Welcome 2011!

I'm glad it's finally here, and all my bones are intact (think I'm jinxing it?). Jon reminds me that I left out one of the more charming experiences of  last year in my last post. On the same day I got let go from Lakeshore (or, as we like to call it, "broken up with by post-it"), I parked Jon's car behind the store at 7:30 when I got there. There was a guy in an SUV right in the driveway, but he moved so I could park. I put my purse in the trunk, took my wallet into work, and didn't think about that guy again until I came out at lunch time and my window had been smashed. Argh. He apparently watched me put my purse in the trunk, smashed the driver's window, popped the trunk, and took my purse. The good news is, there was no money, no credit cards-- he got a purse full of receipts, tissues, ice cream sprinkles... The bad news is, Jon looked for it in dumpsters and ditches but it didn't turn up, so I spent over $100 replacing the purse and its contents, and a $100 deductible to have the window replaced. I made about $50 after taxes that day, so a day of work cost me $150. :P

In the spirit of looking forward to better days, however, I am grateful for the people my children are growing into. After some rough years with Madeline and her temper, she is evening out significantly. She is funny, smart, and self-possessed; she seems sure of her place in the world (definitely NOT the mainstream-- she shuns everything trendy).  Baxter, though apparently undergoing a testosterone surge, continues to be mostly laid-back and positive. He is being recognized by his teachers this year (for the first time, really) for his brains and abilities, and I'm so happy they "get" him. Sophie, after making me fear visits to a woman's prison were in my future (due to her complete and utter refusal to take responsibility for any mistakes or misdeeds), has turned a corner and is showing remorse, compassion, empathy and humility that will serve her well in life (along with plenty of the spunk and bull-headedness that is her trademark-- she's not a completely different person, after all).

Jon and I are grateful for each other, grateful for our family, and happy that our paths have brought us here. Keep your fingers crossed that a spectacular job offer is just around the corner, and that we'll be starting off 2011 in fine fashion.

Don't Have a Heart Attack-- I'm Blogging.

So this his been a crazy year for us; I've never said this before, but I'm not going to be sorry to see 2010 go. First, I broke my ankle and had surgery January 6 (after just changing to a high-deductible healthplan, so we had THAT going for us), and was off my feet for a couple of months. During that time, our beloved Elwood died; we'd had him for twelve years, since he was six weeks old.

I finally regained my mobility just as Madeline broke her wrist, though it wasn't bad and she didn't even need a cast. We had an uneventful summer, and I was able to spend it at home with the kids, which was really nice. It flew by, though, and just as summer ended, Jon took a position on a special project at work that required him to travel nearly 100%. We had thought, when he signed on, that he'd be travelling, maybe, 50%. Instead, he went to Chicago every Monday (sometimes Sunday night) and came home on Friday (or, toward the end of the year, Thursday). It was hard at first, but all of us adjusted pretty well and got into a routine.

I took a part time job at Lakeshore Learning Store, which I really enjoyed, but I discovered that my body's not used to retail anymore. After a few hours on the floor, I'd be limping with pain in my right knee (right knee? what the heck?). After a couple of months, they laid me off (but no one told me-- I just found I was no longer on the schedule). Nice. It was just as well, though, as I'm not sure my knee could have held up.

Jon and I made a somewhat impulsive decision to take the whole family to Chicago for his last week there, right before Halloween; after that the plan was that the people on the project would be travelling to various sites through the new year. We had a GREAT time in Chicago; Jon had Monday morning, Thursday afternoon, and Friday and Saturday to spend with us, and the rest of the time we took cabs and busses around the city to see the sights.

While Jon was on the project, his "real" job was eliminated, but he continued working on the project and all was well. Then things started to look a little shaky-- the leads of the project hedged about what was next, no one really knew what to expect, and then Jon got laid off, effective December 31. The company's being quite generous, actually, essentially keeping him on through the end of the year, providing full bonus and a severance package. There was some possibility that the project would go forward and he would work on that, but no one seems able to pull the trigger, so we're looking at unemployment as of New Year's Day.

Jon's having some success on the job hunt front (oops, that rhymed), though, and things are generally looking okay. Still, after this year, I'm thinking we're due for a humdinger of a great year in 2011!

iPhone Neurosis

I'd like to propose a new diagnosis for the DSM 5: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-- iPhone Neurosis. Characterized by an unreasonable fear of battery failure, symptoms of the disorder include frantic searching for electrical outlets in public places such as airports and cafes; refusal to answer certain calls in order to reserve battery life for more-desired activities (i.e., Facebook, Twitter, games); obsessive battery meter watching (Ack! I'm down to 22%! I have to get home NOW!); and the organization of one's daily activities around battery charging opportunities. Some sufferers also withdraw from loved ones ("Not now-- I'm about to beat my high score on Fruit Ninja!").

There is no known cure, but family members have been known to attempt treatment by throwing the phone into lakes, oceans, or other bodies of water.

The Boy Is Nine

We began the day with the traditional ice cream cake (he chose Oreo), and a few presents. His secondary obsession these days (after LEGO) is Bakugan, and he got a Battle Pack--very exciting. I don't have photos at the moment, but there are plenty of photo ops ahead: dinner at California Pizza kitchen with family to celebrate both Baxter and Sophie later inthe week, then a party at the LEGO store (again).

It's good to be nine.

In other news, I drove today for the first time in a month and a half. I took myself to PT, am relaxing in a neighboring cafe, and I'll pick up the kids in a little while. Ah, independence, I've missed you so!

The Family's Holding Up

I wrote that last post while Jon was still gone, taking Elwood to the vet, so it's a little more raw than it would have been the next morning, but there you go. As for the adjustment, the kids are holding up really well. Having grieved that afternoon, while they could still pet him and talk to him, really helped. We all keep having those moments-- Madeline dropped food on the floor and was just about to call Elwood to eat it when I said, "You know we have to pick that up now"... Jon threw leftover crumbs into his bowl... Baxter called him when someone rang the doorbell, intending to let him out before he could bark. Mostly, though, it's just a little calmer and quieter, and a shade sadder, chez Seckinsteinbaugh these days.

In other news, I have started physical therapy, and my foot is quickly returning to a more normal state. Not normal, mind you-- my foot's still swollen, and my toes look weirdly fat. But I also got gel-lined booties at Bath and Body Works (more on the mall outing in a minute), and those have really helped with the horrific dryness-and-dead-skin situation. I will spare you before-and-after photos of my feet and will instead show you the booties in question:

So, the mall... many of you know that I NEVER go to the mall. It is amazing, however, what one is willing--nay, eager-- to endure after being trapped at home for a month. First we went to the movies, and sent the kids into a different movie for the first time ever. They saw Tooth Fairy (please, poke my eyes out with a stick), and we saw Up In The Air. Excellent movie, and excellent idea. They behaved well, and the only extra bit it cost us was two large popcorns instead of one. And Jon & I didn't have to see Tooth Fairy: win-win.

After that, we weren't (read: I wasn't) ready to go home, so we drove to Park Meadows and they rolled me around in the wheelchair. We scored a new mitt for Baxter, and the aforementioned booties, then we ate at Grand Lux Cafe. I have to say, I hate Cheesecake Factory (which owns Grand Lux), but I liked this place a lot. They have a kids' menu (though it's not printed-- super secret, apparently), they give the kids Wiki Stix to play with, and the Molten Lava cake is delicious. Oh, and our entrees were great, too. A successful outing.

Then I slept upstairs for the first time since New Year's Day. It's the little things. really.

RIP, Elwood

Damn my stupid f***ing broken leg, and Jon's busy schedule this week, and hemangiosarcoma.

Jon just got back from a late work meeting, changed clothes, and turned around to take Elwood to the emergency vet to have him put down. Since yesterday Elwod had been having more and more trouble breathing, until ultimately it was a wheezy, fast pant. He was eating anything he could get until about an hour ago, when he refused treats. Finally, he threw up everything he'd eaten in the last few hours (which, it turns out, was a lot), and went out into the yard and wouldn't come back in. Those last two things were the hallmarks of the last time his pericardium filled with blood, so we knew the end was near. And he was suffering, poor thing.

It will be hard when the kids wake up to find him gone, but they cried over him tonight, petting him and loving him, knowing he wouldn't be here much longer. Referring to the day we spent at the vet seven weeks ago, not sure we'd get to bring him home, Madeline wailed, "I can't spend another Saturday like that! I just can't!"

So, as hard as it was to send him away with Jon, without being able to go along, I know this will be easier on the kids in the long run, and on Elwood. He got up and came in from the yard when I jingled his leash, as if he understood that going to the vet would relieve his pain.

The two things I really wanted were for him to go to our beloved vet, Dr. Graf, who helped Boomie so much (and relieved her suffering when the time came), and to get a pawprint in clay like Dr. Graf made for Boomer. Niether is worth Elwood suffering longer, though, so off he went.

If only I didn't have this stupid boot on, if I could walk on two feet, I'd go get photos of him as a tiny puppy and scan them to post here. I'll do that eventually, and put another chapter in my RIP Boomer book for him. I was telling him (just before he vomited copiously on the carpet) that I'd never had another pet from birth to death before, that I remember the night we brought him home, how Boomer was not especially happy to have him at first... How, when Jon would get up early to take a shower, Elwood would cry pitifully until he came back, keeping me and Boomie awake, until eventually Jon just started taking Elwood-- tiny, tiny Elwood-- into the bathroom with him. How, when Jon got out of the shower, Elwood would lick all the water off his feet and legs... How Boomer would play with him, corner him under the dining room chairs, roll him over and put his whole belly in her mouth... We have some great photos, including one where it looks like she's tickling him, and he's on his back, laughing.

We love you, Woodman, we'll miss you, but we are glad you don't have to suffer anymore.

Next Step Taken

Well, figurative step, anyway. Not so much a real step; I'm still off my feet for "21 hours a day," and I still can't bear any weight on it. Oy.

Today the doctor took off the splint and took out the sutures. He was quite pleased with his work, and proclaimed it "beautiful." I'm not sure it qualifies as beautiful, but it's a little closer to being healed, and I'm excited about that. Baxter's a little disappointed that the hardware is stainless, which means he can't open his Bakugan on my leg.

Here's what the "after" x-ray looks like:

The best news of all is that I can sleep without the "boot" on, making it possible to sleep in my side again. Plus, I can take a shower, something eveyone in the family is excited about. Here's what the inside incision looks like, post-suture removal. Beautiful, right?

Jon hurt himself on Saturday, trying to clear our North-facing front walk of ice so I wouldn't slip with my crutches. This morning he saw a doctor, who reassured him it was not a torn bicep but a "partially" torn rotator cuff, which needs ice, Ibuprofen, and PT. So it looks like he and I will be having regular "dates" at the physical therapist. Romantic, right?

Soundtrack of My Life

I'm borrowing a very good idea from Houston, who catalogued some of the songs that transport her to a particular moment in her life.

Since I've been immobilized, I've finally loaded up my iPhone with songs from our moderately-sized but completely underused CD collection. (CDs! How quaint!) Looking at my playlist reminds me of lots of those moments, but I also noticed some things that are missing-- must rectify that.

The first song, the one that whisks me back like a bad special effect from a B movie, is "I Can't Make You Love Me," by Bonnie Raitt. Jon will hate to see this here, because to this day he claims that my attachment to this song is completely misguided. And, it turns out, I did somehow make him love me, for which I am unspeakably grateful, but at the time Bonnie perfectly captured my feelings about losing him (more than once!) during our breakup/reconcile/breakup period in 1991-1992.

A better song for our relationship, though, would be from the When Harry Met Sally Soundtrack: "It Had To Be You." I was listening to that album a lot when Jon and I first met (where is that CD, anyway?), and I still think of it as "our song." If we'd had dancing at our wedding, it would have been our first dance, and the line that typifies why my relationship with Jon is different than any other I've ever had is in bold: "Some others I've seen, Might never be mean/ Might never be cross, Or try to be boss / But they wouldn't do / For nobody else, gave me a thrill / With all your faults, I Love you still / It had to be you, wonderful you / It had to be you." That was a revealation, the idea that you could -- and should! -- love someone for exactly who they are, including and not in spite of their faults. Thanks goodness I found the man I could do that with.

There's a Raffi album somewhere that is the soundtrack to Madeline's infancy. "Willoughby Wallaby Woo," "Five Green and Speckled Frogs," "Going To The Zoo," "I Wonder If I'm Growing," "Mr. Golden Sun..." How many times did I sing those songs to her? Good thing I don't owe royalties.


Sometimes music even reconnects you. When I was uploading Eric Clapton's "Crossroads" to iTunes, I was reminded of my first post-college boyfriend, who taped the whole set (five or six discs, I believe) from the radio and sent me a copy after I'd moved to Denver (complete with jokes at the ends of sides that had a minute or so left). I searched Facebook, found him, and now we're back in touch, thanks to Eric and his tunes.


What about less emotional memories? In 1986 had one of the first CD players around, thanks to my high school boyfriend who worked in the electronics store of our small town, where they couldn't unload them! I can't remember if it was the absolute first CD I bought, but it was in the first three or four: Dire Straights, Brothers In Arms. Wow, that was an ear-opener with headphones. Still love that album. Also among the first CDs I owned was Paul Simon's Graceland, one of the best albums ever recorded (and, given that "album" is quickly becoming an anachronism, it may always be). I listened to them both a million times in my dorm room at college.

Sometimes it's not just songs, it's artists you discover. I remember being blown away by Mary Chapin Carpenter when I saw her, with my mom, at a NOW convention in Boston, 1993. (Yes, my mom and I went to a National Organization for Women convention. I can't remember now exactly why, but we did.) I went out and bought "Come On Come On," and played it endlessly.

Now, with the whole iPod technology thing, maybe I should spend a little more time organizing my songs into playlists. I noticed it automatically made a "90s music" list for me, which is sweet but I'd rather have an 80s list and a 70s list, as that's where the bulk of my music resides. I could organize by significant person, too; that would be another walk down memory lane.

What's playing in your ear?

Boredom

When I was sailing through my easy pregnancies, I actually thought (especially for the second and third) that bed rest sounded lovely. Must stay still, can't run around and do things, big pile of books and a remote by my side...

Well, I'd like to retract that (even though I don't think I ever said it out loud). I am bored out of my noggin, and when I'm not bored I'm irritable because the children are loud and unruly and in my "bedroom" (I'm laid up in a bed we put in the family room so I don't have to climb stairs). I have On-Demand, TiVO, books from the library and more on hold, a stack of magazines, my phone and the laptop... And still, I'm bored. Oy.

There's no end in sight, either-- I am supposed to be flat on my back, ankle above my heart 23 hours a day, for another week and a half. I am fervently hoping that, after my trip to the doctor on the 20th to have my splint and sutures removed, I will be more mobile, but I don't know for sure.

So, if anyone would like to while away a few hours in my (invalid) company, please feel free to come by. Just call first so I can complete my time-consuming grooming routine first, and so I can tell you how to get in the house (because it takes me forever to make it to the front door).

Ouch.

The surgery was declared a success, though that apparently still includes a great deal of pain. Like, eyes roll back in your head (and not in a good way) pain. Argh. The doctor told Jon the first two days would be the worst. Let's hope that it's only two. Ouch.

Jon's home with me today, and then Barb's going to come hang with me tomorrow. I am all set up in the family room, with every need at arm's length (including a bottle of Dilaudid). I'm in a splint for another couple of weeks (so I'll be sending Jon to find one of these: www.castcoversnow.com), then for the next three or four weeks I'll just be in a boot, which means-- wait for it!-- I'll be able to take a shower before the end of the month.

Thanks to everyone for your good wishes. Anyone who'd like to drop by in the coming couple of weeks, I'd love the company!

Sidelined

Well, this wasn't in the New Year's plans. I had dreamed up a lovely meal, plus lots of appetizers (more progress on the book!) for a couple of friends. Now, it's really just me with my leg up, on the couch, trying to stay awake until midnight.

"What happened?," you might wonder. Well, I stepped off a step. Yep, I stepped off a step into the garage, and landed in a heap. Funny, I've done this before-- in 1992, about a week and a half after I'd moved to Boston (alone, without knowing anyone), I was taking some empty boxes out to my car, illegally parked in front of the building, and when I stepped off the curb I crumpled into a heap. That time it was a greenstick fracture of the left fibula. This time, it's ever so much worse.

It felt worse when I did it yesterday than it did 17 years ago-- I lay on the garage floor, crying, amidst pop bottles and folding chairs and dog food, thoroughly frightening the children... It turns out that this time, rather than wrapping me up, putting on a cast a couple days later and telling me to stay off it for six weeks, like last time... this time I have to have surgery to put in plates and screws. The bones on either side of the ankle are broken, like so:



I am distinctly unexcited about the prospect of surgery, for several reasons. Chief among them is the negative experiences I've had with surgery (and, specifically, anaesthesia). When I was 21 I had a double bunionectomy , and when I woke up, I had a mask on and was panicky and claustrophobic. So when, at 28, I had to have an appendectomy, I described that experience to the anasthesiologist, who promised me that would not happen; that when I woke up in the recovery room, I would have no mask on. And he was right. However, I also woke up during the surgery, and could feel them making an incision, which is less than ideal.

Still, I'll be running the anaesthesia gauntlet again this coming Wednesday. It's an outpatient procedure, but until then (and probably for a while after) I'm to be "bedridden," according to the surgeon. My foot should always be higher than my hert, which should make cooking, taking care of the kids, and pretty much everything but reading and watching TiVO pretty challenging.

If any of you are wondering what you might do to help, my most pressing need is transportation of my children. Jon will take them to school in the mornings, and I will lie on the couch until someone comes home. The trick is getting the kids home without Jon leaving work at 2:30 every day. If you're able to do 3:30 (sometimes 4:30) shuttle runs between Highline Academy and my house (a seven minute trip, one way), and you have room for my three hooligans in your car, let me know. Thanks!

Now, off to work on my Bejeweled score..

More Crafting...

I know, I know-- don't faint. I'm blogging. AND I crafted.

A couple weekends ago I spent three wonderful sessions cropping with my friends of whom I do not see nearly enough. Shockingly, I only managed to finish four layouts, but I'm pretty darn proud of them.

Figured I'd start with a combination of my two most consuming hobbies-- scrapbooking and cooking my way through Deborah Madison's cookbook:



Next there was Fathers' Day at Coors Field for Little League Day:



Then I pulled out a favorite photo of Sophie and Sleeping Beauty from last winter's Disney trip. I recently found the perfect Thickers-- the alpha is called "Glass Slipper."



Finally, I scrounged around until I found the right mix of papers with orange to go with photos of Baxter's eighth birthday-- who knows why he was wearing his (orange) coat while he ate ice cream cake for breakfast!

Summer is Baseball (and Softball) Season

So our kids have never played a lot of sports. There are several reasons for this. They are not athletically inclined, particularly, but that's not even the main reason. The primary reason our children have never participated in many sports/dance/art type classes is simple: I couldn't manage it. As soon as one got old enough to do something, there was another one (or two) hanging off me, and I just couldn't work out the logistics.

They're finally getting bigger, though, and more portable. So about a year and a half ago, Jon found a Fall softball league for Madeline. We had tried soccer, on and off, but the kids could take it or leave it and, frankly, I'm not a fan. I am a baseball fan (or at least I was, before childbearing took up every available byte of brainspace), so I was all for this softball deal. Madeline took some convincing, but she stuck with it and we drove all around the city for a couple of months for practices and games.

The next summer he found her a better league, much closer to home-- this team, the SE Denver Under 10 Cubs, practiced a few blocks from our house. That's more like it! The games were generally closer to home, too, and the coach is outstanding. It was a good experience, though she fretted (as usual) about not being good enough.

That same summer we got Baxter into the local Babe Ruth league, but his coach was not good at all. In fact, it's probably generous to call him a "coach." That was too bad, because we wanted Baxter to be excited about baseball, and I feared we'd lose him.

But, when it was time to sign up for this year, he was game for another season, and we found him a team with an excellent coach. He's on the White Sox, so we have some sort of weird Chi-town rivalry thing going on in our house, but it's been a good season.

On Fathers' Day, the kids paraded around the field at Coors before the Rockies game, which gave me the rare opportunity to photograph them in their uniforms at the same time.



I think my favorite thing about this season, though, is their numbers. Her first season, Madeline got to choose, and chose her favorite number, 43. (Don't ask-- no one knows why she chose this as her favorite.) Last year she had to pick a uniform, and she had 5, and Baxter got HIS favorite number, 10. This year, some other kid chose 10 (Baxter believes he heard Baxter say he wanted it and chose it first on purpose, but that's unclear), and Baxter was very upset that he had to take 13. Unlucky, he thought. So, when it was Madeline's turn to choose, she could have taken 10, but she chose 13 instead, hoping it would help Baxter feel better about having 13. I'm not sure it made Baxter feel better, but it warmed this Mama's heart!



Madeline's team just finished their season. They won their first two playoff games-- very exciting-- but Madeline had just returned after missing four weeks with her broken had (which, you will recall, she got when she fouled a ball off her hand and finished the at-bat). Baxter's team has a couple more games in the regular season (and I honestly don't know how they're doing, though he has improved tremendously this year and has had several hits, runs, RBI...). Last week he was sitting in the back of the car, quiet, and then piped up: "Mom, maybe 10 wasn't my lucky number after all." I asked, "Why, Sweetie?" He waited a moment before answering, "Well, I played a lot better this year, with 13."

Cast On, Cast Off...

So, during my blog drought, Madeline broke her hand. She was batting for her softball team, the Southeast Under-10 Cubs, and she fouled one off her right hand. (Her father is very proud that she FINISHED her at-bat.) We iced it and gave her Advil, but we didn't realize it was broken for a day and a half. Finally Jon took her to Children's for an x-ray, and sure enough-- broken 5th metacarpal. (That's the knuckle of your pinky finger, for you non-medical types. Madeline keeps having to correct me when I say metatarsal, which would be her pinky TOE.)

Yesterday was the day she's waited for four weeks now. She went to "Critter Camp" at the Dumb Friends' League with her cast, she went to Gardening Camp with her cast (and held it out of the water while she "swam" each afternoon), and even went to her first sleep-away camp with her cast (where it was too cold to swim anyway).

Here she is, before:



And after:



She was looking forward to washing that hand; about the fourth day she started to complain that the cast smelled. Once the nurse sawed the cast off (Madeline was only party reassured that the saw vibrated instead of spinning), she left and we went straight to the sink. We washed... and washed... and washed. The amount of dead skin on her hand was a bit shocking, and she was pretty grossed out:

I Crafted!

Yes, that's what I said. I CRAFTED!

Today's the first day of my week off. The kids are in camp (though that isn't going as well as I'd hoped; Baxter's not too excited about "Gardening Camp"), and though I have a gazillion things to do, I decided not to do them today. Today, I crafted. Don't believe me? Want proof?

Voila:



My new Hero Arts "Raindrops" stamp had been calling to me for days (while I was using it as a coaster). I embossed it in white and used American Crafts cardstock, Prima flowers (the paper ones) and Queen & Co felt flowers, Threading Water, Scenic Route rub-ons... The color combination came from the latest issue of Oprah that landed in my mailbox in the last few days-- I ripped it out. See? I KNEW I was gonna craft.

Update

So I've been asked for an update. Let's see-- what's been happening the last month or so?

-Passover. Two seders, hardly anything to eat at either.
-Easter. The kids just LOVE this holiday, but not for any reason having to do with actual Easter, just the baskets.
-Pinkeye. Sophie's been out of school two days now, with me at work-- fingers crossed that she can go to school tomorrow.

Not much else to report at the moment... More news later.

Stacy Julian's coming to Denver

... and she's looking for a local store to do an event. Know any?

Chime in here! How much would I LOVE to host one of the Grand Dames of scrapbooking?

Hope for the Dora-Fatigued

So if you have (or have had in the last 4 or 5 years) a girl between 3 & 5, you've probably seen every episode of Dora The Explorer in existence. There are probably more than a few Dora books littering your house, and you may even have the Dora Talking House, as we have in Sophie's room.

I had long questioned the benefits of this phase each of my girls has gone through, but I have finally seen the payoff.

Friday we went to Colorado Mills, to the Lego Store, for Baxter's birthday party. Jon was walking in with his Mom, while Baxter, his friend Nathan, Sophie, Madeline and I went ahead to the Lego store to get set up. I was walking briskly, holding Sophie's hand in one hand and the cake in the other, and had Baxter & Nathan in my peripheral vision from time to time. I was confident Madeline was keeping up, though when we got to the store Baxter asked where she was, and I assumed she'd dropped back with her dad & grandma. Imagine my surprise, then, when they showed up in a few minutes, sans Madeline. I began to panic, and searched the Lego store, the Build-a-Bear store next door, and Claire's a few doors down. I retraced our steps down the mall, peering into each store as my panic rose. While I spoke to the mall cop (complete with her Segway-- seriously?), who frankly did not seem all that prepared for a lost child, Jon stuck his head in the nearby bathroom but M didn't answer. The mall cop put the word out, and I hurried back to the Lego store to see if she'd showed up.

She had.

I had been, as you might imagine, BESIDE myself. Jon was concerned, but my inner pessimist (and CSI fan) had created a scenario no mother should even THINK about. I cried, and hugged her and was so grateful to have her back. I asked where she'd gone, and it turns out she'd been daydreaming her way down the mall behind us; she was looking into stores and just walked past the store and soon found herself in the food court. She was frightened, but she kept her wits about her and (though she SWEARS Dora played no part in this), she remembered who to ask when we don't know which way to go: THE MAP! She found a directory, located the Lego store, and went there posthaste.

What a smart girl, with such a good head on her shoulders (when she's actually using it to pay attention to her surroundings!). I'm proud of her and slightly less annoyed now when I hear that ^$%# song: "I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm the Map, I'm the MAP!"

I Found Your Camera

Okay, I didn't find YOUR camera... I didn't find anyone's camera. But I just discovered this awesome site. If you find a camera (or memory card, or even photos found in frames at a thrift store), you post a few of the photos to the blog. Then people who've lost a camera go there to see if their photos show up.

Genius, really. And the first page right now has success stories. What a great thing! The last success story shows a couple with their, apparently, newly adopted baby. They lost the camera in China, and the site helped them get it back!

Warms the cockles of my heart...

The "Grand" Finale

So, after a quick detour to dip our toes in the Pacific (which was VERY cold), we left San Diego and headed for the Grand Canyon. The plan was to leave at 9:00 and be there in the afternoon, and then drive on further before we stopped for the night. We left San Diego two and a half hours late, though, so we were driving like a bat out of hell to get to the canyon before sunset. It became clear we weren't going to make it, so we decided to stop in Williams, at the intersection of the highway and the road to the Grand Canyon, and go in the morning, hoping to be there for sunrise.

The next morning we rousted the kids at 6:15, fed them, and stuffed them in the car. We were on pace to arrive just at sunrise, but as we drove closer it started to snow. And snow. And snow. The park ranger warned us that visibility was "low," but we had gone all that way, so we paid our $25 and drove on. By this time Jon & I were pretty certain we weren't going to be able to see anything, but Sophie bounded out of the car in an enveloping fog, saying, "We're here! We're at the GRAND CANYON!"

Yes, well, you can't prove it by me. Here's what we saw:



That's right--visibility was ZERO. We trooped in the snow to the Visitors' Center, which was closed. The bathrooms were open, at least, and we took a photo before leaving scenic Grand Canyon National Park:



By that time Sophie was cold & wet and not so enthusiastic. So, there you have it-- $25 worth of fog!

He Took My SHOWER!

So this morning we're trying to get out of Albuquerque in time to get to Denver by mid-afternoon. The kids are anxious to get back to their Christmas loot, and to see Elwood, and to sleep in their own beds.

We get up, go downstairs for breakfast, and when we get back to the room Jon says, "Let's get out of here!" I say, "But I need to take a shower." Jon asks, "Why?"

I tell him I didn't take one last night after we swam, and he sighs heavily and stalks off. Fine, I think-- I'll take a shower when we get home. Let's just get out of here as quickly as we can.

So I'm packing and so forth, and he comes in and gets a plastic bag for the swimsuits that are still hanging in the bathroom. Then I hear the tub faucet start. Odd, I think-- he must be rinsing the suits. Then I hear the shower go on. And on, and on...

So I burst into the bathroom after the shower goes off, hackles up and voice raised. WHY are you taking a shower when you said I didn't have time to take one??? I was MAD.

Jon, however, looks completely bewildered (if naked and dripping). "What? You said I should take a shower!"

WHAT?!?!?!

So he apparently heard me say HE should take a shower, because HE didn't take one after we swam. Right. Because I'm in the habit of monitoring his hygiene so closely.

For the love of BOB. So he's all freshly showered and sweet-smelling, and I'm grubby and uncomfortable for the drive home. Great.

And On to San Diego

We got up on Tuesday morning and Jon spent the morning doing laundry. The kids all got showered up, and they played while we packed... Finally we got on the road a little after noon (after a delicious lunch at Alerto's). We stopped in Poway so I could visit my fellow retailer, Gena, at her store Cool Scrapbook Stuff. It was great to meet her, and to see her store, and to pick her brain a little (she's been in the scrapbook business nine years!)... but I forgot to take a photo. Nuts!

Then we headed on to downtown San Diego to see what we could see. The answer was: Very little. There was an incredible fog settled on the city; it looked like we were driving through a cloud:



We had dinner at a DELICIOUS Indian place, Royal India, and then found our way in the fog to the hotel. Wednesday morning we got up and got to Legoland. I'm sorry to say it was a bit of a letdown; the rides were a little lame, and even the kids were underwhelmed. (Well, except Sophie, who could find the silver lining in a tornado.) The things built of Lego were cool, including the tree at the entrance (note Madeline's unhappy expression; she did NOT want to be at a park filled with the little colored bricks her brother loves so much).



She warmed up a little, though, and enjoyed Miniland, with all the towns created from Lego. By early afternoon we decided to bag it early (missing the "midnight" celebration at 6 PM with the big Brick Drop), and party back at the hotel. While Baxter & Madeline built Lego creations to buy and take home, Sophie and I ventured, GPS in hand, to Encinitas to a Party City to acquire the requisite hats & blow-outs, and to a local Von's for party food (and beverages). We watched "Elf," rang in the New Year at 9 pm, and then put the hooligans to bed.

Today's plans are unclear, but Baxter's still asleep at 9:15, which is unheard of for him, so we'll see where this goes.

Additional Photos and More Princesses

Getting sick of Princesses yet? Normally I would be, but the joy they bring my girls outweighs my general distaste for all things Princess-y.

And, yes, I said "joy they bring my girls." With an "s." That's because, no matter how much she protests that she doesn't care for Princesses, Madeline was as awestruck as Sophie when we had lunch with princesses today. We did the character lunch at Ariel's Grotto, and it was marvelously organized. (The food was good, too!)

Sophie was beside herself to meet Ariel:



And Madeline has a look of adoration for Snow White:



And, finally, I got the money shot of Madeline fighting Vader:

Disney, Day 2

Today was a day of surprises. I was surprised, most of all, at my reaction to the Princess Faire. Sophie and I split off from the others to go see the Princesses (Baxter declared he was NOT going there). We started with a craft-- they handed out paper crowns and stickers to decorate, and Sophie had just finished hers when they announced a "coronation cermony." It turned out to be a "lesson" in royal manners, followed by a "royal ball" with three princesses. Sophie got to dance with Cinderella, and she couldn't take her eyes off her. In fact, at one point Cinderella had to tell Sophie to keep walking, instead of just staring.



Then we stood in line for nearly two hours (no, I didn't know it would be that long) to see a Princess. We didn't realize there would be THREE of them (plus Minnie in a Princess costume), and we had no idea how great it would be. Aurora, Sophie's favorite, is the first one we came to. She chatted with Sophie for four or five minutes-- talk about THRILLED. She signed Sophie's autograph book (and I was chided for not realizing that Aurora did not belong on the generic "Princesses" page, marked with a "P," because she had her OWN page, marked with an "S").



She also met Pocahantas (and asked her to write smaller, because she WAS on the generic Princesses page, so Pocahantas erased the "P" and wrote smaller!) and Cinderella. They all had a nice chat, and Sophie was over the moon.



And, in other great news, Madeline got chosen to be a Padawan! The photos are on her camera (since Jon's batteries had died), so I will upload later. She was over the moon, too.

I tend to be a little bit of a Disney hater, but I could not have imagined a more magical vacation thus far.

Disney, Day 1

So we aren't in the park half an hour when we stumble upon a performance of Mickey and the Marching band about to take place. We position ourselves front and center, as recommended by Jerry, helpful Disney "Cast Member." Guess who got chosen to skip around with Alice and the Mad Hatter?



The other girl was named Sophie, too.

Later we rushed across the park to see the Jedi Training Academy show. Baxter squeezed in at the edge of the audience, and jumped up and down so enthusiastically that he was chosen to train as a Jedi. I only got a couple photos before he put up his hood and looked like every other Padawan on the stage:



Then he got to fight Darth Maul, but I was trying to get a better angle and was too slow and only snapped the photo as he finished:



Rats.

Madeline was quite upset that SHE was not chosen. She recovered eventually, but feels that she is never chosen for anything, etc., etc. Poor girl. I think it's because she's too tall for the robes! None of the kids were as tall as Madeline.
We are taking her back today to try again; cross your fingers.

Off to see the Mouse

We're leaving in the morning for Disneyland. A two-day drive both ways... what are we thinking? (I'll answer that-- we're thinking that plane tickets would cost upwards of $1K.)

We got a double-screen DVD player, and Jon and the kids picked out some movies to take with us. We've gotten some great travel games and whatnot. Now we just need to tear the children away from the loot they'll open in the morning, stuff them in the car, and go.

Woo hoo!

See you in January.

Mommy, why is F-U-C-K a bad word?

[Edited to remove the photo because I was tired of seeing it every time I opened my blog. Perhaps some of you felt the same way.]

Well, now... THERE'S a question you don't usually get over breakfast. But this morning, that's what Baxter asked me. (This followed Madeline chiding him not to point with his middle finger, as it was rude. I asked WHY it was rude, and she said it "just is.")

"Why is it a bad word, Mommy?"

Of course, as soon as he asked me about that word, Sophie began to sound it out. "Fffffook?"

"Don't try to say it!" I responded. "It's a very, very bad word."

"But how do you say it?" Sophie asks.

I say, "It's such a bad word I'm not even going to say it. Take the other bad words and multiply them times ten. Times a hundred, even, and that's how bad a word it is."

(In the background) "Ffffffock?"

"DON'T TRY TO SAY IT!!!"

Baxter continues: "When you put your middle finger up, that's the same as F-U-C-K, right?"

Oy.

I'm not sure how I got out of that one alive.

She Doesn't Know How It Got There

So, a few nights ago, I'm about to leave work and I get a call from Jon. His voice is flat, always a bad sign.

Jon: Sophie has a bead up her nose.

Me: How did THAT happen?

Jon: She claims she doesn't know. She claims she did NOT put it there, but it got shoved up farther when she tried to get it out.

Uh-huh.

All she could report was that she thought it was purple. (Presumably she caught a glimpse of it as it jumped up her nose.) When Jon looked with a flashlight, he could see sparkles. Sophie responded, with authority, that it must be a RED one, then, because only the red ones have sparkles.

Oooookay.

Jon was pretty frustrated with her for not fessing up, so I offered to rush home and take her to Children's, so he wouldn't have to. When I got there, he was making dinner and suggested I call the Nurse Line first.

I did, and the only thing she suggested that Jon hadn't done was try-- very carefully-- to get it out with tweezers.

Sophie, already tweezer-averse, did NOT sign off on that plan. Jon took her upstairs anyway, while I researched nearby Urgent Care centers. There was screaming, easily heard downstairs, of the kind not heard since Jason marauded on that first Halloween. I finally determined that our only chance at Urgent Care (and a $25 copay) ended at 8:00, half an hour hence. Otherwise, it was the ER for $100. (And, since Jon had recently taken a screaming-in-pain Baxter to the ER at 4 AM only to discover he had really bad gas-- a $100 fart-- Jon was loathe to repeat the process for "a $100 booger.")

I went upstairs to see if there was progress, and to tell Jon it was now or $100. He'd barely been able to touch her with the tweezers, but in desperation asked her to blow her nose one last time. The problem had been that the bead (a plastic pony bead, in case you're wondering) had been aligned with her nostril, so she was blowing right through it. Apparently, though, he had just touched the bead enough to move it, and with that last blow it popped right out.

Whew. I couldn't find my camera, so you are spared a photo of a snot-covered, red, sparkly pony bead in a tissue.

Lucky you.

Static

So, sometimes Jon and I just don't seem to be on the same page. I complain from time to time that "we never used to have such a hard time understanding each other." You know the problem-- one of us says something, and the other misunderstands, and the first one thinks what he or she said couldn't possibly be clearer, and the second one thinks his or her interpretation was completely reasonable... I sometimes fret that we aren't connected like we used to be.

Jon said, in response to such a complaint a few days ago, "There's a lot of chaos. Is it any wonder?"

And, suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, I understood: Static. It's not that we are disconnected, it's that there's lots of interference. And, when the chaos dies down (when will that be, exactly?), the static will subside.

Making Sense of Politics

...I hope that title didn't imply a promise of some sort. I'm not claiming to have made sense of this election, but I have been thinking about it. I began to wonder if my general impression, that the economy fared better under Democrats than Republicans, was right. I went searching the internet for charts that showed economic indicators by administration, and (thanks to Viv & Seth), found this. Data geek that I am, I found it fascinating.

While I know where I stand on presidential politics, the local ballot issues have me completely confounded. I don't trust any of the commercials for information-- they are all inflammatory propaganda. I read the booklet that came to the house, with the wording for each measure, and I was still in the dark. So I wandered over to the League of Women Voters' website, always a source of impartial information about politics. The only thing I wish they'd included would be a list of who suuports and who opposes each measure; that would help me know where I stand. :)

Life Stops You Short

Sometimes, you're going along in the little groove you've worn in your life, and something stops you short. Last week, on Monday, Jon was in Chicago for work. He called me that night, asked if I was "where I could talk," and I went into our room and shut the door. "Amelia got hit by a car."

"What???" I asked, and he repeated it, even though I'd heard the words. I just couldn't make sense of it. Amelia is the kids' fifteen-year-old babysitter, who stayed with them two or three days a week all summer.

Turns out she was hit in a crosswalk near her school, and her injuries were critical. The next day it was looking like her internal injuries weren't too severe, and they were sending her for a CT to check on "bleeding on the brain." I talked to Jon when he landed at DIA Tuesday afternoon, and his voice caught when he said, "They don't think she's going to make it."

WHAT? How can that be? How can a lovely, bright, funny fifteen-year-old not make it? But she did not-- she died Wednesday; her family donated her organs. We told the children later, and they each took it in a manner consistent with their personalities.

Madeline cried a little, and felt very heavy and sad. She was quiet, and didn't ask any questions. Baxter cried a lot, and got angry at Sophie, whose first reaction was, "She won't babysit us anymore!" Baxter thought that was a frivolous response; Sophie really just mimicked the others' reactions.

Jon & I went to a service on Sunday night at the funeral home. I went through a pocket full of tissues; it's so unspeakably tragic. We watched Amelia's friends approach Mary, Amelia's mom (who works with Jon, along with her stepdad, Tony), and I was struck by how each and every mother who accompanied their child to speak to Mary seemed so affected by it. I got the sense that many of them had not met Mary before, but as they spoke to her you could see in every mother's eyes the pain she felt for Mary, coupled with her relief that it was not her precious child in the casket at the front of the chapel.

Sometimes, life just brings you up short.

Yellow Purse Finds a Good Home

Yes, I know some of you are gasping in horror at the image above, like some horrible dream revisited.

Despite the ridicule of the YPH, the very yellow purse has found a happy new home with my friend Emily M., who saw the photo on the blog and begged me to give it to her. Needless to say, I obliged; unfortunately I forgot to snap a photo of Em with said purse, but trust me when I tell you she looked fabulous with it over her shoulder. If anyone could pull it off, it's Emily.

I'm here...

...but don't have much to say. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed and pessimistic at the moment, so I'll try to avoid spreading those feelings like a virus.

I Had a Dream

I have been completely stressed out this last few days, not least because I had a Workers' Comp audit scheduled for today, and my accountant hasn't returned the paperwork I need. Then last night Houston pointed out that I have to teach classes all day today, anyway. Aigggh!

So this morning, just before the alarm would have gone off, I had a dream. I was with a bunch of people, and we were downtown in a city. We saw funnel clouds in the distance, and we sought shelter in a hotel. They sent us to the basement, but no one else seemed panicked, or even interested--there were people having leisurely lunches in the lobby restaurant. I looked around the place they'd sent us and realized it wasn't a basement at all, that it was still above ground, so we looked around for a safer place. Soon, though, the threat seemed to have passed, and we went upstairs. We were in sort of a restaurant/bar, and I looked out the huge plate glass window, and saw a giant tornado churning up the city street, coming straight for us. I threw myself on the floor, hoping I didn't get trampled (there were a good many people in the bar), and the tornado blew right through. The sound was deafening, though I don't recall that much wind or rain.

When it was over, I stood up and looked for everyone I'd been with; they were all fine, and I was fine, too. There was a school bus half in and half out of the building, ten feet up, just a few yards away. (I think it was empty-- I choose to think so, anyway.)

Moral? The tornado came, it blew through, and everything was fine.

I called State Farm this morning, got the auditor's number, left her a message, and she just called back to reschedule for the 8th.

And everything is fine.

Baxter Ran Away Today

And I'm about ready to retire from this whole "Mom" line of work. I can't do it.

When we got home from school, I asked them before getting out of the car to go put away their clothes, and was met with griping and general whininess all around. Well, more from the girls than from Baxter, and I'm afraid I yelled in response about how I'm sick of being yelled & complained at.

I went inside and started furiously cleaning the dining room. Madeline came in and went upstairs to do her homework. Sophie came in and started playing (NOT doing her homework). When I called Baxter to tell him he could have yogurt for snack, he didn't answer. I called outside and inside-- no answer.

I stayed calm, though, and searched our yard, the neighboring yards, and the house. I called my father-in-law to ask if Baxter went over there (we share a back fence & gate), but he hadn't. Madeline went next door to ask our sweet neighbor. Not there.

So I went door-to-door, and my neighbor went the other direction. Madeline went down to the neighbor kids' houses, but they weren't even home from school yet (it's an early release day for my kids). I felt the panic rising a little, and I herded the girls in the car to drive around looking. I even looked down each of the entrances to the walking path that cuts through our neighborhood.

Nothing.

I had called Jon when I first discovered him missing, and I called back at this point. He headed home. I called the police. 45 minutes after he disappeared, I was describing him (what uniform WAS he wearing this morning???? how much DOES he weigh???) to the dispatcher when he turned the corner into the cul-de-sac. I thanked the police dispatcher, dialed Jon and handed the phone to Madeline to tell him Baxter was back, and I waited for him to walk up the cul-de-sac.

I didn't punish him. I think my tears were punishment enough; he was crying, too, and sincerely sorry for scaring me.

Know why he came home?

His legs hurt. And he was hungry.

And, oh yeah-- he wanted me.

I feel like I've run a marathon, been to a four-hanky double feature, and lost my favorite pet.

If You Don't Read The Store Blog...

...you should. Houston just posted a HILARIOUS post. She's crackin' me up, that one!

On The Mend

But still kind of feeling like poop on a stick. Stupid pneumonia. The staff at the store has stepped up and really taken care of everything while I convalesce. I actually missed the first hour or so of Frenzy yesterday-- you knew I couldn't stay away completely, right?

Pneumonia in MA

So my family flew to Boston on the way to the Cape yesterday, Saturday. I'd had a cold, so my ENT loaded me up with meds & steroids and told me to fill an antibiotic script before I left, just in case it morphed into an infection. I forgot.

We left at 6 AM, changed planes in Dallas, and landed in Boston about 3. Overnight I started coughing so violently that I started experiencing excruciating muscle spasms. I had to wake Jon (we were all sleeping in the same, small room) to come into the bathroom, help me get undressed, and spray water on me in the lovely handicap-equipped shower.

Finally it got so bad at about 5:30 I told him I had to go to the hospital, and we decided that, since he had to stay with the kids, we should call an ambulance. They took me ACROSS THE STREET-- literally-- and I spent the morning gasping and moaning every time I moved or took a breath while I waited to be x-rayed and get pain meds.

About 12:30 they picked me up and we drove down to the Cape, me drugged up on Percocet and sleeping the whole way. And after we got here, too; this is the first time I've been awake for more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.

Yay!

I'm just heartbroken because the kids didn't get to go on the Duck Boats OR to Plimouth Plantation. We were so looking forward to both. They've been pretty patient, but they're disappointed, of course, too.

It just wouldn't be a Seckinsteinbaugh family "vacation" without a trip to the hospital!

Jon and Chad's Excellent Adventure

[I'm playing catch-up here; I just uploaded photos from Jon's camera, resulting in THREE posts in one day!]

Jon's brother Chad, and his wife Jen (Chad's wife, not Jon's, because that's me... nevermind) were in town for the Democratic National Convention. They both work in Government in the state of NY; Chad works in the Department of Classification (doesn't that sound like something made-up, something from Harry Potter?), and Jen is in the office of the Comptroller. They volunteered for various assignments at the DNC, wrangling the NY delegation, the NY press, and so on. -->Okay, publishing a correction; got this next part wrong. It was TUESDAY night he helped out, for Hillary's speech, and this photo shows them building the stage for Obama's speech.<-- This shot is of Jon & Chad (can you tell they're brothers, or what?) on the floor:



As homework Wednesday night, Madeline was supposed to watch some of the convention. She did that, then she got to take a giant "Biden" sign to school for show and tell. Pretty cool!

Brave Father Takes Trio to Broncos Game

Jon has been coordinating the sale of two pairs of Broncos tickets for a few years now (anybody need some tickets?), and this year could not unload the tickets for the preseason game vs. the Packers. After valiant efforts to turn them over, it became clear he was going to have to eat the $200+. We figured that, as long as he'd spent the money, he might as well take the kids for as long as they could stand it. (I was, conveniently, working.)

They took the Light Rail to the stadium, a treat in itself, then proceeded to eat their way through the pre-game wait: pizza, hamburgers, hot dogs, Dippin' Dots, and licorice. And Sprite. Much of the first half was spent in the Family Restroom, but the kids enjoyed themselves (even if Jon, perhaps, did not):






Baxter was determined to look like a screaming fan in every photo; if you look closely you'll see no one else even seems to be paying attention to the field, as if the game is not even underway. :)

Madeline's a Junior

Not a high school Junior-- don't rush me! A Junior Girl Scout. Two intrepid moms in Madeline's Kindergarten class started a Daisies troop, and most of the girls have been together ever since. This summer she went from Brownies to Juniors, a move about which she was excited. Me, I'm thinking it may mean even MORE badges to affix to sashes or vests.

Speaking of sashes, I win the Bad Mom of the Year Award for not getting down to the Girl Scout Council (or asking someone to do it for me) and getting Madeline's Junior sash before the bridging. I realized this tactical error the Saturday before Sunday's bridging, when the Council office was closed. I suggested that, since we had to go by the Scrapbook Store, perhaps we could fashion one from paper for the time being. At first she was not too crazy about the idea; enter Tara, teacher and kid-crafter extraordinaire (and, thankfully, Scrapbook Destination employee). They picked out some paper (which, thanks to Madeline's keen since of color, turned out to be a pretty good match to actual sashes) and made a paper sash:

She reported that she felt like a "dork" with her paper sash, but I think she was secretly pretty proud of having crafted a solution to her Mom's negligence. As you can see from the photo, she wasn't the only one without a real sash; looks like I can live to mother another day.

Now It's Just Patronizing Me

I ran the Jon Wins Poker Tournament post through the readability test, and got Genius again. Now I think it knows how neurotic I am, and doesn't want to upset me.

Jon Wins Poker Tournament

So, Jon plays poker with the same bunch of guys about every two weeks. A year or two ago, they started a poker "season," where they keep track of points over time, and the people with the most points get into a final tournament. Jon did not have enough points for the tournament, having tweaked his strategy all year and not won a single event, but two guys couldn't make it so he got a seat anyway.

And he won. The whole thing. They even have a lovely trophy:

There's cash, too. But that meat grinder sure looks good on our mantel...