mommy, did you know that if you bend your arm like this (looking at the inside of the elbow) it looks like a butt? And if you take your finger and put it in a brown shirt, and push it through it looks like poop?”

No, I did not know this, and I didn’t even want to watch him do it. Luckily, no brown shirts were nearby.

“What do you think Mommy?”

A response, this requires a response? What am I supposed to say?

“That is gross.”

I didn’t have anything better to say. Most of the grossness I can handle. Farts, burps, blood, dirt, mud, worms, frogs (just no dead ones see older post). I need to come up with some wittier comments. The other day I went in to give the twins a kiss goodnight and Tyler called me back as I was leaving his room. He had sat up on the top bunk and wanted another kiss. As soon as I was in front of him, he farted. Immediately laughter erupted from both of them. This I can handle. It’s natural (for the most part). I’ve been known to pass gas and blame it on my children. Or even pass gas while standing next to one of them. Maybe because I have allowed the ‘grossness’ to some degree they think I can handle arms looking like butts. And I can, I just need wittier comebacks. Any suggestions?

Beans, Beans

They are good for your heart,

The more you eat 'em, the more you fart!

Snakes, Snails and... dead lizards

I can handle a lot.

I don’t freak out when one of my boys comes screaming to me with blood running down his face. These are boys, this is what they do. They are going to get hurt, they are going to play rough and they are going to get dirty.

T2  fractured his leg when he was 1 ½ years old. I watched it occur; he was running down the hall, tripped, and fell on a plastic toy drum with the drumsticks tethered to it. And started crying for Mommy. I comforted him and told him to go play. He didn’t want to walk, but he quit crying. He sat on the floor and played. I thought it was odd, but my mother in law and husband agreed, nothing was wrong. I took to the doctor the next morning and he thought nothing was wrong either. But the x-rays showed something different. Apparently kids bones are so soft, they don’t hurt unless they are actually in use.

I am not squeamish at the sight of spiders, mice, worms, or lizards. The twins love for me to dig worms out of the garden for them, and actually fight over who gets the next one. We catch frogs on the side of the pool. Last summer they were on the hunt for the small garden lizards. T1, my quick and quiet one, was sure to catch one, considering he can catch flies with his bare hands. But it was T2 who finally caught the tail of one, only to pull it off and run to his Daddy squealing because the tail was still moving in his hand. We watched that lizard regrow his tail over the next couple of months. My father, feeling sorry for the twins, caught a lizard for them. I brought him home, along with an aquarium I’d acquired. I knew it wouldn’t last, but they wanted to keep the lizard for a pet, and hey – it’s better than a snake.

For a time, they took care of it. Then one day, one of the twins came running up to me, upset because the lizard was missing. I figured he was hibernating in a nice new home, somewhere outside the hands of 6 year olds. As fall faded into winter, the lizard was forgotten.

This past Saturday, I was sitting on the couch tickling my almost innocent one. Little man doesn’t know what a worm is; he just picks it up like dirt and drops it back down on the ground. T2 was helping me and we were having a laugh fest on the couch. T1 walked up and said “Mommy”, actually he may have said more but as I turned around to face him, 2 inches from my face was the DEAD BODY OF THAT LIZARD. I screamed so loud that T1 dropped it, ON MY LEG. I jumped up and screamed again and again, “GET IT OFF ME.” I was freaking out. My husband walked in the front door, as I tried to escape the living room. T1 asked me what was wrong and I didn’t even know how to respond as my husband was doubled over in hysterics. T2 asked why I was afraid of it and I replied “Mommy is a GIRL! Take that thing outside!” Being boys, the twins agreed with their father that this was the funniest thing they had seen in a long time. T1 proceeds to chase me into our room, where I locked the door, only to have him push it under the door while cackling with laughter.

Eventually my husband convinced him to get rid of it – outdoors.

Yes, Mommy is a girl. I can handle a lot, just not dead lizards.

Footnote: I am grateful to the neighbors who didn’t let T1 bring home the dead black snake that Monday. I am forever doomed now that he knows Mommy doesn’t like dead animals.

What are little boys made of?

Snakes and snails, and puppy dogs tails

That's what little boys are made of!

Springtime = Baseball

Springtime at our house comes with balls, bats, gloves, cleats, and lots of dirt. The twins have been in love with baseball since they were two years old. I'm not sure where the desire for the game came from, my husband and I never played, but never less they LOVE the sport. I am not overstating it either. Before they could speak sentences they would hand you a ball and try to swing a stick at it. Or they would scream "UPDOWN" meaning please throw the ball way up in the air so we can try to catch it when it falls back down.

When they were 2 1/2 they each got their own first t-ball set and played all the time. Inside the house and out (my favorite blown glass piece was broken by one such baseball).

At three T1 had watched enough baseball movies to know the pitcher stance and throw, and even to check first and third before throwing (although I'm not sure he knew what he was looking for). For years they asked me when they could play on a real team, to them those years must have dragged on. They were finally able to play last year, as five year olds, on a coach pitch league. I loved their team last year, everyone was great, the parents, coaches, kids. Most of the team was new, and we had our good players and our bad like every group. When the season was over they were sad that they wouldn't be playing again for a year (I see year round baseball in our future).

This years season started out great, they were so excited to be playing again. They would not have their same coach (as he moved on to the next age bracket), but the new coach wasn't too bad. Practice looked good, they looked good. And we won our first 5 games. But as other teams were getting better, we weren't because we no longer practiced as a team. Just games during which the kids were yelled at for not paying attention by the coach. Yelled at for not paying attention - these are 5 & 6 year olds here. This is little league. They are not always going to pay attention. My husband, bless him, is so frustrated with the coach. When he got word the coach wanted our boys next year, he decided he would coach next year, enabling him to control who gets to yell at them.

So here we are at the end of the season winning 5 games, losing 5 games. And our team has done well. There are your ones who always hit, and mostly catch, and then there are those who still aren't sure how to swing the bat. And then there are my favorites, no not my boys, but two kids, siblings, boy and a girl, who are so little but have such great hearts. They try so hard to hit, and about once a game they do manage to connect, but not being able to run fast, are usually tagged out before making it to first base. Their mom and I root for all the kids, but especially our four, the four of them love the game so much.

Last night was our first playoff game. We were up against a team we clobbered early in the season. But this was a different team. They had been practicing, they warmed up before the game. Only three kids on our team warmed up (you know 2 were mine). And they started pounding away at us. We weren't ready for them, we weren't communicating with our team. And we were losing.

I don't know the exact score, but they were up by 4, up by 5, up by 4, we were not making any headway. By the fourth inning, I had given up on the score, but still had my whole heart in the game. T2 came up to bat and hit a ball that went all the way to the fence (being a short field, it was still only a double). I was jumping up and down cheering so loud. T1 hit one 6 inches from the fence - and I cheered telling him he had hit the fence.

That's what matters right, teaching them to keep going, that they are doing great. We cheered for Adam and Abby every time they came to bat - even though they were using the wrong bat, and could barely lift it. We cheered when in the outfield Abby watched the ball go between her legs and it looked like something from the movies. But she figured it out and chased it down and still threw the ball in. We cheered when short stop threw to T1 at first, going over his head, and T1 still got the ball and threw it to the pitcher who was trying to stop the runner going home and did! (Now the coach did not agree on this move - but we ignored him). We cheered when T2 on third caught a ball and chased a runner back to second, almost stopping him. It was a great try.

By the last inning we were worn out. All this cheering, so wanting them to win for themselves, because they loved the game, but knowing the other team worked harder for it.

Bottom of the last inning and we are up to bat, when T1 comes running out of the dugout, I figured he wanted a hot dog, but he said his leg hurt. I checked him out while Adam was at bat. And as I sent T1 back (he was fine), Adam hit the ball, but didn't quite make it to first base. Out #1. Abby was up next and she missed, and missed and then she HIT, not far, but because they had to come get it, she ran as fast as her short legs could take her and made it to first base! We were screaming something fierce, she was safe at first - that alone made the season. The lineup started over and a good hitter was up, could she make it to second - YES! Wow, this was becoming unreal as T2 stepped up to bat. Ironically I was now afraid he would hit a double and the boys would run over little Abby, she would never make it from second all the way home. But he didn't, he hit a single and the bases loaded, with Abby making it to third. Could it happen? Could Abby make a run and score? That would be the way to end the season. The batter hit, and with the coach running along side her, little Abby made it to home plate - scoring her first point ever.

The bases still loaded the next hitter bats and hits, allowing 2 runs before being tagged out. Yeah T2 scored. But there is now a guy on third and T1 at bat. The coach from the other team, turned around and told us the score was tied. TIED, how did we do that, we couldn't be tied, we were just happy Abby scored, that they were having fun, oh this was worth more now - T1 was told, all he had to do was hit that ball, and he did and the other boy was able to score, ending the game. What a night, what a game.

So tonight we play again, shocked that we made it this far. I hope the kids have a good time and that I am not quite as hoarse as I was last night. This could be their last game, the end of baseball season, the end of spring.

Don't tell me about the world. Not today. It's springtime and they're knocking baseball around fields where the grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball. ~Pete Hamill