add #12

12. Better to come down with whatever your son brought home from school after than during a theatrical performance you're attending.


I'm certain that I was too humiliated to mention it in December, but this is not the first time Aidan's brought a "present" home from school (note #1 in the last post). Though I had not been sick to vomiting for nearly three decades (yes, really), I succombed just before intermission of the Broadway Show Sweeney Todd. Let me pause for a moment here to say that I am the girl who tries to have a little class - I get frustrated when people are running to their cars during the curtain calls because it's more important to them to get out of the parking lot timely than thank the performers who worked so hard to entertain them. I don't like when people talk or crinkle loudly during performances, and I cannot understand when people believe it's okay to wear their most casual attire to such performances. In fact, I was distracted during the beginning of Sweeney Todd because a woman near my was wearing very pungent perfume. Ha!

Note that I said "just before" intermission. That's right - in one of my most humiliating moments ever, I had to use our cups (made Hubby chug my Sprite to empty one) to try and contain my contributions to the performance. I'm so humiliated, in fact, that we've switched the rest of our tickets for the season. Yes, we're season ticketholders, and no, I can't bear to face those poor people again. They know it was me. I couldn't eat Chipotle for some time after that either, but that's neither here nor there.

In an unbelievable and cruel coincidence, we had tickets to a jazz orchestra performance last Thursday. When Aidan started not feeling well on Tuesday, my hubby and I joked amongst ourselves that we should give those tickets away lest I have a repeat performance. It got to be Wednesday, we both still felt well, and we continued to joke. This was frightening close to the timing of the last episode, when Aidan started not feeling well Tuesday and ST was Wednesday evening. Flash forward to Thursday - Hubby started not feeling so well. He asked me at about 6:30 to find a last-minute replacement for him, so my sis filled in. Despite the fact that I felt just great, I was incredibly nervous. I was sitting on the aisle and had scoped out the pathway to the two nearest restrooms. Luckily, these performances are a little more feisty, so getting up wouldn't be nearly as frowned upon. No problem this time, though, and I got so cocky as to high five my sis as we walked to the car because I had avoided the plague. All was well until about 4 am, at which time I was stricken.

Still, better to be stricken after the performance than during as last time.

(some) things I didn't know before this week

1. The time when "spit up" becomes "vomit" is somewhere between eight and thirteen months.
2. Spit up washes out easily; vomit does not.
3. Children with few teeth don't really chew their food much. (I should have intuited this, but hadn't thought of it.)
4. Jewelry retains eau de vomit as well as clothing does.
5. Stain remover will remove blackberry-stained vomit from rugs, but eau de vomit remains in sofas even after steam cleaning.
6. There are vomit warning signs. It is very important to be aware of them and recognize them quickly. Any child who wakes up from a deep sleep and rips the binky from his mouth should be watched suspiciously.
7. Twenty-four hours is not sufficient time to assume safety from watching for such warning signs.
8. Pedialite popcicles are the bomb.
9. Grandma and Grandpa make everything better. Children who feel fabulous at G&G's house may relapse at home.
10. Sleeping on a couch with an ailing child is fine for one night, but the second night wrecks havoc with one's neck.
11. An ailing child is an especially cuddly child (one bright side).

I really don't get it

My biggest concern about having a boy was (and still is) that I don't understand them. I love them, but I do not understand them.

Today I was told a story by my friend, we'll call him Joe, who went to a Michael Buble concert recently. He was there with his wife and another couple. He enjoys the Buble, but was teasing his wife and friends about going to the concert - just having fun. This was before the show, so not interrupting anything onstage. He was saying things like, "Hooray, hooray, Michael Buble." The gist I get is that Joe thought it might be interpreted as effeminate to be there (note that Joe was, in fact, there and happily so).

A gentleman, and I use the term loosely, behind him didn't appreciate his humor. He poked Joe hard in the middle of the back and said, "Shut up!" What he described that ensued was very testosterone-ridden. At one point Joe actually asked the guy (at a Michael Buble concert) whether they needed to go outside to settle it. Amazing. Joe also noted that the guy was "a 62-year old, balding, fat, stumpy guy." (Please understand I have nothing against the type - just describing in Joe's words for the story's sake.) What I find most interesting about this is that Joe is, I believe, 53. He's in good shape, but (even given that it's okay to pick a fight, which is a stretch) how can Joe make fun of the guy behind him for not knowing when he's too old to pick a fight, and then, probably less than ten years younger than the guy, invite him outside to settle it? I really don't understand. I'm sure happy I wasn't there.

On a side note, Joe asked the guy how he enjoyed the show afterward, and the guy apologized and said they'd both overreacted. They shook hands. Two-hour grudge settled; fight avoided.

Oh, that Aidan remains the cuddly, loving little boy that he is today.

all that and a grill to boot!

Have I mentioned how much I love spring?

Our bike ride to the park was just lovely, and Aidan had a blast riding in his little cart. He giggled for the first block and a half, and the little tuft of hair on top of his head flew up in the wind like a bad toupee. (I have it on good authority that eventually his hair will fill in and he'll have a beautiful, thick head of hair like his daddy, especially given that his daddy had no hair until he was nearly three.) The combination of the two cracked me up nearly enough to lose my balance, but I'm proud to say that I kept it together. I am ridiculously excited at the prospect of being able to do that as much as we want over the next several months. Oh, and to top it off, Aidan's no longer afraid of the swings at the park. Luckily, that was just a little phase in the midst of the life of a young swing lover! He played with children and puppies, and all was right with the world.

Our grill, may it rest in peace, died last year. It lived a full life, grilling all types of meats, veggies and other food experiments over the last seven years or so, so don't mourn. The grill's in a better place now; it's just us who miss it. Fickle as we are, we replaced it last weekend and have already moved our affections to the new addition. Happy, happy grillers are we! Tonight, balsamic beef kabobs! It'll be a festival of grilling and chasing around a little man who's intent upon climbing onto the porches and into the Adirondack chairs of our neighbors; luckily, said neighbors find this endearing. (Hooray for neighbors!) He scurries away, with furtive over-the-shoulder glances to see whether we're on to him. Oh, sneaky, sneaky little man!

we have a winner!

So here I am, feeling like I almost have it together, whatever "it" is. (Don't worry - whenever I get this feeling, I know it's fleeting, but I'm still mighty grateful!) I have my husband back from the throes of work, finally, and spring has arrived. The fact that the two were nearly coincidental is almost too much for my full heart. Beautiful Aidan is sleeping, not knowing that a bike ride to the park awaits; surely if he knew, he'd not keep me waiting so, though he does like to tease me. My little company is doing well, and I've been taking Fridays off again (and even fit in a weekend Vegas trip with my sister that hasn't made it yet to the blog). It't only mid-afternoon, and I've already done a load of laundry, the grocery shopping and putting away, and the pre-work for dinner tonight. I'm not as behind as usual at work or home. Because we replaced them this fall, I have windows that open and screens in them that fit - there's an actual sunny breeze coming through the living room as I sit and type (not shocking unless you lived here for five years prior to the new windows). My yard is blooming with daffodils, hyacinths and various other bulbs, and the little street I live on is filled with flowering trees in full bloom. This might be my favorite week to live here, despite my overwhelming love for summer.

Every kindergartener thanks you....ya happy now?

Thanks a ton, Renaissance scholars/teachers. Why is there a b in the words debt and doubt? Turns out it's a Renaissance thing. Teachers at that time decided that Latin was more scholarly than French, from which we actually got use of those words. They were already words in English, borrowed from French, sans b. However, the teachers decided that they wanted to go back to the Latin roots (from which the French got them) and spell them using those Latin roots, but to go on pronouncing them their English way. This, and a whole lot more examples like them, is why English doesn't sound like it looks. Well, that and the Great Vowel Shift that took place just before Shakespeare's time, before which line and join rhymed, and knight was a two-syllable word in which the k was pronounced.

Can you tell I've been listening to my "History of the English Language" class? It's really just fascinating!

freedom!

I really enjoy teaching. Very much enjoy it. In fact, I dream of teaching when I "retire." Probably at college level, but maybe even at high school level (in a previous life before all this business-y stuff, I had a license to teach high school), but I very much enjoy interacting with the students. I love watching lights go on as they figure things out, talking to them to find out what they think and dream of, and making pretty complex ideas more approachable.

I have no idea, however, what I was thinking that made me pick up ten extra classes in the middle of my husband's busiest time of year. It's a decision that a crazy person probably wouldn't make, and I like to kid myself that I'm still holding on to a shred of sanity. It's okay--I'm in on the joke, so I know the truth, but the kidding is reassuring nonetheless.

The last of the ten was last night. The classes were very interesting, helped me grow professionally, and were filled with amazing students, but I just couldn't be happier to be through them. I feel as though I can finally take a couple of deep breaths. It does not escape me that this coincides with the very beginning of warmer weather, either. Mmmmm. The fact that summer break hasn't existed for me for years doesn't take away the giddy feeling that summer is a fun, luxurious time of year. This, combined with a few deep breaths makes for a wonderful Thursday, especially combined with the sun peeking out here and there throughout the day.

flying solo

Aidan and I went to Chicago this weekend to visit some family. The cousins that we went to see were my big brothers growing up - not really, but I didn't actually have older brothers, and these guys were mine. I worshipped them. I don't still worship them, but I do still think the world of them, look forward to seeing them and very much enjoy the catching up. We still laugh and giggle. All around blast.

One has two kids, and Aidan couldn't get enough of them, though they were a little dubious of him, at least at first. Violet, nearly five now, was suspicious right off, sure to indicate when Aidan picked up something that was hers or belonged in her house. I explained that he would not leave with anything he hadn't come with - no thievery. No problem, then, for Violet. Lily, not so much. She's nearly three, and was very anxious about Aidan playing with her toys. In fact, she grabbed whatever toy Aidan would pick up to play with. Her mom told her couldn't just grab the toys, that she had to ask for them. After that se'd stand and ask him for the toy, and then grab it when he had no idea what she was saying. Of course, she warmed up to him on the morning we were leaving.

Aidan was fascinated by these older girls. He would reach out to touch Violet's hair or face, and squeal with delight. He loved their games, too. They played one in which their dad would be a monster and "frighten" them, and then they'd go squealing and running through the house into another room. Aidan watched this for awhile, then decided to play, too. Of course he had no idea what was going on, but he saw them giggling and running, and that seemed pretty fun to him. He was in the hallway that they ran through, so as they yelled, he tried to imitate the noises they made. At first this was enough, but then he got bolder. He decided to get in on the running, too. He walked toward the back of the house, where the monster was located, and started making the yelling/squealing noises. As the girls were "scared" and came tearing through the house, he started running with them (of course, much slower than them), and as they got close to him, his eyes got big as saucers, and he turned and ran to me instead. Maybe he'd set his sites a little too high.

This was Aidan's second trip via plane, and I was a little nervous to be traveling with him alone (Daddy had to work and couldn't come with us). Turned out better than could be expected - we're four for four (though I hate to admit it, possibly jinxing future trips). He falls asleep on me as we're leaving the tarmac (literally, during actual takeoff), and I wake him up as we're needing to get off the plane. What did I do to deserve him? I don't remember being that good a child. The airport was pretty funny, too. Our flight was cancelled and we were put on a later one, so we spent more time there than we'd planned. Ever chased a one-year-old through O'Hare Airport? Good times. At least he's cheerful as he runs through the crowds to explore, occasionally stopping at a pretty, dark-haired girl (usually the same one) with arms outstretched in the universal "pick me up" sign. Daddy would've been proud, and he had good taste to boot! I'd say that I'm now encouraged to travel alone with him often, but we'd still rather go with Daddy - we missed him.