More three year-old stuff

"The other day when me and Bob were at the construction, Wendy was on the way and we were jackhammering the hole already. Later in the day Wendy was back home digging out Bob's house."

Just an example of some of the things that go on here during the day. I know Bob's around on a daily basis, but I've yet to see a bill from him, or a paycheck written out to Jacob's name. Perhaps Bob himself is expecting a paycheck; if so, he's got another thing coming because even though he likes to talk to Jacob about all the work they're gonna do, I haven't seen any real results. And if by results he thinks the hammer marks on our walls and the torn up linoleum floor of the intact downstairs bathroom count, then I ought to be sending him a bill. Yes, Jacob was the one weilding the tools that committed these egregious acts, but Bob was the one giving all the orders. I also take issue with the machines he's been sending over here at all hours of the day to deliver 'sheetrock', 'plaster', '2x1's', whatever it be. Lofty, Scoop, and especially Muck have been leaving toys strew in their wake; things that just should't be on the floor. Many times I have stepped on those wooden blocks ('bricks') with the pointy, pointy corners, tripped over the piles of pillows ('insulation') and almost impaled myself with the real screws that I find hidden in secret three year-old places.

Bob is not entirely to blame, I suppose. Jacob has been inspired by the work around our house. Sometimes he is simply acting on the orders he likes to tell me came from Zach. Jacob gets completely disheartened when I have to get no the phone to Zach at work and clarify that, "Daddy wants you to wait til he gets home so that you can do the work together." Speaking of the addition: No further progress in the upstairs bathroom, and I won't tell you that I'm expecting Andy to come to put the last coat of spackle on tonight, because then it wouldn't happen. However, the electric was put in last weekend, and this past week/weekend Zach insulated the addition, the basement floor was poured, and yesterday Richard (Zach's step-father) came over to help put the sheetrock up (I helped too!).

Some of the sayings:

Last week there was a two or three day stretch where Jacob and I were in the mood for classical music so we had that station on in the house and the car whenever the radio was on. Jacob had been saying to each new piece that, "This is my favorite song!" But all of a sudden one day he told me the sad music was on. I agree that is was sad, but how the heck does he know what music is 'sad' and what is not?

It's been a trying few weeks around our house so I've had to 'remind' Zach about a lot of things, repeatedly. The man word for this polite reminding is , I believe, nagging. Anyway, 'Dear' is the patronizing word that Zach uses in response to my plees to get certain things done; as in "Yeeees Dear." So now when Jacob is in a particulary manly mood he uses the phrase too.

"Jacob, please come pick these things up."

"Yes, Dear. I'll be there in a minute, Deeeaar."

You know how your kids mispronounce some things but it is just too cute to correct? I love the way Jacob says 'scratching'. It comes out like this: "Evy is sassing me!" He means that her nails are digging into him, but an outsider would think she's talking back to him. And I jst can't get enough of that word! Sometimes I lead the conversation a certain way to try to get him to say cute words.

Jacob also tells me now that certain things annoy him. Yes, I use that word a lot as an explanation for why I want Jacob to stop doing something. So I naturally get it back. But it's a nice age, this number three, because I can usually count on Jacob speaking up in public about something bothersome, yet he's young enough where I can pretend to brush it aside or laugh it off because 'he just doesn't know better yet'. The best example of this is when there are parents not watching their children in any given situation and you're really, really pissed about it. Jacob pipes up and says loudly, "That kid is annoying me!" Hehe...

Anyway, I'd better get going. Jacob's getting carried away here in the basement. Nutmeg is 'missing', and since I am of no use to the search while on the computer, Jacob has enlisted the aid of Bob. The current theory is that Muck has run off with our dear rabbit. I better go find that red dumper causing all this trouble...

The Balance Beam of Life

Phew. Last week was a blur, as was the weekend. I've lost track of how many days Jacob's taken a nap, but it's over two weeks. It's a little later in the day than I'd like, but at least it's happening. It's so funny because it really is the longest stretch of days our routine has been this... well, routine. I have 2-3 regular days at my job right now, and Jacob comes with me half the time. We've got a couple classes that are regular days, and I'm just so busy with other things that I guess it's ruling out a lot of the sporadic things I would normally do, so that makes a routine sort of forced anyway. There's a big difference between a routine and a schedule, but it took me this long to learn that. Schedule is a word I want to avoid...it's just not me.

So last week when I was writing the 4 blogs in one night, I didn't get to start until after midnight because Jacob was up that late. I had started trying to get him to sleep at 9:30, but it took 2 1/2 hours for him to finally knock off. I'd been staying up so late because I need that time after he goes to bed. Even if I'm exhausted I won't go to bed, I just can't force myself. I'm the adult version of Jacob. I need someone to pick me up kicking and screaming and toss me into the bed saying soothing things to me until I finally cry myself to sleep. But there is no one else up to do that.

Jacob seems to be doing really well with the 'routine-ish' kind of thing we have going. He gets ready more quickly when it's time to go. He's been talking about the time, wanting to know what time different things happen. I've been talking to him about what day of the week it is...and I guess by having to pick an answer for him it sort of forces me to stick to it. This is good. Sometimes though, when we don't have anywhere to go, I might get dressed or request that Jacob, say, brush his teeth and he'll ask me where we're going. "Nowhere, we're just getting ready for the day," I'll cheerfully reply. When things started slowing down for us at the end of last year, we would never get dressed if we didn't have to go anywhere. I would forget all day long to brush Jacob's teeth. I took me a while to get used to the idea of 'getting ready for the day' just for the heck of it, but it's still a novel concept for Jacob...poor child.

We moved the furniture around a week and a half ago. It started in Jacob's room (in which there is no bed, yet I can't quite call it a playroom, rather The Room Where All Homeless Items Go) where I went to town getting rid of things and shifting all remaining stuff around until it looked fresh. After that I was hooked and I (don't know how) got Zach to agree to move the living room/entryway furnishings around. It took forever because there were actually so many combinations we could have gone with; we finally just had to pick one because we were losing steam. It was something I needed though. With all the months of putting up with the addition crap, I needed some reward. It's been just great though, the energy is really moving. And since then I've been in a constant mood of decluttering. Bit by bit...

Anyway, we're busy again after a month or two of hibernation, but right now there seems to be a little bit of ease to this life of ours. I know the busy-ness will soon peak again and I will go insane...wait, wasn't I at that point last week? Well I've bounced back from that and I guess at least for today things feel evened out. Balance is a tricky thing; I figure I spend most of my time working toward balance, and then I get a brief respite in which to enjoy the state of equilibrium - like at the equinox when you're supposed to be able to hold an egg on its end and let go to see it stand on its own. You wait half a year for that one moment when you just have to have faith and trust that the universe won't let the it crash to the ground. You just have to sit back and enjoyt he show. Maybe there is something to this letting go after all.

Why did the reindeer cross the road?

In lieu of telling you about our regular ole week so far where nobody got hurt - at least nothing major - and nothing funny happened, I'll write about some of the quirky things Jacob's been saying.

When we were driving out to Vermont a couple weeks ago, a tanish, slim, streamlined dog galloped across the road just ahead of our van. In his most endearing voice, Jacob said, "Oh, look at the little reindeer," and proceeded to say how cute it was, then began to ask where it's mommy was, then started to get really upset that I could not identify the exact location of the mama 'deer' and prove that they did, indeed, reunite on the other side of the road. But don't get caught up in that. How cute is it that he thought the dog was a little reindeer??

On other occassions we'll be riding in the car and Jacob pipes up with a question. I begin to answer his question and he gets mad. "Nooo. I was talking to myfelf!" It's clear this 'talking to himself' was a retroactive decision because he started his sentence with, "Mommy?" So why the sudden onset of anger? Tonight when I told Jacob that I assumed he was talking to me because he began "Mommy why does..." he proved his point by continuing, "Jacob, how many amounts of sheetrock does Bob need?" and then "He does? Oh, ok, thanks Jacob."

While I'm on the topic, Bob is in our lives constantly. He won't go home. I know where his home is; Jacob has pointed it out to me. And he's pointed out where Bob works. Bob also happened to build the building he currently works in; Jacob should know, he was there helping out. Bob and Jacob, along with some of the machines, also built Zach's work (where Bob used to work), but just the ice rink part. He's not actually in the room with us, noo, that would be crazy, he's just always out there somewhere nearby, ready to shoot on over here with a delivery of 2'X1's or whatever is needed for 'the job' that day. Anything that happens here can be fixed by Bob. It's safe to say that Bob is Jacob's hero. But he knows to always keep his friend at an arm's length because the illusion is a fragile one. He seems to get that if Bob is always on the go, then he's just an elusive guy, but if pressed for proof of his existence, the evidence would fall short.

I guess Bob the Builder has been giving shape and purpose to our days. Whatever is going on, whatever conversation I'm having, Jacob superimposes what he knows about Bob and fills in the blanks to create yet another story. He has a world he goes to which exists on a plane for which I lack the sensory capacity to experience. It's all there, layed out before him, the machines, the broken water main, the leaky pipes and there's this look in his eyes that he means business. Sometimes he answers the house phone when it rings and starts having a conversation with 'Bob'. He walks around with his cell phone talking to Bob, strutting around like he's the boss of everyone. The funny thing is that he actually makes sense with what he's saying. He knows the appropriate tools for whatever random thing needs to be fixed, he shouts out actual lumber measurements and uses the correct words for the situation.

I wish Bob was here earlier today to fix the folding closet door which failed to fold when I opened it. Instead it came straight out toward me, slamming into the length of my forehead. The least he could have done is called over to see if I needed a delivery of ice...

The Weekend

Saturday we had a doggie reunion of sorts. Lucy, who drove all 75 cats and dogs up here from Lousianna last May, is moving down there. She was in town for the weekend so Melinda (owner of the house and farm which served as the destination for the tiny camper full of animals) hosted a little party. Some guests, including my family, brought along the dogs. It was a romping good time and everyone enjoyed seeing Mango (mostly) grown up and Ginger all healthy. I tried to capture the chaos of the evening on my camera, and we had our first ever 'family photo'; all of us together with the dogs.




This was probably the night I was reading a Busytown book to Jacob and was struck by the last page where the pigs are having a cookout. They are eating hot dogs. I am the only one disturbed by that image?

Well as you can see from the top picture, our darling puppy seems to be in much less pain. That's her butt staring back at you in the picture. I've stopped giving her the pain pills because she doesn't seem to need them at all, and she's going back to the vet on Saturday. We're thinking now that what the vet said when we had the lyme disease test might be the case (it's that word that I couldn't spell) - inflamation of the bone marrow..but then I think that our vet and the other vet are both right in a way...right?

Well Sunday was the first weekend day in quite a few weekends that I did not have to be at a birthday party. That was refreshing. It was also conveniently the day that Jacob's swimming lessons started back up. He really loves going there, which is such a surprise to me. Later at home I caught him covering his arms with stamps from a butterfly stamper that he'd snuck out of a drawer. When asked what he was doing, Jacob explained that he didn't get a stamp at gymnastics (which is what they did at the end). I think he meant he didn't get one at the end of swimming, and was comparing that to the experience of being at gymnastics. His unconscious desire to return to gymnastics surfaced and I leaped at my chance. Jacob said that he did indeed want to go back to gymnastics (and I don't care if it's just to get a stamp) so I called the next day, but they didn't answer (which they never do) and I won't leave a message because the machine plays so that everyone there can hear what the caller is saying as she's leaving a message. I've been meaning to get on their website all week, but when I'm at the computer, there are those darn pictures again...

The 'S' Word

Friday: It snowed! Jacob woke up so excited to see the white stuff just barely covering the ground. I spent extra time getting him into his snowsuit before we left the house so that he could play in the snow when we got to the meeting of my moms' group book club at the home of another mother. He didn't want to go in the snow (which was actually fine with me at the time). We got home and I forced a still-unwilling Jacob into the backyard to play. We spent 30 minutes out there and I took about 50 pictures (no lie). Jacob fought another nap, or maybe this was the day that he finally went down without a fight. Either way it was at least the fifth day of him napping at about the same time of day. We are currently on a 10 day stretch of taking naps at the same time of day (give or take 45 minutes) and this is the closest thing we've ever had to a schedule. I started trying to get Jacob off of naps probably 3/4 of a year ago, but I think he's having another growth spurt now or something.

Please know that I am not proud of this next part: I think Friday was the day that Jacob asked while crossing the room toward me, "Mommy, why do you sometimes say 'dammit' or 'fuck it'?" Oy. I will fess up to the dammit part; however, when relating the story to Zach, he didn't hesitate is admitting the latter phrase is from him. Let me remind you that he is doing most of the construction here himself, and he is a prefectionist about that stuff, so the curses naturally flow from him mouth. We've been having talks with Jacob about this and we're definitely getting through to him, as evidenced by Jacob's oft-repeated lecture (to most everyone we come in contact with), "We don't say dammit, or fuck it, or kick peoples' asses." Ahem...I won't get into where the last one came from.

Anyway, previously to it having snowed, Jacob kept asking what day all the snow was going to fall from the sky. Like it was one big event that we had marked on the calendar. It's been so warm and pleasant these past couple months, how do you explain to someone with no memory of previous winter weather that snow is something that's supposed to be around all season? I kind of feel like to tell him that, he would feel cheated out of a northeast winter.

Another week

God the time is flying by! I've been going a little crazy with the pictures and getting them onto flickr. Tonight I finally caught up. Woohoo! You can currently see pictures that I took just a few hours ago. Now I've got to figure out what the heck order I'm going to go in with all the pictures leading up to May of last year. Do I start at the beginning, like when I was born, or the 'beginning' according to when Jacob was born and work forward from there? Do I go back in time, and then have to live with my pictures being in reverse chronological order? I'll figure something out. This is why up until last year I avoided technology at all costs. There is no end to it. Once I figure out my latest 'hobby' and get into a good rythmn with it, something else branches from that and overtakes me completely.

I get into this mode of recording life to the very skeleton of its existence...but I get so busy capturing it that I don't let myself actually experience what's happening while it's happening. I think by putting it all in a concrete form these moments are being 'saved' for future enjoyment, but really, the savoring is in letting the experience really happen to you, letting it pass through you and enter the cells of your being. I'm having a great time framing the days through the view of a lense, I just need to remember to balance that with the actual living of life.

Speaking of life - it's been happening at an alarming pace. Instead of the little notebook I keep with me at all times, I just now had to go back to all the pictures I took recently to remember what we've been up to. Some of these scribbled notes I'm working from may not have taken place on the day I list them under, but if it happened on one day, it may as well have happened on any day.

Well at this point I'm going to go ahead and post this...continue on for a day-by-day account of life in and around the growing yellow house.

The Lost Week

So a whole week went by between postings. I must have been really busy, or out of it, last week to not have written for that long; so much so that I can hardly remember what I did. Here's what I do remember though: Repeatedly jumping up from the couch, whimpering "Nooo, not again!" and running to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth. It got so much worse after I posted (incase you don't remember). The next morning I pushed through a trip Vermont and back again in order to keep an appointment. I spent a couple days without a voice, and went through all the possible winter ailments in the course of five days. After the stomach thing, I pretty much just had cold symptoms to go along with all the aches and pains that follow a good, hard puke-fest. Then on Saturday I worked a birthday party while coping with wicked sinus infection pain, but that was gone by the next day when I had another birthday party that I worked through with a mild fever. Even though I didn't end up going into work early Monday morning (since we closed due to the ice storm), I had long been awake before I found out, and just as I was getting back into bed, Jacob woke up for the day. Tuesday was the staff-development day (ie, up early again) at work, Wednesday we went to the diner (early) with our moms' group friends, and today was the monthly meeting (early) of the group. So there hasn't been much opportunity to catch up on sleep, thus I'm still only feeling 75%. I'm not complaining; just stating the facts. I'm happy to be alive.

Jacob's been all out of whack this week though. He's been whining a lot. And he's been doing the crying thing again where he won't talk and we get all freaked out. Not so much while he's sleeping like before, but when he wakes up. And before he falls asleep he's having wicked tantrums. Last night Jacob fell asleep in the car after we left Andrea's house (where she and I did the swapping thing again with the kids) at 6pm and I didn't even care because it meant that Zach and I got to watch our first movie in like five months. Little Miss Sunshine was awesome. Go rent it. We got 3 1/2 hours of quiet time, then when I was telling a story, we heard something and both looked up. There was Jacob at the top of the stairs with his legs through the railing, just sitting, watching us. We have no idea how long he was there for, or how much of the story (that I don't want repeated) he heard. Zach and I headed upstairs to Jacob; his face contorted in a grimace and the tears began to flow. It took 20 minutes to calm him down, at which point Zach fell asleep leaving me alone with Jacob, who was up til 2am.

Not having gone to bed until the wee hours of the morning, Jacob was pretty tired when we got home from the meeting today. It took over an hour of trying to convince him that the reason he kept lashing out on me was that he was tired, and then I just gave up and escorted his thrashing body to the bed. From there it was all of three minutes and one book before Jacob was asleep. This kid NEVER wants to go to bed. Not once has he ever admitted that he was tired, or asked to go to bed. Marisa does all the time. Some of my friends report that their kids willingly resign themselves to sleep. My kid fights it to the very end. He is just like me. When he woke up this afternoon it was 45 minutes of wordless whining and crying and then I just decided something needed to be done so I forced Jacob into his snowsuit and ushered him and the dogs outside for some fresh air. We haven't played outside in so long and I know it's what we all need. When there's no other reasonable explanation for Jacob's behavior I know it must be that he just needs some nature energy. The crying continued outside for a few minutes, whereupon I tried to take a picture of Jacob because I had lost all sympathy for him at that point. This is him actually running away from me and screaming, "No, don't take a picture!"


Things eventually got better and Jacob asked me to get his hockey stick and puck when he saw the ice in the backyard.
He obviously didn't get enough of a nap because the rest of the day was on-and-off tantrums. He was taken up to bed against his will and really let it all out before falling asleep like this:

Can you tell how much I like having a digital camera??? Anyway, that's what Jacob calls the 'little boppy'. Boppy as in the Boppy nursing pillows which we have one of. It's the same shape, but a totally different function. It's one of those little neck things you warm in the microwave. I've had it forever but started using it to keep warm after the second heating pad explosion late last year, and now Jacob has claimed ownership of it.

Oh, and I forgot about the visit to the fire house on Saturday. Uncle Bill is a fireman and has been dying to show Jacob around. It was part of his Christmas present and he was finally old enough to enjoy it. Here's some pictures of it, and also pictures of the ice the other day. And one of the Christmas lights at church before they were taken down. Geeze, I guess I do remember more than I thought I did.

The Verdict...

We have a fat dog. Mango's gained 10 lbs since her last visit to the vet. That was probably a few months ago, but still it's 25% of her body weight. Anyway, I guess the rapid weight gain has put a lot of stress on her little frame. I don't know, she doesn't look that big, just really solid. But I suppose it would explain a lot of things. We left the vet's with pain pills which we'll be giving her for the next week until we go back to the doctor with her. Also, the dogs have been getting way too much food. I had no idea how little food they actually need; we'd just gotten used to giving them as much as they want because in the beginning we were so concerned with getting Ginger to gain weight. So that's it for now...Mango seems to be feeling better with the pain pills, we'll see if she improves when she starts to lose weight. It's nice having her a little docile for now.

Cute pictures inside!

I've added pictures from my new camera. Follow the links. Also, there's some other miscellaneous photos at the bottom of this post.

The Places You'll Go

This Is How It Happens

Goodbyes

Good Day

Puppy Dog Eyes

Planting our little Christmas tree

Watching the breakdown at Daddy's work

Jacob's Little House before the voices in his
head (Bob the Builder) told him the day's
job was to rip his house apart so they could
build a new one. Notice the 'addition' to the
little house in brown on the right side
of the picture.

It never does end.

Bad news: We are out $108.50

Good news: Mango does not have lyme disease.

She's always been a drama queen, as Zach puts it; getting injured in her puppy way, and then whining about it for days on end like Scarlett O'Hara. In the beginning we would hurry to call the vet, or even rush her there because we thought she must have broken a bone or something. After a few false alarms we began to realize it was just Mango's nature to over-dramatize the muscle soreness and soft tissue strains that apparently are common to puppies. And this time around was no different, but after about four or five days or her complaints, we started thinking that maybe Mango really is hurt.

Today I was at an all-day staff meeting at work, so when I Jacob and I got home the dogs has been alone for most of the day. I carried several loads of God-knows-what into the house, and then on my last trip, the sleeping body of my son. I layed him down on the couch, and since a nap is no longer a daily occurrence, I had big plans. I was going to get everything organized, including the beginning steps to an actual dinner (a meal that often just consists of whatever snacks can be procured from the cluttered cabinet, which is in a perpetual state of fullness, yet always seems to be void of 'anything good to eat'), and then if there was any time left over, I - in a glorious moment of foresight - had strategically placed Jacob in a way that my physical person could fit nicely in between him and the back of the couch, comfortably enough that maybe, perhaps, I could fall asleep myself...

My next move was to slide open the gate that keeps the dogs in the 'dining room', aka the dog room while we are away from the house. Mango didn't even budge right away, but when she did, it was in a pained, contorted sort of fashion. After I ran to the bathroom for a kleenex to wipe her grayish eye goop, I actually laid on the un-vacuumed rug and cuddled the poor thing. She was shaking and her ears were pressed up against her head. She's been yelping each time we touch her. When Ginger comes near, Mango goes running in the other direction. It's usually the opposite; Mango is the instigator and Ginger whimpers away in submission.

After a few minutes I decided this was bad enough and we needed to do something. I called Zach at work to consult; we hung up with the agreement that he would call his step-mother who's our all-purpose animal expert in situations like this, and that I would call the vet's office, which we know is closed on Tuesdays. I left a message at the vet's, hoping that maybe they'd be checking voice mail in between surgeries, and Zach got through to Chris. She said it could be lyme disease and we should get to a vet asap. Remembering our last trip to the emergency vet clinic (Ginger coughing up blood due to heartworm treatment, the stroller being run over in the driveway at 3am, the $300 dollar bill, for what I can't even remember), I opted to call the vet a mile down the road to see if there was some small chance that they could see a new patient on a moment's notice. They said as long as I could get there right away they could take us.

Zach met me at the vet's and after I finished filling out the paperwork they took us in an examination room. The doctor examined Mango and agreed that she needed a lyme disease test right away. She was taken to the back room, had blood drawn, returned to us, and 8-10 minutes later we learned it was not lyme disease. Yet it remains a mystery. They gave her a pain pill and said one possibility is panosteitis (no idea if I'm spelling that right), something we'll learn about if it comes to that. But here's the clincher: We pay a sum each month for the dogs' 'wellness plans' at our vet's, think of it as health insurace for dogs. This ensures us free office visits (which today accounts for $55 of the bill) and would have also covered the lyme disease test (tack on another $52 to the bill). So all that could have been free at our place, and the only thing we would have paid for is the pain pill. Do the math - $1.50.

So for now we're going to play it by ear. We'll see where we're at in the morning. Our regular vet's office will hopefully be calling back in the morning and I trust that they'll take care of our girl. For now we're just trying to be as gentle as we can with her and and I'm enjoying the fact that she's finally calmed down enough that I can give her some love without a face full of slobber. Perhaps this will be a turning point for she and I, a kind of bonding experience where I'm needed in a way and things finally smooth out between the two of us.

Astragulus and Airborne can only hold it off for so long...

There's very little that I loathe more than throwing up; I will go to great lengths to avoid doing so. With the stomach virus sweeping the capital region, I have been taking every possible precaution. I haven't been touching people, or kissing them on the cheek. I've been washing my hands each step of the way, and toting hand sanitizer (a phrase Jacob has been saying perfectly for half his life - poor boy's mother is a germ-a-phobe) in my pocket. Since it's been so ungodly warm here, I probably looked Diane Keaton-ish keeping my little gloves on at all times, but you can bet there was more Howie Mandel in that than any kind of fashion statement. I was also taking an herb, astragulus (kind of along the lines of echinacea), as well as Airborne (the stuff widely marketed to keep you from getting sick) - I don't care if these things really work or if it's just a psychosomatic effect because they've done the job for me in the past.

I know Zach hardly ever puts a thought into the germs that he picks up at the office, so I'm constantly nagging him to wash his hands before he touches me or Jacob. At his work last week, I pulled out the package of clorox wipes that I brought with me and set about wiping down his keyboard, telephone, door knobs and anything else I could think of where the little germies might be hiding. And so, I blame him for bringing this home, and also for setting about the actions (rather, forgetting to) that would make me susceptible to getting sick...and come to think of it, for creating the situation that gave me bad karma.

Early Sunday morning Zach was just walking out the front door to go to work when the virus took hold of his stomach, sending him to the bathroom in a wretching fit. He never made it to work. Before I get to the bad karma part, let me say in my defense that I did go into work for Zach to take care of one of the things he couldn't do from home. Then, several couch-ridden hours later, I started gently urging the sick patient to get up and do something productive. I was only asking for baby steps, just something little to make the day home worth it. I believe my exact words were, "Just because you're sick doesn't mean you can't get anything done."

Then on Monday morning the guys came back to cut the hole, which would be the doorway into the new basement, through a foot of cement. Someone'forgot' to put a sheet of plastic up at the top of the stairs, which opens into the kitchen. I came home from work several hours after the work in the basement had begun, which means the residue had that much time to reach every little corner of the house and settle on the surfaces. When Jacob and I walked in the dust blanketing the room was so thick that our vision was destorted. I scrammbled to get the plastic up and taped to the ceiling and walls, but it only took a few minutes in that for my throat to get all scratchy and my eyes all itchy. Breathing was tough, so it was good we hadn't planned to be home for the rest of the day. Soon we headed off to Evy's house for a couple hours of baby-sitting.

My scratchy throat never went away, and when I woke up this morning it was a full-blown cold. My body is so loathe to the adverse effects of the stomach bug that for the first half of today it desperately tried to convince itself that what I was feeling was just a cold. I got worse and worse as the day went on, and then mid-afternoon I took Jacob over to Evy's house to be baby-sat by her mom for the first time. She'd been offering for a long time and I finally took her up on the offer. My reasoning before was that I didn't want to be away from Jacob. I never want to be away from him. We have such a loving relationship and he's such a good boy that he's never given me a reason to think I needed to be away from him. But I guess what I am realizing is that even if I don't want to be away from him, maybe I need to be, just for a short time.

So I came back home, as planned because even though I don't have too much trouble getting stuff done while Jacob is around, I feel guilty that I'm not spending the time with him. So at least he is in a place where he can be happier and occupied. But instead of getting a ton done around the house, I did little jobs while alternately staving off this inevitable bug. The evolution was a slow one and it turns out I am a controlled puker because by the time I had to leave to pick up Jacob, it was apparent I was going to toss my cookies. The question was just 'when'. I had enough in me to call Zach (who had just gotten home) and tell him to meet me in the driveway. He did and I shot into the house, throwing off my shoes, peeling off layers of outwear, pulling my hair into a pony tail and situating myself at the base of the toilet with my box of kleenex at hand.

That happened, then I was planted on the couch, typing this out, until about my 4th paragraph when I threw aside the computer and rushed back into the porcelain God. Now I'm back on the couch, praying that I have repayed my cosmic debt, hoping dearly the worst has passed. Jacob threw up twice on new year's day, Zach twice on Sunday, so if there is any fairness in the world...

Good Day

Yesterday was great. I heard it was 70 degrees out, and I believe it because me and the three kids under my care spent over two hours outside. The baby was mellow and enjoyed watching the big boys dig, gather, play together, play apart - and then he slept in the swing so I walked around taking pictures on my new camera. I must have been euphoric because I probably took like 40 pictures. I hadn't realized how many I took until I was reviewing them later on. So Jacob was in a good mood because he got to do his thing in the yard and I was happy because I got to absorb all that good nature energy. We are all like that, me, Zach and Jacob. We're nature people and we require a lot of outdoor time to feel at ease in our own bodies - and we need a lot of physical activity too.

Isn't it supposed to be January? You wouldn't think so from the fact that I had on a sleeveless shirt yesterday and the kids were out without coats. I won't miss it if winter never comes this year. I'll be pretty nervous that it means global warming is closing in on us or something, but I don't think I'll be longing for the snow. Jacob will be mighty disappointed, so on second thought I'll take just a few days of snow. He won't realize that it's supposed to be like for too many months that you forget what green grass looks like. We'll just make sure to take a lot of pictures.

So the rest of the day was really good. I scanned a lot of pictures and put them up on flickr. But I'm still figuring out the rest of my new camera. What I remember from photography class in college has taken me as far as it can. I'll learn the rest soon and I can start to post more pictures.

Anyway, I have to get up at an unheard of (for me) hour to be in to open up at work tomorrow. Jacob is coming with me so that means a lot more packing time. This is the start of at least two really busy weeks and I'm nervous I'm not going to make it through without a breakdown. Last night Zach told me that by next weekend the bathroom will be done. This morning the universe awarded him the sudden onset of a stomach virus in response to his hubris. I've been chugging Airborne all day and he spent the first half of the day napping and then felt well enough later on to finish the tiling in the bathroom that he's been spending all his free moments on in the last three days. When Zach finished doing that and putting in the grout, he noticed a small hairline crack in the new tub. Just. Great. I wonder how long that will take to be fixed and/or replaced so that further progress can take place. I feel like if the house stuff could just be done already things would be so much easier; I wouldn't have the perpetual off-and-on feeling of the world closing in on me.

Ah, well, that'll be it for now. I have a growing list of random Jacob things I've been meaning to write about. Perhaps I'll get to it soon. Tomorrow is a new day.

The Day Is Done

So it seems I have found my rose-colored glasses again. The second half of the day was much less frustrating than the first half. I think we just need to get out of the house more? I don't know. I just can't get over the fact that the more stuff I let slip from the calendar, the crazier things seem to be. Maybe Jacob is in a really needy phase? I can never be sure of how he compares to the Jacob of a few months, or even a few weeks ago. Perhaps the only thing that would give me a clear answer would be to keep a very detailed journal of all possible variables. And that would just be insane. One more possibility presents itself: Maybe it is always crazy like this, but once a little time goes by, I forget what it was like and only remember the good stuff. This is good and bad. Good that I can forget the hard times, but bad that it means I am not enjoying the moments of my life as they are happening. And I know that can't be true. I can at least remember that there have been some really good times with my mom friends. There just haven't been many of them lately. I think it's time Jacob and I get back into the swing of things with the group.

We did get out of the house this afternoon and did five errands in under two hours. Then we proceeded to Zach's work because they're having an event with a bouncy-bounce, clown, cotton candy, all as extras to draw the family crowd. So Jacob got to play and see Daddy for a while. I got to be in the moment and get my bearings. Back at home I plugged away at taking care of the animals, then gave Jacob a bath. By 8pm he was laying on the couch watching the Gilmore Girls (yes, I broke the one video rule) and sleep was sure to overtake him in no time. At 8:20 Jacob got up, turned off the TV and came upstairs. I knew if I got into bed totally with him that I wouldn't get anything else done, so I took the route I usually do, which is to be in and out every few minutes. He seems to fall asleep faster when left alone, but this only works if he's willing to be left alone. So I usually have to do a mix of reading to him in bed, and then escaping downstairs to do some more picking up/animal care/getting myself ready for bed and hope that one of those times I come back upstairs he will be magically asleep. Fast forward to 10:45 and Jacob is finally falling asleep. He had no nap today, by the way. WTF?

Anyway, I was hoping to be asleep by 10pm myself, as a friend is bringing her three year-old and one year-old by at 8am because I'm going to be watching them all day. I actually should be asleep because I took something to sleep a very long time ago. The fact that I'm still able to type makes me think that maybe I didn't take it? I know I took the pill out of the bottle...Anyway, even though it's going to be one long day with three kids, and I've only the endurance for one, I'm looking forward to it because I know doing much housework will be out of the question. It will force me to slow down and take part in the happenings of a three year-old's world - if he lets me in.

Wanted: Mother's Helper

Job Description: Serve as extra set of eyes and ears, an extra set of hands for which to administer love to the creatures of the house. Pick up random items off the floor, run occasional errands. Ability to take orders a MUST; possession of magic wand a PLUS.

Read below, if still interested, send resume and two references via e-mail.

It's exactly 2pm and we haven't left the house yet. My plans are not set in stone, so that is not such a bad thing, but when I do decide it's time to leave the house I still have several things to do: Find a shirt I can leave the house in, get Jacob's coat and shoes on, let the dogs out again, pack the bags, pack the car, bring dogs back in, secure the house and take care of the rabbits. All that will probably take about an hour, and by the time I am done with all that stuff, something at the top of the list will need doing again.

I figure most everything I do in the day pertains to cleaning something for which the sole purpose of is to be dirtied; doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cleaning the rabbit cages. Even cleaning the tools I have for cleaning takes up so much of my time (emptying the vacuum bag, washing the mop covers, etc).

I was upstairs folding laundry just now, and as I put the last item into its place, I heard the buzz of the dryer, which was then followed by the slowing of the washing machine. That means there's a whole other load that needs to be put away now, and after that there will be another one. I had just gotten done putting away the remnants of Jacob's breakfast, and putting the dishes into the dishwasher when he announced he was ready for lunch. By the time I finish taking care of the mess from Jacob wetting his pants, something else has been spilled.

This, I guess, is what they call the daily minutiae of motherhood. It's such a frivilous sounding word, but really, it feels like a thousand tons closing in on you when all you want to do is get ahead just a little bit in life.

And this is on a day that I am not working, not watching other children, have no other obligations. This is what I meant about having no middle ground. I can't find that place where everything exists in a happy medium. I need stress in my life to get things done. Admittedly, Zach has been working 12 hour days, but even if he was home he would be working on the house, and that would just mean one more person to clean up after.

I have done a few things for myself today, but each has come with a price. I actually did get to workout. I'm not sure if it is worth it though. The dogs have hardly gotten any attention, the rabbits even less, and Jacob, I haven't sat down once to be present in the moment with him. I'm supposed to be homeschooling him. I took a shower and straightened my hair, only because I popped a video in though. I will be longing for that video later today after I have been alone with Jacob for 10 hours and there is no end in sight. And here I am now, typing out my thoughts so that maybe I won't be as likely to drown in them, but Jacob is circling me, wanting attention, and when I tell him I need some quiet time, that I am off duty, he says, "Ok, I'll just talk to myself." Like an arrow through my heart.

If I could just get him to stop asking for things, to let me sit for more than 60 seconds, then I could finish this dirty job and we could have some time. I just can't get him to understand that giving me my time now, will yield better results later.

How did this happen? We've hardly done anything in the last two months with our moms' group. I am completely out of touch with all of my mom friends. This is supposed to open the door for more time to do other things. But why hasn't anything changed? The list of errands is only halfway done when five more get added; it is never-ending. I wish the world could stop for a while so I could get caught up. I've got professional goals too, you know. I want to get my Master's degree (something I attempted to start last spring) eventually, I want to become a post-partum doula, I want to have another child. That is what kills me, I only have one child. How do people with more kids than this cope? Is it just that I am selfish and require a lot of 'me' time? Do I have too many hobbies? Am I asking too much of myself? Is something wrong me with? Please tell me where I am going wrong so that I can fix it and have a life where everyone's needs are taken care of and some forward progress can be made.

The Places You'll Go

The thing about motherhood is that there is such an immediacy to it. The only thing that matters to your kids is the moment you are living in, so that is what most often takes priority. And the moment I'm living in feels like I've been here forever. At its most primal level, raising kids is about survival. This is why I can never decide whether I'm up or down - only the here and now matters, and it's all I can seem to remember most of the time. It doesn't matter that Jacob is the sweetest kid 95% of his life, when he's doing something I'd rather he not, all I can feel is rage because he's not listening. I've been yelling at him for three days straight, so to me it seems it's always been like this.

I get up this morning and we're both rested - we're gonna make it through the day! It takes the whole rest of the morning to leave the house because someone keeps telling me to "stop" and doesn't want to listen when I say "get ready!" I think only one of us is going to make it out of the house alive, and I'm really not sure who that will be. But then we're in the car, and I know that it is so packed full of stuff that there is no way I could have forgotten anything. I feel safe in the knowledge that we could end up anywhere on this day, and we would have enough stuff to survive a week away from home. Then Jacob freaks out in the grocery store because I won't get him a 'finkles donut' and I have to carry him out to the car still crying about it.

At Jacob's request I make a surprise visit to Daddy's work because I'm tired of saying no to him. I have mixed feelings about this stop. I think this could be the end of the errands that we aren't even halfway through, yet I'm glad I'm still a mindful enough parent to slow down and recognize what is important. I sit in Zach's office and check my e-mail again because I'm waiting to be cheered up. I sigh and Zach asks what's wrong. "I think I'm depressed again. All I want to do is just sit somewhere- to sit somewhere and stare at a wall." I feel like I've always been this sad, but it occurs to me that things were great just a few hours ago when Jacob curled against me and lured me out of sleep by his alternating caresses and full-bodied bugs.

We leave the college in a hurry after Jacob takes his half of the muffin and smooshes it all up in his hands and rubs it into the carpet. I was right about the errands; progress on that front halts, but we're heading home to let the dogs out because it's such a nice day and I'm sick of beating myself up for not getting Jacob out in the yard to play on these beautiful, snowless days (the lack of snow is something I have no mixed feelings about).This'll be good though, I can take the laptop out in the yard to write! Except I don't even have time to finish booting it up before Jacob breaks my one rule, "Don't go in the muddy half of the yard!" It's been back-filled with the dirt that was dug out to make room for the foundation, and we've had a series of insanely warm days, which creates the effect of quick-sand. Jacob is face-down in the mess, covered from head to toe on the front side with mud. He's wearing fresh-out-of-the-laundry clothes. I wait half an hour to bring him in to change him for the 7th time in two days (we've also been having a lot of peeing and spilling accidents).

A couple more errands later on with my mom brings the solace of adult conversation, but Jacob still won't stop his incessant chattering. He just won't stop. And he won't sleep either. All week it's been me and him, alone, all day. I need a break, but I still don't want to be away from him. I just want the noise to end.

Jacob finally falls asleep in the store, just about the time I figure I missed the call that brings a smile when I listen to the message. While it's nice to ride in peace, I feel as if this nap is being wasted because I could be at home getting so many things done. After I drop my mom off I decide I'm going to do something totally indulgent. I pull into the Starbucks parking lot and proceed to gather my limp child and only the most necessary items before going inside. As I'm finishing the pamphlet 'Connect over coffee' which tells me how to do the T-Mobile thing that will enable me to log onto the internet, Jacob wakes up. He's out of his stroller just like that and I'm packing up to head home. Then the unthinkable happens. So I proceed to the counter and ask for paper towels. The guy comes back with a couple. "Um...no, like for an 'accident'." I do what I can to stop the flow of urine and then usher Jacob to the bathroom. Back at the table I'm mopping up the rest of the mess and the absurdity of the situation doesn't even phase me. I'm beyond caring that we've reinforced the notion that some places just aren't for kids.

The Little House

Jacob has this house that I made for him out of the new bathtub box way back when the renovation was something for which there was an end in sight. It's moved around the house as needed, but has always been here, serving as a little place for Jacob to go. I'm small enough and the house big enough that I can easily get in there, and I have actually thought on occasion that maybe I should use the little house as my own hide-away.

When Idona and Danielle were here with their kids just before Christmas, things got a little out of control and the little house became unindated with stuff. As everyone was getting ready to leave, I crept in there to take an inventory. It was full to bursting. There was stuff in there I'd been searching high and low for and there was stuff I hadn't yet realized had gone missing. I discovered that the dryer monster wasn't actually eating Jacob's socks; he had six individual mates stashed away in the corner of the little house. There were half a dozen clementines, some potatoes from the cupboard, a can of dog food. A kitchen towel, some books, most of the Christmas cards we'd been getting in the mail were also hidden away. And many other things too random to even remember were contained in those four cardboard walls. I didn't hesitate cleaning house and getting things back into their rightful places, but later when Jacob discovered what I did he was pissed. I hadn't realized this would be seen as such an intrusion. I explained to him that I had to take those things out because they belonged to us all and I needed them left where they belong.

It really got me thinking that maybe Jacob needs a place he can call his own. He's got his room that he doesn't sleep in, but holds most of his toys; it's still my domain though. I told Jacob that the little house could be his place where he keeps things that I don't take out. I was careful to explain that the things he keeps in there must only belong to him, and not items that belong to everyone in the house. I said I would stay out of his house and only go in if there was something he took that I need back. Jacob has held me to this. Even if I try to enter on friendly terms, I am usually turned away. I suppose all this is good practice, not only for Jacob in learning how to keep his room neat, but also for me in that there are going to be places in his future where I am not allowed.

I am a control freak so this increasing freedom of ownership is going to be hard for me to deal with. At what point do you have to relinquish control completely? If I am the one who does the picking up, does that not entitle me to be in the places where the picking up occurs? What if I am still doing Jacob's laundry when he is 15? Does this allow me to open his drawers? Ah...this is all stuff that is to come. Right now I'm just trying to figure things out one day at a time. I'm mostly winging it, and I have no doubt that that will ever change...

This Is How It Happens: A play-by-play look at the anatomy of a night in the little yellow house

4:33am: Jacob finishes the yogurt I have been feeding him in bed while we both sit cross-legged, knees touching, on our new bamboo sheets (my first new sheets since I was 17 and picked out extra-long ones designated for college dorm beds in what I called 'sunset' colors) which are the softest thing ever. As we recline into the horizontal position, he tells this story: "Edytime me and Bob are at work, we get soda and Red Bull and drink it!" We settle into a snuggle, his legs between my knees, head on the shoulder of my left arm which is wrapped around his energized body.

4:47: Jacob talks about Ginger, as coming home from the vet's is the last thing he remembers before falling asleep in the car at 7pm.

4:48: Jacob is messing with the covers, kicking them off. My blood pressure sky-rockets.

4:53: "Daddy, can we sway?" At last I will have five minutes in which to fall asleep before the child begins thrashing in bed again. I turn toward the wall, but there is the clock. It is daring me to drift off before it's flourescent numbers change. Alas, the challenge proves too difficult for me.

4:57: I want to wash my hands, they feel grimy. I realize Jacob's hands are probably disgusting. I didn't wash them before we left the vet's because I was there alone with him and both dogs. I'm thinking about how I can smell the overly sweet scent of the yogurt remnants in the bowl on the bedside table. This reminds me that my notebook is underneath; from this point on I know it's only a matter of time before I go for it.

4:59: Jacob wants to get back into bed. I re-spread the doubled towel because it would be too ironic that Jacob wets through his diaper on this, the first night of our new sheets. "You can snuggle with me now, Mommy," he says as if he is presenting me with a gift. In fact, it is a gift because at this point in his life Jacob much prefers the arms of Zach. The truth is, he is safer there at night; at rest in the elbow crook of someone whose atoms aren't spinning a thousand miles per second. I know this is my last chance to reach for the notebook, and so I do, holding off the my son, who lays there with eyes open until my arms are ready to envelope him once again.

What is the nature of this 'falling asleep'? It is an active or passive process? Does sleep grab a hold of you when you are ready, or is it something that comes by only at random intervals and it is up to you to grab a hold of it? Why is it so elusive?

5:03: My hand is cramping up from holding down the tiny button on Zach's running watch to give me just enough light to write something I will hopefully be able to make out later. I put the watch down, and proceed to write while laying down, in the dark.

5:04: "Mommy is crazy," Jacob mumbles to the sleep Gods, as if to say, take pity on me and let me sleep already, for you see, I had no chance from the beginning.

5:07: It was a dumb idea to get the notebook out. Even though the process was bound to wake me more, I thought if I could just clear my head, then I was be more readied for sleep. I give up on writing. I still want to wash my hands, but Jacob is there, so my arms recieve him. He's 'petting' my face with both of his open palms. All I can think about is how Jacob originally woke up in a coughing fit, which he covered with his hands, and all the germ-infested stuff he touched at the vet's. It is alternately the most beautiful and the most repulsive act I've ever experienced.

5:22: I'm not sure what's been happening the last 20 minutes, but I can't say I haven't been in and out of sleep. Jacob is asking for juice. This time Zach seems to be more awake so he goes to get it. Jacob follows him and I quickly anticipate what will happen once downstairs. "Zach...no v-i-d-e-o-s!" He disagrees with this and argues that Jacob is up for good. "He fell asleep at 7pm, and woke up at 4:20. That's 9+ hours of sleep. He's up."

He's right. And even though I'm not the one downstairs with Jacob, Zach's sudden martyr complex has got me all worked up. So here I am typing away; the computer was all too conveniently stashed under the bedside table. I couldn't sleep anyway because Jacob is chattering away at a volume that won't be appropriate until at least the sun rises.

I tried to explain it to a mom at work today when I went in to get my paycheck, how it is that Jacob was up to see the passing of 2006. She couldn't believe it, and at the time I couldn't quite come up with a reasonable explanation. But now that I am here, living it again, it is all very simple. Jacob is hard to get to sleep (from me) and hard to wake up (from Zach). He will take a nap later this morning, early enough that he will still go to bed sometime before 10pm. He will wake up the next morning just late enough that a reasonable nap time will be out of the question, but just a little too early to make it through the day without falling asleep at 5pm. He will nap for at least two hours because we won't be able to wake him, and then at 7pm will be raring to go for another 5 or 6 hours. Alas, the 1am (or later) bedtime. We'll have a few crazy nights like that, then the cycle will start all over again with the one day he falls asleep at 7pm and we get just a couple hours to ourselves.

So for now, Jacob is downstairs, stoked to be up with Daddy - a daddy who is not happy to be awake. He's doing normal things, but his parents, in their bleary-eyed, sleep-walking are not capable of appreciating his cuteness. I am the one in bed still because I have gotten 1.4 hours of sleep, 5 hours less than Zach. And I still want to wash my hands.

Us Two Moms

Poor Ginger is laying on the couch, not looking happy. She was spayed today, finally. It took 7 months to get her healthy enough to be able to go through a surgery like that. I have to say that we have the greatest vet ever. I've been taking my rabbits to her for as long as I can remember - probably since I was eight or so. I think that she does the things she does for us in part because of the loyalty we've shown, and I like to believe that she also just thinks we're a cute family with good hearts. At checkout time she comes out herself and discreetly explains the things she's knocked off our bill, "because you rescued them," she bluntly states. Today she 'forgot' to prescribe Ginger's pain pills (which cost $15 per pill) until after we had already paid, so she just had me slip them in my pocket. Everytime we leave there I start to tear-up because it's just the sweetest, most genuine feeling. I don't know if other patients get the same treatment, but it's nice to pretend we're special.

So mama Ginger is in her little spot, alternating between whining in pain and sleeping it off. She finally just took the one bite of food in her dish that was hiding the pain pill, so I'm hoping things will get better for her soon. When Mango was spayed a couple months ago it was nothing like this. Her youthful puppiness bounded into the house all reved up to play after we brought her home from the vet's. Had it not been for the stitches on her shaved belly, we might have thought they forgot to do the actual surgery. Jacob was obsessed with those stitches, and kept having us explain why she had the surgery. The constant repetitiveness made me feel kind of cruel for having done that to Mango. But really, there's no other option.

I feel more connected to Ginger, maybe just because she's the mom, maybe because she's a contemplative soul. She's the reason we brought the girls home. I saw their pictures that first day on the computer and I knew from the first second that our home would be their safe-haven. Mango ('Miracle' then) was the only puppy born of the litter that Ginger miscarried just before arriving at the shelter. The worst thing that could ever happen to me is that Jacob would be taken away from me. I don't want any mother to ever have to be permantly separated from her offspring. And I didn't want that for Ginger.

So where have I been? I've been spending more time with the dogs, mostly Ginger. I've been in the basement with the bunnies giving them the attention they've been missing. I've been playing with my new digital camera, and putting pictures on flickr. I now have a hand-me-down scanner, which is an iceberg I've hardly even begun to tap the surface of. I've been quite out of touch with most people, and a little more in touch with some people. I think about my little blog all the time I'm away from it, and it seems to always be the thing I am working toward when crossing things off my to-do list, but the list never ends. So the things I want to write about keep piling up and then after a few days they seem to not matter anymore, and that makes me sad.

Oh, and I've been successfully avoiding the stomach bug that everyone I come in contact with seems to have. There are few things that I hate more than throwing up and I will do pretty much anything to avoid it. Jacob threw up two times last night though...and now I'm starting to feel queasy myself. Please let it all be in my imagination.